Ch. 191..195: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 191-195

Chapter 191: Her Death

Erin’s mother fainted, her eyes rolling back as she collapsed.

Teagan rushed to her side, helping her while shooting a furious glare at Frenna.

"Frenna, what are you doing?!" Teagan yelled, his voice trembling with rage. But Frenna simply glanced at him, emotionless and unresponsive, leaving Teagan boiling with anger, tempted to strike her on the spot.

"Dad! I don’t want to go to prison! Save me!" Erin screamed as she was dragged away. She thrashed wildly, consumed by panic.

Forty-seven years of imprisonment—far longer than the time she had known freedom. She couldn’t endure it. She wouldn’t.

In her desperation, Erin’s freezing powers erupted uncontrollably, breaking through the restraints of her suppression bracelet.

The frost spread rapidly across the courtroom floor, climbing up the walls and coating every surface in ice.

The officials and reporters who had been preparing to leave jumped back in shock.

Then, the air filled with the sound of crackling electricity as circuits sparked and, with a loud snap, the lights went out.

For a brief moment, the room was plunged into darkness. When the lights flickered back on, Erin’s shackles had been cut loose.

Disoriented and terrified, Erin bolted for the exit, ignoring her father’s desperate shouts for her to calm down.

Guards rushed after her, but before they could reach her, a powerful wave of psychokinesis swept through the courtroom, leaving everyone dazed and confused.

By the time they recovered, both Erin and Freon were gone.

...

In the dimly lit hallway, Lyra stood silently in the shadows, watching Erin race past her.

With a swift, practiced motion, she tossed something onto Erin’s back as she fled.

The chaos inside the courtroom had finally started to subside, but the atmosphere remained tense and heavy.

When the Judge was informed of the escape, his fury broke the ceiling. "The audacity of the Shedd family! Defying the court like this!"

The psychokinesis that had helped Erin escape made it clear who was responsible—Frenna, the Spellbinder.

"Bring them back immediately, and increase their sentences! And someone find Frenna and bring her here for questioning!" he roared.

...

Outside Central City, Erin sped across the landscape on a hoverboard, cold mist trailing behind her.

The freezing energy she unleashed had already turned her eyelashes and eyebrows into icy tufts, and her entire body had grown stiff from the cold.

Her control faltered, and she tumbled off the hoverboard, rolling through the grass and staining herself with green streaks.

Shivering violently, Erin could think of only one thing—escape. She had to get away. She was Erin Shedd! How could she end up in such a pitiful state?

As she struggled to crawl forward, a pair of black, laced leather boots appeared before her.

"Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes." A cold, mocking voice made the icy chill in Erin’s body even worse. She looked up, her eyes widening in terror.

It was the face she both feared and hated.

"Lyra..." Erin’s face twisted, purple with cold. "It was you, wasn’t it? You and Freon—this was all your plan to ruin me!"

Lyra didn’t bother to deny it. "Yes. And you took the bait even faster than I expected," she said, her voice calm and unbothered.

Erin let out a hysterical laugh, her body trembling as she staggered to her feet. "And I thought you cared about Kail! You even used your own brother! What a joke!" she spat, her words dripping with bitterness.

"Do you know he ran off to look for you after you disappeared? Nearly died out there because of you. Isn’t that hilarious?!" Erin laughed again, her voice wild and unhinged.

Without warning, Lyra grabbed a fistful of Erin’s hair and yanked her down, forcing her to kneel on the ground. "Who said you could stand up?" she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

Lyra pulled out a small black spike—the Soul Spike—and pressed it into Erin’s chest with cruel precision.

The agony hit without warning.

Erin screamed, her voice a sharp, piercing cry as she collapsed onto the ground, clutching at her chest in a futile attempt to remove the spike.

The pain was unbearable, rendering her body useless.

Her breathing grew shallow as the spike slowly destroyed her body from the inside out, leaving her paralyzed on the cold grass.

Lyra’s eyes gleamed with a disturbing intensity. "Too bad you can only handle one of these."

With that, Lyra summoned a black, prototype machine from her Space Button. She set it up before the half-conscious Erin, who could only watch in terror.

"Does this look familiar?" Lyra asked, her voice soft yet filled with menace.

Erin’s wide eyes filled with dread. "No... no, please... stop..." she whimpered, kicking weakly at the ground, but her body was too weak to move.

As the machine roared to life above Erin’s head, her eyes reflected a turbulent mix of emotions: hatred, fear, and, ultimately, madness.

"Lyra, even if I die, I won’t let you win!" she screamed, summoning every ounce of her dwindling strength, forcing her powers to surge once more.

But her body was too broken to handle such an intense outburst. Blood oozed from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth as the uncontrolled energy within her tore her apart from the inside.

Her skin began to frost over, her muscles swelling unnaturally before the conflicting forces inside her body shattered it like brittle glass.

Covered in a layer of ice, her life ended abruptly, the bitter resentment she felt for Lyra still trapped in her throat.

Erin died in a violent explosion of rage, her body succumbing to the very destruction she had planned to unleash.

It was a tragic end, mirroring the cruel lies the Shedd family had once used to tear Lyra’s life apart.

From Erin’s broken body, white energy began to leak, slowly condensing into a radiant Crystal Core.

Lyra watched silently, unfazed, as the core hovered in the air before floating effortlessly into her hand.

