Ch. 221..225: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 221-225
Chapter 221: Level-eight
Morrun sat slumped on the worn-out couch, his arms and legs tightly bound, no chance of escape.
He didn’t even bother struggling. He knew that if Lyra’d left him here like this, then she knew he was no threat.
Morrun had been around long enough to recognize when he was outmatched and when it was smarter to wait.
Then it hit him—the heavy, metallic smell of blood seeping out from the bedroom.
Morrun’s sharp senses caught the wet, sick sound of flesh being torn.
A chill slithered down his spine, but he stayed calm, calculating. That woman, with her reckless confidence, must’ve taken those potent strength-boosting herbs meant for level-nine Peculiars. She was only level seven; those herbs could have catastrophic effects on her.
A spark of ambition ignited in his eyes: She had rare artifacts, powerful items that could be worth the risk, if he could just find a way to grab them...
Morrun leaned forward, testing his restraints, eyeing the bedroom door. But as soon as he moved, the chains around him seemed to awaken.
Thorny metal vines snaked out, slicing into his skin, coiling around his neck, ready to choke him out at the first sign of resistance.
"Thinking of trying something?" Her voice slithered from the shadows, cold and unforgiving.
Morrun froze, sweat breaking out on his brow as he sank back onto the couch.
Blood trickled from his arms, pooling beneath him, staining the fabric as the merciless chains held tight.
Time stretched on, each second dragging.
Then, from the floor below, came voices—firm, filled with raw power.
He could feel the surge of superhuman energy, the unmistakable energy of high-ranking Peculiars.
Any hope he’d clung to drained away. He knew these intruders meant business, and escape was no longer on the table. He could only sit there, caught in the jaws of fear and bitter frustration.
It was like being a cornered animal, with predators closing in from every side.
Footsteps approached, pausing right outside the door.
Three sharp knocks shattered the silence, followed by a breathless stillness. And then, with a thunderous crash, the door burst open.
Morrun’s heart sank.
’This is it,’ he thought bleakly, a flicker of dread clouding his thoughts.
But before he could process what was happening, a blinding green light blazed to life, flooding the room. The light was so intense it blanked out his vision, casting everything into icy white.
Frost raced across the walls and ceiling, locking the entire complex in a sheath of ice, spilling out into the street and sending pedestrians running in shock.
A crushing wave of psychic energy rolled outward, blanketing everyone nearby.
Civilians dropped like flies, overwhelmed by the suffocating pressure, while the level-nine Peculiars in the building stumbled, fighting to stay conscious.
Morrun’s mouth dropped open as he took in the destruction. And then, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He twisted in a panic, summoning what was left of his power to as Lyra had told.
Ansel and his men snapped back to attention, glancing around, but there was no sign of HER.
Ansel didn’t give chase right away. Instead, he turned toward the bedroom, drawn by the thick scent of blood hanging in the air.
Inside, he found the wreckage of a brutal struggle, the walls and floors marked by Lyra’s desperate attempt to break free.
His jaw tightened as he surveyed the room, every scratch and splatter a testament to her fight.
"So, you actually managed to escape," he muttered, teeth clenched. "We’re not done yet. After her."
The level-nine Space Twister led his team in hot pursuit.
Reality around them warped and bent as the squad rushed forward, while Ansel sighed, a weary weight settling on him.
His soldier caught his expression and mistook it, attempting to reassure him. "Sir, no need to worry. Morrun’s just a teleporter—not much of a threat."
Ansel shook his head. "It’s not him," he replied quietly. "Just... thinking about choices."
In the eyes of the Shedd family, he was a destroyer. To the Alliance, an outlaw. He carried his regrets and acceptance alike.
Meanwhile, in a dark, forgotten alley, two figures appeared, startling a scrawny cat rummaging through a trash bin. With a startled yowl, the cat bolted.
"Alright, I’m done," Morrun muttered, leaning against the grimy wall, his earlier composure crumbling.
His hair was a mess, his clothes torn and caked with dirt and blood, and he could feel the last dregs of his power slipping away.
They’d been fleeing for nearly an hour, putting a thousand miles between themselves and the treat they left behind. Yet the Space Twister’s relentless tracking clung to them like a dark shadow, reaching across the vast distance.
Every time they thought they’d lost him, his presence reappeared, creeping closer.
Lyra looked like a ghost beside Morrun, her face pale and drained from blood loss.
Despite her weakened state, crystal-green tentacles of light swirled around her, casting an ethereal glow that made her seem almost otherworldly.
She could feel the waves of spatial energy drawing near, like a looming tidal wave. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression hard.
