Ch. 211..215: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 211-215
Chapter 211: No Hiding From Her
The massive training grounds buzzed with quiet chuckles, and people whispered sympathy as Marty and his crew became the latest spectacle.
The surrounding crowd tried to hold back their laughter, but it was hard not to feel just a tiny bit bad for them.
"What’s going on here?"
Ryan stormed over, his voice cutting through the noise. He took one look at the scene before him.
He choked on his coffee, bending over with a cough. His eyes landed on Marty and his crew—mouths gagged, eyes practically begging for help.
"Tsk," Ryan snickered, shaking his head. "Alright, enough! Messing around’s over. Breakfast’s almost done!" he barked, waving off the crowd.
Not long after, Lyra arrived, effortlessly sipping warm coffee, looking all delicate like some fancy porcelain doll.
The way she carried herself screamed authority.
Everyone straightened up, some out of respect, others out of sheer fear. Yet Lyra seemed totally unfazed by their attention.
Her gaze landed on Marty, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion.
"What’s this? Pulled an all-nighter?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.
Mentally, everyone groaned in sync: Come on, boss lady! You know exactly why they didn’t catch any sleep!
She tilted her head ever so slightly. "It wasn’t that cold last night. Shouldn’t have been hard to sleep."
"..." Rowena and the rest, standing stiff as boards the moment Lyra showed up, let out a collective sigh of relief. At least they had the sense not to get on her bad side.
Ryan finished off his coffee in one last gulp before barking out, "Squads, fall in!"
T9 snapped into formation, but nobody could resist sneaking glances at Squad No. 7. Especially the rookies from Squads No. 1 through No. 5. Marty’s face burned with embarrassment, turning a lovely shade of beet-red.
"Roll call time," Ryan called out.
When Marty’s name came up, Lyra finally removed the glowing band sealing his mouth and gave him a sideways glance. "Speak."
Marty, through clenched teeth and visible rage, managed to croak, "Present!"
Once roll call was done, Marty and his crew tried every trick in the book to sneak away.
However, no matter where they ran or how they dodged, that cursed green light band Lyra used was like it had a mind of its own, always finding them.
They had no choice but to endure, stomachs growling, until lunch.
When the afternoon training session rolled around, they were dragged right back, still tied up like lobsters.
By now, no one even blinked at the sight. It was becoming routine.
As the sun finally began to set and training was over, Marty thought he saw his shot.
While Lyra was busy chatting with Ryan, Marty slipped away, making a beeline straight for his bunk.
’Finally, some peace!’ he thought, collapsing onto his bed.
But the next morning? He opened his eyes to find Lyra, sitting right there on his dorm window ledge, casually sipping her morning coffee.
That was it. Marty threw in the towel. He gave up.
Grumbling, he jumped out of bed and threw his clothes on in a hurry. "You win," he muttered as he rushed off to join the others.
At this point, Marty knew there was no hiding from her. Not in the barracks, not even in the men’s restroom.
Lyra would drag them out of there without batting an eye—pants down and all.
The only escape? Leaving the base entirely. Once they stepped out, even murder was technically out of her jurisdiction. But as long as they were stuck inside the base, there was no place to hide from her relentless grip.
Marty, an old hand at dealing with this, had already accepted his fate.
Bruce and the others, however, was still trapped in nightmares of that eerie green light chasing them down.
After their rebellious spirits were finally squashed, leading the team became a breeze for Lyra.
During the days, Morrison brought Lyra some good news.
Then, before Squad No. 7 could carry out their mission. The soldiers got what they had been waiting for: their monthly break was just around the corner.
The team practically buzzed with excitement as they made their afternoon plans.
Bruce and the others, though, was a bit afraid of Lyra at this time.
After being at the mercy of her "training methods," they were afraid that she’d tie them up again and leave them hanging from the bars as some twisted prank.
But, to their surprise, Lyra didn’t give them a second glance. She strolled toward the base gates, where her personal Lev was waiting for her.
Crag, the driver, kept his gaze straight ahead, too scared to even glance her way. "Phelixes is expecting you for your break. He has prepared a feast for your return. Shall we head straight there?"
"Later," Lyra replied, her tone barely containing her excitement. "Where’s Morrison?"
"Morrison left early today," Crag said, already knowing what was on her mind. "He recently bought a villa. Would you like me to take you there?"
"Yes," Lyra nodded, a small grin forming on her lips.
Lyra stared out the window as the city streets blurred into a golden haze, the light from dusk refracting off the Aegis Shield that enveloped the city.
The soft glow made everything feel surreal, but her thoughts were anything but peaceful.
Images of the man in the metallic mask flooded her mind—along with the searing pain he’d caused her. She clenched her fists, her eyes hardening.
’No matter where you think you can hide, I will find you. And when I do, I’ll crush every single bone in your body.’
Morrison’s villa wasn’t far from his company. It was tucked away in a quiet, upscale neighborhood.
Even though it was a second-hand property, the renovations had cost him a small fortune.
He’d spared no expense, turning the place into a fortress outfitted with top-tier surveillance and defense systems. All of it, built like a gilded cage, was for his obsession—the woman he refused to let go of.
When they arrived, Crag knocked, and an elderly maid with silver hair greeted them. Her smile was warm, but Lyra’s sharp gaze noticed the telltale signs of someone more dangerous than she appeared—callused fingers, likely from years of handling firearms.
