Ch. 216..220: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 216-220

Chapter 216: A Nightmarish Zoo

Marty slowed as he passed Lyra. "Tried to show Wolf up, huh? How’d that work out for ya?" He snickered, clearly enjoying himself.

Lyra, unbothered, gave him no response, her eyes scanning the area.

Flying beside her, Bruce gave her a grateful nod. "Thanks for saving my ass earlier, ma’am." His tone was sincere, a rare moment of respect from the usually sarcastic soldier.

"Hmm," Lyra acknowledged with a simple nod before they moved through the dense, decaying forest.

Up ahead, Marty’s voice rang out again. "Hey, Bruce! Keep up, or we’ll leave you behind!"

Bruce shot Lyra an apologetic glance and sped forward to rejoin the others.

Despite the signal that Ivo had crashed nearby, their search through the murky, foul woods proved to be more complicated than expected.

Drones combed the area, but instead of Ivo, they kept finding more frenzied, genetically modified beasts roaming the forest.

It was as if the entire area had become a nightmarish zoo of experiments gone wrong.

The deeper they ventured, the worse the stench of decay became. Even Lyra, whose senses were heightened, had to slip on a filter mask to suppress the overpowering odor.

As they advanced, her superpower flickered—a strange, tingling sensation, a warning she had learned not to ignore. Something was off.

"Movement up ahead!" a soldier called out, causing the squad to rush forward in unison.

Lyra’s instincts screamed at her to be cautious. She hurried to warn Wolf. "We should be careful—"

But Wolf silenced her with an icy glare. "I said FOLLOW orders," he growled, dismissing her concern without a second thought.

Biting her tongue, Lyra stayed silent as the squad pressed onward.

They soon rounded a dense cluster of trees, and what they found stopped them cold.

Emerging from the shadows were towering, humanoid creatures—nearly three meters tall.

At first, they resembled humans, but upon closer inspection, it became horrifyingly clear that they were anything but.

Their bodies were elongated, with brick-red, segmented tails making up half their length.

Thick hind legs supported their grotesque forms, which were equipped with four muscular arms.

Topping off their disturbing appearance were long antennae, twitching atop their heads.

Despite their monstrous appearance, the creatures wore lab coats—ripped and tattered, but unmistakably the garb of researchers.

Beneath their grotesque forms, traces of humanity still lingered.

Men, women, even children. Whatever they had once been, they were now something else entirely.

"Is this some kind of Therianthropy superpower?" someone muttered nervously, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Wolf was undeterred by the grotesque sight. He stepped forward, his voice cold and authoritative.

He was about to find answers when, the creatures dropped the massive metal crates they had been carrying.

Their mouths split open with a sickening crack, revealing oversized mandibles that gleamed with a razor-sharp sheen.

In an instant, one of the creatures lunged at a nearby soldier, its mandibles snapping shut around his head.

The gut-wrenching crunch of bone and flesh echoed through the forest, triggering a wave of panic.

"Retreat!" someone shouted as soldiers scrambled, trying to gain altitude on their hoverboards. But their efforts were futile.

The ant-like creatures possessed astonishing leaping abilities, springing into the air like coiled springs and dragging soldiers back down to the ground, ripping into them with terrifying speed and ferocity.

Even seasoned fighters like Marty, with his Therianthropy powers, and Rowena, who wielded immense force abilities, were struggling to fend off the brutal assault.

The soldiers quickly realized the grim truth: they were in a fight for survival—kill or be killed.

The Legion of Nebulae hesitated, unsure whether they were fighting former humans, while the Special Forces wasted no time. Their blades flashed as they slashed through the ant-people, cleaving them in two with ruthless efficiency.

But the battle was far from over. A haunting rustling sound began to grow louder, like the grinding of stone against stone.

The squad’s eyes darted around as they realized the full scope of their predicament—the trees, the ground, everywhere—they were surrounded by these monstrous ant-people.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of them, all clacking their massive mandibles in unison, producing a nightmarish, rhythmic sound that crawled beneath the skin.

And then came the venom.

The larger ant-creatures, towering over the rest, suddenly began spewing jets of acidic fluid from their mouths.

The sickening hiss of acid striking flesh filled the air as the corrosive substance melted through armor, flesh, and bone alike.

Agonized screams pierced the battlefield as soldiers writhed in pain, their bodies dissolving where the acid had made contact.

Wolf’s teeth clenched as he unleashed his power, his fists igniting with a roaring inferno.

A massive lion-shaped flame surged ahead, carving out a narrow escape route through the swarming ant-people.

"Retreat!" he shouted as he blasted apart the approaching enemies.

Marty moved quickly, his Therianthropy abilities enhancing his agility. He hoisted Bruce, who was barely conscious, along with another teammate who had collapsed.

