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

Chapter 1099: The Surviving Heir

The day started out just like any other day.

Maddeningly similar to every day that came before it.

He woke from sleep that had long since become unnecessary, but nonetheless taken anyway simply to pass the endless stretches of time that no longer held any real meaning for beings such as themselves.

For several moments, he would stare silently at the same ceiling that had greeted him for probably longer than what could have been the lifespans of countless civilizations.

Still the same today, huh?

Same ceiling.

Same walls.

Same room.

Same existence.

Then, within that makeshift underground settlement that knew neither morning nor night, responsibilities would come pouring in like clockwork.

"...Forgive me for the interruption, Your Highness, but it’s the Eastern barrier..."

The voice belonged to a man dressed in an immaculate white uniform. Even now, he remained respectfully bowed as he delivered the report.

The figure sitting on the bed merely sighed.

"How long has it been since I told you to drop the honorifics and just get straight to the point?"

His tone wasn’t annoyed.

It simply sounded tired.

"If they’re too occupied to check on the Eastern Pylons, then I’d do it myself."

"But Your Highness—"

The uniformed man immediately hesitated.

Across the room, the figure had already risen from the bed. His feet barely even touched the metallic floor beneath him as he moved.

"Yes, yes."

A hand waved dismissively.

"I believe I already know the rest."

There was no need to hear the same concerns again.

At this point, who would need to listen to another lecture about how the de facto leader of the settlement shouldn’t personally be heading out to suppress monsters?

Especially when his answer would remain exactly the same as it always had been anyway.

"But who else do you expect to do it?"

The rhetorical question was simple.

And as always, simply honest.

"Most of the people around here would rather abandon the Pylons entirely."

"..."

The room fell silent.

Because there wasn’t really an argument against that.

Not anymore.

Not after all these years.

As expected, hearing reality would silence the likely remaining optimistic soul around, and they would return to the routine both of them already knew.

Another day.

Another battle.

Another round of subjugation in exchange for a longer time to preserve their pointless survival.

The figure stepped toward the door.

"Let’s go."

__

To be fair, things hadn’t always been this way.

Like most, there was an even earlier past that was good to remember.

Though maybe it was both too good and too painful a memory at the same time. As it was also the same past that could break even those who had attained physical and spiritual mastery.

But why?

Well, people often said it was harder when there was something to compare against.

Had they never known a different standard of living, then perhaps they wouldn’t feel quite so burdened by their survival.

Perhaps they would’ve looked at their current circumstances and considered themselves fortunate. Maybe they could’ve even felt grateful instead.

Unfortunately for them, they remembered.

They remembered all too well.

Worse, they occupied the most miserable position possible.

They weren’t strong enough to solve the problem.

But they were strong enough to understand their situation so well that they couldn’t benefit from the mercy of ignorance even if they wanted to.

They couldn’t even delude themselves with hope because it was impossible not to see through their own situation. Not when they already knew what likely awaited them in the end.

Knowing all that...

Everything just felt... burdensome.

Honestly, he personally would’ve preferred to go first if not for that.

If not for them.

Then again, that would be difficult to do when he wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing.

But to be fair, this hadn’t been their first reaction. In fact, an extremely long time ago, they were of a very different mind.

So it was not that they didn’t try to solve the problem or, at the very least, improve their situation, because all observing entities, including their ancestors, would know they tried.

Really tried.

They attempted everything they could, even going beyond what their abilities should’ve allowed, and rightfully paying dearly for it. And yet in the end, this miserable and stagnant state was the farthest from certain doom that they could get.

So what was the point?

If they were to end up like that anyway, then wouldn’t it be better to stop fighting the inevitable?

Haah...

His father, the honorable Archon, would’ve likely clocked him if he could hear his disgraceful thoughts.

Pfft.

Even then, he couldn’t deny the truth.

It was his own selfishness that kept him living like this.

A ghost pretending to be alive.

A hypocrite internally complaining about his own existence while stubbornly clinging to it at the same time.

All for one tiny possibility—

The chance of seeing his wife and children outside of that forced confinement.

The odds were frankly beyond terrible.

It was far worse now, and that eternal damnation that some had been silently decaying toward was really just a matter of time at this point.

Yet despite knowing all that...