With a simple motion, she absorbed it into her body, feeling an immediate surge of power—a deeper connection to the freezing energy Erin had once wielded.

Stowing away the machine, Lyra glanced coldly at Erin’s lifeless form on the ground, her expression void of any emotion. To her, this was simply another step in her long game of vengeance.

As Lyra stood there, a figure approached slowly from the shadows.

It was Kail. His face was a portrait of mixed emotions—shock, sorrow, and something that almost looked like resignation.

He stared at Erin’s body, his eyes lingering on the Soul Spike that had been buried in her chest, a grim reminder of how far things had fallen.

"Anything you want to say?" Lyra asked, her voice dripping with indifference. "Are you going to blame me for using you?"

His eyes reddened with unshed tears, but he managed a sad smile. "No, I don’t blame you."

He had been foolish before, manipulated by Ansel to harm Lyra, and now used once more by Lyra in her quest for revenge. It seemed only fitting, in a twisted way.

Lyra let out a bitter laugh, the sound cold and sharp. "Even so, I don’t need you anymore."

Once upon a time, those words would’ve crushed Kail. He would have desperately questioned her, clung to the hope that the sister he once knew was still inside her.

But now, he simply nodded and forced a smile, knowing better. "I know."

The sister who had once loved him, protected him from the world’s cruelty, had died when he was just eleven.

The Shedd family had shattered her heart, and his own naivety had helped them do it. What stood before him now was a shell of the person she used to be, driven by nothing but hatred and cold resolve.

"Well, I’m leaving," Kail said quietly, straightening his posture.

Lyra didn’t respond. She didn’t even watch him go. Her attention had already shifted elsewhere, as if he no longer existed.

Kail wiped the tears from his eyes, forcing himself to walk away with as much dignity as he could muster.

’Will she turn to look at me one last time?’—He dared not check. He just kept walking, knowing that when he finally did glance back, she would be long gone.

And in the end, that’s exactly what happened. He watched as her figure disappeared into the distance, his heart heavy but his resolve firm.

...

Back at the company, Lyra sat in silence behind her desk.

The quiet hum of machinery surrounded her, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Her moment of solitude was interrupted by the sharp ring of her opticomputer.

Glancing at the caller ID, she smirked and pressed the answer button.

"Lyra, you truly are a child of the Shedd family," Ansel’s voice came through the speakers, calm but laced with barely contained fury. News of Erin’s death had already reached him.

Lyra chuckled bitterly. "I’ve always wondered if I really am," she replied. "What kind of grandfather could do something so heartless?"

Her hatred for the Shedd family ran so deep that even destroying them entirely wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her.

Ansel appeared on the screen. His aged seemed face unmoved, his hands resting atop his cane, his eyes gleaming with a calculating light.

"When you get to my level, you’ll learn that ruthlessness is the only way to survive," he said with a heavy sigh. "Still, Erin’s death wasn’t undeserved, not with how meticulously you set it up."

Lyra propped her chin on her hand, a sneer playing on her lips. "Do you really think all of this was just about Erin? If I wanted her dead, I could have done it long ago."

Her words dripped with venom. She had always played the long game, using each move to position herself for something greater. Erin was never the main target—just another pawn in a much larger scheme.

Ansel’s expression darkened, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He had underestimated her, that much was clear.

Leaning closer to the screen, Lyra’s smile turned sharp. "Ansel, I hope you live a long life."

His face stiffened. "And I hope you manage to climb higher," he said, his voice tight with tension.

With that, the call ended.

...

Morrison entered the room shortly after, carrying a stack of documents. "Before Kail left, he transferred some funds. It’s everything he earned from hunting over the past year—his way of compensating for losing the shop."

Morrison shook his head, unsure of how to describe Kail. The man seemed almost out of place in their world, like someone who had been chewed up and spat out by life, yet somehow still held onto a strange innocence.

Call it innocence or just plain foolishness, Kail had spent his entire life being used—first by the Shedd family when he was just a child, and now by his own sister in her bid for revenge.

Only now, after more than twenty years of being caught in the crossfire, had he come to understand the world’s cruelty.

 

Chapter 192: Marriage

Thinking about the cash Kail had left behind, Lyra exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Deposit the money into the company account."

After a brief pause, she hit the speed dial for the tech team. "Send Rajan up."

Rajan didn’t take long to arrive. As he walked in, Lyra was still focused on the sleek black device sitting on her desk. She didn’t even bother turning around. "Is it fixed?" she asked without looking up.

"I’ve run a full diagnostic on all the components, and everything’s functioning perfectly," Rajan replied with a calm, professional air. "But as for why it’s not doing what you wanted, there’s only one possible reason—it was never designed to extract Crystal Core energy."

From a technical standpoint, it made no sense. Machines that dealt with advanced processes, like healing, worked because they had energy stones to fuel them. But this? It was just a hollow shell.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed, a sharp glint cutting through the coldness in her gaze. So, the power Kail tapped into that day didn’t come from the machine at all—it came from the masked man. He’d been right there during the attack, and somehow, she hadn’t pieced it together until now.

Her thoughts grew darker, and before she could stop herself, her hand tightened around the machine. In one swift motion, the device crumpled under her grip, metal screeching as it gave way.

"You can go," she said, her voice eerily calm.

Rajan didn’t leave immediately though. He lingered, looking torn, his face a mix of hesitation and determination. After a beat, he finally met her gaze. "Boss, I’ve decided to resign."