"How close are we to the Legion of Nebulae’s garrison?" she asked quietly.
Morrun’s face went slack, then twisted in terror. "The... the Legion? You can’t be serious!" He studied her with fresh suspicion, his eyes narrowing. "You’re not military, are you?"
In their line of work, authority was dangerous, and nothing was more terrifying than direct contact with the military.
Lyra’s voice was cold as ice. "Don’t waste your breath," she muttered, stifling a cough that nearly doubled her over.
She was in no shape to fight head-on.
Morrun’s eyes darted between her and the street behind them, torn between his fear of her and the deadly soldiers closing in.
But he had no choice—he led her deeper into the maze of back alleys.
Meanwhile, Ansel, sensing their target’s direction, clenched his jaw. "We cannot let them reach the military zone."
"Leave it to me." The Space Twister’s voice was sharp with focus as he summoned his power, warping space around him in a burst of energy.
Just as Morrun was preparing to teleport, a surge of space energy froze him in place. He gasped, a look of horror flashing across his face. "No... we’re trapped!"
Lyra, unable to move, pivoted to a new plan.
She channeled Schedar, her power morphing into a storm of razor-thin needles that filled the air like deadly rain. The needles shot toward the Space Twister, aiming to slice him apart.
The old man’s scalp prickled as he focused, locking the needles in place mid-air. But his relief was short-lived; under Lyra’s psychokinetic control, the needles began to twist and writhe, slipping through his spatial bind.
Forcing himself to act fast, he bent space, sending the needles off course just in time.
He barely had a chance to breathe before the needles reversed, homing in on him again.
Only a burst of reflex kept him from being shredded.
At that moment, he understood why Ansel had sent so many elites to capture her—this woman was a force of nature.
Morrun watched in awe, speechless. Lyra was pushing a Space Twister to his limit. If he’d known she was this powerful, he never would have dared cross her.
A sound like tearing fabric filled the air, and Morrun’s breath caught.
Around them, the very sky and ground seemed to split, reality fracturing as if ripped apart.
Lyra’s figure blurred in the distortion, veins standing out on her face as green light blazed around her.
With a surge, she’d broken into level-eight.
In a flash of energy, Lyra tore herself free from the spatial lock just as a dimensional rift lunged toward her.
Schedar surged across her body, her blade blazing like a comet as she dodged the rift and swung down with deadly precision.
The Space Twister’s eyes went wide as he tried to close the space between them, but Lyra’s blade was already slicing through. His face paled as her strike met its mark, piercing his chest, sending him hurtling to the ground below.
Lyra hovered in mid-air, perched atop her shield, blood flecking from her blade.
She was still, expressionless, as Ansel and his soldiers rounded the corner just in time to see the end of the battle.
A stunned silence settled over the crowd, but Ansel’s face grew darker, more intense, as he studied her.
"You pulled them all out, didn’t you?" he muttered, voice laced with a grudging respect. "That’s why you’re this strong now."
For the first time, a wary glint flickered in his eyes.
Lyra returned his stare with a calm, defiant smile. In her armor, she looked as cold and efficient as a machine.
"Thanks to you," she replied with quiet triumph, "I’ve just removed the last one."
An electric sense of freedom pulsed through her body—every muscle, every bone felt unchained, light as air.
It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in over a decade, a weight lifting as though she could dissolve into the air itself.
The level-nine Peculiars who had arrived with Ansel turned ashen as the brutal scene unfolded. One of them muttered, "She just killed a level-nine Space Twister... Vice Admiral Shedd, this is way beyond the call!"
"Exactly! We didn’t sign up for a death sentence. We need hazard pay—triple, at least!" another chimed in, panic evident.
But Lyra barely registered their complaints, her lips curling into a sneer. With a flick of her wrist, her armor dissolved, and Schedar shifted seamlessly into twin blades that glinted under the harsh light.
Ansel tensed, realizing a beat too late the danger was about to turn deadly.
In a blur, Lyra moved, a cold breeze brushing past as she advanced.
With one swift slash, the level-nine fire Peculiar’s head separated cleanly from his shoulders, hitting the ground before he could even summon a spark.
The Peculiars, who only moments ago had been the hunters, stood paralyzed, blood draining from their faces as they confronted Lyra’s blood-splattered, unyielding expression.
Her eyes gleamed with a fierce, dangerous light—one that promised only death.
They barely had time to process before they lunged at her, abandoning all thoughts of pay or retreat.
They had the upper hand in raw power, but Lyra’s brutal agility and sheer speed defied all logic.
The Peculiar with aerokinesis whipped up a fierce tornado, the swirling dust and debris consuming everything in its path.