Morrison seemed so committed to this elegant prison.
The living room was cozy, with floral-patterned tablecloths and cushioned couches. A vase of fresh lilies added a touch of refinement.
Lyra settled herself, her senses sharp despite the comfort. From upstairs, she picked up faint sounds—noises that should’ve been awkward or intimate. But to her, they were just white noise, unworthy of her attention.
After about thirty minutes, Morrison finally appeared at the top of the stairs, looking completely disheveled.
His usual clean, polished look was gone. He wore casual shorts and a tank top, his skin glistening with sweat, deep scratches marking his neck and chest.
His hair, normally slicked back, hung loose and damp, giving him a more primal, rugged vibe.
Crag, completely innocent to this kind of scene, flushed red at the sight.
"Boss," Morrison croaked, his voice hoarse and strained. The maid hurried to hand him a glass of water.
Lyra wasted no time, cutting straight to business. "Has she talked yet?"
It had been three days since they’d captured their target.
Morrison ran a hand through his tousled hair, looking exhausted. "She won’t speak," he admitted, his tone frustrated. "But she’s been asking to see you."
"And her mother and brother?" Lyra asked, arching a brow.
"We picked them up this afternoon. They’re downstairs, waiting for you."
Lyra’s gaze flickered with interest as she glanced at her faithful subordinate, an idea already forming in her mind. "Well, if this is what you want, I guess I can be the bad guy for you one more time."
Morrison relaxed, relief washing over him. "Thank you so much for this, Boss."
’Thank me?’ Lyra thought with an inward smirk. Anyone who knew her knew that playing the villain was her specialty.
Soon, the maid escorted Chloe down the stairs. She looked exhausted, her golden hair messy but still glowing like sunlight, her green eyes sharp and defiant—traits that had clearly captured Morrison’s obsessive interest.
Lyra, calm and composed, took a slow sip of her warm drink before speaking in an indifferent tone. "Morrison says you wanted to see me?"
Chloe’s eyes burned with anger, her voice filled with emotion as she spat, "My father sacrificed everything for the Shedd family. And in the end, you silenced him—because of you, everything he worked for was destroyed."
Lyra remained unbothered, casually piecing together what Chloe meant.
"Curiosity got the better of him," she said, her voice flat.
From Chloe’s fragmented words, Lyra could already guess the situation. Her father, Brian, had been tangled in something big—a secret research project involving Lyra herself.
Brian had clearly gotten too close to something dangerous.
Though the details were sealed tight, Brian had left behind some breadcrumbs.
Lyra crossed her arms, her gaze icy as she pinned Chloe with a sharp look. "Where are your father’s documents?"
Chloe’s demeanor shifted immediately. She stiffened, eyes narrowing as her defenses went up. "I’m not telling you anything!"
Her bravado lasted only a moment. The maid ushered in Chloe’s mother and younger brother, and just like that, panic washed over Chloe’s face.
Her eyes darted to them, and then to Morrison—the man she had just been with moments ago. Betrayal and disbelief filled her voice as she demanded, "Morrison, how could you do this to me?!"
Morrison’s expression faltered, his voice low and almost apologetic. "It’s not up to me. She makes the decisions here."
His words barely echoed in the room before a blood-curdling scream shattered the air.
Blood splattered onto the delicate floral upholstery as Chloe’s mother’s hand hit the floor with a sickening thud.
Lyra calmly twirled the bloodied dagger in her hand, her face cold and impassive. "Chloe," she said in a voice so smooth it was terrifying, "are you sure you want to watch me slice your family apart, piece by piece?"
Chapter 212: What A Show
Lyra tossed the severed hand into the fireplace, where it was quickly consumed by the flames.
Chloe’s mother and brother clung to each other, trembling, their faces drained of all color. The entire room was filled with an oppressive fear.
"Monsters! How could you do this?!" Chloe’s voice trembled, her body shaking uncontrollably.
Morrison, standing nearby, looked torn. He gently took Chloe’s cold hand, trying to soothe her. "My dear, just give her what she wants. If you don’t, Donna and Cody will die."
Tears welled in Chloe’s sapphire eyes as she tried to pull her hand away from him.
"Why should I trust you?" she cried. Her father was already dead, and despite all her efforts to hide with her family, Lyra had found them in the end.
After what her father had done to Lyra all those years ago, she knew that forgiveness was impossible.
Morrison’s grip tightened as he pulled her into a desperate embrace. "At least believe in me," he whispered.
Then, to Chloe’s shock, Morrison dropped to his knees before Lyra in a plea for mercy. "Boss, I beg you, kill me if you want, but please just spare them!"
Crag, watching from the side, suppressed a gasp. He could hardly believe his eyes. ’Is this the same Morrison, the tough, no-nonsense man I’ve known for years? He’s actually pleading for a woman?’
Lyra’s expression darkened. "Morrison, you disappoint me." Her voice was sharp with displeasure. "I gave you three days, and yet you still haven’t gotten what I asked for."
Without a moment’s hesitation, her finger flicked, sending the dagger flying straight into Morrison’s chest.
Blood splattered across the floor, and Chloe let out a muffled scream, covering her mouth in horror.
"Forgive me," Morrison rasped, blood trickling down his chest. "I’ll do anything, as long as you spare them."
