The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1316: A Perfectly Legitimate Strategy

Okay, well, maybe Finn heard some sort of funeral march or ominous war drums instead.

Because saying he heard anything would’ve made the Logistics cadet sound like he was deliberately goading or cursing everyone else when, really, there was absolutely nothing angelic about what they were about to do for anyone outside their own battalion!

After all, while the likes of Battalion 9 were currently out there trying to literally the Caldris Hostiles from the discovered ventilation shafts of their underground tunnels like beekeepers attempting to collect honey...

Battalion 10 was busy practicing its own special brand of terrorism.

Officially, they said it was some sort of guerrilla warfare.

The idea itself was simple enough. Strike swiftly from hiding, inflict as much damage as possible, then immediately disperse before the enemy could properly retaliate.

A perfectly legitimate strategy.

So why, exactly, were their Commander and elected Vice Commander, Jackson Taylor, currently running around enemy mechas that were already trying to retreat?!

"..."

__

Back inside the room where educators, administrators, and all sorts of other interested stakeholders had gathered, the atmosphere had once again become a heady mixture of distress, disbelief, and grim determination as they replayed the bizarre little dance Battalion 10 had just performed.

The cadets had practically been taunting the group of hostiles they gleefully encountered, none of whom seemed to realize they were being lured straight into the kind of trap they’d most certainly never signed up for.

It had actually been Theo Belgrave who suggested searching farther away after inspecting their enviably complete map.

According to him, if they wanted to properly test what they’d spent so much time preparing, then perhaps it would be better to find Caldris Hostiles who weren’t part of the same group they’d already fought.

Admittedly, it was a bit of a gamble.

There was always a chance the Vanguard candidates Luca had defeated earlier had already warned everyone else about what happened.

Then again, Theo wasn’t entirely convinced anyone would’ve believed them.

Because if someone came back claiming that a Royal Military Academy freshman had jumped out of his mecha, chased several highly trained Vanguard candidates through the sky using flaming wings and spiritual tendrils, then proceeded to dismantle their machines and happily steal whatever useful parts he could get his hands on...

Wouldn’t that sound less like a legitimate combat report and more like an elaborate excuse from people who’d somehow managed to to the young Kyros heir?

Apparently, Theo’s gamble paid off. Although perhaps the Vanguard candidates randomly chosen by the group had some sins from their past they needed to atone for, because out of all the hostiles they could’ve picked, just happened to be the unlucky ones who caught Battalion 10’s attention.

And soon enough, one by one, their mechas began to crumble.

__

Yes.

The Vanguard candidates currently posing as Caldris Hostiles couldn’t even begin to understand what the hell had happened as increasingly garbled, furious voices echoed across their open communication line, especially when the whole thing had originally started with something as simple as this:

"What’s going on back there?!" one hostile barked into his receiver, his manual mecha’s engine humming as he scanned the dusty horizon.

"My hands are starting to itch, man," another grumbled, slamming his mecha’s heavy fist against his thigh. "These cheap shots are driving me insane!"

Of course, dragging the battle out for as long as possible had been part of their overall strategy from the beginning.

The problem was that they were currently fighting only manual mechas.

Luca and Jax had spent the last several minutes moving around like a pair of infuriatingly slippery snakes, taking cheap shots whenever an opportunity appeared, only to immediately flee the moment the hostiles tried to retaliate.

Every single time someone was about to land a serious blow, those two would somehow wriggle their way out of it. One would duck beneath a swing while the other landed a quick jab, and before anyone could properly retaliate, both would turn tail and run like madmen while drawing another hail of increasingly furious gunfire behind them.

At this rate, the Caldris Hostiles weren’t even sure who was supposed to be wasting whose resources anymore!

"Split the squad," one of the more respected hostile pilots finally ordered through the radio. "Reduce the number of people chasing them. We need to make sure the other punks aren’t using this distraction to raid our base! We left enough people behind but you just never know with these guys..."

Several pilots immediately agreed.

A cluster of hostile mechas pivoted away from the chase and started their retreat.

Only for something to suddenly come raining down from above, the sides, and practically every other random direction imaginable.

"...?"

But much to their surprise, the incoming artillery shells didn’t erupt into roaring fireballs.

Instead, they burst apart with strangely underwhelming pops in midair, spraying a fine, colorless mist across the retreating units.

For several seconds, the hostiles simply stared at their sensors in confusion.

