The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 443

Chapter 443: Fate

Before the return of hope, the stairwell had become a nightmare.

What was supposed to be a safe route—standard, reinforced, evacuation-grade—had become a shaking coffin. freēwebnovel.com

Students pressed close to the walls, some crouched with their arms over their heads, while others clutched each other as the ground groaned beneath their feet. The building vibrated with every aftershock, as if it were caught mid-scream.

A sharp metallic crack split the panic.

Then came the crystal.

It didn’t burst in with a bang. It didn’t explode. No, it rose.

A jagged spike of glowing mineral split through the bottom floor like a spear of judgment, threading through the space where a student had just been.

Had she not tripped, she would’ve been skewered like those very monsters they’ve been fighting with.

She really could’ve died.

Screams erupted, followed by the heavy boom of falling debris.

Then darkness.

Dust filled the air like smoke. Someone coughed. Another choked back a sob.

Lyka Vela sat frozen, her hand still extended toward the friend she’d tried to pull along. Her legs had locked in place. Her lips trembled.

No one could see anything.

No light.

No exit.

Just silence, breath, and panic.

Until—

"All students inside, back away from the north wall!"

A voice rang out like salvation through the thick wall. Clear. Calm. Amplified.

"!!!"

Lyka gasped. Her fingers gripped the railing as dust drifted down around them. Students looked up, some daring to move toward the voice.

"Repeat—back away! We are opening an emergency exit!"

There was movement.

Then a thundering roar.

A portion of the wall peeled back like it was made of tinfoil. Metal shrieked. Bit os crystals shattered. Then, suddenly—

Light.

Blinding daylight poured in, cutting through the dark like a miracle. The fresh morning air swept through the broken wall like a cleansing tide.

And standing just outside, towering and powerful, was a mecha. Dark blue alloy and glinting with faint light. One arm raised, shielding the exposed stairwell.

Inside the cockpit—just out of sight but unmistakable—was Kyle Nox. It had to be him. That signature mecha was known throughout the mechanics division, especially to one person who had practically built her academic career fantasizing about being its exclusive mechanic.

Students blinked.

Then someone sobbed as others cheered for their rescue.

Lyka stared, unable to look away.

She stared at the mecha like it was a divine revelation.

Kyle Nox.

In a custom S-class mecha. Tall and radiant like a knight descended from the stars.

The tremors of the quake still shook the building, but Lyka? Lyka only felt the thundering of her heart.

She clutched her chest.

Was this what people meant when they said fate intervened? When the heavens conspired to create the perfect opportunity?

She’d heard of this before—read about it, even. A disaster striking, a damsel caught in peril, and then—bam! A powerful figure crashing in to rescue her, their eyes meeting through smoke and debris as the universe held its breath.

Yes. Yes! That’s what this was!

She limped toward the makeshift platform, ignoring the pain in her ankle. The crowd around her moved as if in slow motion. All these background extras didn’t matter. The scene was hers.

Of course, he showed up now, of all times. Of course, he broke through the wall.

He probably felt something.

Sure, he hadn’t seen her yet. And yes, their interactions had only been fleeting—just a few polite exchanges during the balls they’d both attended as children. But that didn’t matter. He would remember. Soon. Just as she had never forgotten him. This was fate. They were meant to meet again like this. Meant to rise above disaster, hand in hand. Meant to rebuild something beautiful from the rubble. Meant to—

Lyka pressed a hand to her cheek. She was blushing. Oh god.

This quake might just be the best thing that has ever happened to her.

Even her injury—yes, this was a perfect excuse to speak to him later. To thank him. Maybe hold his hand while he helped her walk. Or maybe he’d carry her. Bridal-style. Like a prince.