"Let’s go!" Marty urged, his voice filled with urgency.

Bruce weakly shook his head, barely able to form words. "Leave us... don’t risk it, Marty," he croaked.

"Shut up!" Marty snapped, pushing through the pain and exhaustion. But his progress was slow with the weight of his comrades dragging him down.

Thick streams of acid rained down from the sky, and Marty, burdened by the others, was hit directly.

The searing pain was unbearable as the corrosive substance ate through his armor, burning into his skin. But he refused to abandon his teammates, even as the situation became more dire.

Despite their desperate retreat, the ant-people pursued them relentlessly, faster than anyone anticipated.

The soldiers’ hoverboards had been destroyed in the chaos, and they soon found themselves surrounded.

Thinking quickly, one of their Geokinesis teammates raised a stone platform beneath them, providing a temporary refuge from the horde below.

But the situation was grim. The ant-people, disturbingly intelligent, began spitting acid onto the stone platform. Their corrosive saliva slowly ate through the platform as they tried to climb up the sides.

The air was thick with tension as cracks started forming under the assault.

"What the hell are these things?" Marty panted as he carefully lay down Bruce and the other wounded. Panic gripped his chest as he checked their pulses. "They need treatment now!"

Chapter 217: Wolf’s Death

Wolf, injured but still standing, glanced over at Marty with a grim expression.

"We all need help," he muttered, wiping blood from his brow. "Get a signal out for reinforcements, now."

Ryan’s face fell. "We can’t... the signal’s jammed. I didn’t even realize until now. Ivo had us chasing him so hard, we didn’t see the trap."

The realization hung heavy in the air—this whole situation was an ambush. Victory wasn’t on anyone’s mind anymore. Survival was.

Amid the despair, Lyra stepped forward, gripping her hoverboard. "I’ll go back for help," she said firmly.

For a moment, a flicker of hope passed through the group at the sight of the hoverboard. But Wolf’s expression darkened.

He stepped closer to Lyra, towering over her. "You’re a healer, right?" he asked, his voice low, eyes sharp.

"Yes," Lyra responded steadily.

Wolf’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "Then I order you to stay and treat the injured. Give me the hoverboard."

His outstretched hand was more of a demand than a request, the intent clear. He was abandoning them.

Everyone’s eyes widened as they realized what Wolf was planning. His years of surviving the Special Forces weren’t built on loyalty or leadership—they were built on saving his own skin.

"Wolf, you coward!" one of the Legion of Nebulae officers shouted, stepping forward in protest. "If anyone’s going for help, it should be us. You need to fight with your men!"

The officer barely finished his sentence before Wolf shoved him off the platform without a second thought. His scream echoed for only a second before the ant-people jumped on him, tearing him apart in a grotesque display of violence.

The squad watched in horror as the officer’s blood splattered across the ground below.

Wolf turned back to Lyra, his gaze hard and cold. "Don’t forget who’s in charge here," he hissed.

With no other choice, Lyra handed over the hoverboard.

Wolf barely acknowledged her as he mounted it, his movements swift and selfish.

The engine whirred to life, and in moments, he was airborne, flying off into the night, leaving his comrades behind to face the carnage alone.

Ryan shook his head in defeat. "Don’t worry," he tried to comfort Lyra, though his voice wavered. "We’ll hold out a little longer."

But Lyra’s face was set, her eyes cold. "I have no intention of just sitting here."

Before Ryan could respond, a sputtering sound cut through the air.

The hoverboard, Wolf’s supposed ticket to safety, malfunctioned.

Its engines choked, trailing smoke before shutting down completely. Within seconds, the board plummeted, sending Wolf crashing into the swarm of ant-people below.

A collective shock spread through the group. The tables had turned. Now, Wolf was the one surrounded, helpless as the relentless swarm closed in.

"Help! Pull me up!" Wolf screamed in panic, flames shooting from his hands as he incinerated the closest creatures.

His level-eight superpower flared wildly, reducing dozens of the ant-people to ash.

But it wasn’t enough. For every one he burned, two more appeared, their numbers endless, their persistence unmatched.

Ryan instinctively moved to help, but Lyra stopped him with a calm, firm hand. "Wolf is already dead, SIR," she said in a quiet but resolute tone, deliberately stripping Wolf of his title and passing it to Ryan without hesitation.

Ryan froze. She was right. Even with his formidable strength, Wolf’s fate was sealed. The swarm would consume him before they could do anything.

Down below, Wolf’s fury burned bright as he unleashed wave after wave of flames.

The night sky glowed with the intensity of his power, but no matter how hard he fought, the ants swarmed over him.

At that moment, a massive ant queen emerged from the shadows, her grotesque body writhing as she advanced.

The most unsettling feature was her head—a disturbingly human face, unmistakably that of a woman, twisted into the nightmarish form of an insect.

