The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1159: Whoosh!

Shattered windows, a soon-to-be-demolished medical bay, and one literal force of nature barreling straight toward them really should’ve been all the warning they needed to haul ass.

Given such an obvious sign of impending catastrophe, any sensible person would’ve immediately evacuated or, at the very least, gotten out of the way and allowed the disaster to pass.

Now, to be fair, that was exactly what they attempted to do. But with Jax still resting inside the medical bay and reaching him right in the middle of all the chaos being all but impossible, the safest course of action was to move the danger instead, which meant exercising Luca’s authority over his own dungeon.

"!"

The transfer happened almost instantaneously.

One moment, everyone was crowded inside the medical bay.

The next, a group of startled, half-screaming people abruptly found themselves standing in the middle of a wide clearing as the accompanying cargo arrived with considerably less dignity.

Heavy storage boxes hit the ground with dull thuds, metal containers clanked and skidded across the uneven terrain, ceramic bottles knocked sharply against one another, and one thoroughly confused shriveled sprite, still resembling an oversized raisin, landed right alongside them.

Unfortunately...

They hadn’t exactly arrived alone.

Still barreling toward them across the now-open landscape, barely slowed by the sudden relocation, was the guardian beast himself. One vine-like tendril remained casually wrapped around the shell-shocked raisin as though refusing to let his captive escape under any circumstances.

"!!!"

Butler Gary took one look at Tortie before his expression subtly changed.

More specifically...

He looked at the scarf.

Months that felt like years of serving around the guardian beast had taught him one invaluable lesson.

The more disheveled that dainty scarf became...

The more annoyed Tortie usually was.

And judging by the current state of it...

Faced with such an unmistakable omen of impending doom, those blessed with functioning self-preservation instincts immediately grabbed whoever still hadn’t recovered from the shock and practically threw themselves out of the way.

Princess Kira, in particular, demonstrated what she’d probably insist on calling her Ultimate Rescue Technique, though everyone else would more accurately describe it as a highly effective chokehold as she dragged several people away beneath one arm before they could even decide to run for themselves.

The others reacted similarly, albeit with methods that were considerably gentler, proving that even amidst complete chaos, survival remained a remarkably effective motivator.

Well, at least most of them did exactly that. Prioritizing safety in the face of uncertainty.

Just not the little Queen Bee, who had barely fought her way into the world only to immediately develop what appeared to be a spectacular death wish by attempting to meet the great Tortie head-on.

The tiny fluffball who’d only moments ago been looking up at Killian with sparkling eyes suddenly disappeared.

Not because she’d hidden.

But because she’d launched herself straight toward Tortie.

She became nothing more than a streak of golden fluff shooting across the clearing with such terrifying speed that even D-29 briefly struggled to track her movement.

"?!!!"

Killian’s stomach twisted.

His body moved before his thoughts could catch up, instinctively lunging after the little Queen as though sheer determination alone could somehow bridge the impossible distance between them.

It couldn’t.

Because, as experience had rather thoroughly impressed upon him over the past few months, wanting to do something was no guarantee that reality would cooperate.

But in that single, terrifying instant...

The young Chief of Staff finally witnessed what it truly meant to be an elite spiritual beast.

The collision was akin to two missiles meeting head-on, the impact producing a deafening boom that sent a violent shockwave racing across the clearing. Dust and loose grass exploded upward as everyone instinctively planted their feet and shielded themselves from the blast, several people even stumbling backward from the sheer force of it.

Naturally, the first thing that followed was a chorus of worried shouts.

Only by the time the dust slowly began to settle did they finally catch sight of what had actually happened. Tortie remained exactly where he’d stopped, one thick tendril now securely wrapped around the shriveled sprite, while directly opposite him hovered the little Queen Bee, whose tiny wings beat furiously as she somehow held her position without giving even a single inch.

It was a rather absurd sight.

Both of them barely averaged a foot in height.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, merely looking at them gave the distinct impression that either one could flatten a building if they truly wished.

Of course, likening Tortie’s original size to a mere building did the guardian beast a tremendous disservice. Even so, the fact that the two of them somehow inspired the exact same instinctive feeling was equal parts fascinating and deeply unsettling.

And when they finally faced one another, size seemed to lose all meaning. The spiritual pressure pouring from both sides collided so violently that the surrounding air visibly distorted, making it feel less like two tiny creatures standing in a clearing and more like two primordial titans had chosen that patch of land as their battlefield.

The pressure only continued rising.

Several of the dungeon dwellers found themselves forced straight to the ground, their bodies refusing to cooperate beneath the overwhelming aura. Even Killian, who’d instinctively tried to chase after his daughter the moment she’d flown away, found himself brought to a complete stop despite desperately trying to force another step forward.

No matter how hard he pushed...

His body simply wouldn’t move.

Then, as though merely glaring at each other was no longer enough, both Tortie and the little Queen simultaneously began gathering spiritual energy as if hell-bent on hurling it at each other.

The change was immediate enough that even the Elders’ expressions shifted.

Neither side looked like they were bluffing.

The amount of spiritual energy condensing around them was increasing at an alarming rate, enough that if they truly exchanged attacks, the resulting explosion would likely devastate a good portion of the clearing.

"!!!"

Now, if the heavens saw this as some sort of sick joke, then the young official, who could feel the fear all the way down to his bones, would have to respectfully disagree.