Lyra’s cold gaze shifted back to Chloe. "Four lives—all in your hands," she said, her voice like thunder in a clear sky.
"No!" Chloe cried, rushing to Morrison’s side, pressing her hands desperately against his wound. "I’ll give it to you! I’ll give you everything!"
With trembling hands, she touched the ring on her finger, which disguised a Space Button.
In an instant, a metallic box appeared on the coffee table. Chloe opened it, revealing a stack of old, worn papers—handwritten notes, her father’s legacy.
"Everything... it’s all here," she whispered, her voice quivering with defeat.
Lyra took the papers and flipped through them, her eyes gleaming as she read. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she tucked the documents into her own Space Button.
Without another word, she stood.
Chloe flinched, shrinking back into Morrison’s arms like a frightened bird.
Lyra, unmoved by the fear she had caused, made her way toward the door.
Morrison was wincing from the pain, and he suddenly remembered something. Staggering after Lyra, he called out, "Boss, please—Donna’s hand, can you heal it?"
Chloe gasped, shocked by his audacity. She didn’t want him to anger Lyra any further, but as she prepared to follow him, the maid stepped in her way, stopping her in her tracks.
Chloe’s heart raced with fear and worry.
Outside, Lyra turned, folding her arms as she regarded Morrison with a rare smirk. "You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?"
Morrison, gritting his teeth against the pain, offered a strained compliment. "Boss, your performance was flawless—though perhaps you went a little overboard with the dagger."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, amused. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a wave of healing energy his way. As his wounds began to close, she spoke, "You know, Sorren was injured in the exact same spot."
Morrison froze, a flicker of realization crossing his face.
"Just this once," she warned, her tone colder. "Don’t let it happen again."
It was clear to her that Morrison had hesitated to use harsher methods, unwilling to hurt Chloe, and now Lyra had to step in as the villain to extract the information. A game to win the heart of the woman he loved.
Morrison’s expression turned serious. "Understood. I swear on my life, I won’t let her cause any more trouble."
Lyra didn’t expect others to be as cold-hearted as she was.
Morrison, though sentimental, brought valuable benefits to the organization, so she didn’t mind rewarding him this once.
With a second wave of her hand, Lyra gathered more healing energy. "Take this. Now get back to work and don’t make me regret it."
Morrison’s face lit up with gratitude. "Yes, Boss!"
As Lyra walked away, a new feeling stirred within him—a sense of loyalty beyond duty.
For the first time, Morrison felt true gratitude toward her.
Up until just now, his relationship with Lyra had been purely transactional: he got the job done, and she rewarded him. But this gesture of forgiveness had planted the seed of genuine loyalty in his heart.
Morrison paused outside the villa, staring back at the imposing structure. His emotions swirled beneath the calm facade he worked so hard to maintain.
Suddenly, he slapped himself hard across the face, the sting sharp enough to draw blood from his lip. His cheek throbbed, but the pain grounded him.
It was a small, controlled act of rage—one he needed before facing Chloe again.
"Chloe, look," he said as he stepped back inside, the warm glow of healing energy in his hands.
Gently, he placed it over Donna’s severed wrist, and before their astonished eyes, a new hand began to grow, fingers extending, skin forming—fully restored.
"Now she won’t need a prosthetic," Morrison added with a soft smile, hiding the darker feelings still simmering beneath the surface.
Relief washed over Chloe, her mother, and her brother like a wave, the fear that had consumed them finally starting to ebb.
Donna looked down at her healed hand in disbelief, tears of astonishment filling her eyes.
"Thank you, Morrison," Chloe whispered, stepping closer, her fingers lightly brushing the still-red mark on his cheek. "She hit you, didn’t she? That must’ve hurt."
Morrison wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I would take anything for you," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that masked his inner turmoil.
Donna, wiping her tears, approached hesitantly. "Morrison," she began, her voice shaky, "I’m sorry. I never should’ve driven you away back then. It was a mistake, and I regret it."
For a split second, Morrison’s eyes flickered with cold fury, the painful memories of his past rejection bubbling up. But he masked it quickly, turning back with a bittersweet smile.
"It wasn’t your fault," he replied softly. "I wasn’t strong enough to protect her back then."
Chloe squeezed his hand, her eyes filled with worry. "Morrison, let’s run away. Let’s escape from her—she’s a terrifying witch! I saw madness in her eyes."
Morrison’s smile turned sad as he gently guided Chloe to the couch, sitting her down.
"Lyra has her reasons," he said quietly, his tone measured. "She’s been through things that have made her this way. She wasn’t after you today, and she won’t come after you again. You can stay safe here. I’ll make sure of it."
He spoke with reassurance, carefully steering the conversation away from Chloe’s plea to flee.
Running from Lyra was a death wish, something he knew all too well. If it weren’t for his connection to her, he’d still be stuck in the Forgotten Quarter, a desolate place where people disappeared and were forgotten.
It had been Chloe’s family that ripped her away from him back then, leaving him powerless and humiliated. But now, things had changed.
Satisfied that Chloe’s nerves had settled, Morrison stood, preparing to leave. "Get some rest," he said gently. "I need to head back to work."
Chloe was hesitant but feeling safe for the first time in days. She rose to her toes and kissed his cheek softly. "I’ll be waiting for you to come back."
Morrison’s heart stirred at her gesture, something warm and unfamiliar spreading through him. He hugged her tightly.
