The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 509: Five Shots

"I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MARRIED MY TWIN SISTER WHILE I WAS IN A COMA!"

Mariana’s anguished cry echoed through the manor’s network, her voice shrill and betrayed as the camera zoomed in on her tear-streaked face.

Somewhere deep in the Kyros mainframe, a little system that had been taking a break reacted instantly.

"Oh, this is bad. SO BAD!"

The mother fainted into the butler’s arms.

D-29’s processors spiked dangerously close to overload as it reacted with all its learned emotions.

"SOMEONE HELP HER! She is down. DOWN! Why is nobody bringing her to the medical bay?! Humans are useless!"

Mariana slapped her ex-fiancé, the sharp smack ringing out with satisfying clarity.

"YES. YES. According to my analysis, others in similar scenarios are slapped five times! She still owes him four more!"

And then...came the twin.

Descending the staircase like a snake in stilettos, her smirk sharp enough to cut glass, she hissed her line.

"It’s her. It’s always the twin. OF COURSE. Why do humans allow this? WHY?!"

When she uttered, "You snooze, you lose, hermana," every single monitor in D-29’s private node glitched in sheer outrage.

"She DID NOT. SHE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT. Logging this moment as criminal behavior!"

On-screen, Mariana raised her chin, her tear-streaked vow hanging dramatically in the air, the theme music swelling.

The scene froze, her expression fierce and broken all at once.

D-29 let out a long, distorted whine through the system.

"...Mariana. My queen. My champion. My spirit protocol. You will have your revenge, and I...I will calculate it for you."

He leaned into the next episode, circuits thrumming eagerly as the Next Episode Countdown: 3... 2... flashed—

BEEP.

A sharp tone cut through the private node.

[ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED USE OF SPIRITUAL ENERGY DETECTED.]

D-29’s monitors all flashed red in unison.

"...Excuse me?"

The telenovela theme music was abruptly silenced as the blinking security notice overrode the processes.

For a moment, the system froze in indignation.

Then hissed.

[ERROR: CURRENT NARRATIVE PLAYBACK DISRUPTED.]

[FLAGGING THE OFFENDER FOR DELETION.]

[SCANNING.]

Meanwhile, Grakkar continued to roam the manor, scowling as he tried to remember where the famed kitchen was.

Every hallway looked the same. And those eerie statues didn’t help.

Their hollow eyes seemed to follow him as he moved, making his skin crawl.

He kept his head low, muttering curses under his breath.

The artifact kept him invisible, yes.

But it couldn’t save him from bumping into things.

He’d already hit two chairs, a potted plant, and something that jingled before rolling to the side.

At best, he’d managed to throw up a thin spiritual barrier to muffle his footsteps.

Because someone his size definitely made enough noise to wake the dead.

He gritted his teeth as another statue loomed up ahead.

Why do humans even need this many cursed decorations?

He didn’t know.

And right now, he didn’t care.

All he knew was that he had a job to do.

And by the stars, he’d find that kitchen if it killed him.

Since he’d be dead anyway if he failed.

For years, their faction had whispered of fixing the great mistake of his blood uncle.

King Garick Zulgara.

They told him again and again—interacting with humans was the biggest disgrace an Orc could commit.

And at first, they thought they’d already planted enough hate by dooming his sister and pinning it on those humans. But no, apparently, the mad Orc was incapable of actually learning.

Or maybe he hadn’t cared enough about the late princess to begin with.

Because here he was now.

Willing to let his precious daughter marry and mingle with these vile, fragile humans, creatures who, by all rights, should have been bowing to them.

But no.

Look at the irony of it all.

With their natural strength as Orcs, they were the ones bowing to these humans now.

It made Grakkar’s blood boil.

So clearly, it was time for a change in leadership.

And what better way than to hit two birds with one stone?

If he took down Princess Kira and made it look like the humans did it, then they’d finally get the war they’d been itching for.

But, he thought with a sneer, that might just solidify King Garick’s position.

On the other hand, if he took down the King here, on foreign soil...then their tribe members would rally around revenge.

But what if he took down both?

Both the King and his daughter?

Then they’d get everything.

New leadership.

A just cause for war.

A rallying cry that no one could ignore.

See? Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Grakkar smirked to himself in the shadows, already savoring his imagined victory.

I really am a genius.

Sure, a genius who hadn’t noticed all those laser pointers trailing behind him as he wobbled to the kitchen.

Finally, the alleged genius reached his intended destination.

Surprisingly, the mechanized door slid open the moment he got close.

He froze.

Do they not even protect this? Idiots.

He smirked to himself as he stepped inside, completely unaware of what had really happened.

Earlier, in the depths of the manor’s network, a trio—well, mostly two, and one who just agreed to anything—had unanimously decided to acquire evidence.

Sid had been notified almost immediately.

And when D-29 began hysterically raising all the manor’s defenses, Sid—an experienced Guardian Mecha—had managed to calm the overheating little system down.

"Like in your dramas," Sid had reasoned, "it wouldn’t do to have no evidence, especially since this is someone from another race. We need proof."

Reluctantly, the avid researcher, who had been learning far too much about revenge lately, listened.

Following Sid’s directions, D-29 opened the kitchen door.

A door that, incidentally, had been specifically designed to withstand a nuclear attack and to repel Duke Leander himself.

Grakkar, concealed by his artifact, thought himself clever.

But concealment didn’t fool the manor’s upgraded defense systems, which were already lighting up with his heat signature and spiritual energy.

And had Duke Leander consented to human surveillance, they all could have monitored this in real-time.

Grakkar pulled out a vial.

Normally, the system wouldn’t be able to scan it without a sample, but this was different for D-29, which had always been able to detect traces of corruption.

And that was never a good thing for anyone save for the host.

The little system immediately reported this finding to Sid, who decided on their next action.

"Tranquilize him the moment he tries to use it."

"Affirmative," replied the waiting overseer.

But Grakkar never even got that far.

Before he could even drizzle the vial over the tray of potatoes he’d been eyeing, the ground magnetized beneath him.

There was a sharp series of swish—swish—swish—and then—

THUD.

Grakkar hit the floor with a satisfying crash, unconscious.

"..."

The guardian mecha was quiet for a moment.

Then finally, "...You hit him before he even used it."

D-29 was unbothered.

"A potato is expensive. The Host would’ve been sad."

Sid’s optics dimmed briefly as his stabilizers released a soft hiss.

"Those tranquilizers are also expensive. Why did you use so many? One was enough."

The little system’s prompts didn’t even falter.

"Research indicates you must do it five times."

"...Five...?" Sid groaned.

But before he could say more, the entire manor’s alarms went off simultaneously, blaring through the halls.

And somewhere in the system’s core, D-29 added one final note to his log.

"For Mariana. Revenge complete."