The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 290

Chapter 290: Echoes of the Aftermath
Today’s experience could not have been more out of this world for Sela Maren, who had no idea that a simple work interview could turn into something like this.

Like many of today’s events, this one started with a sound. Not even a scream, as by then those had been too common already.

It wasn’t even gunfire, as that too was a sound that she didn’t ever think she’d be familiar with.

However, the crisis really started feeling real with a squeak.

It was the squeaking sound made by the little girl’s shoes that was accompanied by the sudden cries that froze Sela’s blood.

But that was, apparently, not the end of it all, for these monsters were just starting.

Sela Maren was an award-winning columnist who covered urban economics and interplanetary trade reports.

Not the frontlines, nor anything but the effects of piracy on interplanetary trade. She never expected to experience what it was like to actually face interstellar pirates.

She’d only woken up this morning, preparing to travel to Planet Nova for an important interview.

But now? She wasn’t even sure if she’d make it out alive to write any other piece. Especially not after their chances dropped the moment that bastard took the teen.

He’d been in front of her.

Likely no more than sixteen at best? She didn’t know his name—just that he had a sister beside him, and she had watched him keep his body between her and every pirate who had come near since the hijacking began.

But then they dragged him away.

She didn’t even think—her hand had latched onto the boy’s jacket out of pure instinct. She held fast. Someone else clung to her arm. Another woman—trying to hold her down, maybe, or just joining in.

But it hadn’t mattered.

The pirate had kicked her aside. He was stronger. Taller. Smelled like blood and grease. The boy was ripped from her grasp like a rag doll.

She remembered falling back. The moment stretching in slow, glassy frames.

And the image that stayed with her was how the boy looked at his sister to appease her as the pirate was about to bludgeon him.

Sela could only wrap her arms around the younger sister. She didn’t even know why—maybe to give the girl something to hold onto. Perhaps because she needed it more herself.

She had covered economic collapses, broken cities, and failing governments, but she never assumed to be a number on them.

But just as she shut her eyes tight to protect herself from the scene about to unfold, something strange happened.

She didn’t see it but could hear the Pirate’s sudden surprise and in-fighting. And what’s more, the loud thwack she was expecting never happened.

Then after a tense standoff, she noticed how the pirates have started to raise their guards, seemingly agitated about something.

Then a man collapsed.

Then another.

Sela thought she was hallucinating.

People screamed—yes—but not the kind of scream that came from victims. These were different. Confused. Disoriented. Like they were witnessing a magician pulling people out of existence.

Then the bodies fell—seven of them.

And no one even fired an actual shot.

She looked toward the corridor and saw him.

The man stood with his hand barely outstretched, fingers still faintly dusted with what looked like frost.

Elegant. Unmoving. And, in some haunting way, far more terrifying than the pirates who had barked orders and swung rifles.

Then, more and more people came into view, and only when he saw them in a group did she recognize them.

The new economic powerhouse that had been the talk of the town personally went in to get rid of pirates.

Yes, they did.

And the columnist, whose stress limit had been reached, just crashed into the floor as the pressure valve released.

Sobs resounded everywhere.

Not the sharp, panicked cries from earlier—but a wave of quiet weeping. The kind that came only once people realized they were alive. That they had survived.

A child began crying first—small, hiccuping gasps that echoed in the chamber.

Then two more.

A woman clutched her husband’s shoulder, burying her face in his sleeve as her legs gave out.

An older man sat down and started to laugh—not joyously, but with the broken relief of someone who had already accepted death and now didn’t know what to do with being spared.

They were alive. They were all alive.

Across the room, the unlikely rescuers had moved quickly into a different kind of operation.

Luca took point, gently weaving through the crowd, his steps careful not to startle anyone.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” His voice was soft, almost gentle enough to pass for a lullaby.

Something about his presence made people relax even before he did anything.

Maybe it was the slight glow of spiritual energy around his hands or how his eyes held worry without pity.

A middle-aged woman clutched his wrist and sobbed something incomprehensible. He held her hand anyway.

Moving with dignified efficiency, Butler Gary already had a portable medical system deployed across the floor near a collapsed bench.

He knelt beside the injured father, who had open wounds that could be treated with a medical baton.

Then he dealt with the teenage boy clutching his side using a healing pill that Luca had given the people close to him. He, for one, carried more than his fair share.

Meanwhile, Jax and Kyle oversaw pirate round-up, while Xavier…

Well.

Xavier tried to fade into the background.

He knew what would happen the moment someone connected the dots.

He knew Killian had probably figured it out.

Hell, if his expression was anything to go by, the Chief of Staff was already lining up an internal monologue full of “I knew it”s and “why didn’t anyone tell me?”s.

The good news?

Duke Leander hadn’t seen the actual method. His vantage point hadn’t allowed him to see Xavier’s assassination from behind the partitioned wall.

The bad news?

Killian absolutely had.

He had only two options for directing his attacks and chose to deal with the Chief of Staff rather than Duke Leander.

Still, Xavier decided it had been worth it. All of it. Because if he hadn’t acted when he did, Luca would’ve blamed himself for what was likely to come.

And for him, nothing was more dangerous than a spiraling Luca.

So now, Xavier stood at a slight distance, gloves back on, posture calm, expression unreadable.

Luca didn’t look back at him yet.

He was still too busy, hovering like a panicked medic over anyone who looked mildly concussed.

And Ollie?

Ollie had been conscripted.

The mop was currently seated cross-legged in a corner, surrounded by six children as he served as the designated service puppy.

He had opened his emergency snack stash and handed out soft fruit roll-ups like it could revive the dead.

“Here you go,” he whispered to a little girl whose hair was plastered to her cheek. “This one tastes like sweet clouds.”

The girl sniffled, took it with both hands, and stared at him like he’d given her magic.

Another kid leaned on his arm and asked, “Mister Medic, what’s a Daycare?”

Ollie paused. Then grinned. “A very fun place with cute cows. Don’t worry, we’ll show you after you get better.”

He’s practically advertising, but these kids need a whole ass theraphy after this and if a few pets could help, then why not?

But maybe there was one other person who would benefit from cow therapy.