The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1179: Ringing In

Well, it may not have been in the Marshal’s security plans, but it was certainly part of one blonde’s wellness itinerary.

The deep, reverberating tone rolled through the massive stadium, cutting cleanly through the roar of the crowd. It came from the speakers connected to the cadet’s enclosed testing area rather than the gong itself, yet even as nothing more than a reproduced sound, it still sent an inexplicable shiver down everyone’s spine.

Then it came again.

And once more.

The arena fell into stunned silence.

Across the stands, thousands of people froze. Jaws slowly dropped. Eyes widened. A wave of genuine bewilderment swept through the audience.

Several master mechanics instinctively adjusted their spectacles.

Student reporters stopped typing.

Even those tuned in through Star Net seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat before the comment sections erupted.

Everyone simply stared.

Because he’d struck it three times with absolute confidence, as though opening the most prestigious mecha manufacturing licensure exam in recent history with a musical performance was the most natural thing in the universe.

Fortunately, Oliver Mylor remained blissfully unaware of everyone’s collective dumbfoundedness.

The protective barrier surrounding each workstation had already activated. While the audience could hear everything happening inside through the broadcast microphones, no sound from outside could reach the temporarily untouchable blonde.

Then again, even if they ended up hurling insults at him for doing something unheard of, he still wouldn’t have stopped.

Not when this whole spectacle had been part of the specialized technique developed by his good brother just for him.

Thanks to the inspiration they’d received from the children, they’d eventually discovered a way to process the material until it gleamed brilliantly enough to replace the gemstones in the eyes of the tribute statues at Kyros Manor.

Unfortunately, achieving the right appearance and preparing it for casting were two entirely different matters.

Even now, before this long-awaited day, Ollie could still remember the countless failed attempts that had led them here, long before they’d stumbled upon the half-finished mecha looking burnt to a crisp.

That was exactly why he’d freaked out. They had poured so much time and effort into that prototype, only to find what looked like all their hard work reduced to a charred husk.

But the unexpected scare proved beneficial, as it eventually led to the discovery of several nifty things about the material.

So considering their wins, what else could’ve been the problem?

Could it have been the actual manufacturing process?

Nope. Apparently not. Because Ollie actually found that part rather fun.

No, his real and very hurdle had ended up being the activation of Zelunium.

The very first major step of the build, of all things.

To be fair, it started out as a problem for the three of them, not just him.

Zelunium, as they had really intended, wasn’t like anything they’d ever worked with before. In its raw form, it was almost useless, but once purified, it just wouldn’t budge! Even when they managed to force it into a different shape, it stubbornly strained to return to its original configuration.

Frustrating, yes, but also incredibly promising if they could figure out how to harness that property.

Thankfully, after wrestling with something every bit as stubborn as raw Nanite Ore, they’d eventually realized what they were dealing with.

The material was simply too stable.

If they wanted to reshape it permanently, they first had to disrupt that equilibrium without pushing the material to the point of collapse.

Now that worked splendidly, and they eventually managed to get to the parts the self-proclaimed cutest mechanic actually liked.

But see, throughout nearly all their testing, Luca had been the one activating the material whenever it needed to be molded.

Only near the end did they discover an unfortunate truth.

Ollie was absolutely hopeless with the specialized instrument they’d been using.

It was a complete mess.

The manufacturing technique itself suited him perfectly. Compared to biomechanical construction, it demanded far less from his body.

But none of that mattered if he couldn’t even convince the material to cooperate.

After fumbling through the sequence yet again, Ollie puffed out his cheeks in frustration, fingers still awkwardly hovering over the instrument.

That was when Luca quietly walked over.

"Brother," he said, "what if we stopped using frequencies we already know and made one that only Zelunium could recognize?"

Ollie blinked.

"Huh?"

"I mean," Luca continued, "instead of forcing yourself to use that complicated instrument, wouldn’t it be easier if the instrument itself was also made of Zelunium?"

Ollie had been seconds away from another emotional breakdown.

He’d been fully prepared to explain that they’d already tried everything.

Then he actually processed what Luca had said.

He froze.

"Oh."

A beat passed before his eyes widened.

"Brother... that’s actually a really good idea! Why didn’t I think of that?!"

Just like that, hope returned.

The tears threatening to spill moments earlier practically retreated back where they’d come from.

The idea worked.

Not immediately, of course.

They still spent countless hours experimenting with different equipment and instruments until they eventually discovered that almost everything was unnecessarily complicated for one differently gifted Mylor.

Well, everything except...

A gong.

And so the Empire and its guests were now witnessing the performance that had somehow taken Ollie longer to master than building the cockpit of the mecha itself.

Standing around his temporary workstation, the blonde looked impossibly pleased with himself, wearing the smug expression of someone who’d finally conquered an absurdly difficult problem.

Up in the stands, Luca watched with undisguised pride.

Everyone else simply wondered what on Solara they were looking at.

__

"Moore," Instructor Falco muttered under his breath.

"Don’t," Moore replied weakly, looking as though he was one more surprise away from passing out. He genuinely had no idea how he was supposed to explain any of this to whoever inherited the examination after him.

With Luca, at least, there’d been something he could point to.

The boy had unleashed an absurd number of spiritual tendrils, but he was still following the recognizeable manufacturing principles everyone could at least trace. He just happened to do everything a hundred times faster, making it easy enough to conclude that the terrifying difference simply came down to overwhelming skill.

But Oliver Mylor?

How could he even explain this?

But okay, maybe he could still justify this.

Throughout history, master mechanics had always been an eccentric bunch. There’d once been a renowned master who insisted on stacking stones against his left leg until the pile could remain standing for an entire hour before he’d even touch a single tool. Compared to that, beginning a build with a gong almost sounded reasonable.

At the very least, Moore could always argue that every master developed peculiar habits as part of their manufacturing process.

Ironically, however, the master mechanics themselves weren’t reacting the way he’d expected.

Master Allan, for one, had become considerably more open-minded after having his understanding of manufacturing thoroughly overturned by Luca Kyros. Instead of dismissing the performance as another strange superstition, he instinctively glanced toward the wrinkled old fossil who’d once been his closest friend before the two of them somehow became lifelong rivals.

To his surprise, the Master Quinn didn’t look alarmed in the slightest.

If anything, he looked proud.

Then, that meant this wasn’t some bizarre personal ritual at all.

Naturally it wasn’t.

Because elsewhere, and from the perspective of one dwarf who’d nearly driven herself insane trying to ensure everyone survived today’s examination, this was simply their version of Lattice Activation.

And she certainly hadn’t grown another fifty white hairs refining the blasted technique just so people could dismiss it as some weird gimmick instead of appreciating how absurdly effective it actually was.