"I’ll be back soon," he promised before walking out into the cool night.
Climbing into his Lev, Morrison’s expression shifted, the soft warmth from Chloe’s embrace fading as his face returned to its usual calm, determined state.
He had a job to do, and emotions were a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.
As he drove toward Lyra’s apartment, he mentally switched back to his role as her loyal and calculating right-hand man.
When he arrived, the scent of a late dinner still lingered in the air.
Phelixes was cleaning up in the kitchen, while Lyra herself sat at the dining table, her eyes intensely focused on the stack of papers Chloe had surrendered.
Despite the trouble it had taken to get them, the documents were sparse and incomplete.
"How is it?" Morrison asked, stepping forward, his voice measured and professional.
Lyra glanced up briefly, her sharp eyes flicking to the fresh mark on his cheek. She said nothing about it, merely gesturing toward the papers. "The most recent data is over a year old. It references an experiment on the second moon of Macraite."
Morrison frowned. "Macraite? That’s under heavy guard by the Starblade Legion. Breaking in won’t be easy."
Lyra nodded, already thinking ahead. "Contact Voidstar. I want agents on the ground. We need information before making any moves. We can’t afford to tip them off."
She had dealt with Macraite in the past, but things had changed since then.
If this research had any connection to Ansel, he would be keeping a close eye on it. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
Morrison nodded and left her to her work, quickly stepping out to make the necessary calls.
As Lyra flipped through the worn pages again, piecing together fragmented clues, her thoughts turned to her next task: a visit to the Calvin family.
By the time she left, it was late.
When she arrived at the Calvin’s, the cool night air carried the scent of fresh rose.
Lyra stepped out of her Lev, glancing up as another Lev pulled in. Isadora stepped out from the passenger seat.
The driver, clearly infatuated, leaned in, trying to steal a kiss. "Isadora, you were incredible tonight."
Isadora, her eyes sparkling with charm, smiled playfully. "You weren’t so bad yourself. Goodnight."
As the driver pulled away reluctantly, Isadora spotted Lyra stepping out of her Lev and smirked.
"Jealous?" she teased, her tone light and provocative. "A woman should be cherished, surrounded by admirers like a blooming flower."
Lyra glanced at her, her expression unreadable. "If that’s what makes you happy, then by all means, enjoy it."
Without giving Isadora another glance, Lyra strode past her and into the house, her mind focused on far more pressing matters.
Isadora huffed, stamping her foot in frustration.
"You just don’t understand romance!" she shouted after her, glaring.
But Lyra, as usual, didn’t bother to respond. There were more important things on her mind than games of the heart.
Chapter 213: First Mission For The Squad
When Benedict heard that Lyra was back, a rare morning grin spread across his face. "Quick, prepare some of her favorite cakes and pack them in boxes. She can take them with her to work," he instructed, his energy noticeably lifted.
Meanwhile, at the entrance, Lyra found herself face-to-face with Isadora, who was clearly not thrilled to see her.
"How do you even have the audacity to stay under MY roof?" Isadora’s voice practically hissed with disdain, her glare sharp enough to cut.
Unbothered, Lyra let out a slow yawn, meeting her cousin’s bitter stare with casual indifference. "You seem super invested in where I am, Isadora. Got a reason why?"
Isadora’s hostility felt childish to Lyra, as though the girl was forever stuck in a petty rivalry that she alone cared about.
With a stiff face, Isadora gripped the hem of her dress. "Why? Do you really not get it? You’ve stolen all the attention! Dad, grandpa—they all flock to you. And at the royal banquet the other night, everyone was watching YOU. So how can you even ask why?"
Her eyes swept over Lyra’s casual clothes with thinly veiled disgust. "I just don’t get how someone like you, constantly hanging around men, with zero refinement, could attract so much admiration."
Lyra barely blinked. "You’ve got your own skills, Isadora. You could do the same." With that, she brushed past her and started descending the stairs, leaving Isadora simmering, her eyes burning with venomous jealousy.
Later, after lunch, Lyra joined Benedict in the garden for afternoon tea.
As they sat together, Benedict’s gaze drifted to the roses swaying gently in the breeze.
Nostalgia clouded his eyes, and a soft smile appeared on his face.
"I remember when your mother used to bring you here," he said, chuckling softly. "Isadora would be crying, and there you’d stand, staring at her like you couldn’t believe her tantrum."
He glanced at Lyra, who remained composed, and added with a chuckle, "Do you still remember the stories I used to tell?"
Lyra set her teacup down and replied with a slight smile, "The one about the fall of the royal family? How they ended up in exile?"
Her version was so to-the-point that Benedict let out a full laugh.
Before he could continue, Lyra stood. "It’s getting late. I need to head back."
"I’ll have the driver ready for you," Benedict offered.
"No need. My driver’s already here," she said, glancing toward the road. "Take care, Grandpa. I’ll be leaving now."
Just as she turned to go, Benedict called out, "Wait! Your uncle heard rumors that the Special Forces might be assigned a mission near the Legion Skywalkers’ base. I’m worried... it won’t be a straightforward task."
Lyra hadn’t heard anything about a new mission. The information instantly connected in her mind with the research data she’d recently gotten from Chloe. Was this just a strange coincidence, or was something much more sinister at play?
Keeping her cool under Benedict’s worried gaze, she simply nodded. "I understand."
