The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 345: Imagination

Prior to the countdown ending, a few heads were similarly at wits’ end.

In fact, they were this close to launching a manhunt.

Jax, Duke Leander, and Killian had just started to review the last known coordinates of the commuter craft and were discussing the probability of dragging every pirate out for answers when the ground beneath them rumbled.

It wasn’t subtle.

All three men froze.

Their eyes met—three very different expressions but one unified understanding.

Danger.

Duke Leander was already halfway to the door, ready to bolt out in search of the pirate’s den.

Killian, who’d been unusually quiet, now had his weapon halfway drawn as if expecting demons to crawl out from under the soil.

They had magical doors and murderous beasts, so that couldn’t be a far-fetched guess.

Meanwhile, Jax decided to check again. It was a long shot, but unless he did it this way, the emergency would’ve ended by the time they could get to respond.

This had to work!

Now, forgive them for overreacting, but experiencing this right after learning that the dungeon’s state was a direct reflection of its owner just made this all the more shocking for them.

It cannot be.

It was unthinkable.

Different kinds of thoughts flashed in their minds, and Duke Leander wished he had taken less time dealing with that blasted Baron.

If he had just gotten rid of him with a strike, then maybe he could’ve realized this problem early on. But it was too late for regrets now, and all that he could really do was to look for all of them.

However, his departure was delayed when he heard a click.

The sound wasn’t even loud.

But for people who had been gripped by extreme tension, this click was like a bomb going off.

Especially when the door that opened was Luca’s.

And it would have been triumphant, even relieving—except the view that greeted them was nothing short of horrific and awkward.

"..."

"???"

"!!!"

Because right as the countdown in the dungeon’s annexed core ticked down to what looked like a second, the sky on the other side seemed to warp.

And then—

Crash.

Six mechas fell through.

Like shooting stars, loud, clanging, dented rocks, all of them tumbled into the soft ground with violent thuds. Limbs were tangled, armor scratched, and hissing steam poured from bent joints.

It wasn’t graceful at all. Since everyone just rushed to Luca to teleport according to what they’ve been told to do earlier, in case it activates.

But who would’ve thought about this scenario when the door had to be opened from the other side?

Jax, on the other hand, was so stunned that it took a moment before he pulled himself together after seeing the sudden movements before him.

"!!!"

Oh hell no!

The poor guy practically screeched and slammed the door shut behind them just as cracking and crumbling sounds echoed from within the portal, followed by a single, flickering prompt that bled into the open air:

[REBOOTING...]

It sounded and looked ominous, and the redhead decided to have no part in it.

Meanwhile, Duke Leander managed to blink himself back to life before bolting forward and launching himself across the field.

He didn’t care that they had just fallen from who knows where.

Nor did he care whether he looked glamorous and dignified doing this.

"LUCA, MY SON—!"

D-29’s cockpit hissed open before he could get there, and Leander braced himself for something dramatic—

Only to get nearly clotheslined by a blurry figure leaping from the mecha.

It was Luca. Alive, whole, and incredibly fast.

But before the Duke could process everything, his son had already tackled him in a lightning-speed hug.

A blur. A whirlwind of warmth. Arms clenched tightly for all of three seconds before the little heir zipped off toward one of the other mechas.

Huh?

Luca was muttering something as he scrambled across the ground like a soldier on a mission.

It was a prayer, and a lot of pleas.

Leander blinked.

"...What just happened?"

Killian raised a brow while Jax winced at that unusual greeting.

But the confusion quickly melted into horror as they turned their attention to the rest of the group.

In fact, a group that they didn’t have when they started.

And come to think of it, there were several more mechas than the number of people they started with.

Killian wondered first. Jax noticed second. But it was Duke Leander whose eyes were already scanning the disembarking units like a bloodhound starved of hope.

Because below one of those mechas—one scraped and battered and still smoking at the hinges—was a person who looked all too familiar.

It couldn’t be.

Could it really be?!

Or was this another figment of his imagination?

Because Gisella had not moved.

And for a heartbeat, Duke Leander couldn’t verify that it was her.

His eyes locked on the figure cradling someone in a way that screamed desperation, but the blood, the dirt, the disheveled armor—nothing registered.

Not until her head lifted, just barely.

Not until those tear-reddened eyes met his through the chaos.

And everything inside him stopped.

"Gisella?" he whispered, as if saying her name too loudly would break the illusion.

He stared.

Stared so hard because of what her presence meant.

For six long months since losing contact, they had searched. Sent scouts. Cleared ruins. Pored over every false lead and desperate rumor. And yet—nothing.

And all he had to show to prove to everyone that it was not a futile search was his own life.

For they were bound together, not only in love but in life.

So he had clung to that hope, especially after meeting his son.

It was possible, and look at this.

It must be them!

And if this one were here, then it would be impossible for her not to be around.

She must be here!

His heart was filled with sudden excitement, but the reunion wasn’t one he had imagined. Not the dramatic, joyful embrace he’d pictured in a thousand sleepless nights.

For once the doubt and surprise cleared, he noticed Gisella’s state and all the blood that stuck to her and the person she was gripping with all her might.

That aloof woman, whom her older brother couldn’t even control, was shaking like a leaf on the ground, her arms locked around someone so utterly still that it made his heart sink.

His throat tightened.

"Gisella," he said again, louder this time, a tremor in his voice.

He couldn’t even bring up the name he really wanted to call.

For that look on her face practically stabbed at his heart.

His entire world had narrowed to the limp figure in her arms.

Someone capable of driving such a composed woman to the brink of ruin.

And suddenly, the elation of rediscovering her was drowned by the suffocating dread that he might be witnessing his own death.

Or something even worse.

His Amelia.

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Couldn’t.

And prayed the entire time that the cold feeling wouldn’t come, that it couldn’t possibly be his wife.

Or was this his punishment?

As if the universe enjoyed dangling happiness just within reach, only to snatch it away at the last second.

His hands trembled and the more he looked at the blood that was everywhere, the more he felt like keeling over.

He couldn’t really see her, wrapped up so tight that it was impossible to see her state.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to see anything, for seeing was confirming. And just thinking about it sent shivers down his spine.

However, his feet moved forward, the stillness of that bundle mirroring the stillness of his heart.

But just a few steps in, something had blocked him.

Someone.

And for a moment, he thought he was hallucinating.

Because the figure that stopped him looked exactly like the one he feared was dying.

His heart lurched.

Or did the tears gush first?

He wasn’t sure.