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

The livestream control zone was in complete disarray.

Not a messy kind of disarray. More like the silent, vibrating horror of people who realized they were witnessing something monumental and had no idea if they were filming it correctly.

The Director of Photography felt it first.

He stared at the live view of the venue and then the screens in front of him, throat bobbing as he swallowed. The room had been cold and yet he could feel his palms sweating against the console. His breath shook. He had never been both this terrified and this exhilarated in his entire career.

In one possible future, he would rise to fame for capturing this historic moment.

In the other, he would burn in the eternal flames reserved for broadcast failures.

He gulped again.

Harder.

Then he shot up from his chair, nearly sending it rolling into a wall. He planted himself right beside the camera consoles, eyes wide, pupils dilated, his expression shifting as if he understood a divine message that no one else heard.

He looked like the unseen director of DG’s segment had whispered directly into his soul.

He drew in a breath.

Then he bellowed loud enough to rattle the equipment.

”Prepare the shots! I need angles, prepare for all of them! They are coming!”

Everyone froze.

Then looked at him like he had lost his sanity.

Because what angles were even left?

They already had:

The wide shot of the synchronized net of white mechas hovering above in perfect formation.

The dramatic low angles capturing each custom mecha’s majestic entrance, each of which really required its own viewport.

The bird’s eye view spanning the entire parade route.

The medium close-up focused entirely on the crowd and the delegation’s stunned expressions.

Three different cameras dedicated solely to Luca Kyros’s full shot, his legs, and a close-up of his face.

And now they had to track a whirlwind too.

What shots were they even supposed to prepare?

But then the cyclone began to clear.

Smoke peeled back like a curtain.

Everything else seemed to stop moving. Even the mechas in the air appeared frozen mid-hover. The crowd held its breath. And without waiting for further orders, the entire staff lunged into motion.

Switchboards lit up.

Camera feeds rearranged.

Zoom levels reset.

The room collectively shifted into instinctual, frantic coordination.

And that was when they captured it.

Luca Kyros stepping through the fading smoke.

His eyes narrowed just a touch, sharp and glinting. Then the edge of his lips curved upward into a soft but confident smile.

The DP nearly screamed.

Because just as Luca’s smile reached his eye, something descended behind him.

No, someone.

A figure dropped from the sky through the last traces of spinning wind.

He touched down with commanding grace. A descent so terrorizingly fast yet brimming with that quiet yet oppressive confidence. His boots met the ground with such poise that it contradicted entirely with the fact that he had just fallen out of a whirlwind.

__

Star Net was in an uproar.

Comments flew so fast the system lagged. People in their homes, offices, and even classrooms were being strangled by either the sheer force of admiration or the hands of those beside them who could no longer contain themselves.

Because through the thinning smoke, as if the cyclone itself had respectfully stepped aside, a figure dressed in black appeared.

He emerged like a scene crafted for cinematic perfection.

His long white hair billowed behind him. His cape swayed with the settling wind. And he took one quiet, deliberate step just behind Luca.

The online world collectively lost balance.

The presence was staggering. Even those seated comfortably at home suddenly straightened in their chairs. Some placed their feet together. Others fixed their posture. A few even lowered their heads without realizing it.

The person on the screen could not see them, of course.

But it felt wrong not to show respect.

Young, old, humans and aliens of all genders gawked helplessly at the sight. Shivers ran up their spines as the camera caught the subtle flutter of his azure eyes, the calm sweep of lashes before he tilted his head ever so casually in Luca’s direction.

Lord.

To be looked at like that.

Star Net did not merely explode. It disintegrated.

The live stream comments momentarily stopped, and yet maybe it was just because it couldn’t handle the flurry of messages that followed.

[”If this is the last scene I see before I die, I am content. Content!”]

[”This is a money shot. Frame it. Print it. Immortalize it.”]

[+1]

[+1]

[+1]

[”HELLO??? WHY IS ANYONE ALLOWED TO LOOK LIKE THIS??? WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF US?!”]

And yet despite their already fevered worldviews, the parade only continued to escalate.

Because the moment the world thought it had reached its emotional limit, two highly contradictory yet extremely popular figures descended in succession.

The first one landed on Luca’s left with crisp precision, knees bending in a clean, powerful motion before he straightened. Every line of his body radiated competence, sharp focus, and certainty. By the time his face appeared on the screens, millions were already squealing in their seats.

But the cameras caught something even more devastating.

His eyes shifted immediately toward the next figure.

The contrast was whiplash-inducing.

Because the next one dropped down on Luca’s right with a light bounce, landing like a spark in the middle of a lineup of gods. He straightened with surprising grace before flashing a bright, eager grin at the crowd, leaning forward as if greeting an entire galaxy.

Somehow, he looked both adorable and ridiculously cool at the same time.

He barely moved as he walked forward, just like the others. And yet, when the small hair antenna on his head swayed with a soft boing, the camera flashes turned into a storm.

People fainted.

Or claimed they did.

Hard to tell.

__

From the audience, Owen Mylor nearly burst into tears.

He had waited for this moment, dreamed of this moment, rehearsed speeches for this moment. He knew his big brother was amazing, but to witness him descend like that, with such power and pride, made Owen feel like his brother had achieved every ancestor’s expectations in one go.

He clutched his chest.

He had never been more proud.

More than that, he was astonished. His brother, who had always been aloof, had so many friends now. Cool friends. Strong friends. Friends who made the air shake.

Owen wanted to meet them.

Especially after the next arrival.

It was a memorable descent, like an effortless skip that landed with enough presence to decimate smoke. The crowd expected a vanguard, a warrior, a stoic combatant.

What they got instead was a redhead strolling out with his hands behind his head, walking with the relaxed aura of someone who had wandered into the wrong parade but decided to own it anyway.

He grinned brightly behind his guild members.

Wide. Cheerful. Completely unbothered.

With a smile like that, Owen and everyone else wondered whether it would be possible to join such a guild.

Because clearly, these people were insane.

Insanely cool and happy.

And really, who wouldn’t want in on that?