The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 862: Smooth Faces, Rough Consequences

There were many ways to wake up after a long night. But waking up on the ground, using grass as a mattress, with the lingering remnants of a deeply questionable intoxication was not exactly the first choice of most sane individuals.

And yet, come morning, that was precisely how a group of not-so-sane individuals found themselves rising from what might have been the best sleep of their lives.

They stirred slowly, blinking against the light, bodies reluctant to move. Sleep had always been good in the dungeon space. That much was known. But this time was different.

They woke with glowing skin.

With clear minds.

With clear paths.

As in, clear, clear.

Their bodies felt so clear one would have thought that something similar to atherectomy was performed for their spiritual pathways. Then again, it also couldn’t just be that. Because all of a sudden there were just more pathways in places that they never thought would exist.

So naturally, the question arose.

Just what in the world happened while they slept?

Killian Nox stared blankly into the distance as consciousness finally clicked into place.

The usually razor-sharp chief of staff lay there for a moment longer than necessary, grappling not with strategy or schedules, but with a deeply irrational thought.

He should dig this ground up.

Specifically, this exact patch of grass.

If possible, he would like to relocate it directly to his cabin.

Because that had been the best sleep he had experienced in years.

He wasn’t even that old. and yet it felt like that had been his best sleep in decades and he hadn’t even been alive for three of them.

Damn.

The last time he had slept even remotely this well was when he ended up sleeping for days in the dungeon space but that had a lot to do with how long he slept back then.

This, however, was different.

It was shorter than his most recent stay in the medical bay, yet he felt lighter. Sharper. And oddly enough, he felt extremely porous.

Not the kind that people usually avoid, but the kind where he felt like his entire body was breathing in and out. Like it wasn’t just his lungs carrying that burden anymore.

Reborn was a strong word.

And yet, it was also the most accurate way to describe what he was feeling.

As Killian finally pushed himself upright, memory rushed back in.

Not just the tea that sent him to dreamland.

His eyes widened.

He was dead sure they said something about the first step to awakening bloodline abilities.

All around him, others were also sitting up, expressions mirroring his own as realization hit in staggered waves. Confusion. Shock. Then dawning understanding as the same words surfaced in their minds.

Who needed an alarm when your last memory hit like that?

Well, apparently, all of them.

Because while the group, whose faces now looked suspiciously smooth and distressingly refreshed, began gathering with the clear intent of demanding explanations from the elders, absolute chaos was unfolding outside the dungeon space.

People were understandably panicking.

Inside, the baby’s butt group listened in stunned silence as the elders calmly explained the effects of newly cleared pathways. Pathways that felt wider. Smoother. Far too eager to respond the moment spiritual energy brushed against them.

They spoke about being able to command more spiritual tendrils consistently. About cultivating at a much faster pace. Of course, nothing about cultivation was instant. Miracles still required time. But compared to unknowingly struggling through half-blocked or incomplete pathways that fought back at every turn, this was on an entirely different level.

It would no longer feel like forcing energy through bent, uneven channels that occasionally pinched and resisted.

Moreover, unlike the familiar and deeply unpleasant method of forcefully widening pathways with concentrated spiritual water and brute circulation, the tea functioned more like a supercharged Spirit Enhancement Manual.

"But because what it essentially does is relax the pathways," one of the elders explained patiently, "instead of circulating energy to eradicate blockages by force, the process naturally feels more soothing."

"And when your pathways are consistent in size," another continued, "you can regulate spiritual energy far more efficiently. You no longer need to exert additional effort just to compensate for constricted sections along the route."

"However, this means practicing more because while your spiritual levels remain the same for now, your output would likely change dramatically. So be mindful until you’re all used to it."

Shocking was an understatement.

As expected, the newest arrivals to the dungeon space were visibly shaken by what they were hearing. Noah and Theo at least had some frame of reference, having been fortunate enough to receive those basic manuals before. Even so, listening to these explanations still made their heads spin.

Meanwhile, outside the dungeon space, the situation was deteriorating rapidly.

Staff members from various organizations were losing their collective sanity as message after message went unanswered.

Calls failed. Updates stalled.

And far too many important people were slowly but secretly being identified as missing.

Then just as the former ground campers were learning about the probability of using the fruit of the Queen of the Night to stimulate affinity, those beyond the dungeon were debating whether this was the point where they should finally report things to the appropriate authorities. Authorities who, unfortunately for everyone involved, were also panicking because their own superiors—with said greater authority—had vanished just as thoroughly.

By the time those inside were not-so-quietly coming to terms with the possibility of life-changing awakenings tied to fruit that would appear in three to five weeks—and after they had finally and unanimously agreed to delay the dungeon upgrade until after the two-week expo so as not to disrupt the process—the outside world was rapidly losing its grip.

Somewhere within the exhibition grounds, two female orcs stared at one another as the implications of a massive, unexplained disappearance finally sank in.

Were they supposed to run everything until the others managed to return?

Ha.

What about closing up shop for the day? Surely, that would be fine, right?

RIGHT?!