The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 299

Chapter 299: Loot
Chapter 299:

Now, if there was one thing that almost slipped Luca’s mind in all this, it was the very reason guilds salivated over dungeons in the first place.

The loot.

But even Luca, who had an idea about the richness of dungeons, hadn’t quite been prepared for what they stumbled across once they made it out of the strange canopy and onto the ledge behind the commuter crash.

Because nestled inside the vast canyon beneath them wasn’t just any dungeon landscape—it was a glittering, mineral-rich, starry-night-come-alive treasury of rare resources.

And not metaphorically.

It was a different level of ka-ching!

No, not just ka-ching. This was KA. CHING.

The sound rang in their heads with such force that Luca momentarily forgot to breathe.

Ollie—bless his excitable soul—tried to lean closer for a better look and would have nearly toppled off the edge if not for someone’s intervention.

Kyle, with the reflexes of an exasperated veteran and an almost permanent babysitting contract, caught the blonde mid-swoon.

Yes, death, but at least he would die surrounded by materials that stretched out for so long that it made his heart thud in logistical distress.

Similarly, Luca made a mistake of looking down and entered a state of near hyperventilation as the little money grubber saw how the commuter craft apparently sat atop a canyon in a position so dangerous that they’d need to leave soon.

The sooner, the better.

Definitely, and they should definitely leave to see all those riches in the canyon that lay below them!

Now, Xavier did not have to see the face of his wife to know what he must be thinking. For this little money grubber was practically vibrating next to him.

And then he got that look. One that he really couldn’t deny, especially with those eyes that could rival the stars that they couldn’t even see from here.

The Imperial Prince could only sigh. “We can try to look, but we’re going down with our mechas.”

So, they suited up.

The gears checked. Mechas deployed. D-29 chirped data with renewed (albeit limited) functionality.

And from a distance, someone watched.

It was from the same ridge, but she was looking at them with a different kind of gaze.

The same woman in armor that shimmered faintly with age and purpose. Her presence was cloaked not by technology but by a veil made from the local materials that allowed her to blend in with the environment.

Her posture stiffened the moment the mechas were summoned.

Not the flashy ones. Not the towering, regal mechas.

But that one with questionable legs.

Her eyes honed in on that one particular mecha that deployed last.

She squinted.

“?”

What in the overgrown void is that?

She wasn’t sure if it was because of how long they’d spend trapped inside this place, but have mechas changed so much that it’s started to look like that?

And yet, what got her wasn’t the aesthetics but that insignia.

Half-scratched and faded with time but burned into memory.

Her breath hitched.

Because that mecha—no matter how ridiculous it looked now—was once standard-issue military. Not just military.

It bore the faded insignia of a line she once knew intimately.

One she had longed for.

Her heart thundered painfully against her ribs. Not now. Not when she’d already accepted this wasn’t possible. Not when she had buried that thought after being trapped for over five years.

But here it was.

A memory walking.

Her hand hovered over her sword, not out of caution but grounding. She didn’t know if this was a hallucination—or fate’s cruel joke.

If only she knew. Dungeons had a way of playing with time.

What felt like years for her might’ve been days or months to the ones outside. It warped things—reality, matter, and memory.

If only.

Still, she didn’t move. For what if it was one of those hallucinogenic plants again?

But a shriek tore through the air before she could stay in a trance for longer.

A thunderous, guttural screech echoed across the canyon—sharp and jarring like wood split too fast under tension.

She jolted, stumbling back from her perch as the sound reverberated through the cliffs.

The cause?

A perfectly calm butler.

Back below, the group had begun harvesting resources.

Luca, riding the high of discovering Grade IV star crystal clusters, arcanium lichen, phase bark veins, and a charming lemon-colored grass, was carefully cataloging things under D-29’s chirping supervision.

On the other hand, Butler Gary had calmly walked up to a twisting root formation that resembled tightly packed driftwood with glowing seams and, seeing no defensive signatures, sliced down a small sample for testing.

A clean, precise cut.

In any other world, it would’ve been uneventful.

But this was a Dungeon as one butler was about to learn.

And unfortunately, the bark was alive. Not just alive, but dramatic.

It wailed.

A shriek that shook dust from nearby rock faces. Glowing pollen scattered as the cliff vibrated, almost threatening to push over their crashed spacecraft.

But it wasn’t just a cry of pain. It was practically a summoning.

Because what they had mistakenly thought was a tree was actually a monster.

A massive, slumbering creature whose bark formed the very structure of the cliffs they now stood on.

Its roots had long intertwined with the canyon’s walls, stretching like arteries—feeding off the dungeon’s energy, anchoring itself deeper into the terrain.

And the spectator, high above, froze.

Because she recognized the shape curling now in the depths of the moss and stone.

The gentle, glowing ridges weren’t natural after all. The twitching vines lining the canyon edge weren’t plants—they were limbs.

“Oh no,” she muttered, stepping back.

They had disturbed it.

The one thing they had very purposefully been avoiding.

That thing was not just any dungeon monster—it had evolved to merge with the biome itself.

It had made the canyon its resting place, domain, and throne. Its roots fed on the dungeon’s ambient energy and even evolved every time the dungeon rose in class.

And someone had just sliced a piece of it off.

Everyone below looked at Butler Gary, whose mecha still held the cold, hard, writhing evidence.

But before he could even apologize, the land before them shifted.

The vines that had once remained motionless began to move—slithering with a slow, predatory rhythm.

Xavier turned and boomed at everyone, “We’re leaving. Now.”

The woman no longer stayed in her spot, disappearing from her vantage point with hurried, silent steps.

The last glimpse of that questionable mecha and her past burned into her thoughts as she leapt from ridge to ridge.

She had to hurry, that fucking thing was waking up.