The fusion of human and insect was both horrifying and surreal, and her presence sent a chilling wave of dread through the remaining soldiers.

Unlike the other creatures, the queen seemed utterly unfazed by Wolf’s fiery onslaught.

With a slow, deliberate movement, the queen spewed thick, viscous liquid, which shot through the air and latched onto Wolf, trapping him in place.

His flames sputtered as the sticky substance held him fast, immobilizing him.

The ant-people swarmed him immediately. Their relentless mandibles tore at his armor, but Wolf fought back with everything he had.

Flames still roared around him as he snarled up at the group standing helpless on the platform above.

"Damn it! I command you to pull me up!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse with desperation.

With a final, desperate surge, Wolf unleashed a massive wave of fire. That pushed himself upward, flames propelling him through sheer force of will.

For a brief moment, it seemed like he might actually escape. His hand stretched out toward the platform, fingers reaching for salvation.

But then, a glowing green tendril shot through the air, a whip-like lash of energy aimed directly at him.

Wolf lunged to grab it—his last chance.

But he grasped nothing but air.

His eyes widened in horror as the reality of the situation crashed down on him. There would be no rescue. There would be no last-minute save.

Below him, the ant queen opened her massive, plant-like jaws and snapped them shut with terrifying finality.

Her crushing mandibles tore into Wolf’s body, and the sickening sound of bones snapping and flesh being devoured echoed across the battlefield.

His flames were extinguished as he disappeared within her maw, the brutal crunch of his body being consumed sending a shockwave of silence over the platform.

The soldiers stood frozen, paralyzed by what they had just witnessed.

The color drained from their faces as they stared at the grotesque scene, unable to look away from the horrifying end of their squad leader.

Slowly, their gazes shifted to Lyra, standing motionless, her expression unreadable.

"It’s my fault," Lyra said, her voice calm and indifferent, almost as if she were commenting on something trivial. "I couldn’t pull Wolf to safety."

There was something unnerving about her tone, so detached, so devoid of any real emotion. Yet, no one dared blame her. In fact, they began to subtly edge away, as if recognizing the cold, dangerous force that lay behind her dispassionate words.

Marty, still trembling from the terror of what he had just seen, turned to Lyra, desperation in his voice. "Please, Lyra... Bruce and the others... they need healing. They’re dying."

For a moment, Lyra remained silent, her eyes focused on the chaotic swarm of ant-people below.

Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, she unsheathed two gleaming swords.

Marty’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding with fear as an icy chill ran down his spine.

For a terrifying second, he thought she might turn on them.

But Lyra’s voice broke the tension, her words dripping with mockery. "How foolish," she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "You expect me to waste my power healing people in THIS situation?"

Marty’s heart sank, dread curling in his gut as her gaze swept over the battlefield with a dark glint in her eyes. She had no intention of tending to the wounded. Her eyes gleamed with a hunger for something else entirely.

"The only way to survive now," Lyra continued, her voice sharp and cutting, "is to kill all the enemies."

Without another word, she leapt off the platform, her twin swords flashing as she plunged headfirst into the teeming horde of ant-creatures below.

Chapter 218: Doctor Mystery

The moment Lyra spotted the ant-people, it clicked—they were the very creatures mentioned in Brian’s files.

Everything about the situation screamed that someone had set them up, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that now.

Below the platform, the ant-people swarmed like a living tidal wave.

The clear blue sky above was suddenly filled with green orbs, which rained down like a violent storm. They sliced through the mass of ant-people, slowing their advance, but only by a bit.

The group atop the platform was frozen, staring in disbelief at the chaotic scene unfolding beneath them.

Then, a chilling sensation crawled down their backs.

Amidst the chaos, Lyra alone danced through the battle with terrifying grace. She wielded twin blades that moved like flowing ribbons, cutting down the ant-people with surgical precision.

One of the creatures spat its venom, but before it could land, a glowing shield appeared around her, deflecting the acidic attack effortlessly.

The shield then morphed into sharp bands of light that sliced through her enemies, leaving a wake of destruction.

Her speed and strength—without even tapping into her powers—left the group in stunned silence.

"What kind of monster is that?" Marty whispered, barely able to contain the fear in his voice.

Strangely enough, his fear of this woman was even greater than his fear of the ant-creatures. Still, a tiny flicker of hope sparked within him. Maybe she could be their way out.

Overhead, small drones buzzed like pesky mosquitoes, capturing every second of Lyra’s fierce battle.

Somewhere far away, in a dim control room, a man in a black metallic mask sat, watching the live feed.

His fingers were gnarled, like old tree roots, and his eyes gleamed with unsettling amusement.

"As always, impressive," he muttered to himself.

Just then, the woman in the footage looked up, her sharp gaze cutting through the air.

"Heh, a little too sharp for her own good."