Morrison, who had been silent in the background, raised an eyebrow in surprise, but Lyra’s expression stayed flat, like she’d seen this coming. "You’re joining the Rymes family’s Legion Glorious, aren’t you?"

She wasn’t guessing. She’d put the pieces together after overhearing a tipsy confession at a dinner party.

Rajan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I proposed to Zinnia, and she said yes. You know how she is—she acts before thinking, and I’ve gotta be there to protect her."

His face was a mix of guilt and resolve as he continued, "Because of the twenty-year confidentiality agreement, I’ll pay the exit penalty. I’m even willing to get my memory wiped if I have to."

Lyra blinked, slightly surprised. "You know that if you go through with that, you’ll forget her, right?"

Modern brainwashing tech was pretty advanced—he could have entire segments of his memory erased, which included all the time he spent with Zinnia. They’d be strangers.

"I know," Rajan said, his voice steady. "But I’m sure Zinnia would make me fall in love with her all over again."

There was something about the certainty in his eyes that made Lyra pause, and for a brief moment, she seemed genuinely impressed.

After a beat, she responded, "No need for the memory wipe. I’ll implant a psychokinesis seed. It’ll release you from the agreement when the time is right."

She hesitated briefly, then added, "And don’t worry about the penalty. Consider it my wedding gift. I probably won’t be able to attend the ceremony, anyway."

Morrison audibly sucked in a breath. Lyra wasn’t just being lenient—she was being incredibly generous. Looked like Zinnia’s bubbly charm had finally paid off.

Rajan stood there, dumbfounded, his face lighting up with excitement. "Thank you, boss!" he practically shouted, almost bouncing out of the room to tell Zinnia the good news.

Later, as Lyra was getting ready to leave the office, Zinnia showed up, waiting right by the door.

Before Lyra could react, Zinnia launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around Lyra in an overwhelming hug that almost knocked her off her feet.

"Lyra, I’m so moved! You’re always so good to me! First, you introduce me to Raj, then you save my life... I’m a total wreck! Why don’t YOU just marry me instead?" Zinnia’s voice wavered, eyes brimming with emotion.

Just then, Rajan stepped into view, looking utterly bewildered. "Uh..."

Lyra, no longer fazed by Zinnia’s height or her usual chaos, gently peeled her off. "Take her home," she sighed, gesturing toward Rajan.

With some gentle coaxing, Rajan managed to steer his fiancée out of the office, but the thought of meeting Zinnia’s influential family—the Rymes—left him feeling uneasy.

As they disappeared down the hall, Lyra let out a deep breath, her expression hardening again. "Let’s go," she said, her voice settling back into its cold, collected tone.

Crag followed the GPS into a gated, upscale residential complex. He pulled up to park in front of a sleek apartment building.

The Shedd family had gone to great lengths to hide Frenna, but Lyra’s relentless pursuit—plus her knack for capturing people with just the right intel—had led them here.

The guards had already been handled discreetly. Morrison knocked on the door, but there was no response.

He turned toward Lyra, waiting for her next move.

Without wasting time, Lyra used a quick flick of her psychokinesis, sending a ripple of energy through the apartment.

Immediately, frantic noises erupted—furniture toppling, hurried footsteps echoing from inside.

The door swung open with a crash. Frenna stood there, her eyes wild and desperate. "Enough!" she shrieked.

She was a mere shadow of her former self, far from the glamorous, composed woman she once was. She looked worn down, like someone who had spent days out in the scorching sun without rest.

In reality, it had only been a day since Lyra’s curse had begun to backfire, but the mental and physical pain was unbearable, making her feel as if her skull was splitting apart. She was trapped, with no way to escape the torment.

Lyra stepped inside with a calm, measured grace, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the dining table like she owned the place. "If you’re at your limit, you might as well start talking," she said coolly.

Morrison stood behind her, tablet in hand, while Crag shut the door, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Lyra didn’t waste time with small talk. "Why were my parents really executed all those years ago?" Her voice was sharp, cutting straight to the point.

Frenna met her gaze, her face showing a bitter, almost mocking look, like the answer should’ve been obvious. "For treason. They were aiding the enemy."

But Lyra wasn’t buying it. That didn’t match what Oleg, now dead, had told her before. According to him, her parents had been involved in dangerous experiments—something far more sinister than mere treason. Still, the full story remained elusive.

Lyra knew she’d have to dig deeper, either by gaining more power or prying the truth out of Ansel directly.

Narrowing her eyes, she pressed on. "Where’s the man with the superpower transplant tech?"

Frenna slumped onto the sofa, her hands covering her face as she mumbled, "I don’t know. Only my father has that contact."

Lyra studied her closely, searching for any sign of deceit, but Frenna’s misery seemed genuine. The weight of her despair hung heavy in the air. "Then give me Dr. Brian’s family information. Where are they?"

Lyra wasn’t fooled. Frenna might not know everything, but Brian had been a key player—a doctor with access to critical secrets.

His records had conveniently vanished after his death, and the best bet was that his daughter had them.

However, the Shedd family kept such a tight grip on information that even basic details about Brian’s daughter were impossible to track down.

Frenna squirmed, clearly uncomfortable, but she eventually gave in. "I have some basic information on his wife and daughter," she admitted, knowing she couldn’t stall any longer.