Yet, not a single speck seemed to touch Lyra.
She dropped low, body almost parallel to the ground, and then she launched forward like an arrow, covering dozens of meters in a blink.
In a single, fluid motion, her right blade sliced cleanly through a massive stone fist raised by the Geokinesis Peculiar.
Without hesitation, she spun and drove her left blade straight through his armor, severing his arm in one smooth arc. He staggered back, clutching the bloody stump, eyes wide in horror.
From behind, a barrage of metal spikes shot toward her.
Without even looking back, she deflected them with a precise strike of her blade, the force so intense it cracked her hand, fresh blood trailing from her palm.
Her weapon slipped from her grasp, and her attacker thought he’d gained the advantage. But mid-fall, her sword morphed into a slender knife, whipping back toward him with deadly speed.
It embedded in his chest, piercing his heart before he could react.
In the next breath, Schedar snapped back into Lyra’s hand, a lethal extension of her will.
In thirty ruthless minutes, she’d taken down five level-nine Peculiars, leaving two dead and one critically wounded.
The last two exchanged terrified glances before fleeing, all semblance of loyalty shattered.
Lyra’s bangs, damp and streaked with blood, clung to her forehead, framing eyes that burned like embers in the crimson reflection of the scene around her.
She turned slowly toward Ansel, meeting his gaze. His face was a storm of emotions—hatred, fear, and a deeper, unnamed dread lurking beneath it all.
Chapter 222: Yes, It Was Me
"I made my biggest mistake when I showed you too much mercy back then. I should’ve just killed you instead of fearing the Calvin family." Ansel’s eyes glinted with disdain, a cold echo of the judgmental stare he’d given her years ago when she had fled for life.
Lyra’s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the ten meters between them. "I don’t understand. You betrayed your own son—and even your granddaughter?"
"I haven’t done anything wrong," Ansel replied, his voice dripping with icy detachment.
No one in the Shedd family’s generation could match Lyra’s talent or hard work. Even when Lyra had uncovered the truth about her parents’ deaths, she had never suspected him. That was, until Ansel handed her the glass of Dispersal Agents, and Erin had chillingly mentioned "rooting out the problem."
Despite her keen instincts, she couldn’t fathom why Ansel had turned against her.
Ansel’s silver hair whipped in the wind, and the half-closed eyes he wore carried a complexity that felt like an unsolvable riddle.
"You did nothing wrong, but your very existence is a mistake," he spat, loathing pouring from his words. "I once hoped you would lead the Shedd family to greatness, but I never anticipated your father’s audacity!" His breath hitched. "In the end, you all deserve to die!"
Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, Lyra lunged forward, determination propelling her every movement.
She leaped high to evade the spatial distortions that rippled around her and summoned a glowing shield to block an incoming thunderous strike.
With a swift motion, she aimed her blade at Ansel.
Reacting with practiced speed, Ansel stepped back, summoning a spatial blade to counter her. But she bent low, narrowly avoiding his attack.
As he unleashed another strike, she slipped away, her agility defying all expectations.
In an instant, Lyra closed the gap, slashing from the side with deadly precision.
Ansel stumbled, but not before she left a deep gash across his chest, flesh exposed and bleeding.
She paused, eyes narrowing as she confronted him. "Who gave you the right to make decision for my life?"
Lyra understood the worth of her life; she had fought tooth and nail to survive, and no one—especially not Ansel—had the authority to dictate whether she should live or die.
Ansel wiped the blood from his face, a twisted smile forming. "Life and death are rarely in our hands, Lyra, and you should know that better than anyone."
His cryptic words unsettled her, forcing her to regain her composure. "What are you hiding from me? How did my parents really die?"
"Maybe you should ask Benedict. He knows more than I do," Ansel retorted, his derision evident. "Or do you think it was easy for you to stumble upon that lab? You gathered evidence against me far too easily."
"I want to hear it from you!" Lyra insisted, stepping closer, her weapon poised.
Suddenly, an overwhelming force wrenched the blade from her grasp.
"Stop!" A voice called from above as Leandro and two unfamiliar figures descended on floating boards. They cast astonished glances at Lyra before turning their focus to Ansel.
"Ansel, this is a parliamentary arrest warrant. You need to come with us!" one of them declared, producing the document.
Following the exposure of lab on the satellite, an immediate investigation had been launched.
The result confirmed Ansel’s involvement in supporting the Empire’s spies and conducting illegal human experiments on death row inmates.
Admiral Dale, who had long despised the Shedd family’s criminal activities, was particularly eager to see justice served, especially after Ansel’s shocking betrayals.