With that, he flicked off the screen.

At that exact moment, the control room door flew open, and Ivo stumbled in, gasping for air. "Sir...sir! They’re coming to take you!"

The masked man sighed as if dealing with a troublesome child. He pointed one bony finger toward him. "Didn’t you lead them right to me?"

Ivo’s face went pale with terror. "Sir, I didn’t mean to—"

A sharp sound echoed through the room, and a small, perfect hole appeared in Ivo’s chest.

Blood splattered the floor as his lifeless body slumped.

The masked man withdrew his finger, indifferent. "Enough distractions. Time to move."

Outside, back in the forest, Lyra took down yet another drone with frightening accuracy, her strikes growing more desperate.

She was starting to wear down, her breathing ragged from the effort.

Rowena was leaning against a rock with her broken leg, and she bit her lip in frustration. "She’s out of juice," she muttered, hands clenched tightly. She hated being useless in the fight.

Lyra had been giving it her all for nearly thirty minutes, pushing herself to the very edge of her limits. Yet, despite her incredible effort, half of the ant-people remained.

That fragile spark of hope that had briefly ignited in the group was now dimming, replaced by a crushing sense of impending doom.

As Lyra fought, she was forced back to a stone pillar, collapsing against it.

Ryan immediately reached out to her. "Grab my hand, come on!"

If only Lyra could summon her light band, she might’ve escaped. But instead, the green glow vanished from her hands, and she was swallowed by the advancing swarm of ant-people.

Ryan’s face twisted in anger. "What the hell are you doing?!" he screamed.

Then, something changed.

The air shifted, growing thick with moisture. In seconds, it began to freeze, forming dazzling ice crystals in the air.

A biting cold descended on the battlefield, making everyone shiver.

Before anyone could react, the ice spread like raging flood.

Razor-sharp spikes of blood-stained ice pierced through the ant-people, turning them into grotesque statues, their bodies frozen mid-motion. All except the queen, who writhed in fear at the center of the battlefield.

The cold continued to creep over the scene, its chilling tendrils making the survivors on the platform shake uncontrollably.

"Are we... actually safe?" Bruce stammered, tears welling in his eyes.

Just moments ago, they’d all believed they were as good as dead. Yet somehow, against all odds, Lyra had saved them from the jaws of certain doom.

The group stood frozen at the doorway, still reeling from what they had just witnessed.

None of them dared to make eye contact with Lyra, afraid of the raw fury that had burned in her eyes moments earlier.

But within seconds, the sword in Lyra’s hand shimmered, retracting into a sleek metallic ball before vanishing into her Space Button.

The change in her demeanor was just as swift—cold and collected, as if nothing had happened.

Ryan snapped out of his shock and quickly started barking orders, directing the team to handle Ivo’s body and gather any remaining evidence from the scene.

To their surprise, everything was still there. Nothing had been destroyed or wiped—experimental logs, the origins of the test subjects, and even the names of the financial backers funding this hellish operation.

It was all laid out in meticulous detail, almost too convenient. The more they uncovered, the heavier their mood became. They exchanged uneasy glances; each new revelation tugged them deeper into a web far more sinister than they’d anticipated.

Now and then, someone would steal a glance at Lyra, curious about how she was handling all of this. But she remained disturbingly calm, almost as if she’d expected it.

It was as though everything, from the experiments to the funding, had been set up for her to find. And every trail led back to one name: Ansel.

The breadcrumbs seemed too deliberate, as if he had left them for her like a twisted game of cat and mouse.

Without missing a beat, Lyra copied the entire data set and stored it safely in her Space Button.

The team worked to secure the area, preparing for the Alliance Investigation Bureau and the oversight department to arrive. Soon enough, the gravity of the discovery reached the highest ranks, forcing them to oversee the entire operation personally.

Lyra leaned casually against the doorway, her eyes following the workers as they carefully transferred the glass columns holding the monstrous test subjects.

Her mind drifted, pondering Ansel. ’How must he feel now?’

Years ago, he had turned his back on his own family for the greater good. Yet, here he was, his name now entangled with imperial spies and black-market experiments.

The irony was thick—funny even—and it gnawed at her, though she showed no sign of it on the surface.

The mission had come at a high cost. The Special Force had taken heavy casualties. Many were so severely injured that they couldn’t return to Elden Prime anytime soon.

For now, the survivors were stationed on the satellite, allowing their wounds to heal.

With Wolf dead, Ryan was forced to maintain some semblance of order. But despite his role, he knew better than to try to control Lyra. He had seen firsthand how she had executed Wolf without hesitation, her ruthlessness chilling him to the bone.

Ryan feared her—he feared how she erased anything in her way, human or otherwise.

What surprised him most, though, was how cooperative Lyra had been since the mission ended. She followed orders without a single complaint, never stepping out of line.