As she exited the Calvin estate and slid into her vehicle, her expression darkened.
Crag, her driver, noticed the shift in her mood and nervously kept his eyes glued to the road, too scared to ask any questions.
Lyra quickly dialed Morrison. "The location of my next mission is near Macraite. Got anything to say about that?"
Morrison, clearly caught off guard, took a beat before replying. His face drained of color as he jumped up from his chair, hurriedly scanning a report that the maid had been sending him regularly.
After reviewing the details, he responded confidently.
"I can guarantee Chloe hasn’t made contact with anyone outside. Ever since we found her, neither she nor her family has shown any suspicious behavior."
Morrison wasn’t the type to let things slip by.
Lyra frowned. "Then go ask her again."
After ending the call, Lyra pressed a hand to her forehead, deep in thought.
Morrison had no reason to let her down now; their interests were aligned. ’Is it Admiral Dale?’ She doubted it. If he had known about the experiment, there would already be chaos by now.
She mulled over the possibilities but ultimately decided to wait and see what this mission had in store. Maybe she was reading too much into it.
"Boss, we’re here," Crag’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
As Lyra stepped out of the vehicle, she spotted Marty and a few others walking back, arms slung casually around each other.
Upon seeing her, Bruce and some of the others immediately straightened up and saluted.
"Ma’am!"
Lyra gave a brief nod in return, though her mind remained on the potential dangers awaiting her.
"Damn, a private ride to work? You must be swimming in cash now, huh, MA’AM?" Marty’s voice was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. "With all that dough, why are you still here? Fighting alongside us nobodies? What’s your angle?"
Since they weren’t on base, Marty had dropped his usual filter, letting the bitterness all slip through. His words hung in the air, making Bruce and the others obviously uncomfortable.
No one liked challenging Lyra anymore.
Lyra waved Crag away and locked her gaze on Marty, unflinching. "Simple. I want to swim in cash while get drunk with power."
No hesitation. No room for debate. With that, she turned and walked through the gate, leaving the group in stunned silence, trying to process her bluntness.
Nearby, Ryan and Wolf had overheard the exchange. Wolf, ever the casual observer, scratched his chin with a sly grin. "Ambitious, isn’t she? But this mission’s no walk in the park, Ryan. You know that."
He shook his head, muttering about it being a shame for someone so good-looking, then slung his jacket over his shoulder and headed inside.
Ryan, adjusting his sunglasses, smirked. "Let’s just hope we all get a little lucky on this one."
Later that night, when the teams gathered for roll call, Wolf stepped in, all business. His face was hard, and his voice was firm.
"Listen up, everyone. Tomorrow, 3 a.m., we meet here. We’re heading to Macraite’s second satellite. Full mission details will be briefed upon arrival."
The second he mentioned the location, Lyra’s eyes sharpened, cold and calculating.
Something didn’t add up.
While her mind was racing, piecing together the puzzle, the rest of the squad had a different reaction—fear. They’d barely survived their last mission, and now they were being thrown back into the fire.
Unit T9 was never deployed for easy assignments. The scars from their last battle were still fresh, and this new mission didn’t promise survival.
But no one protested. They’d signed their lives over the day they joined this elite unit, fully aware that each mission could be their last.
...
At 3 a.m. sharp, the team gathered and boarded the helicopter bound for the spaceport.
The rhythmic hum of the rotors wasn’t loud, but in the still, dark air, it felt like the ominous beat of a war drum, filling the silence with tension.
The ride to the warship was quiet, everyone lost in their thoughts.
Even Marty, who was usually quick with a sarcastic remark, kept his mouth shut and followed Lyra’s lead.
They all knew that out here, in the middle of enemy territory, their only chance of survival was sticking together.
After a quick spatial jump, they landed on Macraite’s second satellite. The commanding officer of the Legion of Nebulae was waiting for them. He greeted them with a look of relief, as if the cavalry had finally arrived.
"Thank god you’re here," he said, clearly stressed. "The situation’s bad. A group of lunatics has taken control of several experimental beasts and turned them into bioweapons. None of them can be allowed to leave the facility. We need you to help neutralize them."
The squad silently cursed him under their breath for treating them like expendable soldiers, but outwardly, they maintained their stoic salute.
As the Nebulae soldiers eyed Unit T9, they could sense the weight of death hanging over the team—the kind that comes from seeing too many close calls.
This wasn’t just another squad. These were hardened soldiers, and they’d been through hell and back.
Unfazed by the gravity of the situation, Wolf asked straight up, "How many men do they have? And how many beasts are we up against?"
His bluntness caught the commanding officer off guard, but he answered anyway, sending a chill down the spines of the squad.
The second satellite of Macraite wasn’t just some backwater outpost. It had a human-friendly atmosphere, unique ecosystems, and several high-security research facilities.
The place had been a prime target for rogue scientists and shady organizations for years. The settlements and labs supported some wild experiments—sometimes too wild for comfort.
One of the organizations they were dealing with now, "the Psycos" had a notorious reputation. These guys were obsessed with bio-engineering creatures into war machines, pushing biology to its absolute limit.
They’d take any animal, any creature, and enhance it until it became a weapon of mass destruction.
And then they’d sell these monsters to the highest bidder, no matter how dangerous or unstable they were.
"We’ve pinpointed their main base," the officer explained, "but we don’t have all the intel. You’ll need to scout the area first."