Lyra tilted her head toward Morrison, signaling for him to step forward with the tablet.

Frenna hesitated, fear flickering across her face. "If I send this, Father will know... and I’ll be dead."

She was already in hot water after the military court incident, and now she hadn’t even had a chance to seek help.

"Don’t make me ask again," Lyra warned, her tone colder than ice.

Under the weight of Lyra’s gaze, Frenna caved and sent the data.

Morrison received the file, but as soon as he glanced at it, his face drained of color. Before he could speak, Frenna let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Her body convulsed violently, veins bulging grotesquely beneath her skin as her eyes rolled back.

With a final gasp, she collapsed lifelessly to the floor, her psychokinesis completely shattered.

Lyra rose from her chair, her expression calm and unaffected, as if this were just another routine meeting. Inside, though, she felt a quiet satisfaction.

Frenna had been the Shedd family’s ace, silently doing their dirty work for years. With her gone, the balance of power would shift.

The curses she’d held over so many people were now lifted. The chaos that would ensue might just be the beginning of the Shedds’ downfall.

"Let’s go," she said, turning toward the door without a second glance.

As they were leaving, Lyra caught a glimpse of Morrison’s face—there was something different in his eyes, a look that stirred her curiosity. But she said nothing and left the apartment in silence.

Once they were back in the car, Morrison finally spoke, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Boss, I have a request," he said, the same nervousness in his tone that he’d had years ago when he first joined Lyra’s side.

It wasn’t like Morrison to be this unsure. Something was bothering him—something big.

Lyra’s gaze shifted from the blur of buildings outside the window to Morrison’s face.

"Speak," she said quietly, her tone calm but expectant. "This is about Brian’s daughter, isn’t it?"

Morrison’s usually stoic expression softened, something almost vulnerable crossing his face—a flicker of nostalgia that Lyra hadn’t seen in him for a long time.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "Her name’s Chloe. She’s the one I’ve been searching for all these years. She was... my first love."

The car seemed to grow even more silent in the wake of that confession.

"I only have one request, boss," he finally said, his voice carrying a deeper seriousness now. "When this is all over, after we’ve found the truth about what happened—please spare her life."

Chapter 193: Graduation

Lyra genuinely respected Morrison’s skills. He was sharp, reliable, and rarely let anything slip. But now, knowing that he had this emotional tie to Chloe? That was a vulnerability she couldn’t afford to ignore.

Unlike her, Morrison wasn’t willing to cut ties with everything or everyone just to survive.

"I care only about the results. Don’t make your problems my problems," she said coolly, her voice devoid of emotion.

Morrison’s face brightened instantly. "Understood!" he replied, a flicker of relief flashing through his eyes.

From the moment Lyra left Frenna’s apartment, trouble began brewing for the Shedd family. But she didn’t stick around to watch the chaos unfold. Instead, she returned to her workplace without missing a beat, as if taking down the Shedds was just another item on her to-do list.

When she arrived, the lobby buzzed with an unusual liveliness, considering it was well past work hours.

Laughter and flirtatious voices echoed through the space, drawing her attention:

"Oh, you really know how to make a girl feel good!" one woman giggled.

"Baby, I’m just calling it like I see it. You’ve got something special, and you should believe it when I say you’re amazing," a man’s voice replied smoothly.

The guy lounged on the couch, wearing a brown jacket and sunglasses, his blond hair tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly charming.

With one arm draped around the girl next to him, he leaned in, grinning like a rogue. "For instance, I’m guessing you like things a little rough in bed, don’t you?" he whispered mischievously.

The woman’s cheeks flushed crimson, clearly thrown off by how accurate his playful jab was. "Oh, stop it!" she giggled, giving him a playful shove. "Who said you could talk to me like that?"

But as soon as Lyra walked in, the mood in the room shifted like someone had flipped a switch. The laughter died instantly, and the three women shot to their feet, their faces going pale with panic.

"B-Boss!" they stammered, clearly rattled. Getting caught flirting on company time wasn’t something they’d be able to shrug off.

Morrison, frowning with disapproval, cut the tension with a stern, "This isn’t the time or place for this behavior. If you’re done here, I suggest you head home."

Relieved to escape further judgment, the women scurried off, muttering apologies as they disappeared.

Lyra turned her icy gaze toward the man still lounging on the couch. He looked irritated that his little game had been interrupted but didn’t dare show it for long.

"Follow me," she ordered, her voice carrying an edge that brooked no argument.

As soon as they entered the office, the man’s disguise melted away, revealing his true form—his bald head so pale that the veins beneath were visible.

Freon was one of the rare users of disguise-based superpowers, but unlike most, he preferred his natural form when there was no need to conceal himself.

"Pretend to be someone else too long," he often said, "and you’ll forget who you are."

Now he sat back lazily on the couch, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed casually. "Ah, my goddess of death, couldn’t you have waited just a little longer? I was so close to sealing the deal with that girl," he complained with a smirk.

Lyra was unimpressed. "When I arrive on Planet Nagano, you’ll use the teleportation station to join me. After that, I expect you to transfer directly to Voidstar No. 2." She shot him a sharp, warning look. "And if you cause any problems before then, you’ll regret it."

Freon straightened up immediately, awkwardly rubbing his bald head. "I wouldn’t dream of it," he muttered, clearly rattled by her intensity.

