Ch. 256..260: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 256-260

Chapter 256: Saving Him Again

Frank glanced around frantically, hoping to rally some support. "Vice Admiral Whyte, say something! You’ve got to talk some sense into Captain Whyte!"

Chuck cracked his eyes open just a sliver, muttering, "Wish I can."

Unlike the harried medics, he looked more like he was trying to catch up on a nap than worrying about his injuries. If Cohen, his nephew, wasn’t panicking, how should he?

Zarek, nearby, only grumbled, "Do as he says," and then, with a wince, he muttered, "And more painkillers... It’s killing me."

Kogar seized the moment, parting the medics and called out, "Sir, Miss Shedd is here!"

Lyra approached the makeshift triage area, unfazed by Frank’s sharp glare. She looked over the barely-conscious men sprawled on the beds, then nodded slightly. "Still breathing. You’re getting better at this."

But she quickly saw the real problem: the telltale traces of energy from the Stellar Devourer clung to their wounds, actively resisting any healing attempts.

"I’m done for...," Cohen rasped, his face ashen, his breathing labored.

"You were ’done for’ last time, too," Lyra shot back, her tone dry.

At this, Cohen managed a faint smile. The last time he’d been this close to death, she’d pulled him back from the edge.

Somehow, he trusted that she’d do the same today.

Inspecting the injuries up close, Lyra’s face grew grim.

Their bodies were torn apart, their legs held together by little more than frayed muscle fibers.

Cohen’s abdomen was ripped open, organs barely hanging on.

In any typical case, a high-level healer could stabilize them, but here, Frank looked utterly defeated.

Lyra raised her hand, summoning a dense sphere of healing energy.

However, Frank lunged forward, blocking her path. "Stop! Healing powers won’t work! And yours is... untested. If something goes wrong, who will answer for it?"

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. "If I’m the one healing them, then I’m responsible. Isn’t that clear?"

Frank’s face flushed angrily. "When Vice Admiral Oleg died, it was the medical corps who bore the blame!" His voice was strained with frustration. "You were the first there and misdiagnosed the situation. You misled everyone! You’ve got no right to treat anyone else!"

Everyone turned, watching the exchange in tense silence. But Lyra merely smirked, unbothered. "You’re right, I didn’t save Oleg," she replied calmly. In reality, she’d made a difficult call, one Frank could never understand.

"See?" Frank’s eyes gleamed with misplaced triumph, twisting her words. "She admits it! She’s unqualified!"

Lyra brushed past him as if he were a minor inconvenience. "If you’re finished, then move."

Frank tried to block her again, but she stood firm, her arm unmoving like solid iron.

Frustrated, he called out, "Someone stop her! She has no clue what she’s doing!"

But the other medics exchanged weary glances, some looking at Frank as if he’d lost touch with reality.

At last, Kogar, done with the charade, grabbed Frank’s collar, his tone deadly. "The truth about Oleg’s death? It was YOUR department’s miscalculation of the plant energy! And that’s what caused him to explode. You interfere with her again, you’ll have me to answer to." He shoved Frank aside.

Frank tried to scramble back up, still gripping his skewed sense of duty, but Lyra paid him no mind.

With calm precision, she activated a shimmering light shield over the wounded, creating a sterile zone.

After swiftly disinfecting the area, she carefully re-positioned Cohen’s organs before releasing a wave of concentrated healing energy over his injuries.

Under her command, cells multiplied at an astonishing rate, and in moments, Cohen’s shredded flesh began to knit together, transforming what had been a ghastly wound into healthy skin.

Frank’s jaw dropped, his face contorting in disbelief. "How... how is she..."

The medics who had been on the edge of despair moments ago now watched in awe. Some of them were on the verge of tears, witnessing Lyra’s mysterious healing powers restoring hope and life.

"It’s actually working!" Kogar exclaimed, eyes wide as he leaned closer to Cohen’s bed, astonished by the results.

As he inched forward, his severed arm accidentally brushed the edge of Lyra’s healing energy—and to everyone’s shock, the arm began to regenerate.

Grinning like a kid in a candy store, Kogar slid himself closer to soak up every ounce of the healing effect he could. "Even lost limbs are coming back!"

"Absolutely incredible," someone whispered, awe settling over the group.

Another medic, watching with renewed curiosity, added, "Maybe she could even cure genetic diseases with that kind of power."

Kogar, still in disbelief, glanced down at Cohen’s legs, which hadn’t regenerated despite the intense healing energy. "But... why haven’t the Captain’s legs healed?"

"They’re too far gone," Lyra said flatly, transforming Schedar into a serrated saw.

Looking down at Cohen, who instantly went pale, she added, "Brace yourself. This might hurt just a bit."

"Wait—hold on—AHHH!" Cohen’s scream echoed as Lyra methodically sawed through what remained of his legs, her efficiency unnervingly precise.

The sound of bone grinding against metal made the other people wince, and a few even averted their gaze, disturbed by the slight smile on Lyra’s face.

Cohen was dizzy with pain and barely clinging to consciousness. He felt as though he’d passed through the gates of hell.

As his new legs slowly began to regenerate, he managed a weak, breathless comment. "Against that many high-level Peculiars, there was no way we could’ve protected the star map. We were completely outmatched..."

For a second, he wondered if Lyra’s "treatment" was actually punishment for him letting the star map fall. But Lyra, wiping the blood from her hands, simply replied, "I find healing rather enjoyable."

Cohen’s scream, it seemed, had been a delightful bonus.