"Scout" was just a polite way of saying they’d be sent in first to face the brunt of the danger.
Lyra, already familiar with the Psycos’ work, knew this wasn’t just some routine mission. While it didn’t seem connected to Ansel, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all linked somehow.
Wolf snapped into action. "Level six and above, step forward. Ryan, you’ll lead the advance team. Scout the area, figure out what we’re dealing with."
Chapter 214: Infiltrating the Psycos
Ryan, Lyra, and the rest of their group crouched low behind a rocky outcrop, quietly observing the landscape with sharp, silent focus.
The seemingly endless plain stretched out like a green sea. The tall wild grass swayed with the wind, rippling like waves on a stormy ocean.
Suddenly, a woman on a lev-cycle zoomed across the field, her speed leaving a trail of wind that made the grass whip and thrash.
Then, out of nowhere, a glowing tentacle of light shot up from the dense greenery, wrapping around her like the limb of some monstrous creature from the deep.
It gripped her tightly but released her just as fast, unharmed.
A while later, "the woman" reappeared. She continued her path, as if such incidents were a common occurrence.
She rode toward a small, nondescript hill, where she brought the lev-cycle to a halt.
With a quick tap on her opticomputer, a hidden platform appeared beneath her feet and quietly lowered her into the ground.
This was no ordinary hill—this was the covert entrance to the Psycos’ secret base.
Once inside, the security measures were ironclad. Access required a fingerprint scan at the door, followed by a DNA verification in a decontamination chamber.
These high-tech procedures were all pieces of information the team had extracted from the woman’s mind, using hypnosis to pull every detail they’d need to ensure the mission went smoothly.
Lyra had been asked to take on the dangerous task of infiltrating the base, something she agreed to without hesitation.
There was a lot riding on this—she needed to find out if the Psycos were connected to Ansel and the shadowy figure she had been chasing for so long.
The Psycos might not have been a massive organization like some notorious space pirates, but what they lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in cutting-edge technology and the brilliance of their members.
Disguised as Vesna, the woman they’d observed earlier, Lyra moved through the bright, clinical corridors of the base.
Most of the people she passed wore white lab coats—scientists whose faces could’ve easily been plucked from wanted posters, notorious for their intellectual crimes.
They barely acknowledged her, too engrossed in their own work to bother with small talk.
Carrying a metal cage, Lyra blended seamlessly into her surroundings. She moved through the sterile hallways like a shadow. She was close to her objective when an older man called out.
"Vesna, did you get what we needed?"
Lyra lifted the cage, revealing two large eggs resting inside. "Got them. Should I take them to the modification chamber?"
The man nodded curtly. "Yeah, come with me. The boss wants to see the progress firsthand."
Without a word, Lyra fell into step behind him. Her face was calm but her mind was racing with calculations.
She kept her eyes down, masking the intense thoughts brewing within her.
Ivo, the leader of the Psycos was not an average criminal mastermind. He was a level-eight Peculiar with the superpower that was both rare and terrifying—he could communicate with non-human creatures without relying on psychokinesis.
This allowed him to study and control them in ways no one else could.
To make matters worse, his psychokinetic abilities were also top-tier, giving him the power to manipulate multiple high-level beasts at once. His very short name struck terror in the hearts of those in the Alliance.
They arrived at the gene modification chamber, where about ten other researchers had already gathered.
In the center of the room stood a massive metal cage, inside of which a small Windrider cub whined pitifully.
The researchers’ eyes gleamed with excitement when they spotted the cage Lyra was carrying.
"Finally!" one of them exclaimed, practically buzzing with excitement. "If this works, we’ll have created the first-ever dual-powered beast!"
Lyra’s mind spun as she processed the information. This was huge. She wondered if Ivo was connected to the man she had been chasing all this time.
A raspy voice interrupted her thoughts. "Vesna, bring the eggs here."
It was Ivo. Despite his scholarly appearance, something about him was deeply unsettling, especially the look in his eyes—intelligent but tinged with madness.
Lyra approached, placing the cage beside the whimpering Windrider cub. The creature let out another small cry, and Ivo’s gaze lingered on it before shifting back to her.
"Vesna," he said, his voice dripping with suspicion, "where exactly did you go on your way back?"
Lyra felt her heart hammering in her chest, but her face remained an unreadable mask. "I came straight back," she said calmly, her voice giving nothing away.
Ivo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Without warning, he pressed a button on the control panel next to him. "The cub is telling me that your scent... has changed."
In an instant, laser turrets emerged from the walls, their red sights locking onto her with deadly precision.
The room fell deathly silent.
The researchers, unshaken by the sudden shift in atmosphere, began backing away methodically.
They retreated toward hidden exits with an eerie calmness.
Lyra moved fast, grabbing the nearest researcher and using him as a human shield.
However, before she could even consider her next move, a single, precise shot rang out.
The man in her grasp went limp as a bullet tore through his skull, spraying blood across the sterile white walls.
He crumpled in her arms, lifeless.
Ivo lowered his gun with chilling composure, his voice as cold as ice. "I didn’t think the Alliance’s hounds would sniff us out so quickly."
As if his words were the trigger, a barrage of energy beams erupted from every corner of the room, converging on her like a swarm of angry hornets.
It seemed like Lyra’s fate was sealed—there was no way she could survive the onslaught.
