Ch. 171..175: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 171-175
Chapter 171: Kail and Phelixes
For Lyra, not arriving on time wasn’t just about losing points—it was about survival. She knew the Shedd family would find a way to punish her severely, maybe even revoke her internship entirely, cutting off her path into the military.
Morrison’s worry only deepened. "Even hiring bodyguards won’t help. Outsiders can’t just waltz into a military corps."
"No need. I’ve got it handled," Lyra said, her face calm and unbothered.
Morrison exhaled a bit of relief, realizing that Lyra never entered a battle without a plan.
...
Since news of Lyra’s internship broke, Kail had rushed back. He missed AMAT but returned just in time to take her to the internship.
When he arrived at Lyra’s workplace, concern etched deep lines on his brow. "Grandpa definitely has something up his sleeve. Sis, why don’t you and your classmates join my unit?"
Ansel hadn’t restricted Kail’s career path, allowing him to rise to lieutenant, now leading a unit of a hundred soldiers.
Normally, the incoming interns would be scattered across various units, but if Lyra were in his squad, she could avoid any sabotage from unfriendly superiors.
Lyra glanced up at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "That’s not my decision to make."
"I’ll convince Grandpa," Kail declared, determination gleaming in his eyes.
She watched her anxious younger brother for a moment before saying, "Let’s wait and see." Then she turned back to her documents, her tone dismissive yet thoughtful.
Kail fidgeted with his hands, clearly still worried. He hesitated before asking, "It’s almost lunchtime. Want to grab a bite together?"
He hadn’t eaten with her in quite some time, and this seemed like a small window of opportunity. But before Lyra could respond, an excited voice rang out from the hallway. "Sis!"
A tall, lanky boy walked in, beaming as he entered. He was carrying a large lunch box. His face lit up with a cheerful smile, but his eyes darted warily toward Kail.
"I brought steak and corn chowder today!" Phelixes announced brightly, setting up the food with enthusiasm.
Lyra set aside her work, turning to Kail. "You can go eat on your own."
Kail stood there, stunned. His eyes shifted between Lyra and the boy, confusion spreading across his face. "Who...who is this?"
Just as Morrison entered the room, he saw Phelixes stiffen, his posture becoming defensive, like a guard dog protecting his territory. Without missing a beat, Phelixes introduced himself to Kail, "Mr. Shedd, I’m Phelixes, Lyra’s adopted brother."
"Brother?" Kail sputtered, eyes widening in shock.
The air between them grew tense as the two brothers—one biological, the other adopted—locked eyes across the room.
It was as if an invisible line had been drawn, both sizing each other up.
Meanwhile, Lyra ate her meal with calm indifference.
Morrison stifled a laugh, watching the awkward standoff unfold.
"That’s right. Do you have a problem with that?" Phelixes said, scooting even closer to Lyra. His innocent expression barely concealed the obvious challenge.
Kail, feeling an unfamiliar knot in his stomach, asked, "Sis, what is going on here?"
Lyra, taking a sip of her soup, replied coolly, "Just what you see."
The reactions couldn’t have been more different—Phelixes was clearly riding high, while Kail stood frozen, disappointment heavy on his shoulders.
Morrison, catching the tension, just shook his head in amusement. It seemed things were about to get even more interesting.
Kail, feeling a heavy sense of irony, couldn’t bring himself to criticize Lyra, despite his frustration. "Why did you adopt this kid?" he asked, his voice betraying the tension he was holding back.
Lyra answered with one word. "Useful."
Phelixes, sensing the opportunity to puff himself up, stood tall. "Exactly! I can cook for her, wash her clothes, and take care of her perfectly. You don’t need to worry, Mr. Shedd."
With his chest puffed out in pride, Phelixes looked like a rooster who had just won the barnyard brawl.
Kail, while not willing to argue with a child, still felt defeated by the situation. "I’ll be going now," he said quietly, his voice tinged with disappointment.
Phelixes strutted proudly, but the moment he turned around and met Lyra’s sharp, scrutinizing gaze, his confidence evaporated.
"S-Sis, what’s wrong?" he stammered, suddenly afraid that he had crossed a line by teasing her biological brother.
"Phelixes," Lyra said, her voice firm and steady, sending a chill down his spine.
He gripped the edge of his pants nervously.
"Do you know why I adopted you?" asked Lyra.
He blinked, then smiled, answering confidently, "Because you’re kind! You saved me and—"
"Wrong," Lyra cut him off, her expression calm as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "If you don’t figure it out soon, this adoption won’t continue."
Tears welled up in Phelixes’ eyes as her words landed like a blow, and he left the room with his head hanging low, his earlier pride deflated.
Morrison, having placed a few documents on Lyra’s desk and given his report, stepped out of the office and found Phelixes lingering in the hallway, still looking crushed.
"Sir, I don’t get it," Phelixes said, pouting as he looked up at him. His eyes were filled with confusion and frustration.
Morrison sighed and folded his arms, looking down at the boy. "Phelixes, you need to understand what real value you bring to her."
"But she said to find her when I was ready to work, so I’ve been learning to cook and—"
"That’s not what she’s looking for," Morrison interrupted. "Everything you’re doing now? A maid could handle that. You need to focus on what REALLY benefits her. Take me and Debbie, for instance—we generate wealth for her."
He continued, "Koros and Sean are brilliant in research and development, and Mandy? She’s going to be one of her strongest military allies."
Morrison leaned down to meet Phelixes at eye level. "Your strength lies in being a twelve-year-old, level-3 Peculiar. In a world ruled by power, that makes you stand out. Your value is in becoming the sharpest blade in her arsenal. One day, you’ll earn your place by her side. Got it?"
The realization hit Phelixes like a lightning bolt, and a wide smile spread across his face. "I get it now!"
Without another word, he grabbed the lunch box and happily trotted off, renewed determination in his steps.