Ryan couldn’t quite understand it, but he felt relieved for her unexpected compliance.

Just as Lyra was beginning to settle into a fragile routine, trying to recover from the chaos, a shocking piece of news hit her: a level-nine strength-enhancing plant was going up for auction on Macraite.

Chapter 219: The Last Soul Spike

Lyra’s eyes skimmed across the listings from Macraite’s biggest auction house until one item stopped her cold—a level-nine strength-enhancing plant up for grabs.

This kind of high-powered item was usually tucked away in secret auctions, hidden from prying eyes. But here it was, posted publicly, just begging for anyone with deep enough pockets or enough clout to come after it.

It felt like an open dare, tantalizing bait meant to snag only the most daring—or desperate—of buyers.

Moments later, Morrison’s hologram materialized in front of Lyra, his expression already serious. He’d seen the listing too. "Our intel suggests the Shedd family has their hands all over this auction house. Word is, Ansel himself put that plant up for sale."

The setup couldn’t be clearer if they’d hung a flashing sign on it: this was a trap aimed right at Lyra. The Shedds knew her well enough to understand that no one wanted a level-nine strength-enhancer as badly as she did.

Morrison glanced at her, his voice almost cautious. "Are you going for it, boss?"

Lyra’s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Only one Soul Spike left," she murmured, almost to herself.

Just one more piece.

No one else understood her drive for an unshackled, untouchable freedom—a power she’d spent years clawing toward.

Morrison didn’t need more details; he got it. "Should we rally our level-nine Peculiars?"

Lyra knew the plant’s presence was bound to attract the strongest of the strong.

Among Peculiars, there was this strange, unwritten rule: level-nines and above avoided direct confrontation unless absolutely necessary. No one knew why, but both the Empire and the Alliance stuck to it. So as long as that code held, she only had to prep for whatever they might throw her way.

"No. Not worth it," she decided. "Once we get our hands on it, even allies might switch sides if the reward’s right."

Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford. If the Shedds were parading this plant in the open, they had more than a simple transaction in mind. She was ready to see just how far they’d go to rope her in.

But she wasn’t one to walk in unprepared. After setting a few plans with Morrison, Lyra prepped for her departure.

The next morning, she squared things with Ryan for a brief leave and boarded a shuttle to Macraite’s floating city.

This city—an entire island held above the ocean—lived up to its reputation. And Universal, the Shedds’ crown jewel auction house, stood tall in the center of it all, as influential as the family who owned it and known throughout the Alliance.

The minute she disembarked, she felt the attention snapping to her, eyes following her every move. And as soon as she walked into Universal and registered for a VIP pass, the news reached the top floor without delay.

"She’s here, Grandpa Ansel," reported a young man in a sharp, fitted suit, addressing Ansel in his top-floor office.

Today, Ansel had swapped his military attire for a sleek, black suit with understated gray pinstripes. The suit fit the air of a sophisticated businessman, but his eyes had a hard, calculating gleam that signaled not to be underestimated.

"Should we bring her up?" the young man asked.

Ansel shook his head slowly, a calculating smile playing on his lips. "Let her stew until the auction kicks off. She won’t be leaving without that plant."

Lyra settled into the VIP lounge on the second floor, her gaze sweeping over the grand hall below.

It was already bustling, packed with the Alliance’s powerful and influential—military brass, politicians, aristocrats—all drawn to the allure of the legendary level-nine plant.

She was certain there’d be some level-nine Peculiars lurking in the crowd, too; nobody would risk putting up a fake in such esteemed company.

Right on cue, a manager bustled over to the entrance, his nerves visible.

The whole place buzzed with a palpable tension, as if the air itself was coiling up for what was to come. The game had been set, and Lyra was ready to play.

A sleek, high-end Lev vehicle slid to a halt outside the auction house, drawing attention with its effortless elegance.

A tall woman got out of the Lev, cutting a striking figure in a tailored black suit, topped with a flowing coat that swept around her with every step.

Removing her sunglasses with an air of practiced nonchalance, she revealed a pair of piercing eyes, the kind that seemed to miss nothing and hold no fear.

"Miss Shane, right this way! Your platinum suite is all set," the manager said, practically racing over to greet her, a grin so wide it etched deep lines into his face.

Shane returned his smile with one equally bold.

"Lead on," she replied, her voice smooth, as she strode confidently across the grand hall, her every step commanding attention.

"Anyone who has the manager at her beck and call must be dropping some serious billions—so, who’s she?" whispered a spectator.

"The Alliance is huge," someone murmured back. "Could be a major player from the underbelly."

Lyra heard the whispers and raised a brow, her lips curving in a smirk. "Seems they’re pulling out all the stops here," she thought, amused by the display.

Finally, the auction began.