But instead of crumbling under the attack, she unleashed a ferocious counterstrike.
Blinding tentacles of green energy lashed out from her like wild vines, snaking through the room and extending into the still-open doorways.
In seconds, the pristine lab was drenched in blood, white coats stained crimson as bodies hit the floor.
Despite the massacre of his subordinates, Ivo’s expression barely shifted. If anything, a twisted gleam of excitement flickered in his eyes.
"I know who you are, Lyra," he said with dark satisfaction. "What a shame you’re not a beast. You’d make the perfect subject for my experiments."
Lyra’s hand glowed with energy as she prepared to blast him, but before she could strike, Ivo’s foot tapped a hidden panel on the floor, and he disappeared through an escape hatch.
The floor swallowed him in an instant, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.
Lyra didn’t waste time giving chase. Instead, she tapped her comm device.
"Mission compromised. Ivo’s gone," she reported, keeping her voice steady.
Not one to let time slip away, she quickly hacked into Vesna’s opticomputer, navigating through layers of security to locate the base’s central control room.
When she arrived, the researchers inside were already scrambling to delete data.
Without hesitation, she sliced through the lead scientist, halting the deletion process in its tracks.
Her fingers flew over the controls, transferring whatever remained onto a storage device. A few more keystrokes brought up the base’s full layout, including hidden exits and evacuation routes.
Lyra swiftly uploaded the data to her team outside.
The alarms blared loudly now, the once-quiet base erupting into chaos. Members of the Psycos Organization rushed to escape, but they were like mice fleeing a burning building—only to be caught in a trap the moment they emerged.
Outside, Ryan was in command of the containment efforts. "We’ve got fewer than expected," he said over the comms, urgency creeping into his voice. "And Lyra hasn’t come out yet."
"Hold steady," Wolf’s voice came through, calm and authoritative. "Block the exits. Tell Lyra to find Ivo."
No one was taking this lightly. The real threat wasn’t the researchers or the base—it was the creatures lurking within. The genetically modified beasts that Ivo had at his disposal could turn the tide of battle at any moment.
Deep underground, Lyra scanned the monitors and quickly pinpointed Ivo’s location.
He was in a massive cylindrical chamber that looked like some kind of twisted garage, lined with cages of grotesque creatures.
Ivo stood casually atop one of those cages, perched on the head of a monstrosity that defied all logic—a mix of writhing octopus tentacles and a werewolf-like torso.
"This discovery is a nuisance," Ivo said aloud, his voice carrying a dangerous calm. "But it does provide a perfect chance to test my creations against the Alliance."
He tapped a few buttons on a translucent control panel, and the sound of locks clicking echoed through the chamber.
It was followed by the heavy clank of chains hitting the floor, like the distant rumble of a coming storm.
Lyra’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t wait. She bolted, sending a quick message to her team: "Ivo has released all the modified beasts. Estimate 3,000. Brace yourselves."
Before her message had even finished transmitting, an ear-splitting roar shook the base.
The creatures burst from their cages with terrifying force, ripping through walls and structures like they were made of paper.
On the surface, Ryan and the rest of the team felt the tremors beneath their feet.
The ground heaved violently, cracking open like an egg as a flood of mutated beasts surged out.
They came in all shapes and sizes, their grotesque forms twisted beyond recognition.
Fangs gnashed, claws tore at the earth, and toxic sludge dripped from their mouths—each one more monstrous than the last.
Ryan wiped sweat from his brow. He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose, trying to stay focused amidst the chaos.
Wolf’s voice barked over the comms: "Engage!"
The Special Forces leapt into action, climbing into their mechas and charging toward the incoming horde.
This was what they had trained for, but even with all their preparation, none of them could predict how brutal the battle would become.
Thoughts of Lyra’s survival faded—they were all on the edge of their own deaths now.
The initial wave of beasts was manageable. Their lower-level mutations were no match for the military mechas.
The second wave, however, brought larger, deadlier creatures.
"Help—!"
One soldier’s desperate plea was cut short as the tentacles of an octopus-werewolf hybrid snapped him in half before he could finish.
Bruce watched in horror as the creature tore the man apart like a rag doll.
"Bruce, move!" Marty’s urgent warning barely reached him in time. A massive tentacle came crashing down, aiming to flatten Bruce and his mecha.
Frantic, Bruce activated his superpower, struggling to get the machine to move.
It felt like he was trapped in slow motion, the controls sluggish under his panicked touch.
’This can’t be it...’ His mind raced, terror flooding every fiber of his being as the shadow of the tentacle loomed over him.
But just before it could strike, a searing green flash sliced through the air, cleanly severing the tentacle in half.
Chapter 215: Conflicts
The severed tentacle slammed into the ground beside Bruce, the force rattling his bones. Relief barely had a moment to sink in before dread surged through him again.
Before his eyes, the octopus-Werewolf hybrid’s mutilated limb regenerated almost instantly, growing back as if nothing had ever happened.
"You’ve gotta be kidding me!" Bruce gasped, his voice shaking.
They had known these mutated beasts were dangerous, but this—this was something else.
The higher-level creatures didn’t just fight—they were practically invincible with regeneration capabilities far beyond what anyone had anticipated.
Lyra, now squared off against the towering creature, looked like an ant facing a giant, even inside her sleek mecha.
Without warning, the beast launched a deadly attack, spewing a corrosive green liquid that rained down from above.