As Morrison watched him go, he turned back toward Lyra, who was now standing in the doorway, observing the interaction.
"Boss, we’re corrupting the kid," he said with a half-smile.
Lyra raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "What did you expect? Did you think I adopted him to raise some kind-hearted, self-sacrificing fool?"
Morrison couldn’t help thinking of Kail, and after a moment, he nodded in agreement.
"Fair point," he muttered.
The schedule for deployment was set swiftly. Just three days after AMAT ended, Andre led the group aboard a spaceship bound for Legion Skywalkers on the planet Demetra.
Demetra, known as the Alliance’s largest agricultural planet, boasted nearly perfect climate conditions.
Around 80% of its population worked in agriculture, producing the food and vegetables that fed countless worlds. Hundreds of transport ships ferried goods across the Alliance daily.
However, recently the peaceful planet had been ravaged by space pirate raids.
The situation had become dire after one small settlement was completely wiped out—no one survived, not even the infants. The massacre sent shockwaves of panic through the planet and beyond.
The Legion of Rose had been stationed on the planet to protect the settlements, safeguard the agricultural bases, and hunt down the space pirates. But they were severely understaffed, overwhelmed by the relentless attacks.
Desperate for reinforcements, they called in the Skywalkers to bolster their defenses.
During the journey, Andre briefed the group on the grim reality awaiting them. His voice was serious as he explained the situation. "You won’t be assigned to directly hunt space pirates, but it’s likely you’ll encounter them during other missions. If that happens, the only thing you must do is run."
His tone left no room for debate. Student deaths during internships weren’t unheard of, and Andre was determined to minimize those losses under his watch.
Chapter 172: The Vanguard Squad
On the desolate surface of Wyrmtrace, Mandy raced across the rugged terrain in her Lev, the sleek vehicle hovering inches above the ground as it zoomed forward with incredible speed.
Ahead of her, two giant bees—though not of the highest rank—darted through the air as if they were leading her somewhere mysterious.
"The queen bee wouldn’t just cut off contact like this unless something serious happened," Mandy muttered, her gaze locked on the creatures flying in front of them. "I’m afraid we need to tell HER about this."
She turned toward Caesara, who sat casually in the driver’s seat, looking completely at ease.
Caesara leaned against the window frame, her hand lazily dangling outside as the wind whipped through her braids, sending them fluttering like streamers.
"Beasts," she said with a shrug, "especially the big ones, have their own weird quirks."
A mischievous smirk crept across her face. "Anyway, isn’t SHE just doing her internship? You sure you’re not blowing this up by dragging her into it?"
Mandy shook her head, her tone unwavering. "It’s exactly because she’s on that internship that we need to keep her in the loop."
Caesara shot her a sidelong glance, her expression curious.
Mandy hadn’t been on Wyrmtrace for even a month, but she was already starting to show traces of Sis Marv’s sharp, hyper-cautious ways. A surprising shift in someone who usually acted so carefree.
Meanwhile, Lyra was receiving the latest update as her ship prepared to land. Around her, fellow interns buzzed with chatter, excitement thick in the air as everyone made their way toward the exit ramp.
The noise grated on Lyra’s nerves, and she frowned as she adjusted her earpiece to speak. "Any clue what caused it?"
Mandy’s voice crackled through, heavy with concern. "We’ve seen stuff like this before, but there’s no sign of a rank-up. Then bam—the queen bee cuts all ties with the base. Feels like she’s hurt."
The queen bee had been working with them for nearly three years, long enough to show signs of trust. For her to suddenly go dark was out of character.
Most high-level beasts only acted that way when they were wounded or protecting something precious, usually their young. But considering the queen was constantly in reproductive mode, the first scenario seemed more likely.
The ship trembled as it pierced through the atmosphere, a feeling that always made Lyra’s stomach lurch.
She stared out the window, taking in the sight of towering mountains and swirling clouds below. "Keep digging," she ordered. "If anything strange pops up, report it to me right away."
After a pause, her voice softened. "If things are still quiet after twenty days, pass the baton to Koros and join the internship. We need you here too."
Mandy’s reply came swiftly. "Got it."
...
The planet Demetra was everything the rumors said it would be.
Bathed in the radiant glow of twin suns hanging side by side in the sky, the landscape was alive with warmth and endless growth.
Rolling green plains stretched as far as the eye could see, a testament to the planet’s perfectly engineered design.
Perched high on a plateau, a massive military base dominated the horizon. Its imposing black-and-white structure stood like a sentinel against the lush green backdrop.
The base was wrapped in the Aegis Shield, a shimmering barrier that glowed like a colossal bubble, protecting everything within its bounds.
Inside, tall watchtowers rose like spikes into the sky, while fighter jets and surveillance drones buzzed constantly overhead, a reminder of the base’s unrelenting vigilance.
Lyra’s ship touched down just outside the military base in a bustling port city. This hub was the gateway for all goods flowing in and out of Demetra.
On a normal day, hundreds of ships would pass through without a second thought, but lately, the threat of space pirates had everyone on edge. The tension was palpable.
Once on the ground, Lyra and her crew went through a painstakingly thorough security check before meeting their liaison.
They were then escorted to the base in a massive transport vehicle, cruising through streets lined with greenery and vibrant flowers.
The buildings they passed were charming yet functional, their sandy-colored bricks designed to withstand the planet’s intense heat.
Everywhere Lyra looked, people had turned their balconies into lush little gardens, overflowing with potted plants and vegetables.
Automatic misters sprayed fine droplets over the foliage, creating tiny rainbows that glittered in the sunlight.
Demetra was a planet that celebrated life in every corner, from the carefully nurtured plants to the architecture that seemed to blend seamlessly with the environment.
The entrance to the military base boasted an intricate carving of a single rose, its delicate petals meticulously etched into the steel doors.
