The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 794: Someone Explain

In an unprecedented event that left several prominent figures flustered and scratching their heads, researchers across the Empire were suddenly clamoring to figure out what the hell chickens were.

This was especially true at the capital’s leading research institute.

Inside one of its main halls, a gathering of exhausted experts stood hunched over terminals like academic zombies, firing off increasingly frantic questions at one another.

"What the hell is a chicken?"

"Look at the scale of that thing."

"Get the strear to ask about the species. If not possible, then the genus. Or at least the class."

"Look at those talons. They’re so... tiny?"

"Look. Is that how they eat?"

"With a head that small, it definitely cannot eat anyone’s head."

The silence that followed that last statent was heavy.

No one argued.

And they were not alone.

Because in the chat of an entirely spontaneous livestream, one that had now caught the attention of Star Net’s monitoring team, a literal explosion was underway.

If Reeve had not set his terminal to Do Not Disturb, his entire arm would have gone numb from how violently it was vibrating under the weight of incoming ssages.

The chat scrolled too fast to read.

Then too fast to process.

Then it simply beca noise.

[...are we sure those aren’t juvenile forms?]

[Maybe there are other self-defense chanisms?]

[Mr. Anchor, please move forward. We need a better angle. I really need to see those toes.]

The chat kept on overflowing with such ssages that didn’t even include all the other people who had no other choice but to take the stream to heart.

Like certain cadets from enemy lands who watched the stream in silence, teeth clenched, expressions carefully schooled into sothing neutral as they were led around by their assigned tour guides.

They nodded politely but begrudgingly.

They pretended to listen.

But they absolutely weren’t interested in the useless booths built by other children.

Who needed to see cha advancents that looked like their technology from ten years ago?

Not them.

And yet.

They kept walking.

After all, they were viewing sothing they could never really admit to watching. And so they simply continued on as the stream proceeded to reach a new fevered pitch.

Because the redheaded cadet said sothing deeply concerning.

"Give a sec," he said, sounding entirely unconcerned and even a bit excited. "It looks like we’re lucky enough to get eggs for this tour."

The word hit like a detonation.

Eggs.

The viewers froze.

The tour attendees froze.

Everyone froze.

Because the cara feed was still very clearly showing beasts that were small, round, and pecking peacefully at the ground inside that strange containnt facility.

They were fat.

They were calm.

They weren’t attacking anyone.

And now he was saying there were eggs.

[Is the glass one way? Can’t the chickens see all the people?]

[Is that why they’re not acting territorial and vicious?]

The panic mounted.

The disbelief deepened.

But then the chat evolved into sothing far more frenzied.

This ti, however, it was not just the livestream viewers spiraling. Even those inside the greenhouse reacted just as dramatically when their tour guide calmly walked to the back of the enclosure and opened a small access panel built neatly into the structure.

The movent alone caused several people to inhale sharply.

Then Jax reached inside.

A collective gasp echoed through the greenhouse when his hand appeared on the other side of the glass, lifting out sothing smooth and ovoid.

Then another.

Then another.

And then even more.

Only after that did he turn back toward everyone else, wearing a wide grin as he held the objects up for all to see.

"Look," Jax said cheerfully. "Seems like we’re really lucky today! We got a bunch of them!"

They could all very clearly see that.

What they couldn’t understand was why the chickens barely reacted.

No attempt at taking out an eyeball.

No signs of spiritual attack.

No clear signs of transfiguration.

Nothing.

Well, if they only knew how Jax really took ti to pick out the nice chickens. Then again, even if he did get the more questionable ones, they still wouldn’t be close to the kinds of birds the people of the Empire were used to hearing about.

Therefore, the people’s reactions were understandable.

Across the Empire, researchers were already shouting about how that violated at least seventeen known behavioral models. With that alone, nearly every creature on their painfully short list had been imdiately eliminated.

Inside the greenhouse, Reeve swallowed hard.

He didn’t even need to look at his terminal.

Just by seeing Thea’s expression, he could tell the pressure from the stream had reached an unbearable level.

And sure enough, his chat was filled with researchers who were being very polite and very urgent as they requested that he voice their questions.

Reeve raised his trembling hand.

"Um, excuse ," he said, his voice cracking just slightly. "Why are they like that?"

Jax blinked.

"Like what."

"They," Reeve gestured weakly, "aren’t attacking anyone."

"Oh," Jax said, imdiately brightening. "That’s because they’re dosticated."

The word hit harder than livestock ever had.

Yes, the Empire had dosticated beasts. So could even be pets. But even the Imperial Princess’s duck was considered an absurdly rare find that matched her status as a Solaris.

And yet there were several chickens in that enclosure.

Several.

Just how many dosticated chickens did they even have?

Apparently, more than enough.

Because all across the Empire, elite nobles were suddenly realizing the source of those highly coveted eggs they had been receiving as mbers of the Dungeon Guardians Day Care program.

"!!!"

Their strangled realizations were cut short when they noticed the cadet moving again.

Jax tilted the eggs slightly so the children could see better.

"And these are unfertilized," he added. "We don’t have a rooster here, so eggs like this are pretty normal. That said, when there are chicks, they can get rather territorial."

Normal.

The children gasped.

The researchers scread.

Soone in the Federation delegation went completely silent.

Then Jax smiled even wider.

"Since you’re the first batch of greenhouse custors," he said, looking around at the guests, "and since you were lucky enough to see eggs today, we’ll make the next part of the tour a little more fun."

Every child leaned forward.

"Later," Jax continued, "you’ll get to pick so crops. Whoever guesses the weight correctly gets to take an egg in addition to their haul."

The children erupted.

The chat lost its mind.

And sowhere in the Empire, several ergency etings were scheduled on the spot as institutions were clamoring even for just one freaking egg.

Then again, this was a situation that certain people had already prepared for.

Minister Kordell Nox, for example, had been working tirelessly while praying fervently as he continued to watch the stream as the designated ergency contact.

As the best fit for the role, instead of helping with farming, cooking, or other such duties, he had been tasked with monitoring security risks and potential destabilizations brought about by insane cadets and even more insane chickens.

As he watched the stream, he wondered if they really should have picked out the top brass at the chicken coop as the right representative, just to give the impression that the creatures were not that unusual.

On second thought, that would have been a terrible idea.

It would have been a genuine security risk.

What if the glass can’t contain spiritual attacks?

Moreover, what to do if they suddenly lay those large golden eggs?

And how much space would they need just for one chicken?!

"Haaay."

Minister Kordell could only sigh.

But in the grand sche of things, it seed they were still on the right track. People were far more focused on the logistics of farming than on the unsettling truth that the cadets were casually presenting spiritual agriculture.

After all, no one had really said that part out loud.