The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]

Chapter 1008: A Different Reality

It was as if the capital city of Solara was under a collective daze.

People’s movements were suddenly slow, sluggish, and the usually snappy mental processes seemed to take far longer than usual, even in those who should’ve been more psychologically prepared for such moments.

Then again, it was probably the sudden lag that saved what remained of the Federation’s dignity.

Because with everyone simply being too stunned to react, the members of the delegation had been able to quietly retreat to a corner before everything exploded and things caught up to the present.

It was good that they had the presence of mind to exist like ghosts before the people woke up from their daze.

Otherwise, they would’ve had to walk away with their tails obviously stuck between their legs, adding even more strain to their already vivid nightmare.

Cassian, who had to scratch his sides to force himself out of his terrorized state, managed to at least do that much for his group.

He walked away with footsteps that felt as heavy as boulders and gnashed his teeth all throughout, but he didn’t dare to look back.

No. At times like that, the only way was to return with a better plan.

Next time.

Next time, it would be different.

The originally proud members of the Federation didn’t leave the Imperial Palace right away—as that would be an admission of hurt that would be so much worse than defeat—but with the way they seemed to blend into the walls, no one would have imagined that this was the first time they had posed as wallflowers.

However, as humiliating as that was, even the Imperial Crown Prince thought that they had made the right decision.

For when the citizens of the Empire, as well as the other foreign delegations, woke up from their stupor, they did so with the kind of vigor reserved for a second awakening.

It was admittedly scary and unusual, starting with a rather loud and distinct cry of "My son!" that echoed through the stadium.

Duke Leander was practically rushing toward Luca to inspect him for anything and everything.

"Papa!"

The golden-eyed son, as if hearing something nice, quickened his pace and responded with a bright smile and a big wave as they walked along the bottom of the bleachers.

With the way they ran towards each other, one would think they hadn’t seen each other for ages when it had only been mere minutes.

Of course, no one would understand, but for the famous duke, it had really been too long.

Duke Leander, the acknowledged papa, looked like he’d been ready to faint the entire match.

"Lia! L-look at him?! How could they send him there?!"

He sounded like the end of the world was imminent, and it would have been believable had the Duchess not looked like she’d eaten a random insect that couldn’t be spat out.

It seemed like it wouldn’t matter if their child could wrestle a colossal beast on his own or maybe take out the aberrations with a smile on his face; to her husband, Luca would always be his little boy.

Ahhh, this guy!

Then again, she loved him like that.

Oh well.

Duchess Amelia simply shook her head, quietly marveling at how Leander’s eyes, as usual, seemed to have recorded an entirely different version of events.

Where others had seen domination, overwhelming power, and a terrifying display of control that threatened everyone—including his opponents’ next five reincarnations—this guy, Leander, appeared to have witnessed nothing but a tragic scene of his precious child being bullied beyond reason.

"???"

"..."

So, despite everything being caught in way better than 8K, the disgruntled father couldn’t help but nurse his grievances and rushed to check on him.

"Son, are you hurt? Did anything hit you? Are you tired?" he demanded in rapid succession, his hands already hovering around Luca as if unsure where to check first.

"Do you feel any pain? Tell me immediately if something’s wrong!"

"Oh no! I’m fine, Papa! I’m actually really grateful for the match! I just wish it were longer!"

Gasp!

"How could you be fine?!" Leander shot back instantly, his voice filled with genuine distress.

"You were surrounded! I saw it with my own eyes! There were so many of them!"

"Ah—!" Luca’s eyes brightened immediately, his head tilting as if recalling something fun. "There really were a lot of them! It was amazing!"

"Oh! And Papa, they were actually very nice too! They were generous enough to let me check on things!"

"!!!"

For some reason, pairs of eyes everywhere were trembling in distress as they listened to this unusual father-son conversation.

"Son! Normally, not everyone would allow you to see!" the Duke exclaimed, looking like he might combust on the spot. "What if they had been such people? What if something had happened?!"

Around them, the onlookers felt their scalps go numb.

Because for some reason... this sounded wrong.

Deeply wrong on so many levels.

It wasn’t the concern itself. Any parent worrying about their child would have been natural. Expected, even.

But asking cadet Luca Soren Kyros of all people if he had been hurt?

That was what made the air turn strange.

That was what sent a ripple of shivers down the spines of those who had just witnessed what he’d done.

Because the same person who had been checked over like a fragile vase had, not too long ago, been casually dissecting elite cadets like a man conducting a leisurely inspection.

And yet—

"My child, you look thinner," Leander added suddenly, his brows knitting together in distress as he took a step back to assess Luca from head to toe. "Did you lose weight? This must have been exhausting for you!"

"Hmm?" Luca blinked, then puffed his cheeks slightly before breaking into a bright grin. "No, Papa! I’m really okay! It didn’t feel tiring at all!"

He clasped his hands lightly in front of him, practically glowing with enthusiasm.

"It was actually really fun! There were so many interesting things to look at, and I got to try a lot of things I’ve been thinking about!" he added, his voice lifting with clear excitement. "I even managed to confirm a few ideas!"

"Papa, did you know that while the structure appeared to be rather consistent, there were actually versions tailored to different implants?!"

"Son... I-is that why you exerted so much effort to move around?!"

"!!!"

At that point, several people nearly coughed blood.

Didn’t they all watch the same match?

The question screamed silently across the stadium, echoing in the minds of everyone present.

But as they marveled at the absurdity of one war god, the memories of the fight that felt like a blur were interrupted by someone.

A small, unsuspecting voice broke through the noise.

"Mom, then for the next one..."

It was a young and perfectly rounded child, likely completely unaware of the weight of his words.

"...we’ll finally win the Astral Cup, right?"

The question was innocent and probably meant as a child’s random musing, but it had everyone turning their heads before they dared to actually gasp.

"!!!"

Most were in awe of the possibility.

But at the very same time, while existing in the same training hall and basking under the same sky, leaders and members of the different participating teams shuddered where they sat.

This upcoming Cup, just how would they break through?