As soon as Lyra and the others crossed the threshold, they were engulfed by the familiar atmosphere of cold, polished metal and the hum of cutting-edge technology.
The lively energy of the outside world vanished, replaced by the stern, disciplined mood that ruled within these walls.
They were swiftly led to a vast training ground, where everyone assembled according to their assigned classes.
The air was thick with anticipation as the students stood at attention, awaiting further instruction.
The moment nearby guards snapped into a crisp salute, it was clear someone important had arrived.
A man strode forward, ahead of the others, his look radiating authority. His eyes swept over the gathered recruits with a confident smile, then he turned slightly, speaking with a touch of admiration. "Vice Admiral Shedd, I must admit, I’m impressed. You’ve managed to gather quite the promising batch of recruits."
As the man stepped further into view, an audible gasp rippled through the crowd.
He was undeniably striking. His chestnut-brown hair was casually tied back, with a few loose strands framing his perfectly sculpted face.
His amber eyes gleamed like polished gemstones, catching the sunlight.
His features were so flawless they almost didn’t seem real—sharp nose, full lips with a slight rosy hue—yet, despite his beauty, his towering figure and commanding look left no doubt about his power.
He was dressed in a pristine white military uniform adorned with the insignia of a rose on his shoulder, a fresh rose pinned proudly to his chest.
This was Vice Admiral Leandro, commander of the elite Legion of the Rose. Beside him was Ansel, a quieter, more reserved man, yet no less impressive in his own right. His look, while subtler, exuded a similar level of authority.
Immediately, Andre and the other instructors snapped to attention, their voices sharp and synchronized. "Salute! To Vice Admiral Shedd and Vice Admiral Leandro!"
The students, momentarily stunned by Leandro’s appearance, scrambled to follow suit. Their legs clicked together as they lifted their hands in a hasty salute.
As silence fell over the training ground, two pairs of eyes drifted toward the front row of Class A.
Lyra could feel them—intense, analyzing gazes that seemed to linger longer than usual.
Ansel quickly averted his eyes, stepping forward to address the crowd, but Leandro’s stare lingered a little longer on Lyra. His smile returned, but his eyes had narrowed briefly, as though sizing her up, before he continued down the line.
"First of all, welcome to your internship with the Legion Skywalkers," Leandro announced, his voice smooth and charismatic. "Every soldier here is a mentor, someone you can learn from."
After a brief introduction, Ansel stepped up to explain their assignments. "Each of you will be randomly placed within different squads. Your leaders will give you specific tasks, and you’ll be expected to perform them to the best of your abilities. I will now read out the names."
Erin stepped forward. She glanced briefly at someone in the group with a flicker of irritation in her eyes, and then she focused on the screen in front of her.
"When I call your name, step forward and meet your leaders. Delta Squad 29: Finn Phlis..."
The list of assignments continued, and the interns were gradually dispersed across various divisions.
Some were placed in reconnaissance teams, others in logistics or support roles, with further specialization into mecha pilots, medical units, or fighter squadrons.
It was the typical process for interns, who were usually placed in safer, less risky roles.
The vanguard squads—the elite soldiers who were the first to engage in combat—were strictly off-limits for trainees due to the danger and skill required.
As more names were called and the pool of students dwindled, only a handful from AMAT remained.
An uneasy feeling settled over Andre as the realization hit him. Something was off.
Finally, Erin’s voice rang out eagerly, almost too quick. "The remaining five students will join Alpha 10."
Andre’s face darkened instantly. His voice was sharp as a blade as he spoke up. "I object!" His eyes bore into Ansel as he stood his ground. "With all due respect, my students are not equipped for the mecha vanguard squad."
A ripple of shock passed through the students. Thierry and the others exchanged worried looks, their minds racing at what they had just heard.
The mecha vanguard squad? For interns? That was unheard of. The vanguard squads were the military’s frontline warriors, and to place trainees there was essentially a death sentence for those unprepared.
All eyes shifted toward Lyra, now the obvious focal point of the situation. There was no mistaking it—this wasn’t random.
The Shedd family’s influence had clearly made its move, and it seemed Lyra was the target.
Thierry and the others watched anxiously, knowing that the vanguard was no place for a rookie, especially not one who was already under such intense scrutiny.
Lyra’s heart raced as she felt the weight of the situation closing in. The mecha vanguard squad wasn’t just dangerous—it was a proving ground for the elite. And now, it was clear: she was being thrown into the fire, whether she liked it or not.
Thierry and the others couldn’t shake their worry for Lyra. It was clear the Shedd family had plans for her, and it seemed like they were pushing her into waters far deeper than a typical internship.
"Andre, you’re underestimating them," Ansel replied smoothly, his voice like ice over water, calm and unmoving. His gaze was cold, unreadable, as he sized up Andre. "Alpha 10 operates at a level beyond what you’re used to. Even their lowest-ranked members have superpowers at level five. These interns need challenges that match their potential, not hand-holding."
The statement hit like a warning shot. This wasn’t just about any squad—it was about a squad that was beyond the elite, even surpassing the soldiers in the prestigious Alpha 1.
Andre’s jaw tightened. His voice, however, remained steady as he fired back. "Potential doesn’t replace experience," he argued, his tone unwavering. "Yes, they’re talented, but that doesn’t mean they’re ready for the frontlines. They need guidance, not unnecessary risk."
Chapter 173: Exclusion
To Andre, these students weren’t just raw recruits—they were the future pillars of the military, destined to carry the weight of the armed forces on their shoulders.
Sending them into unnecessary danger for the sake of the Shedd family’s hidden agendas? That was something he couldn’t accept.
Known for his unyielding principles, Andre’s stance drew a frown from Ansel. Andre’s defiance was not something he was used to encountering.
"So, are you saying my arrangement is unreasonable?" Ansel’s voice remained calm, but there was a sharpness beneath the surface, like a blade ready to strike.
