The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1220: Onward and Forward

Well, fate would’ve liked to reaffirm Eden’s observations but for the record, if there were anyone who truly embodied the phrase "about to blast right out of his seat," it certainly wasn’t the golden-eyed mechanic.

It was the poor soul currently strapped inside what was, without question, the most beautiful death trap he’d ever had the misfortune of piloting.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Owen Mylor’s screams echoed wildly inside the cockpit, unheard by everyone else as he barreled toward what he was thoroughly convinced was his imminent demise.

He sounded exactly like someone who’d been forced onto the Empire’s most horrifying ride and was discovering, in real time, that he had made several terrible life choices.

He was going to die.

He was absolutely, unquestionably going to die.

Then, right in the middle of his panicked shrieking, his voice abruptly cut off.

The mecha suddenly dipped before surging forward.

His stomach lurched.

It felt exactly like being strapped inside a human centrifuge, the crushing shift in force sending his heart flying straight into his throat.

For one agonizing, breathless instant, Owen forgot how to scream altogether.

The only coherent thought left in his head was that he really should’ve questioned the situation a lot more when Ollie had cheerfully strapped him in with so many layers of belts that, even if the mecha exploded, he’d probably still be left dangling there afterward.

__

See, Owen had made the mistake of getting complacent.

The calibration had gone surprisingly well.

Well, aside from spending the entire time wondering where in the universe that supposedly loose screw was.

A large part of it had to do with how much he loved the cockpit.

It was, without question, one of the most comfortable cockpits he’d ever had the privilege of seeing, much less sitting in. From the chair to the controls, everything felt so thoughtfully put together that he’d actually believed his brother when Ollie said this was his gift.

More importantly, the moment he activated the mecha for the very first time, he nearly cried.

The feeling was impossible to describe.

Then his tears immediately retreated when his brother casually dropped a bomb.

"Actually, this thing’s already calibrated for you. We looked through your training records, especially the more recent ones."

Owen blinked.

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Right now we’re just syncing things a little more so you can get used to the feel."

"What?!"

Still stunned, Owen instinctively tried moving one of the mecha’s arms.

His eyes widened.

The response was instantaneous.

Normally, there was always a slight delay between giving an input and watching the machine respond.

He’d grown so used to it that he’d stopped noticing it altogether.

Until now.

Watching the massive hand clench almost the exact moment he thought about it made that tiny delay he’d lived with for years suddenly feel unbearable.

His jaw had dropped right there in the cockpit.

Meanwhile, Ollie wore the most smug grin imaginable.

"Yeah," the blonde had said proudly. "Just think of it like you’ve suddenly gotten a lot bigger. Treat it like your second skin."

Owen had genuinely been amazed.

So amazed that, even as he finally lined up in the new venue for what he believed would be a simple demonstration race, all he could think about was how natural the controls had felt.

He’d heard through his family about the kinds of things DG was auctioning and had always thought highly of them, but he’d never quite been able to imagine how those impressive numbers would translate into reality. Now, however, he understood all too well—and could only wonder what kind of life he would have been forced to live if he had never known any of this.

He’d even been absentmindedly clenching and unclenching his own hand, trying to remember the feel of it from earlier.

Then, before he knew what was happening, he was shoved back into the cockpit seat, and unlike earlier, he was strapped in with so many safety belts that he looked less like a pilot and more like a hostage.

"??!"

It took him a second to process what was happening.

During calibration, he hadn’t needed nearly this many restraints.

He’d actually been so relaxed earlier that he’d wanted to try the heated blanket and the built-in back massager this time around.

So what was all this?

"Hey!"

"HEY!"

"BROTHER!!!"

His older brother, who unbelievably shared both his blood and surname, simply gave him an approving pat on the shoulder.

"Okay. Not much to remember for this demonstration," Ollie said cheerfully. "Like I promised, you won’t really have to do much."

Owen blinked.

"Huh?"

"All you’ve gotta do is sit there, brace yourself, and hold W."

"WHAT?!"

"I mean that metaphorically!" Ollie hurriedly corrected. "You play enough games to know what I mean, right? Sure, you can technically use the forward button if you’re more comfortable, but I really recommend using your body. You’ll experience the mecha properly that way."

Owen sat frozen.

He had absolutely no idea what was going on anymore.

Then the cockpit hatch began closing.

His brother slowly disappeared from view as the heavy canopy sealed shut.

That was when Owen completely lost it.

"What do you mean?!"

"What’s happening?!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOLD FORWARDDDD?!"

Already halfway into a jog that looked suspiciously like a retreat, Ollie was already scurrying away, waving without even bothering to turn around.

"I mean exactly that! Forget everything else and just concentrate on going forward! Just hold W!"

__

Well, that had been Owen Astrea Mylor practically ages ago, back when he still clung to the fleeting illusion that life was perfectly normal.

Unfortunately, he was now the current Owen, who had reluctantly listened to his brother and simply pressed forward the moment the starting barrier disappeared to signal the beginning of the race.

He knew this format.

It was one of the Astral Cup’s most common race modes, and it even ranked among his most-played simulations back on the virtual machines.

The objective was simple enough.

Reach the finish line as quickly as possible while surviving the other mechas, all of whom were free to attack one another to delay, disable, or overtake their competition.

It was a format he’d played countless times.

Never, however, had he imagined it would feel anything like this.

The instant the pitch-black mecha surged forward like a black hole ripping through space, Owen could’ve sworn his internal organs had been left sitting back at the starting line.

"!!!"

But just when he thought he’d already seen his life flash before his eyes, he made the horrifying discovery that he’d only been screaming through the introduction.