The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 557

Chapter 557: Their Expectations

Arena Three, Noon

The crowd arrived early. Much earlier than they should have.

And despite the bigger venue, it was still the same people from yesterday’s spectacle who filled it out before the exam had even started.

No newcomers were allowed. That had been a unanimous decision by the master mechanics.

Not because they wanted to hoard knowledge or play favorites—no, it was because no one wanted to deal with questions.

Questions like, "How did he do that?" or "What technique was that called?" or the dreaded "Where can I learn to make something like that?"

No one had answers. No one wanted to pretend they did. So the solution was simple. Only allow people who have already accepted their ignorance.

Strangely enough, this meant the entire mecha manufacturing faculty got the day off. Mostly because none of them returned to their classrooms yesterday.

Administrators were baffled. But when all the present masters claimed it was for "future mechanic education," even the Academy had to shut up and nod along.

That was yesterday.

Today, no one was quite sure what they were about to witness.

Would it be the sight of Luca calibrating yesterday’s innocent mecha like some magical priest performing a resurrection?

Would it be Marshal Julian having what looked suspiciously like a personal crisis?

Or perhaps something even stranger?

Either way, the anticipation had increased to a level that felt suffocating. After yesterday’s insanity, some of the older masters had started dreaming again. Real, vivid dreams of mechas they’d once imagined as children. It was borderline embarrassing.

What would House Kyros unleash this time?

Would this be the grand, majestic sibling of the first mecha?

Would he need another test pilot? Perhaps a volunteer?

The questions were endless.

Even Master Allan, who once loudly claimed the boy was a glorified stunt, now found himself waking up in a cold sweat at three in the morning, muttering about tendrils and sacred materials.

But when Luca began today’s build, the atmosphere shifted.

It wasn’t what they expected.

Someone whispered, "That looks... kind of ordinary, doesn’t it?"

Another murmured, "Wait. Isn’t that the standard hybrid metal composite? The one we use all the time?"

"Yes. It is. That’s definitely hybrid alloy."

More murmurs spread.

Surprise rippled through the crowd like someone had poured cold water over their dreams. No one wanted to say it out loud, but after yesterday’s gravemaw build, it was hard not to feel... underwhelmed.

Still, Luca looked completely focused. Not disappointed. Not unsure. Just quietly determined.

Because unlike the first mecha, this one wasn’t built from urgency. It wasn’t about a need. It was about intent.

This wasn’t a showpiece or a dare to the laws of engineering.

This was for something more personal.

A nod to who he was trying to be.

A mechanic.

So the build today was quicker. Understandably so.

Hybrid metal composites were a far cry from gravemaw chitin. They didn’t try to bite back. They didn’t reject power tools, equipment, and even spiritual energy like a vengeful ghost. And most importantly, they didn’t have the durability of ancient guardians.

So yes, the work went faster.

By the time the detailing machine began its finishing pass, the entire arena had fallen into a kind of hush. Not necessarily silence out of boredom, although some soldiers might been sleeping with their eyes open, but for most people, it was just an oddly focused kind of quiet. Yesterday had been a rollercoaster of screams, gasps, and nearly dying elders.

Today felt different.

People were watching with bated breath, like they were trying to understand what Luca was doing at every step. No one dared sneeze. No one dared blink.

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