The three Vice Admirals moved as a seamless unit.
Ansel made no move to resist as they fitted him with superpower suppression cuffs and escorted him toward the Lev.
Leandro then turned to Lyra. "Thank you, Ensign. You’ll need to come with us too."
It was a cruel twist of fate that anyone connected to the Shedd family had to face scrutiny due to the monumental scandal surrounding them.
Aboard the ship heading back to Elden Prime, Lyra found herself among distant relatives of the Shedd family.
Their suspicious glances felt like daggers, as if they were viewing her as a traitor.
Before their disdain could take form, she unleashed her formidable psychokinesis, making them avert their gazes in silence.
The investigation itself was straightforward. After a series of questions, she was released.
As she exited the military court, she spotted Leandro deep in conversation with his colleagues. Their expressions were mixed, but when she saluted, Leandro smiled and said, "You weren’t implicated; rewards are in store for you."
She nodded. "I’ll take my leave now."
As she turned to walk away, his smile faded.
One man muttered, "What is the Shedd family up to? Not a decent person among them, and the one who was cast out proves to be the most capable."
Nearby, a woman rolled her eyes. "Capable? I think that young woman is the most dangerous one."
"Why do you say that?" he asked, puzzled.
She tossed her hair back defiantly. "Just a gut feeling."
The man scoffed, but Leandro nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense."
Having been cast aside by the Shedd family and sold to Voidstar, Lyra had endured years of humiliation, only to rise through her own efforts and finally secure evidence against them.
The resolve and cunning it took to achieve this were extraordinary.
On the day of Ansel’s formal trial, his confession about another crime sent shockwaves through the courtroom.
Lyra, a witness alongside the Special Forces, stood ready as evidence of illegal experiments was presented.
Ansel and his accomplices offered no resistance, readily admitting their crimes.
"Now—"
"Wait," Ansel interrupted, his voice slicing through the air. He glanced at Benedict on the witness stand, then fixed his gaze on Lyra, making a shocking declaration. "I need to confess to another crime."
Lyra’s heart raced, her hand tightening around the table.
"I once inflicted punishment on my granddaughter, Lyra. I implanted five Soul Spikes in her body."
A chilling silence enveloped the courtroom. Faces turned ashen, disbelief etched into every expression, as if they were questioning whether he was joking.
’Five Soul Spikes? Is such unspeakable torture even possible?’
Murmurs began to swell, and the chief justice pounded his gavel for silence. "Is this true?"
"There’s video evidence, stored in the deceased Erin’s opticomputer."
Tension mounted in the courtroom. Erin’s opticomputer, crucial for proving his guilt, lay safely in the military court archives.
After consulting with Leandro and others, the chief justice decided to retrieve the evidence immediately.
Lyra stepped from the witness stand to confront the judge directly.
"Lyra, is what he stated true?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice steady, but inside, a tempest raged.
At that moment, everyone in the courtroom looked at Lyra as if she were a monster.
The upper-level military officials, including Leandro, stared at her in sheer shock.
"Five Soul Spikes! How had she survived this?"
Lyra couldn’t comprehend why Ansel had chosen to disclose such a horrific truth.
When the video was retrieved and projected in three-dimensional detail, the mood in the court room grew heavy with dread.
The horrifying screams of the young woman echoed through the room. Erin had only recorded the first half of the ordeal, failing to capture the moments of superpower extraction, but even that was enough to leave a bloody and brutal impression on everyone present.
Chapter 223: The Trial
Since Soul Spike was classified intel, the interrogation quickly switched to a top-secret mode. Everyone not in the loop was asked to step out.
The air crackled with curiosity; everyone was itching to know how Lyra had managed to survive. But this was one of those hush-hush matters that couldn’t hit the public eye, or else Soul Spike would lose its reputation as one of the military’s fiercest weapons.
Inside the packed courtroom, an eerie silence settled, thick with tension.
The chief justice, fully aware of the military’s worries, started firing off questions. "Do you still have any Soul Spikes in your body?"
"Five days ago, I pulled out the last one in Macraite," she answered without missing a beat.
"And what about the others?"
"I lost two; right now, I’ve got three left with me." Her composed response was a tactical move; as long as she insisted the others were lost, Patrick was powerless, even if he claimed she had inserted one. The identification numbers were tied to the Legion Skywalkers, after all.
"How did you pull them out?" The question had all the military leaders leaning in closer.
Lyra pursed her lips before replying, "I used level-nine strength-enhancing plants, which made my bones and flesh explode and then reform. During that process, I relied on my healing powers to keep me alive and fix the damage from the Soul Spikes."
