The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 503: Parental Worries

But did she really know?

Did she know how worried he had been the entire time she was away?

Did she know what it felt like to stand helpless, knowing that the one you had protected since the moment she was born was being mistreated somewhere beyond your reach?

Did she understand the kind of rage and pain that came from imagining his treasured child abandoned, dismissed, and left vulnerable in a place that didn’t see her worth?

Probably not.

And probably not until she found herself in that same position one day.

King Garick gritted his teeth as their blows clashed again, a sharp shockwave tearing through the arena floor.

He didn’t want her to experience what his sister had endured.

Even now, he could still see his little sister’s smile, bright but hollow, before she had fallen to the false promises of a human who had never intended to protect her.

She had died for it.

And Garick had carried the weight of it ever since.

He knew. Orcs could only improve through fighting. Through hardship. Through mistakes.

But...

What parent would ever wish those kinds of mistakes on their child?

Especially when some wounds weren’t the kind that a potion could heal.

The clang of spiritual weapons rang out as father and daughter continued their spar.

Garick felt his chest tighten, not just with strain but with something heavier, as he met his daughter’s unflinching gaze.

Her technique was sharper than ever. Her footing solid. Her strikes were so much more relentless than before.

She really had grown.

And yet...

He still couldn’t bring himself to allow her to stay.

Their original plan had been to return home. To keep her safe, where she belonged. He had even consented to her taking a human as her spouse, provided they were under his wing, somewhere he could ensure she wouldn’t suffer the same fate.

That was still what he wanted.

How hard could that be?

But his musings were cut short, for suddenly, she shifted.

Garick felt it immediately: the air thickening with a surge of spiritual energy, unlike anything she had shown before.

He barely had time to process it before Kira huffed, her lips quirking faintly into a confident smirk.

And then she unleashed it.

With a sharp cry, she gathered her energy, molding it into shape—a great axe materializing in her hands, the blade gleaming with pure force.

She charged forward, and instinctively, Garick met her head-on, raising his defenses to intercept.

But the moment he struck at her, his blow cut through nothing.

Nothing.

She was gone.

His eyes widened in shock, realizing too late it was a feint.

A whisper of spiritual energy flared behind him.

And when he spun, there she was.

Standing at his back, her axe raised high, poised at a deadly angle that would have ended the match then and there.

Her breathing was steady. Her form, flawless.

And in that moment, even Garick couldn’t deny it—

His daughter had won.

Kira was stronger now. He knew that, and he underestimated her. But...

It was never just about that.

Kira knew, too. She knew her father wasn’t scared of her ability to fight. No, it was because of her tender heart that he was acting this way.

Yes. Tender.

Because, contrary to what was likely the belief of 90% of the universe, both King Garick and Princess Kira solemnly and wholeheartedly believed she had a fragile heart. (Cough.)

And this was the scene Luca and the others stumbled upon when they rushed in to support her.

They expected carnage. Tension. Drama.

What they got was...King Garick clinging desperately to his daughter’s towering legs, practically sobbing as he rattled off all the horrible things that could happen to her.

How humans were terrible for her skin.

How she’d suffer without proper servants.

How, despite the benefits, she even had to work! And she was a princess—his princess!

The onlookers froze in horrified silence. None of them had expected this kind of groveling reaction from the Orc King.

But Ada—Ada understood. Technically, her boss had won this match and could now demand her freedom. So the King was really only left with this...undignified option.

Yet it was Kira’s response that left the King utterly speechless.

Because she stood there proudly, smiled, and said:

"Father, my skin has never been this good. My health? I’ve grown so much. Not only am I more powerful, but my brain is finally catching up to my beauty."

The words were wrong...and yet so right on so many levels that the other guild members could only stare in awe, flinching at every syllable.

Well...all except Luca and Jax, who actually nodded in agreement. To them, her description of her luscious crimson hair and her glowing skin was nothing but the truth.

And as Luca watched, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of familiarity, remembering when he had finally opened up to his own mother. And quietly, he hoped he could help Kira the same way everyone had once helped him.

Luca decided to step forward, his voice calm but earnest as he addressed the towering Orc King.

"If there’s anything we can do as her friends to reassure you she’ll be cared for properly, please tell us."

King Garick’s eyes narrowed immediately, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Clearly, he didn’t take kindly to some outsider—much less a human—trying to wedge himself between him and his daughter.

But before he could say anything, Kira’s sharp voice cut through the tension.

"Stop it, Father! That’s our guild leader, and he’s a very important person!"

The growl died in the King’s throat, but he still pouted—an impressive feat for someone his size. In his mind, this vile little human must have somehow beguiled his daughter. He was just about to say as much when Xavier strode into the room like he owned it, wrapped an arm around Luca’s waist, and simply looked at the Orc King.

No words needed to be exchanged. The meaning was clear: Don’t even think about it.

The King huffed, crossing his massive arms in grudging acceptance.

"Fine. I don’t take offense to your...guild members," he grumbled begrudgingly. "But my daughter is a princess. And a princess requires proper protection. And that’s just one thing that’s part of maintaining her identity."

He sniffed disdainfully, as though even entertaining this conversation was already generous of him.

But he was really saying this because he calculated that even if these humans have their machines and this daycare solution, how much could they have really improved in three months?

It couldn’t be to an acceptable degree, right?

Although next time, this argument might not hold because, as much as he hated to admit it, there was something to be said about human ingenuity and their stubborn will to adapt.

But for now, he should be fine.

Or so he thought.

Because Luca tilted his head and asked innocently:

"Then...would it help if we got tested? For our strength?"

The King froze mid-sniff.

He stared at the boy, dumbfounded. Either this human was overestimating himself wildly, or he simply had no idea what that entailed.

Even Kira’s eyes widened as she tried to dissuade him, stepping forward quickly.

"Luca! You don’t have to—"

But Luca just smiled at her. That same warm, comforting smile he always gave them when things were at their worst. Like when they were at death’s door while studying.

"It’s fine. Don’t worry."

The room quieted. And a few cadets weren’t sure about this "Don’t worry," that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

"..."

"..."

When the others were finally ushered outside to wait by the arena, Luca stayed behind. He turned to the King, bowed respectfully, and said in a clear, steady voice:

"Please take care of me."

The words were humble. Polite.

And, as the universe would soon know, infamous.

Because they were the famous last words spoken in that room before the arena exploded.