The acid splattered across the battlefield, sizzling through mecha armor like it was paper. Those fortunate enough to only catch a few drops retreated quickly, but those directly doused were disintegrated, leaving nothing behind—not even the bones.
Reacting with lightning speed, Lyra launched herself out of her mecha before it could be hit. She summoned shimmering energy shields beneath her feet like stepping stones in midair.
Then, she raced toward the beast’s head, her energy blades flashing in her hands.
Moving with deadly precision, she slashed through the air, her blades cutting so swiftly that only streaks of light could be seen.
In one fluid motion, she sliced through the creature’s toxic-spewing mouth, severing it cleanly.
The beast immediately began to regenerate, its tissue knitting together grotesquely. But Lyra wasn’t done.
She hurled a concentrated surge of deep green energy into the gaping wound.
The regeneration process went haywire, causing the beast’s body to swell and contort, mutating uncontrollably.
Within seconds, the creature exploded in a violent display of blood and flesh, its remains splattering across the battlefield in a grotesque rain of gore.
Watching from the shadows, Ivo’s dull gray eyes gleamed with a strange mix of anger and excitement.
"So, the rumors are true..." he muttered under his breath.
His moment of stillness didn’t last long.
A chill crept down his spine as Lyra’s gaze locked onto him, sharp and unrelenting.
Without wasting a second, he tapped the side of the beast he was riding. It spread its enormous wings and shot into the sky, carrying Ivo away in a desperate attempt to escape.
"Target sighted—it’s Ivo!" Wolf’s voice erupted over the comms, excitement bleeding through his usually calm demeanor. "Everyone, after him!"
But before they could act, one of the Legion of Nebulae’s commanders cut in, "Ivo is our target. You handle the beasts!"
The power-hungry faction was looking to snatch the credit for themselves.
’Damn them’
, Wolf cursed silently. He knew exactly what the Nebulae commander was playing at—they wanted to claim the glory, leaving the rest to clean up the chaos.
Wolf wasn’t about to let that happen, not after everything his team had sacrificed.
"We’ve already neutralized most of the threat," Wolf shot back. "You’ve got the resources to finish the job. We’re going after Ivo!"
With that, Wolf didn’t wait for a response. He and the remaining T9 members jumped onto their hoverboards and shot off in pursuit of Ivo.
There was no way they were going to let the leader of the Psycos slip through their fingers.
Reluctantly, the Nebulae commander barked orders for his troops to assist. They couldn’t afford to lose face now.
High above, Ivo’s monstrous mount soared over the vast plains, its wings cutting through the air with terrifying speed. Behind him, soldiers in white uniforms and various squads followed closely, racing to capture the fleeing criminal mastermind.
"We need to take down that beast before it gets too far!" Wolf’s voice crackled over the comms, urgency creeping into his tone as they struggled to keep pace.
Suddenly, a blur shot past Wolf, leaving him squinting in surprise.
It was Lyra.
"That rookie is really trying to show off," Wolf muttered under his breath, pushing his board to its limit to keep up.
Lyra, undeterred and single-minded in her focus, closed in on the creature.
Reaching out with her psychokinesis, she made contact with the beast’s mind.
The second Ivo sensed her intrusion, it was already too late—Lyra wrested control from him in a heartbeat.
The creature, now confused and disoriented, thrashed wildly in mid-air before spiraling out of control. It plummeted toward the ground, dragging Ivo down with it, both crashing into the dense forest below.
A tense silence fell over the air as every soldier locked their sights on the fallen target. They dived toward the forest like hawks on wounded prey.
Lyra hit the ground first, but as she readied herself to move in, Wolf’s furious voice blasted through her earpiece. "Lyra, stand down! I ORDER you not to act alone!"
’Now’s not the time for this,’ Lyra thought bitterly, ignoring the command.
She rushed forward, weaving between the trees. Her instincts screamed that time was running out.
The forest felt wrong, heavy with a strange, unnatural tension.
She wasn’t the only one who felt it. Wolf and his team stormed into the clearing just behind her, their boots crunching on the undergrowth.
"You reckless fool!" Wolf thundered, stomping toward her. He grabbed her arm harshly, his large frame towering over her like a scolding parent. "When you’re under my command, you follow orders. Or I swear, you’ll regret it."
His voice dripped with anger, but as he met Lyra’s eyes—cold, unreadable, like the depths of a dark ocean—his grip slackened. A shiver ran down his spine.
Lyra’s reply was low, but firm. "Understood, sir."
Wolf’s grip on Lyra’s arm tightened, his voice dripping with condescension as he glared at her. "Your eyes say otherwise," he muttered, suspicion etched into every word.
Lyra’s ambition and undeniable strength gnawed at his insecurities, threatening his authority in ways he could barely admit to himself.
Before he could dig deeper into his interrogation, one of his soldiers interrupted with an urgent report. "Sir, Ivo is just up ahead."
Seizing the opportunity to redirect the situation, Lyra kept her expression neutral as Wolf released her arm.
With a patronizing smirk, he patted her cheek mockingly. "Good choice," he sneered.
Then he hopped back onto his hoverboard, speeding ahead.
He was confident that Ivo would be easy prey. In his mind, the Psycos leader was nothing more than a weak beast-speaker, no match for his team.
Lyra, ever composed, fell in line behind the others, maintaining a low profile.