The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 717: The Duke’s Debut

"Do you just need an opening? Then let try!"

The voice broke through the tense and desperate atmosphere.

Soldiers who heard the ironically calm voice froze for half a heartbeat, unsure whether their ears were playing tricks on them.

But then the comms crackled, and soone spoke—

"Duke Leander?" Marshal Julian verified, though even without receiving a reply, there could really be no mistaking it.

Because descending from above them—through inexplicable smoke, wind, and splattering seawater—was a figure that could belong to no one else.

The cha’s arrival silenced the battlefield.

It didn’t crash or roar—it descended, slowly and deliberately, as if the heavens themselves had decided to drop a representative onto the field.

Soldiers stopped just to look, squinting against the glare just to make out its shape.

Then, amidst the spray of seawater and the clearing of their vision, their collective breath was stolen.

It was massive. Or at least its presence made it feel massive, towering, and definitely imposing.

The broad-shouldered cha before them was both beautiful and oppressive. Its armor was matte black, absorbing the light around it like a shadow given form.

The gold trims accentuated the cha in a subtle yet deliberate way, sothing extrely contrary to its presence.

And behind it, vast black wings unfolded. They were neither feathered nor chanical, but sothing in between, like a fusion between tal and mbrane.

Even through their monitors, the soldiers could feel the weight of its presence.

After all, it would be difficult not to notice the figure before them.

The arms and legs also looked heavily armored, and yet, strangely enough, they could almost feel the flexibility and strength of this dium cha.

It was like a dark knight.

And as it descended, it commanded both fear and reverence.

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If only the inside of the imposing cockpit matched its outside.

Because inside that fearso, awe-inspiring cha was one very determined father currently trying to make sense of his biocha while in the middle of what was probably the most decked-out chapilot cockpit that had ever existed.

It was most definitely beautiful, and every part deserved to be thoroughly praised. But it would have to wait, for right about now, Duke Leander was fighting for his life.

See, unlike the other pilots of House Kyros, the poor Duke had been deprived, robbed, and cheated of the simple right to see and experience his new biocha.

Had things gone his way, there would’ve been a grand unveiling, a speech, a dignified demonstration, and perhaps even a joint flight with his wife and son—a proper bonding mont that would have been docunted in the family archives.

But alas, fate clearly had a sense of humor.

It had been so unkind that he almost missed the battle altogether—if not for that old goatee finally losing patience and throwing him out.

But the mont he exited through the newly repositioned Dungeon-linked gate and saw the chaos below, he realized there was no better ti to unveil Luca’s gift.

Thus, the man clad in a sleek, black, custom-fitted cha suit—designed, of course, by his precious son—summoned his biocha for the first ti.

And the rest, as they say, should’ve been history.

Ha! If only it were that easy.

Because, as it turned out, maybe, just maybe, he should’ve taken a biocha for a test drive first.

The cockpit whirred. The system lit up. Everything pulsed with responsive energy, and the Duke realized within seconds that this was nothing like the base chas he’d tested before.

Considering that the chas mass-produced by their House already operated with minimal delay, he didn’t expect to encounter sothing like this.

This one seed to have none.

His only limitation now was the speed of his own body reacting to itself. Every muscle twitch, every slight movent of his hand, every tiny flinch—was perfectly reflected by the cha.

His twitching pinky finger? The cha’s pinky twitched. His startled flinch? The entire left arm almost punched the air.

By the ti he managed to get the thing to hover, the Duke was sweating bullets. His once dignified breathing now resembled light wheezing.

But what kept the determined father going was his son’s confidence that he would be able to pick up the ability to pilot a biocha the fastest.

Clearly, it was a miscalculation on his part, but Duke Leander would rather eat mud than embarrass his son’s creations.

So, as he realized how absurdly sensitive the biocha was, he made sure to stay as still as possible so he wouldn’t be flapping around like a startled bird.

Although, how could sitting be easy when he kept feeling the need to sniffle and exalt his son, who had even thought about his back, his feet, and his stomach?!

Then again, the Duke, who barely moved, had managed to create the most gallant and imposing entrances, one that was forcefully recorded by one butler who figured it would later be expected.

It was just that by the ti everything had finished, one Duke would suddenly demand the generous editing of the recording that would probably need to lose more than half of the material.

Because just how could he have known that things would be like that?

"Marshal Julian," Duke Leander’s voice ca through the comms, calm but edged with the weight of a man ready to act. "So that opening, do you still need it?"

The Marshal didn’t look away from his display. "That’s right. The cannon’s close to being ready, but we can’t afford to waste the shot while it’s like this."

Leander frowned, his golden eyes narrowing as he turned his cha’s gaze toward the creature.

The aberrant bloom that once sprawled across the battlefield like a nightmare had changed its posture. Its massive tentacles, once thrashing wildly, had now wrapped around its own body—tight and deliberate, as though forming a cocoon of writhing flesh and corruption.

It was an act of fear. Or self-preservation.

Either way, it made things complicated.

In the end, however, the weapon was also his son’s, so they should really get it right.

Therefore, Duke Leander then agreed, because just how bad could it be?