He hated how easily she got under his skin. He’d regretted not bolting the first time he crossed paths with her, back on Demetra.

He had been there for "supplies," but instead of stocking up, he had walked straight into Lyra.

In hindsight, he should’ve recognized the Rose insignia on her uniform and fled. But no, his brain had short-circuited when he saw her—a stunning beauty. She had seemed like an easy mark, maybe an intern fresh out of training, and he thought it’d be fun to mess with her.

Big mistake.

Her coldness wasn’t just for show. She’d killed his three men without breaking a sweat, their blood splattering across the ground before he even knew what was happening.

And, to top it off, she’d confiscated his ship, leaving him no choice but to submit. He had avoided the military’s wrath only by agreeing to let her implant a psychokinesis mark on him, binding him to her service.

Since then, Freon had worked for her, reluctantly at first, but over time, it wasn’t so bad.

Being under her command had its perks. Voidstar No. 2 had become a thriving hub under his watch, and his crew even started calling Lyra "boss" themselves. The funny thing was, they didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

After Lyra gave Morrison the task of keeping an eye on Freon, she shifted her focus to preparing for her return to Planet Nagano.

As she packed her belongings into a metal case by the window, keeping everything minimal to fit inside her Space Button, the sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention.

Phelixes rushed in, his eyes red from holding back tears. "Are you leaving, sis?" he asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

Lyra didn’t stop packing. "Yes. Do you need something?"

Concern etched across his face, Phelixes quickly jumped in to help. He grabbed items and neatly organizing them in the case.

"Once you join the military, we won’t see each other for a long time, right?" His voice wavered slightly, filled with the weight of that reality.

"I’ll help you pack," he added earnestly, trying to be useful. He even slipped a few frozen meals he had prepared into the box, determined to make sure Lyra was taken care of, even if from afar.

Later that night, they sat down to dinner, a quiet sense of finality hanging in the air. Phelixes, ever hopeful, tried to keep the mood light. "Have you decided which legion you’ll join yet?" he asked between bites.

Lyra shook her head. "Not yet."

With a smile, he continued, "Well, by the time I graduate from the military academy, you’ll probably have your own legion. Then I can help you out all the time."

He had never doubted her abilities for a second. But Lyra couldn’t help the faint, sarcastic smile that tugged at her lips. There was something almost mocking in her expression, as if she knew better.

"Maybe," she replied softly.

The next day, she left for Planet Nagano, taking the quickest route to make it in time for the NMA graduation ceremony.

The ceremony itself was a grand affair. As tradition dictated, the students wore their NMA uniforms, the same ones they had worn during their freshman welcome event all those years ago, but this time, they weren’t just students—they were soldiers in the making, honed by years of grueling training and battlefield experience.

The principal stood on the stage, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of graduates with pride. "You are the pride of NMA," he declared, his voice brimming with emotion. "Our entire faculty and staff are honored by each and every one of you."

As the representative of the graduating class, Lyra stepped up to give a brief speech. She spoke of perseverance, sacrifice, and the lessons learned through their trials.

Afterward, the presentation of diplomas and badges began.

The excitement in the room was palpable at first, but it quickly shifted when instructors brought out portraits—images of the students who hadn’t survived to see this day.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the principal solemnly pinned a badge on each portrait, paying tribute to those who had fallen.

"It is with great sorrow that they could not be here today," the principal said, his voice thick with emotion. "But their spirit will forever be engraved in the heart of NMA. Their sacrifice will be remembered in our school’s history. Their blood, shed for the cause, will live on as our undying creed. And their souls will guide future generations of students."

His eyes glistened as he finished. "Fight on, my children."

The graduates stood tall, their faces serious as they saluted in unison, the weight of that moment sinking into them.

Soon after, a military representative arrived to distribute ranks and medals to select students.

It was Cohen, and his name had been well-known across the nation for his exploits on Wyrmtrace. His rise through the ranks had been meteoric, and he was on track to become one of the youngest Rear Admirals in the next few years.

Cohen took the stage and, after a moment of scanning the room, called out the first name. "Lyra."

The crowd buzzed in surprise as he continued. "For your outstanding contributions on Demetra, Vice Admiral Rong has proposed to the Alliance Military Council that you be granted the rank of Ensign."

Whispers rippled through the room.

It was nearly unheard of for a graduate to be awarded a Ensign rank right out of the gate. Only a handful had achieved that over the years, and all had gone on to become military powerhouses—people like Cohen himself, who at only thirty was already on his way to Rear Admiral.

But then again, Lyra had always been different.

After the ceremony, Zinnia caught up with Lyra, her face full of worry. "Lyra, have you received any offers from the legions yet?"

Lyra shook her head. Despite her stellar record and high rank, she hadn’t received a single invitation—not even an interview.

Thierry frowned, equally confused. "Not even the Rose?"

Normally, graduates from prestigious military academies like NMA would have legions lining up to recruit them. With Lyra’s exceptional performance, it made no sense that she hadn’t been picked up.

Lyra’s expression hardened, bitterness creeping into her voice. "None of the high-ranking legions want anything to do with me."

The Rose, where she had interned, had been relatively kind about it compared to others. Instead of sending a rejection with the standard "rejected" label, she received a personal message from Leandro’s adjutant: "Due to your background and identity, we are unable to process your application."

No matter how capable she was, her past—her family—still cast a long shadow.