"Unreasonable? It’s insane!" Andre’s voice boomed across the training grounds, his words echoing off the cold steel walls. "I’m not letting this slide—I’ll be filing a formal complaint!"
The air around them thickened with tension, the kind that made it feel like things could explode at any second.
Leandro, who had been silently observing the escalating confrontation, chuckled softly before stepping in. His amusement was clear, though it didn’t quite reach his amber eyes.
Clearing his throat, he broke the standoff between the two men.
"I get where you’re coming from, Andre," Leandro said, his voice smooth and persuasive, like a practiced politician. "Normally, we avoid placing interns in dangerous roles. But let’s not overreact here. This planet falls under my command, and we’re mainly focused on hunting space pirates. The Skywalkers handle patrols and searches—it’s not exactly the same distinction between vanguard and reconnaissance teams that you’re used to."
Though Leandro’s tone was mild, Andre wasn’t about to be easily swayed. He had been around long enough to know when someone was sugarcoating the truth.
Andre’s eyes hardened.
"That might be true right now on Demetra," he shot back, his words biting, "but the nature of the vanguard doesn’t change. In real combat situations, the vanguard squads are always the first to engage—and that means they suffer the highest casualties."
Leandro didn’t seem offended. In fact, his smile widened, almost as if he appreciated Andre’s stubborn resolve. "You make a valid point, but you can’t protect them forever. These recruits are exceptionally talented. Whether it’s today or tomorrow, they’ll face danger. Wouldn’t it be better to test their mettle now, under your watch, rather than let them stumble unprepared when real stakes come into play?"
Leandro’s words were logical, even sound—but the way he spoke, combined with his undeniable beauty and aristocratic air, made his presence overwhelming, almost suffocating.
His argument made sense, but Andre wasn’t worried about the training itself. His real concern was the ulterior motive behind these placements.
Andre’s gaze flickered to Ansel, knowing full well that this was more about targeting Lyra than any noble test of skill. Still, suspicion wasn’t enough to act on—it could easily be brushed aside as paranoia.
Ansel, catching Andre’s unease, delivered the final blow with a cold smile. "It’s settled then. If you still disagree, feel free to file that complaint."
The challenge in his tone was clear. He knew any such complaint would be stonewalled by the higher-ups, who were either in the pocket of the Shedd family or too indifferent to intervene.
Ansel had already laid out his reasoning: the interns would be "prioritized for safety."
It sounded like a legitimate assurance, but Andre knew better. In the chaos of battle, especially in a vanguard squad, safety was never guaranteed. When things got real, they would be on their own—and that polite promise of avoiding danger would mean nothing.
Later, as Andre stared at the military department’s rejection of his formal complaint, frustration boiled inside him.
Bureaucracy was nothing more than a shield for these spineless officials, playing politics while real people’s lives hung in the balance. But Andre couldn’t let his anger show in front of the students. For their sake, he needed to maintain his composure.
Turning to them, he forced his voice to remain steady. "The higher-ups won’t mediate this. But listen to me—stay sharp out there. If anything seems off, come to me immediately."
Thierry, always the brave one, puffed out his chest and gave a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "We got this, sir. We’ll be fine."
His false bravado didn’t hide the nervous glances exchanged between the others, but they trusted Andre. And even more, they trusted each other.
Andre nodded, though the weight of unease settled heavier on him. As he watched them head toward their assignment with Alpha 10, the nagging feeling of helplessness deepened.
Despite being the chief instructor at an academy with centuries of military tradition, his hands were tied by the larger machinery of the military. The sheer power of the Shedd family’s influence was a reality he couldn’t ignore.
Unlike the other interns, who were escorted by their squad leaders, Lyra and her group were left to find Alpha 10 on their own.
As they arrived at the squad’s dormitory, they could see the nearby training ground was alive with activity.
A group of soldiers, dressed in military t-shirts and camouflage pants, were in the middle of synchronized drills.
Their movements were sharp and fluid, every step perfectly in sync, responding to orders with precision that bordered on mechanical.
The air buzzed with their shouts, unified in discipline and strength.
Watching the soldiers in action left the young interns awestruck and a little intimidated.
This wasn’t just any team. These were elites, the best of the best.
The group stood at the entrance, watching Alpha 10 squad as they wrapped up their drills. When they finished, Lyra and the others saluted, voices ringing out in unison, "Sir!"
But the response was... nothing. Not a single member of Alpha 10 acknowledged their presence.
The soldiers carried on, running laps, throwing punches, entirely ignoring the newcomers as if they were invisible. The squat leader didn’t even glance their way.
Thierry, never one to back down, called out again. He was louder this time, his voice booming across the training ground.
Still, nothing.
The silent treatment was no accident. It was deliberate.
Helion stretched lazily, arms behind his head as he stifled a yawn. "Man, they’re really being this petty? Just ’cause Instructor Andre didn’t roll over for them?" His lazy grin only added to the sting of the situation.
The midday sun beat down on them mercilessly, turning their throats dry and scratchy.
After a while, the oppressive heat became too much to bear.
Lyra leaned against the wall, rummaging through her bag for her water bottle, only to find it empty.
"Here, take some of mine," Zinnia offered, handing over her half-filled bottle. "It’s cold, though, so just sip it."
"Thanks," Lyra muttered, taking a careful sip as the cool water eased the dryness in her throat.
Hours passed, and as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Alpha 10’s drill finally came to an end.
The squad broke off into small groups, chatting amongst themselves and casting dismissive or curious glances at the interns, as if they were some oddity on display.
The squad leader, still ignoring them, turned on his heel, ready to leave without a word.
Thierry wasn’t having it. With a sharp intake of breath, he bellowed across the courtyard, "Re-port-ing!"
The leader spun around, his expression a storm cloud of irritation. "I’m not deaf, kid," he barked, eyes narrowing in annoyance.