With each new item introduced, the white-gloved host brought a dramatic flair, keeping the energy up as the hall filled to capacity, thick with anticipation.

It was clear everyone had shown up for one item in particular.

"And now," the host’s voice rang out, tinged with excitement, "the grand finale—a level-nine strength-enhancing plant’s fruit: Blazing Blood!"

Gasps rippled through the hall as a small, glowing box was placed on the stage. When the lid lifted, a fiery red light spilled out, like a flame contained within the fruit itself.

"This rare treasure," the host continued, his hands trembling, "was discovered a year ago beneath Macraite’s largest volcano. After thorough testing, it’s been verified to contain energy levels close to the peak of level nine."

The powerful Peculiars in the room were already emanating intense psychokinetic energies, thickening the air with an unspoken pressure.

"The consignor, however, is requesting a trade, not a purchase. Interested parties, please submit your trade items; selected candidates will be invited for private negotiations on the third floor."

The host quickly shut the box, which disappeared into the platform with no room for further inspection. The stakes had been set high, but everyone expected it with Ansel’s name on the line and the item’s value evident.

Buyers frantically submitted their most valuable trade items, hoping for a shot.

Disgruntled murmurs filled the air as bidders began to realize that not even high-end mecha cores were making the cut.

"What could he possibly want that would outshine all this?" one person muttered.

Only a handful of candidates were ultimately selected, and Lyra found herself among them—without even entering a bid. She’d been the first pick.

A quiet laugh escaped her; it was clearly a ploy. "The grandfather and granddaughter... they’re staging some family drama here, aren’t they?"

The woman next to her snickered, leaning in. "Oh, you don’t know? They hate each other’s guts. Rumor is, they’re both just waiting for the other to kick it."

But Lyra knew her presence was about more than just a trade. She was stepping into a showdown, a carefully laid trap.

Inside the elevator, her escort snuck glances at her reflection in the mirrored walls. She caught his gaze, meeting it in the reflection with eyes like ice. "Something wrong?" she asked, her voice chilling.

He quickly jerked his head away, swallowing hard. "N-no, Miss."

Today, the auction house had doubled down on security. Level-nine Peculiars were stationed everywhere, all tasked with monitoring her. Many of them seemed convinced she wasn’t leaving unscathed.

When the elevator doors slid open, her escort stepped aside, motioning her forward. She strode out, pausing only briefly before pushing open the door to the meeting room.

Ansel stood inside. He was leaning on a cane, his eyes sharpening as he watched her cross the room.

Taking a steady breath, Lyra stepped forward. She then closed the door behind her, and calmly took the seat opposite him, her gaze unwavering.

Ansel’s mouth curved into a mocking smile, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. "I didn’t expect you’d have the nerve to show up."

She met his look without flinching. "Nerve has nothing to do with it. I needed to be here."

Ansel’s eyes locked onto Lyra, unreadable and hard. They were like the depths of still, murky water.

"How does a defiant brat like you even carry the Shedd name?" he growled, his tone dripping with contempt. "Five Soul Spikes—enough to crush anyone. But you? You survived it, and you didn’t just endure; you turned it into something you could wield."

Lyra met his outburst with a cool indifference, brushing past his words as if they barely registered. "We’re here to discuss a trade, aren’t we?" she said, her voice calm, cutting straight to the heart of it. "What do you want, Ansel?"

Ansel’s expression turned even colder, his eyes narrowing. "And you actually think you’ll be leaving here tonight?"

Lyra’s gaze didn’t waver; if anything, it sharpened, meeting his icy threat with steel. "Let me guess—you’re after Schedar, aren’t you?"

The truth hung heavily between them.

If Ansel’s goal had been her death, he’d have never let her set foot in the building. No, the only reason he hadn’t struck yet was because he wanted something from her, something she alone possessed.

Considering his circumstances—the accusations, the mounting charges, and a growing need to vanish without a trace—only one prize made sense: Schedar, the key to his escape.

Chapter 220: Blazing Blood

As soon as the words left Lyra’s lips, a crushing force clamped down around her. The space closed in, rigid and unforgiving, locking her into place.

Ansel’s mouth twisted into a cold smirk. "Your biggest flaw," he sneered, "is your arrogance. Slipped away a couple of times, but don’t think for a second that luck’s gonna save you every time."

With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he commanded, "Take her away. I’ve got big plans for that Blazing Blood fruit and the wealth it’ll rake in."

As Lyra was hauled off, Ansel’s attention shifted to the next guest arriving in the room—Miss Shane.

Known for her keen business savvy and intimidating presence, she stepped in with a steady gaze, quickly noticing the high-tech cage designed to suppress all powers.

Inside, a young woman sat bound, power smothered by custom cuffs.

Shane raised a curious eyebrow. "And this...?" she asked with cool detachment.