Chapter 194: The Marquis of Rose

Despite the shattered relationship between Lyra and the Shedd family, people still clung to the notion that family ties were something that couldn’t be undone, no matter how deep the rift.

Even with everything that had gone down, there were still those who found it hard to believe that the connection between them could be completely severed.

For starters, her parents’ past made things delicate, especially in military circles. And then there was Ansel—a vice admiral with serious clout.

Nobody in their right mind would cross him just to side with Lyra, no matter how talented she was.

At the end of the day, she was fresh out of the academy, still green in the eyes of most, and didn’t have nearly enough pull to challenge someone with Ansel’s power.

Maybe if she looked for a spot in a smaller corps, one that was hurting for talent and less wrapped up in political games, she could have a shot.

But with the Shedd family’s infamy spreading like wildfire, even that felt like a long shot. The list of accusations against them—abusing authority, embezzling funds, and bleeding dry the resources in their control—just kept growing.

Even Jorath, long dead, couldn’t escape the dirt being dug up. Disturbing claims surfaced about his abuse of underage students, with victims stepping forward to tell their stories.

One after another, these scandals dragged the Shedd family back into the unforgiving spotlight, putting them on a knife’s edge.

At the Shedd family’s mansion, Ansel sat at the head of the meeting room, his expression cold as he scanned the faces of his trembling family members. They looked like a flock of terrified birds, hunched in their seats.

"This is the situation. Deal with it yourselves." His voice was final, like a judge handing down a sentence.

Every head jerked up in shock, eyes wide with fear.

"You’re leaving us to fend for ourselves?" one of them gasped.

"Where’s Frenna? Why isn’t her curse working anymore?!"

"Yeah, who’s behind this?"

Ansel’s gaze locked onto his eldest son, who had gone pale as a ghost. His words were sharp as ice. "Frenna’s gone."

Teagan winced, guilt pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. He didn’t dare meet the accusing eyes of his family. It was his fault—he had brought this disaster down on Frenna.

The wave of rebellion against the Shedds had grown too big to stop. Even Ansel couldn’t hold it back anymore.

After sending the rest of the family away, Teagan slumped into a chair, his face drawn with hopelessness.

"Dad... what do we do now?"

Ansel’s eyes gleamed with a cold, dangerous light as he straightened in his seat. "What do we do? You and Frenna should’ve seen this coming the minute you set foot in that courtroom."

He had bent over backward to keep Frenna hidden, and this idiot had ruined everything by leading her straight to Lyra.

If Teagan wasn’t his son, Ansel might’ve already ended him. Still, even he hadn’t expected someone like Lyra to have the power to bring them to their knees.

But it was too late for regrets now. Teagan’s voice broke through the silence, bitter and desperate. "So, are we just going to let Lyra tear us apart?"

"Not while I’m still breathing," Ansel growled, his words dripping with deadly resolve.

After Teagan stormed off, Ansel’s adjutant quietly approached him, his face tense with concern. "Sir, with the curse broken... if Lyra reveals the truth about Soul Spike—"

That would be the final nail in their family’s coffin.

But Ansel didn’t flinch. He sneered. "She won’t dare. If she was planning to expose us, she would’ve done it the second she pulled out that first spike."

His granddaughter was clever enough to know when to keep her cards close to her chest.

Ansel tightened his grip on the handle of his cane, deep in thought. "Send an invitation to her. And make sure the word gets out."

Once that news hit the streets, any chance of others recruiting Lyra would go up in smoke.

Meanwhile, Lyra sat in her office, staring at the invitation displayed on her opticomputer, her hand tightening around her pen.

Mandy’s soft knock broke the silence as she stepped into the room. "The ship to Voidstar No. 2 has already departed. Freon’s on board and behaving himself. Oh, and here are the supply lists for Wyrmtrace. Can you take a look?"

Mandy hadn’t joined the Rose like most had predicted. Instead, she had been selected for the elite Legion Glory, under the command of the legendary Admiral Whyte, with Cohen there too. That was a post that most could only dream of.

Lyra glanced over the list quickly, signed it, and handed it back to Mandy.

"Once you’re officially on board, you won’t have to mess with caravan logistics anymore," she said, her voice steady as her gaze settled on the younger woman, who still seemed to carry a trace of doubt about her future. "Mandy, just keep climbing. Push yourself to the top."

It was a bit funny, though, considering that Lyra hadn’t even locked down a corps invite herself.

"Thank you," Mandy replied, though the concern was still etched in her features. After a brief pause, she blurted out, "So, what’s your plan now?"

"Graduates don’t HAVE to join a corps, you know," Lyra said, brushing off the question like it was no big deal.

"Are you aiming for the Alliance Military Council’s direct forces? Or maybe even the Royal Guard?"

The direct forces were the grunt work of the military, reporting straight to the top brass—the Alliance Military Council.

But the reality wasn’t glamorous. Conscription filled their ranks, which meant talent was hit or miss, and advancement was a nightmare.

They were often sent into the most dangerous assignments, essentially treated as disposable.

On the flip side, the Royal Guard had cushier conditions, but their separation from military command made it just as tough to climb the ladder.

Without hesitation, Lyra responded, "I’ll go with the direct forces."

Mandy was stunned. The idea that the NMA’s top graduate, Lyra Shedd, would have to grind her way up through the same path as conscripts? It left her speechless.

Suddenly, Mandy realized how lucky she was in comparison.