Thierry flashed a cocky grin, showing his teeth. "Then why haven’t you seen us, Sir?"
The guy’s scowl deepened, clearly not amused by Thierry’s playful jab.
Zinnia and the others stifled chuckles, managing to stand respectfully despite the growing tension.
Their sincerity seemed to rub the guy the wrong way, only fueling his irritation.
With a sneer, he spat, "You academy brats think you’re too good to get your hands dirty with Alpha 10, huh?"
It was no secret that the vanguard squads, like Alpha 10, were highly coveted.
Soldiers fought fiercely for spots, as they led to faster promotions and better opportunities.
Yet, here stood a group of interns who had clearly been forced into the assignment, and to the squat leader, it felt like a personal insult.
"We’re just following the academy’s orders," Thierry replied, tone calm and collected.
The captain wasn’t having it. "Oh, so you follow the academy’s orders, but not mine?" He crossed his arms, twisting Thierry’s words with a sneer. "Don’t forget, your entire internship evaluation is in my hands."
Despite the guy’s thinly veiled threat, Thierry didn’t flinch. "We’ll complete our tasks, Sir," he said, his voice steady, not rising to the bait.
The guy’s gaze swept over the group again, clearly irritated, but knowing he couldn’t push them too far.
These weren’t just any interns—they were from prestigious families, and their futures were already being closely watched by the higher-ups: A boy bearing the name "Whyte", the Rymes family’s youngest daughter from the Legion Glorious... and then there were the other two kids, who seemed to have powerful backers keeping an eye on them.
Even the Alpha 10 leader had to tread carefully...
But there was one person he could single out.
His gaze landed on Lyra, the smallest and least assuming of the group. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated how far he could push her.
But before he could say anything, Lyra’s eyes met his, her gaze cold and sharp.
It was like staring into a still pool of water—calm on the surface but reflecting every calculation in his mind.
She could see through him, and that realization threw him off for a moment. Startled, he quickly straightened, his expression shifting.
Recovering, he barked out, "As for Alpha 10’s rules, the seniors in your dorm will explain them. For now, get familiar with the area. No one’s gonna babysit you here."
The interns exchanged glances, nodding in understanding.
After a brief discussion, they decided to head to the mess hall, hoping to at least get a sense of the environment.
When they arrived, the cafeteria was bustling with activity. Some of their fellow students from the academy were already there, seated with their assigned squads, laughing and eating together.
Though it was clear some squads were still warming up to their interns, there was an effort to bond.
For Lyra’s group, however, the isolation was stark.
The five of them sat alone at their table, awkwardly picking at their food while the rest of the cafeteria hummed with chatter.
Zinnia poked at her tray, grimacing after each hesitant bite. "Ugh, this cafeteria doesn’t even come close to the food back at NMA. But at least the veggies aren’t bad."
Vikie, glancing at the greens on her plate, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised if these were still in the ground like an hour ago."
The two exchanged laughs, trying to shake off the feeling of being ignored, as if they could joke their way out of the tension. But even as they chuckled, it was clear that neither of them could fully brush off the sting of being shunned by Alpha 10.
Chapter 174: Trying To Reason
In the thick silence that hung over the cafeteria, Lyra set down her fork with clinging sound.
She dabbed her lips with a napkin, and spoke in a voice that was calm yet unyielding. "Let me make this clear to all of you," she started, her words cutting through the tension like a knife, "whatever goes down on me next, I expect none of you to get involved."
Zinnia was the first to push back. "How can you expect us to just sit back and watch you get pushed around?"
Lyra didn’t budge. "This isn’t just about me," she shot back, her tone hard as steel. "It’s about your safety, your futures, and keeping me from carrying any more than I already do. If things get out of hand, believe me, I’ll ask. But as for now—" she paused, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass, "there’s no turning back with the Shedd family. We’re beyond that point."
Everyone’s expressions shifted, the weight of her words pulling them down like stones.
The room grew heavy with unspoken worries, their faces clouded in uncertainty. No one knew what to say, but the reality of it all hit like a freight train.
"Let’s go." Lyra broke the silence, standing up first to shatter the awkwardness.
As they made their way out, they ran into Kail, who was practically sprinting toward them, his face flushed with guilt. "Sis, I... I’m sorry—" he stammered, out of breath.
He’d just come off a heated argument with Ansel, and the aftermath was written all over his face.
Lyra’s eyes flicked over to the red mark on his cheek—a slap, no doubt. "You knew it was pointless. Why’d you bother?" she asked flatly, her gaze barely lingering before she brushed past him.
Kail spun around, voice rising as he tried to hold onto something. "I just wanted to help you!"
He always felt small next to Lyra, like he was still that little kid trailing behind her, never quite catching up. But even though he knew he wasn’t as strong, he wanted to share just a sliver of her burden.
Lyra paused, throwing him a side glance. "You don’t have to try so hard," she said coldly. "Just stay in your lane, play your part like a good little pawn, and that’ll be enough for me."
Because the person holding the chess pieces? They always wanted to use them best.
As Lyra and her crew walked away, Kail’s hands clenched into fists, frustration boiling inside him.
The few people milling around the cafeteria doors watched the scene unfold, but no one dared to say a word.
There were five of them in the group—two boys from a dorm shared with four older, more seasoned soldiers, and three girls from another dorm where two veterans also resided.
After grabbing their uniforms and comms gear, they’d spent the afternoon getting a lay of the land. By the time they got back to their dorms, night had already fallen.
In the girls’ dorm, the two senior soldiers were waiting, arms crossed and faces set like stone.
Lyra’s sharp eyes immediately caught the disorder on her bed. Her backpack had been rummaged through, its contents tossed carelessly over the mattress.
The disrespect was obvious.
The other girls’ bags had been opened too, but nothing inside was touched.