"...?"

"What the hell was that supposed to be?" one pilot muttered as he hurriedly checked his status monitors.

No hull breach.

No explosive damage.

No noticeable energy drain.

Nothing!

As far as they could tell, the bizarre attack hadn’t done a damn thing.

Which only made the entire situation even more irritating.

They were wasting a ridiculous amount of time chasing two freshmen who seemed determined to annoy them to death, and their team leader could already tell that several of his men were rapidly approaching the limits of their patience.

Not that they’d ever possessed much of it to begin with.

These were, after all, literal beasts being trained to act civilized.

So when yet another stray piece of debris came flying out of nowhere and one of the hostile mechas directly on the head...

Something finally snapped.

"THAT’S IT!"

The pilot’s furious roar nearly blew out everyone’s comms.

"Just let me get one fucking hit in! These little shits—!"

His heavy mecha violently spun around.

The machine threw its entire weight behind a brutal elbow strike aimed directly at the irritating little mecha that had wandered just a little too close.

Inside his cockpit, the Caldris pilot was already anticipating the satisfying crunch of crushed metal.

That punk, who, unbeknownst to the hostile was actually Luca Kyros, had raised some makeshift shield made out of scrap to block him, but what the hell was that supposed to do?

With the sheer weight and momentum behind his attack, that piece of junk should’ve either gone flying or crumpled on impact!

Except...

The moment his elbow connected, his cockpit console suddenly erupted into a frenzy of delayed alarms.

"...?"

Something shattered.

But it wasn’t the other guy’s shield.

The hostile pilot’s eyes slowly widened.

His mecha’s entire arm had crumbled on impact.

Not dented.

Not cracked.

The reinforced metal shattered like dry chalk, brittle pieces breaking apart so quickly that the machine’s momentum carried the now-unbalanced chassis straight into that scrap shield.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

The pilot inside the damaged mecha could only stare at his warning-filled console, while the surrounding hostiles watched the remnants of the shattered arm rain onto the desert floor.

But while the Caldris Hostiles were still trying to process what they’d just witnessed, a considerably different conversation was taking place over Battalion 10’s not-so-private communication line.

"Jax..." Luca asked somewhat worriedly, only now realizing he’d forgotten about this rather important detail in all his excitement. "You’re really sure the school won’t ask us to reimburse them for all these mechas and equipment, right?"

"Yeah. Besides, if they do, you can just bill me," Jax replied, sounding ridiculously relaxed about the whole thing. "Even if I’m someone with dependents now, I’m pretty sure my honey would understand spending for school. Though the Captain would probably take care of it before any of us even saw the bill, so you shouldn’t worry."

Luca hesitated.

His golden eyes blinked behind his cockpit screen.

"Hmm... Really?"

"Yeah, really!"

Jax even chuckled.

"...I guess that’s okay, then!"

Not that there was any going back at this point.

The LME shells had already been fired, and several hostile mechas had been thoroughly misted with their special concentrates.

Still, even if he didn’t want anyone else to have to pay and might just take responsibility as a law-abiding citizen in the end, hearing some sort of reassurance still worked wonders for the resident penny-pincher!

Luca immediately tossed his scrap shield aside, along with the stunned hostile mecha still slumped against it.

Then he turned toward another enemy suit that had made the unfortunate mistake of stopping to watch.

His armory slot opened.

But what Luca pulled out wasn’t a gun.

Nor was it a sword.

It was a meteor hammer.

"...?!"

The heavy spiked weight swung outward as Luca sent the chain whipping through the air with terrifying precision.

It barely clipped the lower leg of the nearest hostile mecha.

That was all it took.

The entire section crumpled like paper, taking out the thrusters keeping the mecha afloat and sending the massive machine crashing to the ground.

"This much should be fine, right?" Luca asked brightly over the battalion comms, sounding rather proud of himself. "If we’re fighting from farther away, then our own mechas won’t accidentally get wet!"

"..."

He sounded so profoundly cheerful.

Which only made the increasingly frequent sounds of metal across the desert considerably more horrifying, especially when even their own movements were causing random parts to warp!

"!!!"

One damaged joint collapsed.

Another mecha lost an arm.

A third took a glancing strike and abruptly buckled at the knee.

And as one Vanguard candidate after another came crashing down, the watching cadets and observers could only stare at the feeds in complete, speech-deprived horror.