There he was again, standing in the middle of the clearing that used to be their haven, exterminating waves and waves of rabid beasts.

"Your High—!"

There was an attempt to call the heir’s attention to the next round of beasts that had come out of hiding, but apparently, there was no need for it.

The man standing in the middle of what almost looked like a desolate wasteland stood there entirely unbothered, his ornate white clothes completely unblemished.

A vast circular wave of spiritual energy radiated outward from his body like countless sweeping scythes.

The attacks, which were probably more defensive, looked almost lazy.

Effortless.

Yet every beast that dared approach was flawlessly carved apart before it could even come close.

Bipedal ones.

Quadrupeds.

Sly little creatures that darted through the shadows or hulking monstrosities large enough to resemble moving boulders.

It didn’t really matter.

The creatures that looked more like living wounds than actual beasts, draped in layers of black, fibrous flesh resembling tangled hair, roots, and torn muscle, simply died at the hands of the unmoving heir.

He had been doing this for so long that it had already become second nature.

And yet, even after attaining a similar level of mastery himself, the long-time attendant still found himself humbled whenever he witnessed such a display of power.

As such, he stumbled slightly before hearing the bored voice drifting from the very center of the slaughter.

"Are you trying to make me do your work now? Is this why you actually called for me?"

"!"

The uniformed man immediately stiffened.

"Oh no! Of course not! Sorry, I—"

"Then what are you waiting for?"

The heir cut him off.

Immediately, the right-hand man scrambled into action.

A multitude of cubes flew from his hands and landed sharply across the battlefield.

The devices activated the instant they touched the ground.

Mechanical structures unfolded outward before transforming into enormous forcefield-like traps.

Then, in a phenomenon that might have seemed familiar to a select few far from where they were, an invisible yet overwhelming pull suddenly erupted from their surroundings, rapidly siphoning away corruption, liquefied remains, and shattered carcasses across an enormous radius.

It was a magnificent sight for the most part.

And yet, the unfortunate downside of facing beings incapable of fear was that they would never hesitate to advance.

Unlike similar beings who would retreat or yield before overwhelming power, these particular beasts would simply come in greater droves.

Just like that, the battle would continue.

And it would’ve continued until one side ran out of juice.

In a sense, everything would proceed exactly as it always had.

They would cull as many beasts and destroy as many lairs as they could before turning their attention to restoring the damaged pylons responsible for maintaining the barrier that separated their hidden refuge from the nightmare beyond.

Then, after working themselves to the bone, they would retreat underground and attempt to rest.

Just like any other day.

Well, that was usually the schedule.

Until suddenly—

Their already small world shook.

As if the ground itself had just readjusted after a sudden ripple, the desolate area that had become home to beings that should’ve never even existed in the first place trembled violently.

The unexpected shift they hadn’t encountered since the settlement started caused the two fighters to stop in surprise.

"Just what—?"

But when they looked up from checking for changes on the ground—far beyond the horizon, practically wrapped by massive, suffocating tendrils of corruption—a magnificent beam of light suddenly shot straight up into the sky.

"!!!"

Then, right after, a prompt materialized before them.

[BRIDGING CONNECTION REQUEST DETECTED...]

[ALLOW CONNECTION?]

[YES] [NO]

"..."

"!!!"

Neither man moved, and rightfully so.

Because it was a prompt that hadn’t appeared in who knew how long.

And in that moment, the surviving heir of a long-lost dominion that governed the realm felt his entire being vibrate.

He didn’t want to name what he was feeling for fear of damning himself, but it sprouted nonetheless.

He looked right toward the light...

And then saw the path to the long, untouched gate that had since been conquered by the very beasts they’d been at war with.

He could already tell what would happen next.

A bloodbath.

Every creature within that area would likely converge on that location.

And he might just get contaminated before he could reach it.

Yet somehow...

For the first time in that long and pitiful existence, it was only today that he felt desperate enough to succeed.

They would reclaim that gate.

Hell or high water.

Even if they had to tear through every beast standing in the way.

"D-0."

The heir’s voice was calm.

Steady.

Certain.

"Allow the connection."

Time seemed to stretch for a fraction of a second.

Then, at last, a prompt reflected:

"Yes, Your Highness."