Lyra locked eyes with the tall women standing in front of them but said nothing. One of them, a woman with a shoulder-length fishtail braid, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling in an arrogant smirk. "Got a problem? It’s protocol. Vets check the rookies’ gear."
Zinnia wasn’t having it. "That’s BS!" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "Even if it’s a check, you do it while we’re here! What gives you the right to go through our stuff behind our backs?"
Vikie, her patience running thin, chimed in, "Yeah, and what happens if something’s missing? Who’s taking responsibility then?"
The woman with the fishtail braid chuckled, exchanging a smug look with her two buddies. The one with the high ponytail cracked a cold smile. "Oh, look at that. This year’s rookies came with some bite."
While the tension thickened, Lyra quietly spread out her bedroll, ignoring the confrontation. But as she unfolded her clothes, she saw they had been shredded.
Zinnia gasped, her fury flaring up instantly. She took an aggressive step forward, but Vikie grabbed her arm, pulling her back just in time.
"Remember what Lyra said," Vikie whispered under her breath, her grip firm. She had checked her own things earlier—nothing was missing, nothing was damaged. It was crystal clear who these soldiers were targeting.
Lyra didn’t flinch, didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. She simply set the ruined clothes aside and kept organizing her stuff as if it were just another day.
She unscrewed her water bottle, only to find it packed with dirt.
With a calmness that felt almost eerie, she closed it back up and placed it on the table.
Her blanket, mattress, sheets—every single thing had been trashed.
As Lyra worked in silence, the air in the room grew heavier with each passing second, the air so thick with tension it was suffocating.
After checking every corner of the room, Lyra released a soft sigh, her expression calm despite the chaos around her.
Without a word, she walked past everyone, quietly shutting the door and drawing the curtains closed.
As she moved, her sharp eyes caught a brief flash through the opposite window—a glimpse of Brielle, the leader of Alpha 10, disappearing into the shadows.
The sight was fleeting, but it was enough.
The two senior women, standing stiffly across from her, sensed it immediately.
Danger.
Their eyes flickered with alarm, instincts screaming at them to act.
The air around them stirred subtly as the superpower particles shifted. They straightened up, ready to unleash their abilities.
But before they could even react, shimmering green bands of energy shot out from Lyra, snapping around their bodies like chains.
The energy wrapped tight, silencing their cries as it forced them against the wall.
Their eyes blazed with fury, but they were completely immobilized, helpless against the power that had bound them.
Lyra’s voice, soft yet tinged with mockery, broke the silence. "Did you even bother to ask about me when Erin gave you your orders?" She tilted her head, eyeing them coldly. "Pity that you didn’t."
With a casual flick of her hand, Lyra summoned two glowing orbs of green light, their soft hue belied by the danger they held.
The orbs hovered for a moment before sinking into the women’s bodies.
Instantly, their cells began to mutate, multiplying at an unnatural rate.
Their organs swelled grotesquely, their bodies twisting and bloating into monstrous shapes.
Their faces contorted in horror as their eyes bulged in sheer agony. But the real nightmare had just begun.
Two slender green tendrils snaked out, slithering toward their faces.
With a cold precision, they stabbed into their eyes, writhing and churning like living things inside their skulls.
The pain was unimaginable. Every nerve in their bodies screamed in torment, as if their very souls were being torn apart.
Lyra’s long fingers moved with eerie grace, each motion deliberate, inflicting pain so deep it reached their bones.
And every time they teetered on the brink of death, she brought them back.
Their shattered bodies were healed, their blood replenished, only for the process to begin all over again.
The endless cycle of agony became their reality.
Minutes dragged into what felt like an eternity. The torment shattered their minds, their bodies breaking apart and reforming in a relentless loop of suffering.
Slowly but surely, they began to lose any sense of self, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of endless pain.
Through it all, Lyra’s face remained expressionless, as if the torture she inflicted was nothing more than routine.
Her eyes, however, told a different story—a flicker of barely restrained madness lurked beneath her calm demeanor, a darkness that hinted at something far more dangerous.
Zinnia and Vikie, who had been silent witnesses to the horror, instinctively took two steps back.
Their stomachs churned with nausea, and the sight left them shaken to their core.
After about twenty minutes, the two senior soldiers were no longer recognizable as the confident, fierce women they had once been.
Now, they were broken husks, pale and trembling, huddled together on the bed like children lost in a nightmare.
They stared blankly at the ceiling, their minds shattered. It was as if they had been dragged through hell and back, left with nothing but the echoes of their torment.
Lyra stepped forward, crouching down to study them like a scientist examining a failed experiment. One hand rested on her hip while the other thoughtfully cradled her chin.
She observed them closely, noting how their bodies bore no visible marks of the torture, yet their vacant eyes betrayed the horrors they had endured.
"Not bad," she murmured quietly, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
The difference between their once-proud selves and the broken, hollow figures they had become was night and day.
Now, as they looked at her, they trembled violently, their terror so overwhelming that it seemed like their hearts might give out at any moment.
"Please... help us..." the short-haired woman whimpered, staggering to her feet and scrambling toward the door.
The long-haired one followed suit, crawling on all fours in a desperate bid for escape.
Outside, Brielle had been observing the scene from a second-floor window. Alarmed by what he saw, he jumped down, rushing over to the door with panic in his voice. "What happened here?!"
The two women, still shaking uncontrollably, cried out in desperation, "Lyra... she’s going to kill us!"
Their wails echoed through the dorms, drawing attention from both the male and female soldiers, who quickly crowded their windows to see the commotion.
Brielle’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew these soldiers well. Despite being women, they were elite members of the Vanguard Squad, some of the toughest and most mentally resilient fighters in Alpha 10.
Yet here they were, completely and utterly broken, reduced to begging for their lives.
Her voice boomed with fury, "L-y-r-a! What did you DO?"
Lyra’s response was cool and effortless.
