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

But what do you know?

Instead of gaining clarity, the already stressed doctor only spiraled further when snippets from the battle at Zone Four began spreading.

At that point, Brent had already reached out to several peers under the guise of casual academic curiosity, asking whether anyone had ever noticed anomalies related to those indicators. Dots that behaved strangely. Readings that did not quite behave as expected. Nothing specific. Nothing incriminating.

Because how exactly was he supposed to explain why he was suddenly asking about dots?

Unsurprisingly, without context or urgency, there simply weren’t enough people willing or able to comb through mountains of old footage just to stare at dots on a screen.

So he kept studying on his own.

And then he saw it.

Duke Leander’s display of power.

Brent paused the footage more times than he cared to admit, replaying certain moments with a frown slowly carving itself deeper into his face.

The Duke had always been classified as strong. SS-rank strong. That much was unquestioned because he had so many military achievements under his belt. And it wasn’t even just the leading kind. It was him quite literally going into battle himself.

But had he always been that strong?

Had the scale for SS-rank always accounted for that level of output? That level of devastation?

Were all SS-ranked individuals supposed to be capable of bringing down a beast like that?

Or had the benchmarks quietly shifted over the years while no one was paying attention?

And if he were to recommend Luca Kyros for an SS-grade evaluation, what would that even mean?

Would Luca be expected to face the same level of opponent?

Would he need to prove himself by crushing something equally monstrous?

The thought alone made Brent’s stomach twist.

Gods.

The line between scientific responsibility and basic human morality began to blur in uncomfortable ways because he felt that as a freshman, Luca was kind of too young to be expected to deal with something like that.

And with how everything could be turned into a political matter especially with the probability of an heir being that strong, Brent wouldn’t be surprised if someone recommended he be sent to battle for proof.

But just as he felt himself being pulled deeper into that dilemma, the long-awaited parade finally arrived.

The same parade that had consumed the days and nights of his colleagues at the Academy.

The same parade that turned the Empire’s attention inward and drowned everything else in celebration, spectacle, and noise.

Once again, Brent had to scrap his thoughts.

And in the end, his final conclusion was not an answer at all.

It was a single, bitter question.

Why, out of everyone in the Empire, did it have to be him who administered that reassessment?

__

With the population of the Empire of Solaris, did it really have to be him of all people?

And did he truly need to witness that display of spiritual might with his own two eyes?

Because instead of asking whether Luca Kyros could someday match his father and prove to everyone that he deserved such a rank, the doctor—now suffering from what felt like a permanent migraine—found himself reversing the question entirely.

Would the current SS-ranked individuals even be able to do what Luca had done?

Seeing Luca manifest a bloodline ability had already been shocking yet understandable in his case. If anything, it only reinforced Brent’s earlier conclusion that the cadet was very likely ranked above S-rank. That much was almost undeniable.

After all, bloodline abilities were one of the few common threads shared among confirmed SS-ranked individuals. They were also the reason political downplayers were often forced to shut their traps. If they could not wield such abilities themselves, they could not argue against those who could.

Because if someone with a bloodline ability were labeled S-rank, then what did that make everyone else in the same rank who couldn’t perform anything even remotely similar?

Weak.

Defective, even.

It was a blunt, inelegant method of forcing compliance, but it worked. No one wanted to be seen as lacking.

But it was what followed that forced Brent to reconsider the scale entirely.

Blanketing the entire parade area in a consistent level of spiritual energy.

Maintaining it throughout the whole march.

Then extinguishing it just as cleanly, as if turning off a switch.

That level of control alone was absurd.

If he had merely heard about it secondhand, Brent would have dismissed it as exaggerated praise. Or emotional exaggeration. Or clever use of visual effects layered atop a more modest display.

But he had been there.

He had felt it.

And judging by the stunned silence, the rigid postures, and the looks exchanged between veterans and experts alike, everyone else had too.

Which was really the only reason why he felt better when reasoning out to the same colleagues who wouldn’t be able to deny what they saw.

__

He didn’t really want to tell them about the dots. Not just yet.

That was something he needed to ask the cadet about first, because even if he revealed it now, he wouldn’t be able to answer the questions that would most certainly follow.

So what would be the point?

That said, there was one thing he could safely discuss.

The display of power that everyone in the Empire practically saw.

”Now that I’ve explained why the initial rank was assigned as it was,” Doctor Brent finally said, breaking the stagnant air, ”I would like to ask what measures we could realistically take to correct it.”

”Measures? What do you mean by measures?” asked one of the instructors who couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just raise the ranks when it was clear the cadet couldn’t possibly be a C-rank.

”Yes. Sir, measures. Because what rank are we supposed to give him, and how would we test it?”

”???”

Doctor Brent sighed once more.

”As an S-rank, would you be able to perform all the things he just did?” He looked at the instructor pointedly.

”!!!”

Thought so.

The instructors straightened in their seats, understanding finally dawning on them.

If none of the confirmed S-class individuals could replicate the feat they just witnessed, then who could possibly be the impostor?

The people who apparently didn’t deserve to be classified as S-ranks? Or the cadet who couldn’t simply be an S-rank?

”And with the expo currently in full swing,” Brent continued, twisting the knife with professional politeness, ”who here would be willing to inform both the cadet and the Empire that we will be borrowing DG’s guild leader and current cooking live instructor so we can confirm the very real possibility that he qualifies as SS-rank?”

”Please raise your hand.”

Kroo... Kroo...

Yep. Thought so too.

Just as expected, the silence that followed, accompanied by widened eyes and stiff expressions, was deafening.

Who in their right mind would volunteer to say, ”Oh, we’ll just need him for a few months. Please lend him to us”?

Certainly not him.

And yet, while the Academy’s finest sat frozen, desperately trying to conjure a solution that would not end in political disaster or bodily harm, the alleged SS-rank cadet himself still had not woken.

Despite the fact that his husband already had.

Thankfully for Doctor Brent, he was not aware of that particular detail.

Because honestly, what would he have done with a patient who glowed while he slept?