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

The object sitting in the crater was shaped like a small boulder, rounded and cracked on one side. If one were to glance at it, they would think it was just another rock that had been tossed around by the violent impact. But a closer look revealed something entirely different.

The outer layer really was rock. Actual stone.

But beneath the shattered chunks, faint seams glinted. Smooth. Metallic. Too precise to be natural. Like someone had wrapped a capsule-sized shuttle in geological camouflage and prayed no one would look too closely.

Xavier stood at the edge of the wreck. He inspected it for two seconds, then stepped back as if something had crystallized in his mind.

”Call the Marshal. And Princess Kira. And Cece,” he instructed calmly.

Ollie blinked. ”Even Princess Kira and Auntie Cece?”

”Yes. Because by the looks of it, this is not some ordinary metal.”

And sure enough, he was right. It was not.

__

The moment Marshal Julian arrived—followed shortly by Cece, Princess Kira, and Ada—the air changed.

Shock. Disbelief. Fury.

The crater had them initially confused.

But seeing the rubble stunned them all.

They had already heard from Ada’s mother about the plot to sabotage relations between humans and orcs—but the exact method had remained unclear until they actually saw the problem.

And yet, even while battling the monsters, the threat hadn’t felt real. The creatures were massive, unnerving, but their sheer scale made it easier to dismiss the incident as a freak anomaly. A coincidence, maybe. Because surely, no one would be bold—or deranged—enough to create something like that on purpose.

But standing there, staring at the wreckage, there was no longer any room for doubt.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

This was proof.

Undeniable. Intentional. Physical.

Someone had really done it.

And now, no one could ignore what this provocation meant.

Kira in particular reacted like someone had handed her a detonator.

Her aura flared. The ground beneath her feet cracked. Pebbles trembled. And she began creating a second crater in real time.

Her fists clenched so tight that even her bones seemed offended.

Because how could she not be furious?

Those rebels had planned something so vicious and foul that she genuinely considered asking Luca for revive pills just so she could raise them from the dead, then kill them again herself.

What kind of scum shared her genetic code somewhere in the galaxy?

Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to engineer monsters to push their political agenda? Monsters so strong that even all the orcs together wouldn’t stand a chance?

If Luca and the people of House Kyros had not shown up, this entire zone would have been swallowed.

Her mind flashed back to the humans she carried out of danger. The injured ones. The ones who cried. The non-combatant personnel who clung to her arm as she lifted rubble with one hand.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, her chest clenched painfully.

Because even though she and Ada had helped, it did not feel like enough.

It was not a good feeling. Not a good feeling when Theo, who barely exercised, somehow saved five times as many people as they did because of his unique skills.

Not a good feeling when Tortie—champion of relaxation, fashion, and lettuce—contributed more than enough to earn himself a statue.

And yet she, Princess Kira Zulgara, possibly the next Orc leader, could not match either of them because how could she even fight with just her body against something like that?!

She was seething.

Absolutely steaming.

Steam that was one sharp breath away from bursting out of her pores.

Then something small touched her arm.

She stared.

Luca stood beside her, smiling gently, eyes warm and pure. ”Princess Kira, we really have to thank your father and Ada’s parents for informing us about this as soon as they could. If they hadn’t, then we would have lost more than we already did.”

”Huh?” Kira froze.

She had braced for blame. For anger. For anything but this.

”But Luca, I don’t think you should thank us. None of this would have happened if not for the problems back in our galaxy.” Her throat tightened. She had to clench and unclench her fists to stop the frustration from spilling out. ”So... I really don’t think we should be thanked.”

Surprisingly, Luca did not hesitate.

He frowned thoughtfully, almost offended on her behalf. ”Hmm... I don’t think that’s true. The rebels clearly planned this for a long time. And it would have happened one way or another. If not for King Garrick going back to deal with them—which probably caught them off-guard—then we wouldn’t have gotten the important tip.”

”But...”

”But more importantly, Auntie Cece is saying it doesn’t seem like it’s just the orcs this time.”

Kira blinked. ”What?”

”Yeah. The make of that disguised ship they used to pass off as a meteorite looks like it was built with help from a few other groups.”

