The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 867: The Problem with Outliers

Meanwhile, just as two orcs and two systems were attempting to survive the onslaught of excited attendees, and just as one bamboozled aide was actively trying to dissuade his lord from entertaining thoughts that would absolutely qualify as dangerous, the people who were actually supposed to be working were only just beginning to wake up.

One.

Then three.

Then four.

Groggy figures stirred across the grass, blinking in confusion as consciousness returned in uneven waves. Most of them sat up slowly, rubbing their faces and trying to reconcile the fact that the ground had apparently doubled as a luxury mattress.

To the growing horror of one particular duke, however, not everyone was waking up.

Duke Leander had only regained consciousness himself not long ago, a fact his wife had dryly pointed out with a raised brow when he immediately spiraled into panic mode. In his defense, he had been just as deeply asleep moments earlier, back when the others were already awake and listening to the elders’ explanations.

But at this point, that detail felt completely irrelevant.

Because two people were still lying there.

And one such person who was still in the middle of sleeping on the ground was one sleeping beauty with a different set of features.

For one, he was a man. Second, he had short black hair and golden eyes that couldn’t be seen because of this odd slumber.

Then there was also the beast who also was definitely from a different tale and could instead have been described as a prince, since he actually was one.

But Duke Leander thought that was simply semantics and shouldn’t be focused on when there were far bigger problems.

Like how it has been forever (not) and yet the two children were still sleeping.

His chest tightened.

"This is taking too long," he hissed, already moving closer before anyone could stop him. "They should have woken by now. Everyone else is awake. Why are they still asleep? Is this normal? Is this safe? Should they be breathing like that? They are breathing, right? Someone tell me they are breathing."

"Yes, Your Grace. They are most definitely breathing," Elder Wei said calmly.

That, as expected, did nothing to appease the father duck.

Leander spun on the elders, words spilling out in a single breath as panic reached critical levels.

"Are they going to be alright? Can we wake them up? If not, how long will this take? Hours? Days? What if it rains? What if something bites them? Should we move them inside? At least onto a bed? Or a couch? Or anything that isn’t the ground? I can carry Luca. I can carry both of them if needed. I can—"

"No," Elder Wei said.

Leander froze.

"No?" he repeated faintly.

"We really shouldn’t wake them up, Your Grace," Elder Wei continued, his voice calm and unwavering. "Nor should we move them without cause."

The duke’s face visibly drained of color.

"But they’re just lying there," he whispered, even though he himself had enjoyed what could only be described as a month-long rest on that very same ground. "They’re children."

"Interrupting the process could cause harm," another elder added. "For now, it’s far safer to let it finish naturally."

Leander opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

No sound came out.

The man who was known for dramatic declarations and emotional outbursts visibly wilted. His shoulders sagged. His knees wobbled. His entire body seemed to lose structural integrity as he slowly leaned sideways.

Duchess Amelia watched him for half a second.

Considered.

Then sighed.

Alas, this was her husband and the love of her life, so this was her life now.

Before he could actually collapse, the Duchess reached out and steadied him, allowing him to lean against her shoulder while glaring at him just enough to remind him that fainting would be extremely inconvenient right now.

Leander clutched at her sleeve, eyes still fixed on the two sleeping figures.

"...I’m fine," he whispered weakly.

She didn’t believe him for a second.

But maybe they didn’t need to worry too much, because based on the order in which people had woken earlier, there seemed to be a slight pattern.

Rank.

No. Not the noble or military kind.

But mainly determined by a person’s spiritual rank.

So just how powerful was her son and son-in-law when even the Emperor and the Empress woke up before they did?

__

A great question. One that several people would very much like answered.

Such as the instructors, administrators, and medical team of the Royal Military Academy, who were still reeling from the first day of the Annual Expo.

To say they were proud would have been a gross understatement.

The Empire had not been bested by the Federation delegation. Not even close. If anything, the display had been so overwhelming that it felt like a public declaration of victory wrapped in spiritual energy, crowds, and unreasonably long queues.

They were ecstatic.

Even the bald-headed instructors felt as if several strands of hair had regrown the moment they realized they had survived this year. Not only survived it, but emerged with something so spectacular and so over the top that no one could deny it had been the Empire’s win.

Unfortunately for that miraculous regrowth, the feeling did not last long.

Because the moment they allowed themselves to think beyond the present, reality came crashing down.

What about next year?

The year after that?

Or even decades later?

How exactly were they supposed to react to an outlier like this without stunting growth, drawing accusations, or accidentally breaking the entire evaluation system in the process?

And just when they thought their biggest challenge would be learning how to school their own expressions in public, new problems arrived.

Very loudly.

Apparently, instructors from other academies had begun asking questions. Of course they weren’t asking upfront, just murmuring amongst themselves and making backhanded remarks while praising the students themselves.

They weren’t insane to get themselves blacklisted but it also wasn’t beyond them to hit back at the instructors of that pompous Royal Military Academy.

The issue sounded rather innocent. Why had the academy reported such a low rank for an extremely capable student?

Because clearly, a cadet like that could not possibly be C-rank.

Clearly.

While it sounded well-meaning, this was, without exaggeration, a disaster for everyone actually involved.

Especially when said student’s booth just happened to be the most popular booth since the Annual Expo was first inaugurated.

Meetings were called. Doors were sealed. Records were dragged out with alarming speed.

And then someone pointed at the screen.

"This?" one instructor asked slowly, eyes glued to the projection. "Doctor Brent, are you saying this was the result you obtained when you first tested him?"

Doctor Brent did not look up immediately.

"Actually," he said after a moment, "that would be the second test. The first one was interrupted."

Several people turned to him at once.

"Interrupted?" another demanded. "How do you interrupt a test like that?"

"We had to remove him from the medical tank," Brent replied flatly.

Silence followed.

Then someone squinted at the data again.

"I am not a physician," an administrator said cautiously, "but why are there mountains in his results?"

Doctor Brent, who had been summoned in immense haste for the high-level meeting, slowly looked around the room before letting out a long, weary sigh.

Deeply.

Same.

And unlike everyone else, he had been asking that exact question for months.