Her cool demeanor and indifferent expression made it clear she had buried her pain deep down. Still, her revelation sent chills through everyone in the room.
Level-nine strength-enhancing plants required healing plants even for those with a special knack for strength.
It was mind-blowing that Lyra, who had only been a level five when she first came onto the scene, had dared to use level-nine plants. The suffering she must have endured was beyond comprehension; a single mistake could have ended in a gruesome fate.
"So, is your body fully healed now?"
Lyra raised her gaze. "Do I really have to answer that?"
It was obvious that the question crossed a line.
"It involves military secrets; we need your cooperation," the chief justice insisted.
She looked away. "No, it isn’t. When I pulled the one out of my chest, I didn’t use level-nine strength-enhancing plants, which left me with irreparable damage and a state of apparent death for seven years."
Everyone recalled the respiratory issues flagged in her records, suddenly realizing that the damage had been caused by the Soul Spike.
"Is your superpower effective against Soul Spikes in others?"
The room held its breath, waiting for her answer.
"No," she declared firmly.
She had never tested it, and her statement sent a wave of concern through the military. They feared she might be the only answer to the Soul Spike problem. Yet, if this trial went public, those who had been implanted would definitely seek her out, raising suspicion from the military.
In the Alliance Military Council chamber, three-dimensional holograms flickered to life, showcasing various leaders reacting differently to the live trial broadcast.
Then, the chief justice asked his final question: "Since you’ve already removed the Soul Spikes, why didn’t you report Ansel to the military court or government until he faced justice?"
The identification numbers on the Soul Spikes couldn’t be faked; getting rid of them would guarantee Ansel’s conviction. Yet, she had chosen to stay silent.
Faced with the question, Lyra went quiet for a beat. Under the intense gaze of the judges and Leandro, she bit her lip and finally said, "Because I didn’t want to expose my suffering to the public."
Truth be told, she had seen this moment coming and didn’t want to become a target.
Her answer struck a chord, evoking sympathy from those present. Yet anyone who really knew her could tell her reasoning didn’t hold up. A person willing to do anything would leap at the chance to take down an enemy—unless it posed a risk to themselves.
In the meeting chamber, Admiral Dale was the first to shatter the tension. "I told you, this young woman must have something to hide!"
"If I were her, I wouldn’t dare make it public either," Valeria chimed in, still puffing away. "Not with someone like you in the military, who can’t tell right from wrong."
"Why should I care?" Admiral Dale shot back, pointing at the screen in disgust. "Just think about the chaos Tyro caused back then. And look at Lyra now! You dare say she’s normal? She’s level eight at her age—she’s practically a monster!"
Valeria couldn’t help but scoff. "But isn’t Cohen Whyte also level eight? He’s the same age as Lyra."
Not long ago, Cohen had just reached level eight.
Dale fell silent, throwing a wary glance at Frederick above him. Admiral Vince, seeing Dale struggling, tried to lighten the mood with a friendly smile. "Let’s not get caught up in talent; the fact that Lyra managed to extract her own Soul Spikes shows she’s not normal."
"Exactly! That’s what I’m saying!" Dale leaned in, eager to hear more.
Valeria nodded and then turned to the quiet Frederick. "What do you think, sir?"
Frederick wasn’t fixated on the current argument. Instead, he stated, "Lyra is undoubtedly a rare talent. When the Empire drags us into a full-scale war, she will be a valuable asset."
Such high praise took everyone by surprise, especially Valeria. She knew him well.
One old man, his white beard reaching his chest, pondered before asking, "Do you truly believe in this girl?"
"I’m simply stating the facts," Frederick replied, surveying the room. "Ansel’s case indicates the Empire is plotting something significant. When the war kicks off, super Master Peculiars may need to fight; having a fresh talent like Lyra could tilt the odds in our favor."
Admiral Dale disagreed, convinced that a single Lyra couldn’t change the course of a war. However, he didn’t dare openly challenge Frederick. "Should we just let her develop like this?"
Another admiral chimed in, "As of now, she hasn’t done anything wrong."
"She’s involved with Voidstar and that crowd. That’s not a problem?"
Valeria interjected with a click of her tongue. "Voidstar gets mixed up with everyone; we just choose to look the other way."
An awkward cough rippled through the council chamber. Frederick seemed unfazed. "Let’s leave it at that. Remember to keep the second half of the trial confidential."
With his support for Lyra, Dale and the others didn’t dare push further.
"What if she becomes a problem..."
"We’ll handle it when that time comes."
Once the meeting wrapped up, the holograms of everyone faded away, leaving only Valeria and Frederick behind.