”Huh?!”

Luca tilted his head. ”So if that’s the case, do you still think this is just the fault of the orcs?”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

She processed.

Her expression shifted.

And then she burst out in a loud, triumphant declaration.

”Hah! I knew it!” she yelled, stabbing a finger toward the crater like she had caught someone cheating on a test. ”Those dimwits could not have possibly done this by themselves!”

”Eh???”

Luca looked confused, and he tried looking for answers by looking at Ada, but instead of clarity, the young heir just became more confused because she was similarly smiling.

”???”

But how could Ada not smile?

She understood where the Princess was coming from. Completely. Painfully.

This wasn’t just a tragedy. It was a disgrace.

For orcs who had been treated with kindness—welcomed, fed, protected—there was no easy way to describe the shame curling in their chests. Every thank you from those humans earlier had felt like a punch to the gut. A painful reminder that their kind were quite literally the reason for this entire problem.

Because orcs weren’t solitary. They were raised on pride. Strength, yes—but collective strength. If one fell, all of them felt it. If one did wrong, it smeared the face of everyone who shared their blood.

So how were they supposed to lift their heads after this?

And yet here was Luca. That deceptively soft little dungeon lord was delivering the kind of information that shook the entire foundation of what Princess Kira and Ada had believed was possible. He just said it as if it were nothing. No weight and barely a pause. As if he didn’t realize what a big deal it was.

He had no idea.

No idea that, while he sat there blinking with those golden eyes, the orcs listening to him were quietly losing their minds.

Because if what he said was true...

Then it meant something huge.

It meant that the monsters who had done all of this—those twisted creatures created to destroy peace—weren’t orcs simply being orcs. They weren’t proof of biological violence. They weren’t some cursed instinct from birth.

They had chosen that.

Which also meant...

Others could choose differently.

Ada’s mouth parted slightly. She blinked at the boy, and for a moment, her heart did a strange, painful flip.

It was no secret that most races viewed orcs as all brawn and no brain. Because of that, hardly anyone ever imagined that they, too, cared deeply about who the good guys and bad guys were.

Yet in truth, orcs were painfully sensitive to that distinction. Prideful, yes, but also quietly troubled by the fear that they might have been born inherently bloodthirsty.

So Ada wanted to thank Luca once again for this. Her lady may have looked at it differently and fixated on the lack of brain cells, but nonetheless it lifted both their extremely gloomy moods earlier.

And really, it was reassuring.

It was reassuring to know that there were people who genuinely didn’t look at all of them as monsters.

Then again, Luca knew better than to judge anyone’s goodness based on ability, race, or appearance. Because in the end, even the weakest creatures could be capable of the worst kinds of monstrosity.

__

Cece crouched beside the rubble, running her gloved hand over the inner surface. ”And this metal... it is not a common alloy. Honestly, this looks forged to me.”

She tapped the edge thoughtfully. ”And it’s not that orcs don’t have methods to make something like this, but something this small and delicate? That already narrows it down. Machines could have shaped it, but I don’t think they did. There are too many inconsistencies.”

She leaned closer, brow lifting. ”But more than all of that... this thing is practically reeking of spiritual energy. We’re used to that, of course. But if you showed this to an ordinary craftsman or inventor?” She gave a short, dry laugh. ”You’d probably have to carry them straight to the medical bay.”

Ollie’s head popped up. ”Auntie, is it dangerous?”

”It is suspicious,” Julian said darkly.

”It is expensive,” Luca whispered reverently, staring at the gleaming metal as if it were a gold ingot dipped in diamonds.

Everyone paused.

Kyle stared at him. ”Luca.”

”Yes?”

”Brother... This is evidence.”

”Yes,” Luca said solemnly. ”Evidence that whoever made this used very, very costly materials. Look at that sheen. Look at that purity. Look at the way the spiritual residue clings to the surface. This is craftsmanship.”

Ollie stared at him, impressed and confused. ”Brother... are you... Are you praising the enemy?”

”No,” Luca said firmly. ”I am praising the metal.”

”...”

”...”