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

Thieves!

That was the only word Luca, D-29, and even Ollie could think of after realizing the true horror unfolding before them.

Not only were they destroying perfectly good materials by puncturing random body parts, they were also stealing the beast cores!

Worse, they even started running away with them!

”Brother!” Ollie’s panicked voice burst through the comms. ”I think they’re trying to run to the woods! D-64 has been chasing them, and we’re nearly at the edge!”

Luca’s gaze snapped to the horizon. The sensors confirmed it—several mutated hosts were indeed fleeing inland.

But really, could anyone blame them?

After all, what parasitic sea anemone in its right mind (if it had one) would not flee after facing the monster that was Luca Kyros?

Sure, they didn’t know the name of the pilot behind that dazzling white-and-gold mecha, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have understood the meaning of fear in words. But instinct alone was enough. Whatever that glowing death machine was, it was the last thing they wanted to be near.

Ironically, the soldiers of Zone Four were thinking the exact same thing.

Many of them were quietly swallowing their screams as they watched the mecha perform one questionable maneuver after another.

They watched as he charged straight into the mass of monsters.

”Wait, what is he doing—?!” cried a horrified soldier from one of the command channels.

”Is he pulling them toward him?! Why?!”

Yes. Yes, he was.

The white-and-gold mecha darted across the field like a streak of light, its movements fluid and deceptively graceful—much to the silent suffering of one guardian mecha who worked extremely hard to impart battle sense to one system that should not be named.

Every step was measured, deliberate, and definitely expensive once Sid’s psychological stability was taken into account.

But when the sword whip slashed through the air with a resonant crack, hooking several running beasts, the guardian mecha who would regularly check on the little master and D-29 would nod in satisfaction.

The next moment, they were sliced clean through.

SWISH!

SWISH!

SWISH!

The battlefield flashed with bursts of light and flying debris as Luca’s mecha spun and struck in rapid succession. It was almost absurd how quickly he was cutting down the creatures.

And yet, the strangest part wasn’t the speed or precision of his attacks.

It was what kept happening after.

Because the corpses—the ones that should have been piling up on the ground—weren’t staying there.

”!!!”

”What the—where did the bodies go?!” one pilot exclaimed.

”Wait. Are you saying he’s storing even those?!”

Why yes, of course.

Because how could he possibly leave such good things lying around?

Perfectly salvageable parts, rare materials, high-value beast cores—oh, the things he could craft with all of this!

But honestly, Luca could understand why the soldiers were so confused.

After all, unlike the giant bloom’s tentacles, these monsters were definitely corrupted.

And while some researchers had tried to acquire carcasses of mutated beasts before, they were very particular about it—insisting on samples that showed no signs of active contamination after a long time of observation.

But the heir of House Kyros?

He was different.

So different, in fact, that he just casually announced—in the public channel, no less—that the sliced anemones weren’t dead yet.

”Not dead?”

”Yes,” Luca replied brightly. ”It seems we need to properly deal with the lower half of the polyp to ensure it wouldn’t split at the very least.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Several mecha pilots almost dropped their controls.

Because just how many cut-up bodies were lying around them right now?!

”...You mean to tell us those things might still be alive?!” one soldier choked out.

Luca winced. ”Ah. Well, yes. It seems like they could still recover, provided the necessary parts are still partly there.”

That explanation did not help.

Of course, what he didn’t say out loud was that he had found this out belatedly when the dungeon inventory rejected storing the parasitic anemone along with its mutated host.

But at least now they knew!

And with this valuable new knowledge, they quickly established what could only be described as the most efficient monster assembly line in recent military history.

Monsters were hunted, beast cores extracted, and the parasitic anemones sent to be processed by a very proud D-64, who had apparently mastered the sacred Kyros art of ”strategic dismemberment of marine creatures.”

The tentacles were harvested and stored, while the remaining bodies were tossed into the designated burn pile.

It was gruesome. It was effective. It was... weirdly organized.

For a brief moment, it looked like they were finally gaining control of the battlefield.

Until the parasitic anemones started running away.

Literally.

And it was Ollie who first noticed the pattern.

That wasn’t good.

If they had been purely aquatic, containment would’ve been simple. But the fact that they could slither their way onto land meant they could also reproduce there.

And if that happened...

They were doomed.

”They really can’t let them escape,” Luca muttered.

Of course, everyone agreed.

It was a matter of utmost importance, a critical issue that would determine the fate of the region.

But then came the real question.

How exactly were they going to stop them?

Well, apparently, by following a very good suggestion.

A suggestion that worked a little too well.

So well, in fact, that Imperial Crown Prince Xavier Solaris would later decide that, for at least two weeks after the battle, it would be fair to lighten the training load of one Jackson Taylor, who proved to be unexpectedly instrumental in their success.

And what, exactly, was this heroic, history-changing task?

Simple.

He had to stand still and hold an incredibly smug tortoise.

Granted, it wasn’t his first time doing that today. After all, he’d done that earlier too. But this time, he was doing it after the guardian beast had been politely asked to waddle into spiritual water.

And oh, did Tortie deliver.

The tortoise was radiant. Dazzling. Unreasonably self-satisfied.

He looked like a divine being descending to purify the world—except instead of grace, he radiated pure, unapologetic arrogance.

Ripples of light shimmered off his shell as he bathed in the glowing water, eyes half-lidded in serene vanity.

Then, with a majestic rumble, he hummed in satisfaction.

The effect was immediate.

”!!!”

Every tentacle.

Every parasite.

Every corrupted, wriggling creature that had been trying to flee just froze.

And then, horrifically and dramatically—they all turned.

Toward him.

Toward the guardian beast, who was the prime candidate for a host.

Ah. Jax carried the bait while holding down the fort in the same spot for as long as possible.

And he did it extremely well.

He did it so well, in fact, that when he finally passed the responsibility to Butler Gary, they could feel Tortie’s displeasure.

To be fair, it wasn’t the butler’s fault.

Tortie simply wasn’t used to having his popularity decline so suddenly.

Because unfortunately for him, as soon as the parasitic creatures realized they couldn’t get to their bait, they began retreating back into the water—dragging Tortie’s audience (and his pride) with them.

But more than that, they also dragged one golden-eyed cadet’s heart with them.

”Husband, I think we really need to check underwater.”