The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 556: Technically

It was an honorable realization.

One that must be shared by everyone who thought they’d seen much of the world.

And while so were naturally harder to convince, others had simply surrendered to the impossible.

Like one particular deputy officer who was now making a very hasty run for it.

CLANK.

CLANK.

CLANK.

The distinct sound of military boots hamring against steel floors echoed behind him.

"Lock the testing chamber." That had been the order. Eden, anwhile, had been told to take over the monitoring for the facility, especially during the scanning of this so-called anomaly.

To be fair, it hadn’t started like this.

It had been as normal as it could get before they all left the auditorium close to midnight. And despite "normal" being sothing else entirely—especially for those mildly traumatized and severely awakened by existential awe—they still didn’t quite grasp what the cadet ant.

Not until Marshal Julian gave his nod to proceed with the demonstration tomorrow, right under the heavy, unblinking gaze of one imperial prince whose silent pressure probably counted as a war cri.

Of course, this decision ca with basic expectations. Like confirming whether the cha actually worked.

Normally, a proper cha test involved multiple checkpoints at every major system. But that idea had long gone out the window, swept away by the sheer speed of the chanic’s build. By the ti soone rembered anything about a test, the cha was already standing.

And it didn’t just stand. It powered up, walked, and glead like so kind of star-forged champion.

Which, technically, should’ve been more than enough to earn that cadet a license, ten comndations, and perhaps a statue.

But no. Luca Soren Kyros wanted Day 2 to proceed as scheduled.

Except now, the venue was no longer an auditorium.

It was a cha combat arena.

Hence, the three of them had no choice but to do a safety inspection after returning to the military headquarters.

After all, they couldn’t exactly let the Marshal of the Empire strap himself into an untested machine, no matter how impressive it looked. Thankfully, it was easier to justify because they had watched the entire process live, and after they’d agreed to do the demonstration, the cha hadn’t left Julian’s space button. But despite all this, all precautions must be taken to ensure the safety of the empire.

And the mont they summoned it, Curtis had to pause.

Because that cha was... breathtaking.

When it erged, the cha stood like a silent sentinel cloaked in that black armor that glead here and there.

To be completely honest, Curtis thought of it as an elegant yet imposing beauty. Like this, one would think that the cadet had thought about giving it to the Marshal long before today.

He blinked.

Wait. Didn’t he ask about the Marshal’s favorite color just that morning?

Was this a coincidence? Or was the boy just that good at improvising?

"Well, he’s got taste," Curtis muttered, unaware that he had just complinted Sid and D-29, who had worked themselves into a frenzy to prevent golden biceps.

But beauty alone didn’t make a machine battle-ready.

"Marshal, do you want to run a safety test before you strap in?"

"No need."

The marshal answered without even turning his head. Frankly, after the way Xavier had looked at him earlier, climbing into a potentially sabotaged cha seed like the lesser risk.

Curtis gulped.

Still, Julian entered the cockpit with practiced ease. Only to blink in surprise.

This... wasn’t standard.

In fact, it felt a bit too comfortable. The controls, the seat, even the HUD—there was a level of detail here that suggested the designer had personal grievances. It was customized. Intentionally. Maybe that was the benefit of being a chanic who could pilot?

Julian exhaled and shook his head. He wasn’t here for aesthetics or comfort.

He was here to see if the machine worked.

And oh, it worked.

Worked well.

A little too well, in fact.

The mont the cha responded to his first command, Julian realized they might be in trouble.

He turned toward Curtis and Eden.

"Lock this place down."

Because sothing told him they were about to see sothing far beyond ordinary security clearance.

As soone who had been piloting chas since before puberty, Marshal Julian knew better than most how a cha should feel.

Especially combination types. The way spiritual energy flowed through them made it feel like controlling extended body parts. But precisely because of that closeness, he was also intimately familiar with the limitations.

There was always a break-in period. Always a mont of clunkiness, an awkward delay. Even the best chas with Calibration Fidelity values around sixty percent would still need ti to sync.

So what in all eighteen levels of hell was that?

Because that cha didn’t feel sluggish.

It didn’t even feel like a cha.

It felt... like a second skin.

Julian only had to take one step—just one—to know that sothing was off.

And the mont he stepped down, his first order was simple.

"Run a full scan. Confidential."

Curtis, blinking rapidly, tilted his head. "Should I call a master chanic?"

"No."

The Marshal didn’t even look at him.

"Not yet."

That was enough to shut Curtis up, but it didn’t stop the nerves. Especially when Eden was suddenly told to handle the system diagnostics herself.

"Marshal, what exactly are we looking for?" she asked, already pulling up the encrypted system scan.

Julian didn’t answer.

Because what was he supposed to say?

That it didn’t feel like he was piloting anything?

That it was too seamless?

That the machine responded as he thought?

But even those thoughts fell short the mont the results appeared.

Julian stared.

And stared.

He almost fell forward.

Curtis leaned closer, only to stumble back a step. "Wait. Wait—wait, no. That can’t be right."

Eden triple-checked the screen. Her jaw clenched. "I... I’ll re-run it. I must’ve skipped a step or... or maybe the scanner’s glitching."

But the machine wasn’t glitching.

They knew because even after the third scan, the result remained the sa.

Ninety percent.

A cha with 90% Calibration Fidelity.

That wasn’t just unheard of. That was myth-level nonsense. Things people joked about during long shifts to keep morale up.

"Holy hell," Curtis whispered. "That’s really ninety?"

"Yeah. No shit..." Eden muttered, barely able to blink.

Neither of them could look away from the number.

Curtis turned to Marshal Julian, voice rising in panic. "Marshal, what do we do now? What do we even say?!"

Julian, who looked like he was ntally rearranging every protocol he’d ever learned, said quietly, "Nothing. Not yet. No one else pilots it. No one sees the report. Not until we understand what this thing actually is."

"And tomorrow?" Eden asked. "The demonstration?"

Julian exhaled. He’d already been thinking about that.

The most awful part was the fact that the cha hadn’t even been calibrated for him yet.

Which ant... that wasn’t even its maximum.

"We’ll need to ask."

Eden blinked. "Ask...?"

Curtis’s eyes widened. "You an... ask the kid?!"

"No. The scary one." Julian replied flatly.

Eden gaped. "Wait. Marshal. Are we seriously going to destroy your new cha? The ninety percent baby?!"

Julian shrugged. "Well. If that guy says so, we’ll have to do it."

And to be fair... they tried.