And so, Lyra set off once more, this time bound for Elden Prime.

As she walked through the gates of the company, she spotted Anton lounging in a beach chair, soaking up the sun without a care in the world.

A small table beside him held a glass of juice and a plate of cookies, giving him the appearance of someone enjoying an early retirement.

Now the head of security for the local branch, Anton was pulling in more money than his military pension and instructor job combined.

"Still jobless, BOSS?" Anton called out with a smirk, raising his glass in a teasing salute.

Lyra didn’t bite back at his jab. Instead, she shot him a firm response, "Enjoy your lazy days while they last. You’re getting paid that much for a reason—don’t start thinking of it as a permanent vacation."

To her, both people and resources needed to be fully utilized. Anything less was a waste.

Anton chuckled, sipping his juice as he watched her leave. "I’ll be waiting," he called after her, clearly enjoying his moment of leisure.

After several days of travel, Lyra finally stepped off the ship, greeted by an elderly man with slicked-back silver hair, dressed in an immaculate tailcoat.

"Miss Shedd, I am Albert, butler of the Calvin family. The marquis has sent me to escort you."

Lyra raised an eyebrow but nodded, masking her surprise. "Lead on."

In truth, she couldn’t quite figure out her grandfather’s game. He acted indifferent most of the time, yet here he was, stepping in when she least expected it.

Years ago, when she and Kail had been on the verge of collapse, not a single Calvin had come to their aid.

Her memories of the Calvin household were distant and tinged with discomfort. Even when her mother was alive, she never felt like she truly belonged there.

Her parents’ marriage had been a source of contention, never receiving the approval of either family. The one exception had been Old Calvin, who used to sit her on his knee in their rose-filled garden, telling her stories.

There was one tale he repeated so often she could almost recite it in her sleep. It always began the same way: "Once upon a time..."

It was a story about a prince, and it became such a staple that it was etched into her mind, word for word.

Lyra didn’t harbor any hatred or anger toward the Calvins. By now, she had seen enough betrayals and cold shoulders to understand that people’s loyalties were fickle.

Their distant attitude toward her was nothing shocking. It was simply the way things worked in her world.

She still hadn’t uncovered what role, if any, the Calvin family had played in her mother’s death. And a part of her wasn’t sure she even wanted to know.

As she brooded over these thoughts, the Lev wound down a long, shaded lane.

The walls were draped in climbing roses, stretching on for what seemed like miles, until finally, they passed through an ornate bronze gate.

The car rolled through the perfectly landscaped grounds, passing an elegant fountain before pulling up in front of a grand castle that looked like it belonged in a storybook.

Chapter 195: The Calvin Family

The castle loomed before Lyra, towering and grand, but when she looked closer, its corners told a different story.

The faded and cracked walls whispered of years gone by, a physical reflection of the decline of once-mighty noble families.

On the surface, they were still impressive, but beneath the glamour, they were slowly falling apart, their influence stolen by the military and government long ago.

Albert bent down slightly, holding the car door open with a practiced hand.

Standing at the entrance, a maid and a young butler bowed in perfect unison, greeting Lyra with a formal, "Welcome, Miss Lyra."

Lyra seemed completely mismatched with her surroundings.

The maids were dressed in lacy caps and traditional uniforms, while Lyra was the picture of modern efficiency. She was wearing a sleeveless white chiffon blouse, army-green pants that hugged her frame comfortably, and sturdy black ankle boots.

Her look was simple, functional, and seemed almost out of place in the refined vibe.

Albert watched her closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of emotion, but all he saw was a distant, unfamiliar expression—as if she were walking into a place she barely recognized.

"Miss Lyra, your grandfather awaits you," Albert said, his voice taking on a more formal edge.

Lyra caught the shift in his tone but only nodded, her eyes focused straight ahead as she walked into the grand estate.

Inside, the entrance hall was dominated by an extravagant bronze staircase, intricately designed and topped with a lush crimson carpet that seemed to cascade like royalty itself. It stretched up and out, leading to the upper floors.

Albert guided her to a door on the right, its detailed carvings hinting at the craftsmanship of another era. He opened it to reveal the parlor inside.

"Your Lordship, Miss Lyra has arrived," Albert announced.

On the far wall facing them, there was a massive portrait of the Calvin family, each member dressed in full aristocratic attire.

Benedict Calvin stood before it, his gaunt face a storm of unspoken emotions. He turned quickly at the sound of her entering.

For a moment, his deep-set eyes flickered with a thousand thoughts, but he masked it with a warm smile.

"Come, sit down," he gestured toward a plush sofa. Then, as if remembering something important, he called to Albert, "Quick, bring out the Glacier Cake and the fruit pie from this morning."

These had been Lyra’s childhood favorites during her visits to the Calvin estate, but now, the memories of them felt distant and hazy.

Lyra sat without hesitation, her movements deliberate and calm. "There’s no need for that," she said, her tone blunt and cool. "Just tell me why you called me here."

Her lack of warmth was expected, but it still cut deep. Benedict’s enthusiasm faltered, and his face fell into a sad smile. He sighed softly, "You’re still upset with me, aren’t you?"

"I’m not," Lyra replied, lifting the teacup in front of her and taking a sip. "I survived, didn’t I?"

Benedict’s lips quivered ever so slightly. "I’m so sorry... I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I should have been."

