The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 463: The Possibilities

Most definitely not! Thought Sid, who felt the ripple of excitement surging through the little master’s sea of consciousness, and figured that someone would be ending up with a very complicated future.

But the guardian mecha didn’t protest. Not this time.

Because, after all the work that has been put into the current project—its materials, specs, and increasingly specific design quirks—Sid was almost certain:

This one wasn’t meant for him.

And thank the stars for that.

In front of them stood a massive, bird-like mecha, its wings extended in full span like a soaring beast poised to eclipse a sun.

Its wingspan rivaled the flying creatures of corrupted zones, and the gleaming projection made even the air around it feel larger.

Luca stepped closer, golden eyes wide with awe.

"Wait..." Ollie paused mid-bite of his snack, blinking rapidly. "Brother, are you thinking of making something like this?"

He fumbled for his tablet, half-ready to start taking notes.

But to his surprise, Luca shook his head. "Not this one, brother," he said with quiet certainty. "Because this one is too big." He thought, realizing that it wouldn’t be suitable for his brother because something like that would surely take too much spiritual energy to run.

Ollie looked confused. "Then...?"

"I’m interested in the concept," Luca explained, fingers gently hovering over the display. "This one was originally designed to transform from a fighter jet into a humanoid mecha. But look—it wasn’t just a gimmick. The shifting structure, the folding wing supports, the embedded stabilizer lines—they were all beautifully done."

He leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Brother, this design is older than our entire class combined. But they were already dreaming of aerial mechas like this."

Ollie’s jaw dropped. "A transforming mecha? You’re interested in making one?"

Luca nodded, already picturing something in his mind.

Not a massive war machine—but a compact, multi-form, modular mecha. Smaller. Sleeker. Possibly detachable. And... a bit cute.

Something that didn’t need a physical pilot.

Something Ollie could control remotely—or that could act autonomously with enough input.

Ollie could practically see the lightbulb explode above his good brother’s head, even though he wasn’t sure what he was thinking of actually making.

"We just got here," he mumbled, stunned. "And you already found a design idea?"

On the far side of the gallery, Instructor Moore had been giving them space, choosing not to hover—but he could still see the excitement building from across the room.

He saw the way Luca leaned forward with reverent fascination, how Ollie would occasionally forget to close his mouth as he watched, how even their breathing seemed to shift in tempo the longer they stayed in front of that old design.

Their excitement wasn’t just about discovery. It was focused, deliberate, as if something had clicked into place.

And Moore, a man who had trained hundreds of students and seen several mecha masters, had the distinct sense he was witnessing the first breath of something extraordinary.

This wasn’t just a study visit.

He felt like this was the moment a future began forming its shape.

Not on paper.

But with purpose. In the quiet conviction behind wide eyes and thoughtful silence.

Something important was being born here—and he knew, instinctively, that some of these would not stay in the archives for long.

And for some reason, he felt glad to be alive at this particular point in time.

Ollie, Luca, and D-29—by extension—moved from display case to display case, marveling at designs that once lived only in the imagination of dreamers long past. There were burrowing mechas that could tunnel through hardened terrain, dual-piloted mechas that required synchronized consciousness, and even interchangeable part units designed to adapt mid-combat. It was like wandering through a gallery of beautiful impossibilities.

But what drew Luca in were the unmanned mechas.

Unlike Sid and D-29, these weren’t sentient. They didn’t have personalities or opinions. Nor would they get angry when hit during sparring. Yet, here they were—proof that full external control over a mecha was once seriously explored. And that he probably wasn’t insane to be attempting it.

Luca’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. If others looked at the accompanying material, they would’ve come up with the same conclusion. But Luca and his group would see it for what it really is—just an unfortunate timing.

The early researchers hadn’t been wrong, just limited.

Because to him, this didn’t look impossible. Perhaps if he tried the Trove, he’d likely find a way to bridge this gap.

There had to be an efficient way to do this, especially if he wanted to move forward with the idea forming in his mind.

But before he could drift too deep into technical theory, Ollie tugged at his sleeve, his voice soft but insistent.

"Brother, look at this."

They were standing before two side-by-side displays now, and the contents made Luca freeze.

Fantasy. That’s what they would’ve been, to most people.

But to them, it felt like looking at a mirror of what they were currently trying to do.

[Organic Frame Integration Systems: Early attempts at living alloy fusion—mechas with partial biological components. Abandoned due to rejection issues and uncontrollable growth patterns.]

[Full Neural Sync Pods: Intended for total integration of the pilot’s mind and body. Caused neural burnouts or comas when used without stabilizers.]

Luca stared at the data logs and all the attempts documented—each trial, each recalibration, each version more desperate than the last. Then his gaze landed on a personal log tucked between schematics. It was raw, unfiltered—a message from the designer: a mecha master who had tried everything, only to end with a final line that echoed louder than any technical failure. "By all logic, this should’ve worked. So why didn’t it?"

He understood immediately.

These weren’t failures—they were efforts made before their time. Their biggest limitation? The inability to temper and fuse materials due to a lack of sufficient spiritual energy to try different iterations. The world back then simply hadn’t been ready for such trial and error. What more now? Now that sources for spiritual energy were even rarer.

But unlike the engineers who could only dream—and unlike most people of this era—Luca actually had access to techniques and energy that had once been unimaginable.

And Ollie, standing beside him, was no longer limited by the same restrictions that once held him back.

The blonde mechanic glanced at the notes, his brow furrowed. He still hadn’t worked with many of the organic materials himself, mostly because his spiritual energy had only ever been rated B. However, after his recent breakthrough, a great deal has changed. He could feel it. And maybe even these mecha masters could see it from where they were resting.

And maybe they wanted to ruffle his head in anger, because he personally would like to if he were in their position.

Ollie swallowed. "Brother... all these people wanted to try and couldn’t. It would feel like an insult if I didn’t at least try too, right?"

He straightened, shoulders squared with a seriousness that surprised even himself. "Teach me."

Luca blinked, stunned—but then broke into a soft smile, the kind that lit up even the dimmest corners of the gallery.

"Of course," he said. "This will really help a lot, brother!"

Now, if only the blonde mechanic would survive the ordeal!

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