The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]
Chapter 434: Match Outcome

Chapter 434: Match Outcome

Public opinion wavered between sheer terror, emotional damage, and the kind of awe you only feel after surviving a natural disaster.

But for two people, one observing guardian mecha and one system, their opinions were definitely the opposite.

To them, it was such a fruitful, beautiful battle.

The moment the spar began, no one spoke.

An S-class light mecha shot forward first.

It moved with terrifying grace, firing a precision artillery that shattered the floor behind Luca as he dodged it like he’d predicted it.

Because he really did.

Luca’s C-class medium mecha flowed.

It dipped, weaved, and spun—like water slipping past a blade as he zoomed around while avoiding Xavier, which was only possible because he could tell how much slower these shells were from the prince’s usual weapons.

To the onlookers, these supposed clunky mechas looked like they were dancing.

Even Instructor Falco leaned forward.

"What the hell..." he muttered.

Because generic mechas did not move like that, they weren’t supposed to be that flexible and definitely not that responsive.

And yet, here was Luca, defying every expectation.

Instructor Moore was so curious about what Luca did that he figured he’d have to ask about it once this horrifying class was over. Sure enough, there was much to learn, even from students. And even those from a totally different division.

From the sides, the other cadets were white-knuckling their controls just in case they needed to evacuate.

With that much firepower, would the training arena actually hold?

They sure hoped it would because this scandalous yet mesmerizing battle didn’t look far from over. In fact, Luca was just starting to use control weapons made to trap light mechas.

Only, his stun rounds were intercepted mid-air by Xavier’s precise cannon fire.

And it basically looked like an intense stalemate as they kept on throwing at each other from ungodly angles.

In all this, a faint curve tugged at the corner of Xavier’s lips, as he was fairly certain that his wife was enjoying this as he began to see creative uses of weapons to compensate for the disparity in quality.

He watched as Luca threw one mid-range blade mid-spin just to see if it could curve back with a magnetic pulse.

Unfortunately, it couldn’t. But no matter, his wife could probably make one that could.

Of course, Luca thought similarly, testing out as much of the arsenal he’s managed to "borrow" with wild abandon.

It’s been a great test, and he figured he’d enjoy looking at all the data they had managed to collect.

But for now, he needed to come up with a way to force Xavier’s hand, or his mecha’s nature would force him to quit first. Because no matter how well he calibrated it, this C-class mecha was not built to withstand prolonged combat with an S-class opponent.

So, he made a choice.

His mecha, which had clearly seen better days before facing the prince, surged forward, twin weapons firing in perfect sync—one angled high, the other low.

Xavier’s S-class unit dodged one. The other scraped past his shoulder, throwing up a new plume of debris.

Luca disappeared into it.

For a heartbeat, the entire arena held its breath.

"Where did he—" someone started.

But before the sentence could finish, the fog broke.

And there he was.

Luca had phased forward, cutting through the dust like a ghost. His mecha emerged straight in front of Xavier’s, blade raised overhead in a clean arc.

It wasn’t a wild swing.

It was surgical.

Precise.

Dangerous.

Xavier didn’t flinch. He snapped his arm up and deployed the integrated shield just in time.

CLANG!

The blade met metal.

A heavy echo rang through the training ground.

And then—silence.

A hush.

The two mechas stood still.

Xavier’s shield glowed faintly from the impact. He immediately braced for the next strike, expecting Luca to try again until he and the spectating Sid realized something.

And Luca similarly stepped back.

Then raised one hand in surrender.

"Aishhhh!"

Luca’s voice crackled over the comms, slightly sheepish. "I’m out."

"Huh?" murmurs suddenly rang out from various mechas.

"I mean—really out. That was my last usable blade."

Everyone stared.

He wasn’t joking.

As the dust cleared completely, they could all see it: the blade that had struck Xavier’s shield was split clean down the center.

One half dangled from Luca’s grip, the other embedded in the ground nearby.

"Ah," Luca sighed, clearly disappointed. "It wasn’t built to handle S-grade resistance."

Even Xavier looked stunned for a second. Then he chuckled. Unused to fighting like this, but finding it funny that this was how the test ended.

"You almost got me."

And it wasn’t an empty compliment. He really would’ve been able to land that hit. After all, Luca was a rare pilot who prioritized the execution over the conservation of spiritual energy.

Even as an experienced mecha pilot, he was still working on toning down this counterproductive habit that had been ingrained in all of them.

While it was good to be aware of one’s spiritual energy reserves, mentally calculating big moves would cause a delay that would be a major opening for someone who skipped this entire step.

So, if not for that weapon mishap, the story would’ve been different.

"I tried," Luca replied, slumping slightly in his cockpit. "I thought the angle would work."

"It did," Xavier admitted. "If that blade held, I would’ve been pushed back."

The crowd, still dazed, didn’t know whether to be terrified or relieved.

Because Luca had landed a hit.

A clean hit.

But because of such an odd circumstance, he ended up surrendering.

Was it a loss due to inventory and budgetary constraints? And not even a loss because he was only a C-rank mecha pilot driving a C-class mecha?

Surely a difficult pill to swallow for all those who lost.

Because really, it was just his weapon not being built for it.

Xavier, on the other hand, thought that it was somehow the most fitting scenario for his penny-pincher.

It took a beat before people recovered from what they witnessed and experienced today.

The spectators, still recovering from the aerial bombardment and strategic phase strikes, could only gape.

"That’s it?" one cadet croaked. "He broke his blade and gave up?"

"Idiot. It’s not one blade. He ran out of gear," someone whispered.

"HE RAN OUT OF GEAR?!"

Meanwhile, in his cockpit, Luca muttered quietly, "I guess everyone should really have back-ups."

D-29 pinged in proudly. "Noted, Host! Although I suggest making better weapons so we don’t have to carry so many useless ones!"

From across the field, Xavier shook his head, amused as he imagined what was probably going on in Luca’s mind.

Only his wife could come this close to winning a fight against an S-rank mecha—only to lose because he’d used up all the allotted weapons after experimenting on most of them.

What a cute pilot.

In a way, he was fortunate that the others were too blind to see him in the same light, or he could only imagine the number of additional competitors.

But maybe the prince was just delusional, as many weren’t exactly blind. They have just been pummeled to the inch of their existence and and it was very hard to find the source of your trauma "cute."