"Ansel, that old fool, has completely lost it," Valeria said, her earlier bravado slipping away, replaced by a tone of pity for Lyra. "He’s pushed his own granddaughter into such a dangerous spotlight."
"Clearly, that young woman is the victim," Frederick said, keeping his expression steady throughout the proceedings. "Considering the power she faced, his actions are understandable; he just has to deal with the consequences of his mistakes."
...
In the end, Ansel was sentenced to life in prison.
Back in his living room, Benedict heard the verdict and slammed his hands on the table, beaming with delight. "Well done! That damned old fool got what he deserved!"
Turning to the calm Lyra, who was sipping her tea, he asked, "Lyra, are you really okay?"
She set her cup down, meeting his gaze. "I’m fine."
Despite her reassurances, tears glistened in Benedict’s eyes. "You’ve suffered so much all these years. It’s all my fault..."
"Let’s not dwell on the past," she interrupted gently.
"Then... how did you pull out the Soul Spike?" Benedict looked at her with concern. "It must have hurt like hell."
"That’s military confidential; I can’t say."
"Not even to ME? Does it have something to do with your superpower?"
"It’s better if you don’t know." Lyra glanced out at the dimming sky before standing up. "Grandpa, I have to go. I’ve got things to take care of."
Ansel was still in military custody, and in three days, he would be transferred to the prison in the ocean outside Central City. This was her last chance to make a move, and she needed to act quickly.
Chapter 224: Ansel’s End (1)
As dawn crept in, an escort Lev pulled out from the tribunal, carrying now the most notorious high-security prisoner: Ansel Shedd.
He was restrained head-to-toe—thick metal cuffs binding his wrists, blocking his powers, and a collar snug around his neck, ready to detonate if he tried any tricks.
Flanking him were Leandro and a crack squad of elite enforcers, all set for the journey to the prison.
Five Vice Admirals flew on hoverboards beside the Lev, their eyes sharp and unblinking, constantly scanning for even the slightest hint of danger.
It was that eerie hour just before dawn, the city streets barely stirring with an occasional lone vehicle passing by.
As the team exited Central City’s protective Aegis Shield, the air thickened with tension.
Every member tuned their powers to the max, alert and on edge. Above them, dark clouds rolled in, heavy and foreboding, as if nature itself was brewing something fierce.
Not a single ray of sunlight cut through; only a dense blanket of gloom cloaked the escort team as they pressed on.
Then, like a needle scratching vinyl, a faint crackling noise shattered the silence.
"Stop the escort team," Leandro ordered immediately, his instincts flaring.
At the rear, Ansel, who’d been sitting with his eyes closed, opened them, instantly aware of the shift. His guard gripped his weapon tighter, his powers brimming at the ready.
Thunder echoed as lightning twisted through the clouds, casting eerie flashes across the landscape.
Leandro’s instincts were dead-on—someone was out there, waiting for them.
With a wave of his hand, Leandro signaled to his team. "We’re under attack! Everyone, stay sharp!" he barked.
Suddenly, two blinding bolts of lightning struck, aimed at the escort team, but Leandro deflected them, sending the charges arcing off into the distance.
Moments later, shadows broke away, revealing a strike team led by the now infamous Shedd family, the two seniors stepping forward.
The Shedd family had hidden away their young ones, sending in only the seasoned seniors to pull off a last-ditch rescue of Ansel before they could vanish without a trace.
They’d brought five of their best level-eight fighters. They were the mightiest left of the once-powerful family, now on the brink of ruin.
All their hopes clung to one goal: get Ansel out of captivity and back into the fray to revive their clan from the ashes.
The ambush exploded into a ferocious clash, the air thick with the crackle of powers colliding.
Inside the Lev, the elite guard stationed with Ansel hesitated, torn by duty. Just then, a gun appeared, pointed straight at him—from the driver’s seat.
"Traitor!" the Vice Admiral hissed, his realization too late. "What the hell are you doing?"
The young driver, face tense and torn with guilt, met his gaze. "Vice Admiral Shedd saved my life," he whispered, quietly undoing Ansel’s cuffs.
Freed at last, Ansel stretched his wrists, a sly smirk spreading across his face. With a disturbing calm, he plucked the restraint collar and snapped it onto the stunned Vice Admiral’s neck.
"Stay put, COMRADE," he said icily, and exited the vehicle.
Outside, Leandro and his team were locked in a vicious struggle against the Shedd fighters, when a sudden, oppressive force gripped the space around them, freezing them in place.
In that heartbeat of stillness, a vicious bolt of energy struck, ripping through their defenses.