"Nothing that concerns you," Ansel replied smoothly, motioning for her to sit. "Let’s focus on business."

Shane seated herself with practiced elegance, crossing her long legs in a single, graceful motion. "I’ve brought precisely what you wanted—either a high-grade energy stone mine or a plant capable of temporarily boosting superpowers. Both are level-eight, though I’m open to negotiating on quantity."

Ansel’s eyes gleamed; he’d specifically invited her here to access an energy stone mine. "Three cubic meters of level-eight energy stones," he declared, locking eyes with her.

She blinked, then laughed richly. "SIR, three cubic meters? You think I have energy stones just lying around for you to scoop up?"

Her voice, dripping with amused sarcasm, grated on Ansel. He clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his composure—she was a partner in this deal, not one of his underlings.

"Two cubic meters," he began, aiming to regain some control.

"One cubic meter," she cut in, her offer firm as steel. "Plus, I’ll throw in a level-eight plant that temporarily boosts superpowers. That’s as far as I’m willing to go."

Though Ansel knew the stone mine’s value far outweighed any rare plant, he couldn’t ignore the potential boost the plant could offer in a fight. She had backed him into a corner—and she knew it.

"Deal," he finally ground out, barely containing his irritation.

Shane’s eyes sparkled with victory as she clapped her hands, sealing the agreement. "A pleasure, sir. Shall we finalize it?"

Ansel nodded, signaling the auction staff to step forward and witness the transaction.

Each party revealed their assets: an uncut, amethyst-hued energy stone radiating a powerful glow, and a small metal box containing the precious plant.

The staff confirmed the authenticity of both items, officially sealing the deal.

Inside her cage, Lyra seethed, her fists clenched as she watched the transaction unfold.

Shane stowed her acquisitions into her Space Button, shooting Ansel a satisfied look. "I’ll take my leave now, sir."

Without waiting for a response, she exited the room with the same confident stride she’d entered with.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Lyra before she disappeared. She left a thick, tense silence in her wake.

Ansel exhaled slowly, organizing his new treasures before striding toward Lyra’s cage.

He leaned in close, his expression a twisted parody of sympathy. "Lyra, you’ve caused me more trouble than you’re worth. Now, what do you think would be a fitting punishment?"

His gaze zeroed in on her Space Button, and with a quick motion, he snatched it, eager to uncover its secrets. But as he attempted to pry it open, a realization hit him like ice—it was a decoy.

"Where’s the real one?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Lyra’s expression shifted as she leaned back. She crossed her arms, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Who’d be foolish enough to bring the real one right to your front door?"

Ansel’s face darkened with fury. Without hesitation, he unlocked the cage, yanked her out, and threw her to the floor. His boot drove into her stomach with brutal force. "I’ll ask you again—"

"You could ask a thousand times," she spat, voice shaking but defiant, a smear of blood on her teeth, "it wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t have it."

In an instant, the restraints on her powers fizzled away.

Lyra’s form rippled, her features shifting. And suddenly, there was no Lyra—but a bald-headed man, grinning smugly as he looked up at a thoroughly stunned Ansel.

Ansel’s eyes widened, disbelief freezing his expression. But before he could even process what had just happened, Freon tossed a gas bomb directly at him.

Out of instinct, Ansel inhaled, only for a wave of dizziness to slam into him, distorting his vision and scrambling his grasp on reality.

By the time the smoke cleared, Freon was gone, whisked away by a mysterious figure as the air shimmered around them, leaving only silence—and Ansel’s barely contained rage.

Clenching the fake Space Button in his fist, Ansel trembled with fury. It had all been an elaborate ruse, a complete setup!

As the pieces of the plot fell into place, realization struck him like a physical blow. ’The real Lyra... Had it been... Miss Shane?’

The truth hit him, cruel and undeniable. Lyra, expertly disguised, had walked right out with his coveted level-nine strength-enhancing plant, all while he had been none the wiser.

Barely able to contain his wrath, he bellowed, "Lock down the city! Every terminal, every exit—no one leaves until I say so!"

Meanwhile, Freon had already arrived at a safehouse, transported by a peculiar figure with a level-nine teleportation ability.

As the payment transferred, the old man, dressed sharply in a white suit, checked his account and gave a satisfied nod. His eyes, however, lingered on Freon with a knowing look.

"Kid," he said in a tone both calm and challenging, "you’re tied up with that girl who snagged the level-nine plant, aren’t you?"

Freon chuckled dryly, wiping blood from his mouth. "Listen, old man," he replied, wincing as he spoke, "if I were you, I’d keep a safe distance. Level-nine teleportation or not, it won’t save you if she decides you’re a problem."

The old man laughed, clearly unfazed. "Well, I’ve pocketed enough today, so I’ll keep my distance," he said with a wink before disappearing with a flash.

