The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 290

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Chapter 290: Echoes of the Aftermath

Today’s experience could not have been more out of this world for Sela Maren, who had no idea that a simple work interview could turn into something like this.

Like many of today’s events, this one started with a sound. Not even a scream, as by then those had been too common already.

It wasn’t even gunfire, as that too was a sound that she didn’t ever think she’d be familiar with.

However, the crisis really started feeling real with a squeak.

It was the squeaking sound made by the little girl’s shoes that was accompanied by the sudden cries that froze Sela’s blood.

But that was, apparently, not the end of it all, for these monsters were just starting.

Sela Maren was an award-winning columnist who covered urban economics and interplanetary trade reports.

Not the frontlines, nor anything but the effects of piracy on interplanetary trade. She never expected to experience what it was like to actually face interstellar pirates.

She’d only woken up this morning, preparing to travel to Planet Nova for an important interview.

But now? She wasn’t even sure if she’d make it out alive to write any other piece. Especially not after their chances dropped the moment that bastard took the teen.

He’d been in front of her.

Likely no more than sixteen at best? She didn’t know his name—just that he had a sister beside him, and she had watched him keep his body between her and every pirate who had come near since the hijacking began.

But then they dragged him away.

She didn’t even think—her hand had latched onto the boy’s jacket out of pure instinct. She held fast. Someone else clung to her arm. Another woman—trying to hold her down, maybe, or just joining in.

But it hadn’t mattered.

The pirate had kicked her aside. He was stronger. Taller. Smelled like blood and grease. The boy was ripped from her grasp like a rag doll.

She remembered falling back. The moment stretching in slow, glassy frames.

And the image that stayed with her was how the boy looked at his sister to appease her as the pirate was about to bludgeon him.

Sela could only wrap her arms around the younger sister. She didn’t even know why—maybe to give the girl something to hold onto. Perhaps because she needed it more herself.

She had covered economic collapses, broken cities, and failing governments, but she never assumed to be a number on them.

But just as she shut her eyes tight to protect herself from the scene about to unfold, something strange happened.

She didn’t see it but could hear the Pirate’s sudden surprise and in-fighting. And what’s more, the loud thwack she was expecting never happened.

Then after a tense standoff, she noticed how the pirates have started to raise their guards, seemingly agitated about something.

Then a man collapsed.

Then another.

Sela thought she was hallucinating.

People screamed—yes—but not the kind of scream that came from victims. These were different. Confused. Disoriented. Like they were witnessing a magician pulling people out of existence.

Then the bodies fell—seven of them.

And no one even fired an actual shot.

She looked toward the corridor and saw him.

The man stood with his hand barely outstretched, fingers still faintly dusted with what looked like frost.

Elegant. Unmoving. And, in some haunting way, far more terrifying than the pirates who had barked orders and swung rifles.

Then, more and more people came into view, and only when he saw them in a group did she recognize them.

The new economic powerhouse that had been the talk of the town personally went in to get rid of pirates.

Yes, they did.

And the columnist, whose stress limit had been reached, just crashed into the floor as the pressure valve released.

Sobs resounded everywhere.

Not the sharp, panicked cries from earlier—but a wave of quiet weeping. The kind that came only once people realized they were alive. That they had survived.