Without a word, she tossed a set of shredded clothes, a dirt-filled water bottle, and ruined bed linens at the feet of the terrified women.
These petty acts of sabotage now looked trivial compared to the devastation she had just unleashed.
The message was clear. You mess with me, you better be prepared for the consequences.
Lyra stepped forward with a calmness that seemed almost eerie, her posture straight as she saluted. "Sir, They destroyed my belongings, so I had a reasonable conversation with them. As a result, they’ve completely reformed and are now filled with remorse."
Baird’s face darkened, his expression hardening at her words.
Veteran soldiers hazing new recruits wasn’t exactly rare in the military—it was an ugly reality he’d seen more times than he cared to admit. But acknowledging that in front of a crowd was out of the question.
He couldn’t afford to let the situation spiral, especially not in public.
His glare was sharp enough to cut steel. "You think just saying that makes it true?"
Lyra met his eyes with a gaze as cold and lifeless as ice. Then, with unsettling calm, she turned toward the two women still trembling in terror. "Why don’t you ask them yourself?" Her voice, chilling in its neutrality, hung in the air. "Did you cut up my things?"
The two women, still trapped in the hellish pain Lyra had etched into their very souls, felt that same agony rise from the deepest parts of their bodies.
It was as if every nerve was set on fire again. Their shudders became uncontrollable.
"Y-yes... we did it," one of them choked out, her voice barely a whisper, thick with fear.
The other, just as broken, managed a weak, "We’re sorry..."
Baird whipped around, eyes wide with disbelief and fury. ’What were they doing?! Didn’t they realize I’m trying to help them, trying to offer a way out?’ But their confessions had thrown it all back in his face.
He stared at them, but there was something off—something that gnawed at him.
If he had taken a moment to really look, he would’ve seen it: the emptiness in their eyes, the hollow, haunted expressions.
Chapter 175: Fragile Hand?
Most soldiers had no clue that Lyra was being specifically targeted by higher-ups. To them, she was just another fresh-faced intern.
So, when they saw the aftermath of last night’s drama, they were floored.
"Brilley did all that? Man, I was thinking about asking her out!"
"Who does that? Slashing sheets and clothes? That’s just childish."
"Typical woman drama. Why not rough ’em up like we usually do with recruits?"
Baird’s patience snapped as he overheard the grumbling from his subordinates. His fury was barely contained as he barked, "Do you all have too much free time? It’s almost lights-out! Get back to your bunks!"
The soldiers scrambled away, some still chuckling under their breath, as they disappeared into the night.
Lyra turned to leave as well, but Baird’s sharp voice cut through the air. "Lyra, did I say you could go?"
She stopped, throwing him a cold glance over her shoulder. "Aren’t you here to make sure justice is served for me?" she asked, her tone as icy as her stare.
Baird hesitated for a split second, then jabbed a finger in the direction of the two broken women. "What did you do to my soldiers?"
Lyra’s voice remained eerily calm. "I already told you, I just had a reasonable discussion with them."
The short-haired veteran, her senses slowly returning in the cool night air, suddenly blurted out, "Liar! You... you tore us apart, blinded us again and again...!"
The more she rambled, the more Baird’s face twisted with disbelief.
Without wasting a second, he stormed into the dormitory, expecting chaos, blood, or at least some sign of a struggle. But everything was in perfect order. No bloodstains, no debris—nothing that suggested the kind of carnage his soldiers were describing.
Frustrated, he stalked back outside, his expression a mix of confusion and fury. "Call the medic!" he shouted.
A few minutes later, the medic arrived, assessing the two women’s bodies with practiced efficiency.
After a thorough check, his face showed nothing but confusion. "There are no signs of physical injury," he reported plainly.
Baird blinked, incredulous. "Check again! Lyra’s a healer—maybe she patched them up after torturing them."
The medic’s expression didn’t budge. "That’s impossible. She’s only at level six. If the injuries were as severe as they’re claiming, even with her skills, there would still be lingering signs of damage—unhealed cells, scars, something."
His clinical explanation left Baird speechless, unable to refute him.
The medic gave him a pointed look, clearly growing impatient.
"Besides, look at their mental state..." Baird muttered, pointing to the two women who were still trembling uncontrollably.
"Psychological trauma doesn’t always leave physical marks," the medic said flatly, clearly suggesting that the veterans might’ve cracked under pressure rather than actual violence.
His tone made it clear he didn’t have time for what he considered baseless accusations. "I’ve got real patients to attend to," he added under his breath as he packed up his equipment and stormed off.
Eventually, the two shattered veterans were led away for psychological evaluation, their bodies unscathed but their minds utterly broken.
As the medic disappeared into the shadows, Baird turned back to Lyra, his eyes filled with barely contained rage.
Lyra’s face was pale and emotionless, but in the dim light, something about her sent a chill down his spine.
"It’s almost lights-out, sir," she said softly, her tone so calm it was unsettling.
"Get to your bunk," he snapped, spitting the words out through clenched teeth. Then he stormed off, unable to shake the unsettling feeling she left in his gut.
If he had looked back, he might have seen the unnerving way her eyes followed him, cold and calculating.
Lyra bent down to gather the ruined remnants of her belongings, tossing them into the trash with as much care as one might give to litter.
When she finally made it back to her bunk, the room was strangely empty—Zinnia and Vikie were nowhere to be found.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and the two girls shuffled in, arms loaded with fresh bedding.
Zinnia grinned as she dropped the pile onto Lyra’s bed. "Good thing the supply office hadn’t closed yet."
In reality, the two had tracked down Thierry and sweet-talked him into handing over the keys to the supply room so they could snag replacements for Lyra.
"You can borrow our clothes until you get more," Vikie added, offering a small, sympathetic smile.
Lyra’s expression softened for a brief moment as she watched them set down the new bedding.