Freon stood in place, catching his breath, hands casually shoved into his pockets. But after a moment, he jolted into motion, muttering, "Man, I nearly bit the dust back there!"

Holding his aching side, he darted through back alleys, winding through the maze of the city until he finally slipped into a luxury apartment building.

Reaching a familiar door, he raised his hand to knock—but before he could, it swung open.

There, silhouetted in the doorway, stood a tall, slender woman with a look as icy as steel. One look at her and he felt that chill run through him. No mistaking it—this was HER.

"Boss... it’s really you?"

"Get in here." She didn’t have to say it twice. Freon darted inside, the weight of her command pushing him forward.

Once she’d bandaged his wounds, Freon collapsed onto her couch with a dramatic sigh, his cheeky grin returning. "Boss, I almost died out there! You seriously owe me for this one. How about setting me up with one of your girls—Mandy, Debbie, any of ’em really—"

His words cut off when he noticed her ice-cold stare, eyes like razors. "You’re getting awfully bold," Lyra muttered, her fingers lazily spinning a dagger. "And you brought a tail."

With a flick of her wrist, the dagger flew, embedding itself in what appeared to be empty space in the doorway. It clanged against something metallic before falling to the ground.

Freon nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes widening in alarm.

Moving like a striking snake, Lyra vaulted over the couch and drove her foot against the wall with explosive force.

The old teleporter was slammed against the window, his face a mask of shock as he tried to teleport away. But just as he prepared to vanish, a silver chain snapped around him, jerking him back mid-teleport.

"No way! How is this possible?!" the old man, Morrun, stammered, eyes darting wildly as he met the gaze of the woman holding the chain.

Lyra’s expression softened into a calculating smile that made Morrun’s blood run cold. "A volunteer, hmm? Not a bad bonus at all," she said, voice dripping with dark amusement.

Freon, suppressing a laugh, strolled up to the dazed Morrun, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "Didn’t I warn you, Morrun? You should’ve listened. You got paid to work with us before, but now? Well, now you’re working to save your own skin."

If Morrun could’ve hit rewind on the day, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Freon’s taunting smirk was like salt in Morrun’s wound, and he fought the urge to lash out.

Choking back his pride, Morrun leveled a furious glare at the woman in disguise. "This is impossible! You’re only level seven. How the hell do you have such powerful psychokinesis?"

He was a level-nine teleporter, after all. Combat might not be his specialty, but he shouldn’t have been left this vulnerable, especially by someone of her level. ’And that bizarre, flexible metal she wields like an extension of her own strength—just who is this woman?’

Lyra didn’t bother answering. She circled him slowly, sizing him up with a critical eye. "I was just wondering how to dodge Ansel’s tracking," she mused aloud. "But now that I have you... things just got much simpler."

Without another word, she wrapped a firm hand around his throat, her grip tightening with each word. "You have two choices," she said, voice steady and devoid of any hint of mercy. "Die here, or work for me. Your call."

Her grip grew stronger, squeezing the air from his lungs, until his head pounded with pain.

It was a disgrace, being overpowered by a level-seven Peculiar, but as Morrun vision started to blur, survival instincts kicked in.

With a strained gasp, he finally managed, "If I get you and the plant out of here... you’ll let me go, right?"

"Of course," she replied smoothly, her expression unreadable.

Reluctantly, he nodded, and she released her grip. He sucked in air, the humiliation raw even as relief washed over him.

Just then, Freon coughed theatrically, rubbing his hands together with a hopeful grin. "Sooo... I’m good to go, right?"

As thrilling as the job had been, he valued his life more than sticking around for the fallout. Lyra might relish her power plays with Ansel, but he was all too eager to make his exit.

Lyra rolled her eyes, then pulled a portable teleportation station from her Space Button, gesturing for him to step in.

Freon grinned, hopping into the platform with a quick "Goodbye, and good luck!" He gave her a cheeky salute, the teleportation light swallowing him up. As far as he was concerned, getting out alive to charm another day was the perfect victory.

With the glow fading and Freon safely gone, Morrun shook his head, staring at Lyra in bafflement. "You have a portable teleportation device—why drag me into this at all?"

"Be quiet and stay put," she replied coolly, leaving him in the living room as she strode into the bedroom.

Of course, she could have escaped alone using the device, but that way she’d have to leave the device here. She trusted no one here to get rid of the device.

After slipping away from the auction house, she had cycled through several disguises to keep Ansel’s eyes off her trail, but she knew the clock was ticking.

Finally alone, Lyra pulled the Blazing Blood fruit from her pouch.

Her hands trembled slightly, a rare crack in her otherwise steely demeanor.

After everything, after years of scheming and sacrifice, the prized fruit was finally hers. She’d waited so long for this moment, and now, it was real.