His words were filled with remorse and affection, but they meant little to her now. "There’s no need for apologies," she said flatly. "Blood doesn’t dictate people’s choices."

"No... I couldn’t even protect my own daughter," Benedict whispered, his voice laden with sorrow.

"And I’m not here to forgive or condemn you for that," Lyra responded, sitting stiff and straight as though she were speaking to a stranger.

Unable to remain silent, Albert stepped forward, "My Lady, you misunderstand—"

"Albert, that’s enough," Benedict interrupted, turning his focus back to Lyra, though hesitation colored his voice. "I assume you’ve come to Elden Prime with plans to join the direct forces. However, there are powerful people in the Alliance Military Council... those who would block your path. They won’t make it easy for you to enlist. I wanted to offer another route—through your uncle’s recruitment channel."

He understood the uphill battle she faced and knew this was the most he could do for her.

His offer hit home. Lyra had intended to pay her way into a position and slowly claw her way up, but now, the Calvin family had just opened up a more direct path.

She found herself seriously considering it.

Seeing Lyra remain silent, Benedict misread her pause as reluctance. He let out a low, bitter laugh. "It’s hard these days, even for nobles, to form their own regiments. Your uncle’s had his own struggles climbing the ranks. He’s still stuck in the direct forces. This is all I can offer you. If you’re unwilling—"

Lyra’s eyes narrowed, her stare as sharp as a dagger. "What’s the catch? What price are you asking for this ’favor’?" Her voice was icy, slicing through the old man’s attempt at goodwill.

Benedict’s face faltered, his eyes flashing with a flicker of hurt. His lips trembled slightly before he spoke. "I... I just want to help you, Lyra. That’s all. No strings attached."

His gaze, almost pleading, begged her not to turn this moment into another wound. But Lyra had long stopped letting her emotions get tangled up in family matters. Still, she knew how to play the game.

"I understand," she finally said, offering a faint, almost sarcastic smile. "Thank you, Grandpa."

Benedict’s face brightened instantly, a look of pure relief washing over him. His wrinkled cheeks creased into a beaming smile. "Good, good! Then stay for a while. Your cousin Kritt is on leave tomorrow. He can take you with him when he returns to the military."

Albert, pleased with how things were unfolding, quickly nodded in agreement and motioned for two maids to attend to Lyra.

"Miss Lyra, if you’ll follow us, we’ll take you to your room," one of the maids said with a bow.

They led her toward the elevator hidden behind the grand staircase—an architectural masterpiece built more for display than function.

As the elevator glided up to the third floor, familiar paintings and decorations from her childhood flashed before her eyes, stirring memories she thought she’d buried.

When they reached her room, it was as if time had frozen—the space was exactly as she remembered from years ago.

"My Lady, would you like a bath first?" the maids asked, clearly nervous in her presence.

Lyra nodded, not particularly interested in pleasantries. "Yes."

The maids hurriedly wheeled out a rack filled with luxurious dresses and formal attire, but Lyra barely glanced at them. "Pick a pantsuit," she instructed coolly.

They scrambled to obey, selecting a sleek riding outfit. As Lyra stepped into the bathroom, the maids exchanged whispers, giggling softly.

"She’s so serious, but not as scary as I thought," one of them muttered.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a commotion erupted at the entrance.

The maids stole a glance out the window, their expressions shifting dramatically.

Something—or rather, someone—had arrived.

Lyra emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, dressed in a plush robe. The maids quickly helped her into the tailored pantsuit, fastening the last button just as the sharp clacking of heels echoed down the hall.

The door burst open with force, revealing a girl with wild brown curls and a puffed-up blue lace gown, her head topped with a massive bow. She marched in with all the grace of a tempest.

The maids immediately curtsied. "Miss Isadora," they greeted her in hushed tones.

Isadora’s eyes darted to Lyra, a mocking grin spreading across her face. "Well, well, Lyra! After all that time rolling around in the dirt on Voidstar, it seems you’ve managed to clean up just fine, huh?"

Lyra calmly adjusted her cuff, her gaze barely lifting. "Isadora, is that you?" Her voice carried a distinct edge of indifference.

This was the same cousin who had bickered with her incessantly as children, always picking fights she couldn’t win, then running to cry about it when she lost.

"Surprised you even remember me, COUSIN!" Isadora huffed, flipping her skirt dramatically as she strutted around the room like she owned the place.

Without warning, she snatched the teapot from the bedside cart and tipped it over, spilling tea across the freshly made bed.

She tossed the pot aside, crossing her arms with a smug smile. "How dare you act like you belong here? Sleeping in MY house?"

It was the same petty drama from their childhood, just with bigger skirts and louder tantrums.

Lyra, however, was neither surprised nor fazed. She merely turned to the maids. "Change the sheets."

Then, without missing a beat, she stepped toward Isadora. The smug look on her cousin’s face faltered as Lyra closed the distance.

Isadora’s voice wavered. "W-What are you doing? I’m warning you, this is my house—"

Lyra didn’t even let her finish. In one swift motion, she grabbed a fistful of the lace gown, spun Isadora effortlessly, and tossed her right into the hallway.

Isadora hit the ground with an unceremonious THUD, her elaborate dress sprawling out like a deflated balloon.

Stunned silence followed, with Isadora staring up in shock, completely thrown off balance.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Lyra smirked. "You’re right—it is your house. But that doesn’t mean I can’t show you your place."