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

To be fair, who wouldn’t be utterly beguiled by the very game that nearly bankrupted Princess Kira herself?

If Luca had not calmly reminded her that everything inside the machine was accessible to her for free, she might have personally funded the entire maintenance budget out of sheer stubbornness.

It had been a close call.

Personal finances were saved only by timely intervention and the unfortunate reality that the princess possessed an alarming lack of understanding regarding why, exactly, the claw insisted on missing her targets.

Ahem.

Returning to the arcade proper, Princess Kira could only stand with her arms crossed as the group finally reached the machine she had a deeply personal love-hate relationship with.

The claw machine.

Her gaze lingered on it with suspicion.

Honestly, why Miss Cece had painted it in such vibrant, inviting colors remained a mystery. Bright. Cheerful. Innocent-looking.

A demon in disguise.

Cough. Cough.

So imagine her surprise when, before even fifteen attempts had passed, one of the little pebbles suddenly raised both hands.

”!!!”

Gasp!

__

However, she wasn’t the only one stunned.

Frankly, Owen was equally shocked when Art muttered shakily that he was pretty sure he actually got one.

They didn’t believe him at first.

Not when all of them had been standing in front of nearly identical machines and failing spectacularly. They had tried everything. Looking from the side. Assigning a spotter. Arguing about angles. Whispering encouragement like that helped.

Their closest attempt had ended in tragedy.

The claw had grabbed what looked like the arm of a fluffy beast, only for it to snag on another prize and drag both down in a cruel display of hope and betrayal.

They had collapsed onto the floor afterward.

It was so close.

Yet so far.

Still, teens were nothing if not resilient. Within minutes, they were back on their feet, fueled by vengeance and the elastic confidence of youth. They sprinted to the redemption booth, slapped more credits onto their terminals, and returned with renewed determination.

To think they didn’t even know what they were trying to win in the first place.

They just knew they couldn’t let it go.

Then it happened.

Art drifted toward a machine filled with smooth, spherical containers. No awkward limbs. No fur to snag. Just clean shapes.

”This one,” he murmured. ”This one looks... honest.”

He swiped his terminal.

And immediately made a mistake.

Instead of nudging the stick left or right, he hit the button right after moving forward.

The claw descended.

Art cursed under his breath, already bracing himself for disappointment.

Then the claw rose.

With something in it.

”!!!”

He froze.

The teen, however, didn’t call out. Not just yet. He just opted not to move at all. Because what if breathing affected his chances?

The last time someone had shouted, the prize had fallen back into the abyss.

So Art simply watched.

The claw trembled.

The sphere wobbled.

And then it dropped cleanly into the opening.

Art swallowed.

”I... I think,” he muttered faintly, ”I got one.”

His knees nearly gave out as he bent down and retrieved the prize. Only then did he finally turn and shout at the others.

”I REALLY GOT IT!”

The boys crowded around him immediately.

But their amazement did not end there.

Because when they all finally took a look at what he got, their expressions changed.

Awe.

Shock.

Horror.

He snapped it shut instantly, staring at everyone like they had all collectively committed a crime.

They all looked at one another, stunned.

Art finally shook his head, clutching the container to his chest.

”I don’t think we should be opening this here,” he said urgently after realizing how odd the item was. ”Something smells amazing and it’s glowing. I swear it is glowing.”

The others stared.

Princess Kira raised a brow.

Souvenir?

Hardly.

Art looked down at the sphere again, suddenly very aware of the faint spiritual pulse seeping through the container.

Yeah.

That was definitely not a souvenir.

__

They were, in fact, correct.

Because in truth, many of the prizes inside the claw machines were not mass produced goods, nor cheap novelties meant to bait people into wasting money.

They were donated art projects.

Yes.

Art projects.

Specifically, art projects created by one D-64.

Ever since gaining access to a body capable of transformation, the baby system had developed an intense and enthusiastic interest in tinkering. Once that curiosity ignited, it simply didn’t stop.

Wood from the dungeon space was carved and recarved into shapes that ranged from charming little beasts to... highly questionable figures that no one quite knew how to categorize. Rocks were picked up, polished, and sculpted with surprising precision. Pebbles were arranged into patterns. Crystals were chipped and shaped with careful focus.

D-64 created things with anything and everything it could get its hands on.

At a terrifying speed.

So fast, in fact, that everyone quickly ran into a very real problem.

They had nowhere to put them.

Even Princess Nina’s tree house, which had already become a shrine to gifted trinkets, was beginning to resemble a storefront rather than a residence.

And then came the sudden need for small prizes.

That was when Ollie suggested commissioning D-64.

In exchange, the baby system would receive a generous increase in its monthly sticker allowance.

The deal was accepted immediately.

It turned out to be a brilliant partnership.

A productive side hustle for a system that always needed something to play with, and an endless supply of unique prizes for the activity center.

But what the others didn’t immediately realize was that D-64’s creations weren’t nearly as simple as they sounded to everyone else who weren’t as accustomed to them.

Because the materials themselves weren’t ordinary.

The wood came from the dungeon space, chipped and carved while still rich with residual spiritual energy. Pebbles and small crystals were sourced from spiritual water streams and mines. Pressed flower sachets were made from blooms carefully picked by D-64 in gardens tended by the elders themselves.

Given those origins, how could such items possibly be mere toys?

Short answer: they couldn’t.

Luca, ever the concerned citizen, had thought it would be a good thing for people to hold onto them.

While the effect would not be as immediate or potent as consuming spiritual-energy-infused food, prolonged exposure to these items would gently help rejuvenate spiritual energy over time.

Slow. Subtle. Safe.

It was, frankly, a wild idea.

The Imperial leaders were stunned when they learned Luca was completely fine with letting such items circulate freely.

Then again, considering his personality, they probably should have expected it.

For one, D-64 visibly enjoyed seeing others use its creations. And more importantly, Luca had never been the type to chase absolute monopoly.

Given the expected audience, especially considering the invited soldiers, he believed there was real value in allowing them a chance to obtain one.

Of course, good ideas still came with problems.

The biggest concern was containment.

How were they supposed to prevent the spiritual energy from leaking uncontrollably after the first use, when the items were already stripped of their natural protective coatings?

Sure, they wanted and expected it to leak bit-by-bit so the owner could benefit from it. But once used outside, it would face the same issue as growing plants. An environment already drained of spiritual energy would simply disperse most of what was stored.

And they couldn’t possibly encase every single item using the same materials that stabilized the greenhouse complex.

They were already doing it for the machines to help preserve the prizes in batches, but doing it for every single prize would make one penny-pincher cry.

It would be too expensive.

And unsustainable. And unlike the food that would be eaten within a certain span of time, they were hoping to make items that would last way longer and could hold on for multiple uses.

Then one reliable dwarf spoke up.

She said she had an idea.

But she would like to test it first.

If it worked, she would then tell everyone.

A few days later, she did.

The solution came in the form of trinkets dusted with crushed Lumen crystal.

The effect was admittedly astonishing.

The Lumen crystal stabilized the spiritual energy beautifully, allowing it to be stored and released gently with minimal degradation.

Luca nearly cried.

Because how could he not rejoice when the cost of safely holding and conducting spiritual energy was effectively free for them, who now had a crystal farm?

And now, those finished creations were being enjoyed by the soldiers of House Kyros.

As well as one stunned teenager.

Art stood there, clutching the small sphere in his hands.

The first commercially won claw machine prize.