The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 288

Chapter 288: Ten
The corridor was tense.

D-29’s prompt had only just faded, but already, the group was moving like cogs in a well-oiled machine.

Ten enemies.

Four with oral explosives and others with varying weapons were stationed near or around the passenger lobby, their coordination partially fractured thanks to their own jammers.

Now, that shouldn’t have been too difficult after already taking down so many. But this one, in particular, required taking all of them down almost simultaneously and quietly.

This area was closest to their target location and would do no one good if they were to get discovered now, of all times.

Their signals were given by signs, careful not to drop the ball at this point.

Xavier and Jax stood at the front, heads bowed, breathing in sync.

Kyle and Killian adjusted their stances on either flank, eyes scanning for the two closest targets apiece. The timing would have to be perfect.

And this time, Xavier carefully directed Luca towards the two pirates whom he would be in charge of.

It was just before the plan began that Ollie—being carried like oversized luggage due to his inability to walk silently—flailed in sudden panic.

He couldn’t say anything out loud, but by now, Kyle could understand Ollie just by watching the way his face would contort.

Like right now.

Ollie was obviously scandalized after realizing that his brother was going to participate, too.

So, what about him? What was he going to do?

He was still being carried like a fanny pack, and he still had a particle saw with him, albeit only one now since he needed his arms to cling better.

The adjutant understood and made gestures about watching his back.

Well, he tried to. Hopefully, the little mop understood that.

Ollie may or may not have understood it, but Kyle, who was busy adjusting his blade grip, didn’t look mad, and maybe that meant he should just do his best.

It wasn’t the most comforting thing.

But the aspiring combatant clutched his gear nonetheless.

Thankfully, he did.

The signal eventually came.

Xavier moved first.

He blinked out of existence, practically flickering, and suddenly reappeared behind the first pirate. His hand locked around the man’s jaw, the other securing his neck.

A twist.

Then a silent collapse. That was one possible bomber down.

Jax, without hesitation, closed the distance to his targets like a dancer crossing a stage.

His blows were clean, disabling one enemy with a reverse kick while slamming the second into the steel plating with a palm strike that knocked him out cold—forever.

And just like that, three pirates at the first hallway intersection went down before they even realized they were under attack.

While Xavier dealt with the fourth one with a clean pressure-point strike, Kyle and Ollie, by extension, were busy catching their enemy mid-step.

Kyle pressed the small back of his weapon against the pirate’s spine, effectively sending the pirate into instant yet definitely permanent paralysis.

Killian’s moves, on the other hand, were efficiently brutal—he didn’t need elegance when force worked just as well.

Especially when elegance had gotten him nowhere good.

Two strikes. Two down.

All of this—done in less than thirty seconds.

Ollie didn’t know whether to be amazed or scared shitless.

But just when things seemed controlled, another pirate, who had moved from his tracked location, managed to spot Kyle’s flank and lunged, blade in hand.

“!!!”

Ollie didn’t even get to scream, much less think.

His arm moved.

His saw swung.

*CLONK!*

The hissing particle edge cracked against the side of the pirate’s face with a clonk that could’ve rung down the hall had Kyle’s leg not caught the twitching man.

Kyle blinked. Then looked at Ollie, who was staring.

He’d just clocked someone!

“I—”

Another twitch from the pirate.

CLONK! Ollie smacked him again.

Better safe than sorry!

Always double tap! Ollie beamed as he internally celebrated.

Kyle sighed. But he patted the bludgeoning mop’s head anyway as that hair antenna clearly sought praise.

Ollie proudly accepted the commendation, now gripping his saw like a sacred relic.

On the other side of the corridor, Luca had stopped.

His target had noticed movement and turned—mouth beginning to open.

D-29’s warning had already reached him.

Luca didn’t think. He surged forward, spiritual energy spiraling up his arms. With the grace of someone desperate, he lunged and jammed the pirate’s mouth.

Spiritual energy blossomed—dense, soft, and invisible. It seeped into the pirate’s mouth like a plug.

The pirate choked, unable to scream, unable to activate the tooth-embedded bomb.

Luca’s eyes narrowed.

He increased the pressure—just enough to put him out.

The pirate slumped.

Luca held his position there a moment longer, breathing fast. His arms trembled.

That had been close.

“Not bad,” Killian’s voice came from behind him.

Luca turned to find the man watching him, unreadable. But impressed.

“You didn’t freeze,” the Chief of Staff said. “Good.”

Luca gave a small nod; after all, it was all he could do to respond after Killian dealt the finishing blow.

Now, the last enemy was close—tight in a corner, armed, and murmuring to himself.

Jax dropped from the ceiling.

Literally.

He’d scaled a support beam minutes ago. Now, he landed behind the unguarded pirate like a silent shadow and knocked him with a strike on a pressure point.

The stunned man went down, groaning—disarmed and unconscious seconds later.

The corridor fell quiet again.

Ten down.

D-29 gave the confirmation. “All hostiles neutralized. Four explosives decommissioned.”

The group converged.

As they cuffed the pirates with sleek silver restraints from Killian’s never-ending stash, Kyle finally raised an eyebrow.

He had wanted to ask, but as his brother narrowed those vindictive eyes at him, he decided it was better to shut up.

And Kyle wisely looked away and towards the passenger lounge, which was their actual goal.

By now, from a different corridor leading into their target location, Duke Leander and Butler Gary had arrived at their post.

They had not participated in the fight earlier, not because they couldn’t—but because their task was perhaps heavier in a different way.

D-29’s locators had given them an overview of the lounge’s layout and confirmed the locations of the remaining pirates still active near the hostages.

They had a clear view of the chaos from where they stood at the upper gallery platform just above the main seating rows.

Or rather, the aftermath of it.

While the pirates had initially been scattered and aimless without their central chain of command, what remained were no longer confused goons scrambling in the dark.

These were the cruel ones. The vile opportunists left behind.

They were the ones who got to stay by sending everyone who stayed loyal out.

And now they had begun making demands.

One of them, bold-faced and thick-necked, had dragged a trembling woman toward the front of the seating bay.

“You!” he barked at the passengers. “If anyone so much as breathes wrong, she gets it!”

A few others laughed, using whatever meager chaos they could control to feel powerful again.

Their vice leader—if he could even be called that—was pacing in front of the crowd with twitchy fingers and manic eyes.

Duke Leander’s face tightened.

He had fought wars. He had seen blood spilled. But nothing ever stirred his rage like watching someone use civilians as shields.

Especially now, after what happened to Ollie. And especially since it could’ve happened to his own son.

And it could’ve been his very own boy who was about to experience something this horrific.