The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 491: Prototypes

Now, how could word not spread about this insane news when the Duke was practically skipping down the halls?

Yes. Skipping.

And with several dramatic twirls, the joyful father managed to enter the training hall to find the next victims.

Heads turned. Necks craned.

He undoubtedly attracted attention, and Duchess Alia had to finally stop him from spinning like a top.

"Have you gone mad? What’s happening?"

"? Mad?! AHAHAHAHA! My dearest wife! The weather is glorious! My bones feel twenty years younger! And this father—this humble papa—is simply having the best day of his life!" Laughed the Duke, as he stood in a distinct fighting stance.

Alia looked him up and down.

"Where is our son?" she asked darkly. "Did you take him sowhere again?"

"What?! Of course not! What do you take for?! As a supportive father, I would of course support him in all his endeavors! And would be proud of his achievents!"

"A repeat offender."

"I—!!" He clutched his chest. "That hurts, Lia."

Duchess Alia’s eyes narrowed, wanting to strangle the man so he’d cut to the chase. "Spit it out. What are you up to this ti?!"

"You! How could you think like that! I’m up to nothing! I didn’t ask him for anything! It’s my precious son who said he was going to make sothing for ! His Papa! Hohohoho!"

"???"

"What is he making for you?" Threatened the duchess, who was at her wits’ end.

"A cha." He said with a big smile, one that for a mont reminded the Duchess about how his son was a mini- of this guy.

But then the superimposition was but a fleeting mont as the Duchess finally realized what her husband had just said.

"A what?!" She looked incredulous.

"My own custom cha, personally made by the best son!"

A declaration. That was what it sounded like; for the Duchess and everyone else who heard those words, it ended up being hyper-focused on the new public enemy number one.

Duke Leander Kyros.

But thankfully, the Duke, whose upturned nose could reach the heavens, realized that there were just too many bodies to dispose of. So he finally relayed his purpose in coming to the training hall.

He wasn’t just there to gloat; he was there to gloat and recruit volunteers. Dual purpose. After all, one must have a reason for survival when going to the beast’s lair.

"Ehem!" He cleared out his throat, all serious now, "Honey, our son is in need of three A-class cha pilots for testing of the prototypes. He needs three of them today, so I’m looking for volunteers."

And that was how every A-class pilot’s hand ended up being raised for a wild chance at being selected.

If only it stopped there.

Obviously, it didn’t.

Because now the entire training hall was packed with burly soldiers trying to look small and harmless and desperately eager.

Even those clearly not A-class were throwing themselves in, just in case the requirents got "adjusted."

Everyone wanted a peek.

A chance.

After all, these were the chas they would hopefully get to pilot if they were any good, right?

Wrong. For apparently, these were the chas they would get to pilot just because they were sohow lucky enough to be loyal to the House of Kyros.

When the news first broke out, several cha pilots had to look for the nearest walls to keep them steady.

Because this was basically unheard of.

See, soldiers in the Empire of Solaris are under Imperial command, regardless of their status. As a result, even those led by the respective houses would utilize the standard Imperial chas unless they were capable of equipping themselves with sothing better.

And more often than not, these individuals who use custom chas do so because they can afford it, or they were skilled enough to receive a custom one from the military or their backers.

But to discover that their young lord was intending to replace not only the officer’s chas but also the base models was sothing they didn’t account for.

So the new chas weren’t just for the elite.

Not just for himself.

But also for them?

That was emotional whiplash right there.

They were obviously touched. But such a consideration would surely take ti and resources. And it was sothing that might not happen in their current generation. But even then, they were happy to know that such a thing was in the works. At least their successors would have sothing they could look forward to!

Ideally.

But just a few hours ago, Duke Leander happened. With zero subtlety and full dramatic flair, he announced that his son was just about ready to test three chas.

Testing.

He already had sothing to test?!

Surely, the Duke ant a part, right?

But then they saw them.

The actual finishing touches had not been completed yet. But the paint job didn’t even look wet!

Duke Leander wasn’t kidding!

But even if the cockpit was half done, they’d still find it great because who on Solaris could even substantially finish three chas in that short ti?!

However, they could only shock themselves after lowering their expectations because the chas before them spoke for themselves.

Because even as giant toy models, those chas still looked far better than the current manual ones that most of them were using.

And soone with a creative imagination would argue that if the chas could speak, they’d be saying: "I can do things your current ride could only dream of."

It was offensive.

And a little seductive.

Especially when so of the chanics, too tired to sugarcoat things anymore, started talking.

"I’m telling you...This will be a bittersweet experience for the testers."

"Huh? Bittersweet? Just what could be bitter about this?!"

"You say that because you haven’t seen the data or cockpit yet."

"What about the cockpit?"

"Once you’ve sat in one of these babies—" the chanic paused dramatically, wiping imaginary tears, "—you’ll never want to go back."

Laughter rippled through the group, but it was nervous.

Because deep down, they all knew...

He wasn’t joking.

For when it ultimately ca down to ending today’s initial test, the "poor" pilot ended up contemplating marriage to the prototype.

Luca, for one, wasn’t sure why he was getting this kind of reaction.

Sohow, he could understand that the chanics who were beguiled and incentivized by the crepes were willing to live there to polish in exchange for food.

But then these pilots hadn’t had a taste. The chanics had hidden the food for "safekeeping," and yet these grown n looked like they were ready to write poetry about well-calibrated joints.

Hmm?

"Xavier, what do you think they like about the prototypes?"

"Is it the improvent in materials, durability, or the new regenerative armor?"

"Or is it how the increase in CF would allow for a better piloting experience?"

Luca squinted at one of the pilots, who now looked like he was about to cry.

"Or do you think they’ve noticed the change in the energy grid’s flow?" Luca asked as he observed the increasingly fanatic reactions of the pilots.

Xavier’s answer ca back calm. "I believe it’s all that and the cockpit. But if it’s them, it’s probably that small dedicated compartnt."

"Huh? The ergency compartnt???"

"Yes, because nothing scread ’care for their well-being’ more than seeing you provide treasures for each person."

"Oh."

Yeah. Oh. Xavier thought, because just how was he going to explain this bit to his uncle?