The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 775

Capítulo 775: The Descent

In his years as an educator to children and young adults, Instructor Falco had learned several things.

The value of flexibility, the readiness to expect the unexpected, and the reality that absolute silence was a precursor to a likely heart attack.

So what else did he expect from the children who couldn’t be reached?

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It wasn’t drums this time. Rather, it was the sound of their collective heartbeat as that single bright point in the sky that should’ve been nothing, grew before them.

Sharper, then brighter, before splitting into a stream of glinting lights that cascaded across the blue horizon.

A roar rippled through the crowd as people pointed upward.

“Look!”

“What are those—?!”

“!!!”

It was so high up that people had to crane their necks to see, but when they did, they finally made out what it was. And gasps erupted amongst the crowd.

Huh?

Mechas?!

From what could only be a battleship, Falco watched as white mechas spilled in breathtaking numbers.

But instead of dispatching one at a time, they seemed to be connected, forming a pattern like flowing water, spiraling downward in smooth, sweeping arcs.

The spiral tightened.

Rotated. Then loosened.

A storm of white light twirled overhead, majestic and terrifying.

Then the gasps intensified as a double helix of smoke trailed in the sky as new mechas moved.

But from the very core of the spiral, something else broke free—a spear of blazing color, spinning downward in a vertical plunge, trailing light like a comet’s tail.

It fell.

Blazing so fast that the cameras had to be readjusted.

Even the commentators forgot how to speak as the “meteor” blazed toward the ground.

__

But before the impact that had Falco clutching the armrest with both hands could happen, something even more shocking occurred.

The giant holographic screens flickered—

Then zoomed sharply into the blazing “meteor.”

Strangled exclamations rippled across the venue because the blazing object was not debris.

It was a mecha.

A mecha wrapped in a fire-like aura, barreling downward at a speed so reckless that even the bravest soldiers instinctively took a step back. The screens shook slightly as the camera drones struggled to keep up.

And then the impossible happened.

Right as the mecha swooped dangerously close to the towering buildings framing the plaza, its cockpit locks began to open.

“What—?!”

“Is it malfunctioning?!”

“No, no, no, no—”

Hundreds of audience members who had paid for front-row seats were suddenly on their feet, hands clutching their heads, eyes stretched wide in disbelief.

The cockpit slid open fully.

Then, before the mecha arched back upward in an explosive burst of speed, something jumped out, no, walked out.

The same figure who took a step only to fall from that terrifying height.

But much to everyone’s shock, the blaze that had vanished from the mecha the moment the cockpit opened suddenly reappeared—

On his back.

As Wings.

Blazing wings of flame unfurled from the descending figure—whose face they couldn’t yet identify—stretching outward in a streak of fiery light like a second sunrise.

The holographic screens lagged for a breath before finally catching up, the image so startling that several commentators forgot how to breathe.

The head commentator choked on his words.

“W… what—what on—”

He didn’t finish.

Because the drop was fast. Too fast.

Anyone with eyes could see the impossible distance he had leapt from—easily equivalent to a sky-rise height, a fall that no normal person could survive. The entire crowd collectively braced, mouths open, waiting for the inevitable impact, half expecting an explosion, a crater, a disaster—

The human meteor landed.

BOOM.

A shockwave blasted across the plaza. And anyone seeing that would’ve been certain of the ground heaving. Instructor Falco’s knees buckled so violently that he had to grab Moore to stop himself from collapsing outright.

But then—

The crater never formed. Debris never scattered.

Instead, right as the impact struck, the giant blazing wings snapped open in a massive arc. Fire erupted outward from the point of contact, unfurling across the street like a rolling carpet of flames. It spread in a controlled wave, sweeping through the ground like a wildfire being directed by an invisible hand.

The entire audience lurched backward.

Because they felt it.

The spiritual pressure.

A massive burst of spiritual energy surged outward—overwhelming, roaring through the plaza like a sudden tidal wave. It washed over them, expanding without restraint, the force so shocking and alive that people forgot how to breathe as it threatened to swallow everything.

It felt like the world was about to be covered, better yet, veiled.

And then—

Just as the energy reached its peak, enough for even the children to realize that something else was happening, it snapped back inward.

The energy recoiled like a living creature returning home.

The spiritual pressure condensed sharply, drawn into perfect alignment until it framed the entire parade street with a glowing border of fire. The parade strip—long, wide, vast, meant to hold thousands—was outlined in blazing light.

And in the center of it all stood one person.

Just one.

Luca Soren Kyros.

Hovering inches above the ground, wings of flame unfurled behind him, a carpet of fire blazing at his feet without touching him, his silhouette framed in burning gold.

Then his feet touched the ground.

It was a small motion, almost delicate. Like a deity had simply decided the land was acceptable enough to stand on today. The movement carried no force—no stomp, no dramatic crash—just a gentle placement of boots on solid ground.

Given their distance, it should’ve been negligible, soundless.

And yet the moment the soles met the ground, Instructor Falco swore the world shook.

Not a tremor in the pavement.

Not the echo of the earlier shockwave.

No—Falco felt it in his bones, in his lungs, in the place his soul probably sat. A jolt that shot straight through his core and almost knocked the breath out of him. His fingers dug into the backrest of the chair in front of him, knuckles white, as his entire body stiffened.

And as if the universe itself agreed with him, the flames vanished.

The fiery carpet that had blanketed the entire parade street simply dissolved into motes of light. The blazing wings behind Luca shattered into fragments of scarlet, scattering like embers before disappearing entirely.

Luca opened his eyes.

And smiled.

And it drove the crowd wild.

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