Leandro staggered, his body scorched and shaking, blood streaking fresh from his wounds.
"Ansel! How are you using Space Twister powers?!" Leandro gasped, staring at the man he’d thought he’d known.
They’d fought side by side for decades; everyone believed Ansel’s power was lightning, nothing more. But somehow, he’d unlocked the ability to bend space itself.
Ansel loomed over him. His expression was ice-cold as he watched Leandro’s pain with unsettling satisfaction.
With a twist of his fingers, he slammed him down again, pinning him against the ground with invisible force.
"Leandro," Ansel said, voice laced with a chilling finality, "you destroyed too many of my plans on Demetra. I might have forgiven anyone else, but you? Never."
He raised two fingers, sending another bolt of lightning crashing down onto Leandro, who seized in agony, one final shudder convulsing his body.
The remaining Vice Admirals, still paralyzed by Ansel’s power, watched in horror as he plunged a blade of twisted space through their comrade, sealing his fate.
Their faces burned with fury, each barely restraining the rage swelling inside as they struggled against their invisible shackles.
"Ansel!" Cilia, the only woman among them, shouted, her voice raw with rage. "You coward! After everything Admiral Whyte did to get you a chance, you side with the Empire’s spies? You’re a disgrace to the Alliance!"
"Disgrace?"
Ansel’s calm facade crumbled, morphing into a savage snarl. The mask he’d worn for so long fell away.
His eyes blazed with unrestrained ambition as he barked, "And what’s wrong with chasing power? When I’m strong enough, I can bring my family back to its prime, make them unstoppable! Maybe even do more for the Alliance than any of you could imagine."
He almost laughed. ’Using convicts from death row as test subjects? Who cares?’ He never thought anyone would find out.
A dark glint sharpened his gaze as he drove his boot down onto Leandro’s chest.
CRACK.
The sickening sound of bones shattering echoed through the air.
Leandro’s chest caved in, ribs breaking under the pressure as blood pooled rapidly, staining his hair and the earth beneath him. His breath slowed, fading with every tortured second.
"Leandro!" Cilia’s desperate scream tore through the silence. She strained against the invisible bonds holding her in place, nails clawing at the earth, breaking and bleeding as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Ansel sneered, casting a disdainful glance over the defeated team. Then, he snapped his fingers, shattering their comm devices and opticomputers.
With a simple gesture, he and his followers disappeared into the shadows.
As the spatial lock finally lifted, Cilia staggered over to Leandro, her hands hovering above his broken body, paralyzed with fear and grief.
Desperately, she searched through the debris of their ruined comms, but everything was irreparably damaged.
The Aerokinetic fighter, bloodied and stumbling, forced himself to his feet. "I’m... the fastest," he panted, barely holding himself together. "I’ll go for help."
"Please, hurry!" Cilia’s voice shook, barely able to hold back the tears.
Just then, a new presence entered the scene—a pair of black boots landed softly in front of Leandro.
Startled, the remaining Admirals instinctively braced, fearing an enemy. But instead, Lyra stood before them, her expression calm and cool as she looked down at Leandro’s body.
"Well, isn’t this... a mess." Her voice was steady, unreadable, as she knelt beside Leandro, her movements precise and calm.
Lyra removed a fractured piece of bone pressing dangerously close to Leandro’s heart and then, with practiced ease, she channeled a warm, verdant healing energy through him.
The glow faded, and although Leandro’s injuries were still severe, his life had been stabilized. Relief washed over Cilia as she collapsed beside him, utterly spent.
Chapter 225: Ansel’s End (2)
Lyra scanned the battered convoy team. "I’m going after Ansel. I can’t spare more energy here."
Just as she turned to leave, Leandro’s faint, rasping voice emerged from behind her. "I... order you... capture Ansel. Alive... or dead."
The authority in his words was unmistakable; it was an emergency command.
Lyra paused, her gaze hardening as she looked down at him. "Yes, sir."
In a swift motion, she stepped onto a gleaming energy shield that lifted her skyward.
Armor wrapped around her, wings unfolding at her back, and, like a hunting hawk, she soared into the clouds, tearing through the air in pursuit.
Meanwhile, far ahead, Ansel led his followers through a rapid spatial shift. Then, a chilling sensation ran down his spine.
In a flash, Ansel sliced open a rift in the fabric of space just as blazing green energy bolts hurtled past him, vanishing harmlessly into the void.
"Stay alert!" he shouted, but his warning came too late.
A swift whoosh of cold air slashed through the space around them, and with a single, decisive motion, one of the Shedd family seniors collapsed, headless, before his body hit the ground.