After a beat of silence, she muttered, "Thanks."
The rest of the night passed quietly, with no more drama or surprises.
By the time morning came, the three of them had already settled into the rhythm of military life.
Being top graduates, the training and daily routines were easy for them to adapt to. In fact, they even managed to arrive at the training grounds before the veterans, catching the attention of a few soldiers still sipping their morning coffee.
Baird, on the other hand, had spent the night grappling with what had happened.
He was no fool—he knew by now that Lyra wasn’t someone he could handle using the usual rules. She was a dangerous variable, and last night had only solidified that fact in his mind.
After a brief round of drills, Baird’s sharp gaze swept over the assembled troops. His voice boomed across the field, snapping everyone to attention. "Interns, step forward!"
A murmur rippled through the crowd as the soldiers, still buzzing from last night’s events, watched eagerly.
The stage was set, and everyone was waiting to see what would unfold next.
The five interns stepped forward in perfect unison, facing the formation with calm confidence.
Baird, under the guise of an "assessment," casually suggested that the veterans spar with the newcomers.
The soldiers around them couldn’t contain their excitement—this was their chance to show the rookies their place.
But things didn’t play out the way they expected.
These weren’t ordinary interns; they were AMAT champions, battle-hardened in ways the veterans hadn’t anticipated. Though they lacked battlefield experience, their sheer strength was undeniable.
Thierry was a prime example. His match barely lasted two minutes before he had his opponent pinned to the ground, his victory swift and decisive.
The watching veterans let out a collective sigh of relief—at least they hadn’t been the ones to lose in such an embarrassing fashion.
When it was Lyra’s turn, however, a palpable tension filled the air.
None of the male veterans stepped forward, visibly uncomfortable with the idea of facing her.
To them, she appeared delicate, almost fragile—a quiet girl who looked like she’d fold at the first punch, like a lily pad crushed underfoot.
"I’ll handle this myself," Baird suddenly declared, his voice cutting through the hesitation.
Thierry and the others immediately tensed, but they held their ground.
Lyra had warned them not to interfere, and this was a fight she clearly intended to face alone.
Facing a squad leader with decades of combat experience, Lyra looked small, outmatched—like a child up against a fully grown man.
To the onlookers, it seemed she wouldn’t last more than a second.
She coughed softly into her hand, her expression calm.
Her frailty surprised the soldiers watching—how could someone like her stand a chance?
But Baird’s eyes glinted with ruthless determination. He was not about to go easy on her.
Without warning, he lunged at her with frightening speed, his muscles rippling as his fist hurtled toward her like a freight train.
His movements were a force of nature, but to Lyra, they were as predictable as a passing breeze.
With a deft movement, she sidestepped his punch, raising her arm to block his knee strike, feeling the sheer power behind his blows.
But instead of being overwhelmed, something shifted in Lyra’s icy gaze.
A fierceness ignited within her, and she retaliated without hesitation.
Her slender arm, deceptively delicate, tightened as veins bulged, and she threw a punch straight into Baird’s face.
The crowd gasped—no one expected her to go on the offensive like that.
Baird staggered back, his eyes wide with surprise. He could see now why Ansel had warned him about this intern.
With a roar, he unleashed his superpower, his body swelling as tiger-like stripes formed along his skin.
His frame nearly doubled in size, and his clawed hands slashed through the air with a terrifying speed, aiming to end the fight in one devastating blow.
But his attack never landed. Instead, it crashed into a glowing green shield.
Lyra waved her hand, and shimmering green energy ribbons shot out, winding around Baird’s massive tiger form like pythons coiling around prey. The more he struggled, the tighter the ribbons constricted, binding him like an iron grip.
"Roar!" Baird snarled, his muscles bulging as he strained to break free. But Lyra’s hand clenched into a fist, and with that motion, the ribbons tightened even more, forcing his hulking form into a compact, football-like shape.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent the "ball" flying, crashing through the wall and sending Baird rolling across the ground.
He tumbled into the neighboring Alpha Squad 09’s training ground, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.
Kail and his squad, in the middle of drills, turned their heads in stunned silence.
"Uh... is that Captain Baird?"
"Looks like him... in his tiger form."
"Damn... who did TAHT to him?"
The veterans from Alpha 10 stood frozen in place, their pride taking a massive hit.
Baird, their captain, had been bested in a single exchange.
Meanwhile, Lyra calmly let the green energy ribbons dissolve into the air, shimmering like dust particles as they vanished.
She walked through the wreckage with the same unbothered air she had maintained throughout the fight.
Approaching the groaning Baird, who lay twitching on the ground, she crouched down.
"Sir, are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft as if she were genuinely concerned.A light cough followed, adding an air of feigned modesty. "Sorry about that. When you activated your superpower so suddenly, it startled me. I didn’t mean to go so hard."
Baird, humiliated beyond words, felt the weight of a thousand eyes on him.
Soldiers from two vanguard squads had witnessed his defeat.
He glared at the outstretched hand Lyra offered to help him up, his pride urging him to crush it. But he knew he couldn’t afford another loss in front of the crowd.
Swallowing his pride, he forced a strained smile. "As expected of AMAT champions. It’s been a while since I’ve faced such a powerful intern."
He took her hand, standing up, but then a sickening CRACK echoed in the air.
His eyes widened in shock as pain shot through his hand—Lyra had crushed his bones with ease.
"Sir, your hand seems rather fragile," Lyra commented, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.
Baird’s face contorted with pain and barely restrained fury.
Without saying another word, he stormed off toward the medical bay, shooting one last murderous glare at Lyra.
The intensity of his hatred was clear, but she met his gaze with cool indifference.
As Baird disappeared from sight, the surrounding soldiers could only stare in disbelief.
They had witnessed something they wouldn’t soon forget. The collective thought that ran through their minds was clear: ’Holy crap, this intern is a beast.’