The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 451

Chapter 451: Comfort

The rules of the Astral Cup were generally straightforward.

For the elimination round, it was usually a race to a predetermined endpoint, where speed, survival, and sabotage were all fair game. Given the number of guilds in the Empire, this was generally split into divisions based on sectors in the galaxy.

Essentially, it began as a brutal neighborhood knockout match to determine which lucky survivors would get the privilege of fighting even harder in the next round.

Frankly, it didn’t sound all that complicated.

But Kyle’s primary concern wasn’t the terrain, the monsters, or even the cutthroat competitors.

His main issue was the number of members per guild. Although in the past, they only imposed a maximum number of participants per organization. After all, no sane guild would send everyone. Resources were tight, and guild job orders couldn’t stop for just one competition.

That’s why most teams focused on deploying their best players—the powerhouses and tacticians who could hold their own, both in combat and under pressure. A single top-tier pilot could be more valuable than ten average ones.

Besides, the Astral Cup didn’t pretend to be fair.

While a minimum level of preparedness is expected, participants are free to exceed it, providing a significant advantage to guilds with solid backing. If you had deep-pocketed sponsors or a private arms dealer backing you? Good for you.

But despite sounding like it could possibly be the root of injustice, no monster or enemy would disarm just so it’ll be a fair playing field. Pirates won’t just avoid using arms because you don’t have the same model.

It was unfair, yes. But that was the point.

But ironically, it was that same imbalance that would definitely give their guild the edge.

They were small—only nine active members, and just five trained mecha pilots—but just two of their pilots could probably win against several guilds by themselves.

As for resources?

Who needs any other backer when Luca exists?

And even if they didn’t bother to acquire more supplies, Kyle was fairly certain that just two of his mop’s space buttons would be enough to wipe out entire squads.

They had Luca.

They had Xavier.

And they had a growing list of spiritual oddities and mechas that no one had seen before.

So, while other guilds prepared with numbers and sponsors, what he should probably have prepared was a script to answer questions as to why and how they were performing miracles.

Even if, technically, they hadn’t filled out the registration yet.

They had time for that, anyway.

What they didn’t have time for, however, were the upcoming exams. Exams that, tragically, were not postponed despite the students’ heartfelt pleas, crushed dreams, and thinly veiled threats of mental collapse after the earlier loss in the cup, as well as this morning’s evacuation.

And one such complainant was Ollie, who, as far as Kyle could tell, was going through all five stages of academic grief in real time.

"It’s criminal," Ollie declared, slumping across the table like a dying animal.

"Absolutely unethical. What kind of monster schedules exams the same week as all this?" asked the guy who was just laughing maniacally just moments ago.

He found it unbelievable, and the blonde highlighter looked like he needed a refill after wilting away from distress.

The adjutant observed him silently, watching the way he slowly slid down his chair like a plant melting from existential fatigue.

Ollie looked like he was going to cry, as he replayed the instructor’s cold words for such hardworking and tired students like himself.

"I’m emotionally compromised," Ollie sniffled, eyes glassy. "I can’t focus. I think I might have shock-induced amnesia."

"Didn’t you just quote your exam schedule earlier?" Kyle pointed out.

"Muscle memory," countered the blonde.

Kyle folded his arms, amused despite himself. "Do you want comfort or solutions?"

Ollie sat up with surprising speed. "Comfort now. Solutions in thirty minutes. And snacks."

Froze.

Those cuddles. This totally innocent, totally familiar, totally comforting hug was now charged with terrifying possibility and unspoken feelings and what-if-Kyle’s-arm-squeezes-mean-something-.

Hic!