The brutal sight cast an icy terror over the remaining Shedd memebers.
In front of them, Lyra stood unfazed, dismissing her armor in a shimmer as she turned to face them.
"Lyra!" Ansel’s voice was raw with fury, his gaze blazing with hatred. "Are you so determined to wipe out the family completely?"
She flicked her blade, sending a spray of blood to the ground, while her lips curved into a faint, unshaken smile. "Ansel, you doomed the family the moment you chose this path. After what you did to me, you should’ve known this day would come."
Before the words finished leaving her lips, Lyra’s form blurred, leaving a ghostly afterimage.
She darted forward, blade poised for another strike.
One of the Shedd seniors braced, summoning his power in a desperate counterattack, but Lyra was faster than air itself.
She glided through their defenses, her movements swift and fluid, a force they couldn’t touch—much less stop.
The end had come, swift and unforgiving.
Thunder boomed across the desolate plains, an ominous percussion matching the deadly rhythm of blades meeting flesh.
Just then, a break in the clouds allowed a single beam of sunlight to pierce through, illuminating the scene in stark, golden light.
In the center of the blood-soaked battleground, Lyra stood, calm and radiant amidst the carnage.
Bathed in that glow, she looked almost angelic, a vision of life despite the brutal path she’d cut to get here.
Her twin blades glistened, her lips twisting into a low, triumphant laugh as her gaze locked onto Ansel’s pale, horrified face.
She’d done it. Every last shred of Ansel’s defenses lay in ruin.
The Shedd family’s fortress was obliterated, and there he stood, cornered, without a single ally left.
The intoxicating taste of vengeance surged through her, electrifying her every nerve.
"I waited far too long for this!" she called out, her voice echoing across the plains.
Her arms crossed briefly, then she swung them apart, sending her twin blades whistling through the air in a deadly arc as she lunged forward.
Ansel raised a blade of spatial energy in one hand and summoned lightning in the other, launching a frenzied attack. But Lyra moved like a wraith, slipping through his defenses with inhuman precision, inching ever closer.
Desperate, Ansel opened a tear in space to escape, but just as he materialized, Lyra’s blade found him, slashing across his shoulder.
He barely deflected the strike with his cane, which shattered from the impact, leaving a deep, bone-deep wound that sapped the fight from his limbs.
Lyra spun, landing a brutal kick that sent him crashing backward.
Ansel, once a towering figure, was now just dust beneath her feet. She leapt into the air, her silhouette framed against the sun, every muscle primed and poised.
Gritting his teeth, Ansel tore open another rift, but Lyra anticipated it. She vaulted even higher on a platform of radiant light, then dropped from above, her foot driving into his chest like a meteor.
The impact shattered the earth, forming a massive crater, and his body rebounded, slamming back down as blood sprayed from his mouth.
SPUH!
The thick, wet sound of blood filled the air as he choked, life slipping away. But Lyra, not finished yet, summoned just enough healing energy to keep him alive a few moments longer, savoring his helplessness.
"Pity I left the Soul Spike at the tribunal," she murmured, pressing her heel against his shattered chest. "Now, tell me—how did my parents actually die?"
Ansel’s face twisted in agony, and he gasped for air, eyes glazed with pain. "If...if your powers had served the Shedd family, we could have... ruled together," he coughed, barely conscious.
Lyra sent another small pulse of healing energy, enough to stave off death for just a bit longer, leaving him to stew in his pain.
"But...it’s too late now. The Alliance...they won’t stand for you."
Lyra’s expression hardened. "What are you talking about?"
Ansel looked up at her, his eyes clouded with regret and resentment. "Your parents...pawns, just like I was. And...in the end, you’ll be one, too," he muttered, voice fading.
His eyes drifted away, lost in some dark memory. "Years ago...I learned the truth about Tyro...and your mother..."
Suddenly, a pinpoint of black energy appeared on his forehead.
Lyra’s instincts screamed a warning, but before she could act, Ansel’s head detonated in a horrific burst, his skull reduced to pieces.
His life snuffed out, the truth buried with him.
They’d silenced him.
Rage surged within Lyra, her psychokinesis bursting outward in a storm of emerald energy, shaking the ground around her.
Then, her gaze snapped to a figure in the distance—the one who’d pulled the trigger, now trying to escape into a portal leading to a pocket dimension.
"Oh, no you don’t!" she snarled, her emerald power slamming shut the dark passage just as he tried to enter. He turned, stunned, to see Lyra charging toward him, her face split into a feral grin, eyes blazing with deadly intent.
Her expression was unmistakable: ’You’re mine.’