The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 718

Chapter 718: Perfect Combination

Well, great question.

For one, just what could he do to get the opening they were looking for?

Duke Leander frowned, thinking deeply. Then, suddenly—

“!!!”

A spark of inspiration struck him like divine revelation.

Of course! How could he have forgotten that?

The smug Duke straightened in his cockpit, eyes gleaming as if he had just remembered a long-lost treasure. He had kept this from the researchers—oh yes, all this time—waiting for the right moment. The perfect moment. And finally, he would see it with his own eyes without anyone getting in the way.

And then he pulled it out.

The battlefield stilled.

Because there, in the black-and-gold mecha’s grip, appeared a massive two-handed greatsword, easily taller than a few vehicles. Its blade was a dark gray, with layered textures that looked like cracked stone plates fused together. Embedded within those cracks were glowing crystalline veins—lines of light that pulsed like blood through the metal.

The sword shimmered faintly, its edge humming with restrained power.

“By Solaris…” muttered a stunned pilot. “What is that?”

Even Duchess Amelia momentarily forgot to move. Her eyes flickered toward the enormous blade, then up to her husband’s mecha holding it with pride that could rival the sun.

“Leander,” she said softly through the comms, already bracing herself.

“My dearest wife!” the Duke called out proudly, turning the mecha to face her. “Look!”

If a mecha could wag its tail, his absolutely would have.

He posed dramatically, lifting the sword so its crystalline veins caught the light, beaming as though he had just unveiled a new national treasure.

The Duchess, however, simply closed her eyes for a brief moment—long enough to gather patience from the stars themselves.

“Leander,” she asked carefully, “you do know how to use it, right?”

“Of course I do!” he said in an all-too-reassuring tone, puffing up his chest. “I read the manual!”

“The… manual.”

“Yes!” he continued enthusiastically. “Written by our brilliant son himself! It was very thorough, complete with specifications, minimum energy requirements, polishing intervals, and daily interaction suggestions.”

“Interaction suggestions?”

“Yes. Three greetings, two compliments, and one direct acknowledgment of excellence per day.”

“…”

Duchess Amelia decided not to ask further.

Leander, however, was fully convinced.

He raised the sword, his mecha’s thrusters igniting softly as he positioned himself. “According to the instructions,” he declared, “a fully charged downward strike will destabilize enemy formations and fortifications.”

Marshal Julian, still managing the cannon’s charge, barely had time to glance up before muttering, “Ninety-seven percent.”

“Perfect timing,” Leander said, gripping the sword with both hands.

The black-and-gold mecha’s thrusters flared brighter, the surrounding water boiling into mist. Energy gathered around the blade, forming visible arcs of spiritual light that crackled across its crystalline veins.

And then—

The Duke moved.

In an instant, the majestic mecha blurred. One heartbeat, it was hovering beside the others; the next, it was right in front of the aberrant bloom.

The sword came down.

A clean, decisive, fully charged downward strike—exactly as the manual instructed.

For a moment, nothing happened.

“…”

“…”

The silence was almost suspicious.

Even the Duke blinked, confused. “…Did I miss?”

But then the monster twitched.

Its entire body shuddered, and a low, guttural sound rumbled through the air.

At first, no one could tell what was wrong. Then, slowly, they saw it—the sides of the colossal bloom were slipping.

“What in—?” someone started.

It wasn’t melting. It wasn’t torn apart. It was sliced into three.

Then, from the point where the sword had struck, three enormous cracks burst outward like a blazing fan—each line glowing with raw, molten light.

The fissures tore through the seabed with such force that the ground didn’t just break, it moved.

Tremors rippled outward, shaking the ground beneath the sea as if the planet had flinched. The fractures widened in an instant, slicing through rock and sediment, and the water above reacted like it had been struck by a meteor.

The ocean itself looked as if it had been sliced.

But in truth, it was the force of the impact—the shockwave of a strike fully charged with an SS-grade beast core and far, far too much enthusiasm.

The soldiers could only watch, speechless.

Even the Marshal forgot to breathe.

And Duke Leander, panting in his cockpit, stared at the screen in wonder.

“Well,” he said finally, with deep satisfaction, “I believe that counts as an opening.”

For who knows how long, no one moved.

No one spoke.

No one even breathed.

Every communication line across the battlefield was dead silent.

Because what they had just witnessed—what they were still watching—was beyond comprehension.

Duke Leander Kyros’ attack wasn’t just powerful. It was catastrophic.

The monstrous bloom that had towered over the sea thrashed wildly, its once-fluid form twisting in panic. A deep, distorted groan rumbled from its core as the great body began to fold and crash into itself like a collapsing city of towers.

From top to bottom, the creature was splitting apart.

The Duke’s downward strike had quite literally divided it—three massive fissures carved straight through its body, clean and deliberate, as though the world itself had decided to dissect the abomination.

Chunks of corrupted flesh began peeling away, sliding off in slow, horrifying motion.

The soldiers finally realized what was happening, their eyes tracking the collapse as the aberrant bloom began to fall apart like a dying mountain.

And then came the part that turned awe into horror.

Because as the creature tore open, the gaping wound at its center revealed what was inside.

And it wasn’t empty.

“Oh stars above…” someone whispered.

Hundreds of smaller creatures writhed within, tangled together in parasitic webs of flesh and corruption.

Duchess Amelia saw it first. Her voice broke through the frozen comms. “Fire the cannon!”

That was all the Marshal needed to hear.

All across the battlefield, soldiers scrambled to reorient. Thrusters flared, mechas shifted positions, and the shimmering glow of the fully charged cannon began to swell.

Meanwhile, the waters below were thrashing wildly. The sheer mass of the collapsing bloom sent colossal waves rippling outward, shaking every nearby vessel. The ocean itself seemed to recoil from the creature’s fall, rising and folding back as pieces of corrupted tissue rained down like sludge.

The monster had no exoskeleton—nothing to hold it together—and so it simply broke apart under its own weight.

Up on the command bridge, Eden was losing her mind.

She had been staring at the aberrant bloom for hours, and this… this was not on her list of expected outcomes.

“Holy Hell!” she shouted, clutching her screen. “Did the Duke—did he just release everything living inside that thing?!”

Her curses quickly turned into a string of languages that definitely weren’t from the Empire.

Half the officers pretended not to understand. The other half prayed they didn’t.

Down below, Marshal Julian was already in motion. “Ninety-eight percent—ninety-nine—fire!”

The cannon shot at full charge.

Every eye turned toward it.

Every heart clenched in anticipation.

This was it. The strike that would finish the battle. The miracle that would cleanse the corruption.

And then—

“Fwiisshhh~.”

The sound was… delicate.

Gentle.

Like the whisper of a breeze or the fizz of a sparkling drink.

Tiny specks of light—shimmering, glittering, glitter—fell softly through the air, cascading across the battlefield like snow.

The soldiers stared.

Then stared harder.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Eden blinked. “…Was that it?”

The Marshal didn’t answer. He was too stunned.

“…”

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the ground.

It was, without a doubt, the most awkward follow-up in the Empire’s history.

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