Lyra moved on to Chuck, who managed a tense, shaky smile despite his visible fear. "Look, maybe we could negotiate here? No saw, please? Your power or... a small knife could do the job," he said, attempting to sound casual while clearly terrified.

Chuck’s injuries were brutal—two broken legs, a shattered arm, and multiple fractured ribs from being slammed down by a level-nine earth Peculiar.

Lyra, however, only raised an eyebrow. "The only thing I’m quick with is killing," she said, positioning the saw with cold precision.

Chuck’s anguished scream echoed through the medical hall as Lyra went to work.

By the time she reached Zarek, he was trying his best to keep his voice steady. Thanks to his superpower-enhanced defense, his injuries weren’t as severe. "I...I don’t think I’ll need the saw, right?"

"No, not the big one." Lyra pulled out a smaller blade with a gleam of calm determination. "But I’ll need to scrape away the damaged tissue."

Zarek’s face turned pale as he braced himself.

Chuck, still sprawled out from his own "treatment," chuckled despite his own agony. "Come on, Zarek. Let’s both go out with dignity here."

Chuck was always like this, taking some twisted satisfaction in dragging others down into his misery with him.

Half an hour later, the three officers lay stretched out on their beds, utterly drained, looking as lifeless as beached fish.

Kogar, stepping forward, signaled a water Peculiar to rinse Lyra’s hands.

Lyra reclined in her chair, looking as satisfied as if she’d just savored a victory cigar.

After so long away from it, Lyra felt unexpectedly revitalized by the return to her healer roots. Grinning, she announced, "I think I’ll be visiting the medical division more often."

The wounded soldiers scattered throughout the hall exchanged panicked glances, a collective shudder running through them.

"I forbid it!" Frank shouted, leaping to his feet yet again.

Before he could go on, a shimmering golden hammer appeared above him and came down hard—a quick intervention by Zarek. He looked at Frank with disdain. "Just because you’re useless doesn’t mean everyone else is."

Chuck, deadpan as ever, turned to Cohen and said, "A guy like him, with a brain that weak, really isn’t fit to lead the medical corps."

"Agreed," Cohen replied.

And so, while Frank kept his rank as a senior medic, he was relieved of his leadership role and replaced by a more experienced veteran.

The new head medic, a cheerful older man, gave Lyra an approving smile. "Good work today, young lady. Stick around; I’ve got a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more action here."

Chapter 257: War Breaks Loose

In the dead silence of the hospital ward, Cohen and the other two lying in their beds suddenly stirred, turning over as if pulled by an invisible thread. Their faces were set like stone, full of hardened resolve.

"Send the command—emergency battle readiness, now!" Chuck ordered, voice steely and decisive.

Cohen buttoned his uniform with swift, sure movements. Then he shot a glance at Kogar. "Did the distress signal go out?"

Kogar shook his head, grim and frustrated. "Our comms were obliterated in the attack. Repairs are underway, but it’ll be a while."

On Wyrmtrace, the communication base was a shared lifeline, used by the military, government, and trading caravans alike. With it offline, they were totally cut off from the Alliance.

To make matters worse, the Empire had managed to steal the star map, leaving them stranded and exposed.

Unease spread through the ranks, tightening like a noose around every heart.

Cohen’s gaze drifted to Lyra, who stood with a defiant smirk. "I fired off a message to the surface right after handling the enemy. It should’ve gone through...now it’s just a matter of whether the military believes us."

Over on Planet Nagano, Lyra’s employee at LE Energy turned pale the moment he saw the alert—the star map of Wyrmtrace had been stolen by the Empire.

Abandoning everything, he grabbed the emergency code Cohen had given him and rushed to the military.

The guard on duty recognized the emergency code and ushered him directly to the central command center, where he came face-to-face with Admiral Frederick.

The young man could barely swallow under the admiral’s piercing gaze and managed to stammer, "Sir, my employer, Lyra Shedd, sent an urgent message. The star map on Wyrmtrace has been stolen, and the communications base is down. They... they need immediate reinforcements."

Frederick’s brow furrowed as he assessed the young man with a piercing stare. "The base is out, yet LE Energy still managed to get a message through? What, did you build your own base? That’s illegal."

The young man’s throat tightened. Frederick’s scrutiny was as unnerving as a loaded weapon.

"It... it was Captain Whyte’s, uh... implicit authorization," he mumbled, fighting down a tremble.

"Oh, was it?" Frederick’s face revealed nothing, maintaining an ironclad calm. "Then tell Lyra to keep the line steady. I’ll dispatch someone to reinforce immediately. You’re dismissed."

The young man left, torn between confusion and relief. He felt the weight of Frederick’s authority fade as he stepped out.

Behind him, Frederick’s expression darkened further. He looked over at the officer beside him. "Is communication back up yet?"

"Not yet, sir."

Frederick tapped a finger rhythmically on the table. "Dale’s fleet is patrolling close to Wyrmtrace, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then send him the directive: Fleet Admiral Whyte noted on what happened. Admiral Dale is to proceed to Wyrmtrace for immediate support."

The order was swiftly delivered to Admiral Dale, who skimmed it with a faint scoff. "Captain Whyte talks big, yet he can’t even keep a star map secure. Didn’t take him long to make a mess."

In the command center of his warship, his secretary noticed his expression and hesitated. "Sir... should we delay our response a bit?"

Most of Wyrmtrace’s people weren’t exactly on Dale’s favorites list, and waiting might cost them dearly, which would both complete the mission and satisfy an old grudge.

But Dale turned on him with a fierce glare. Just as the secretary’s mouth twitched with a grin, Dale’s hand came down in a brutal slap.

"Do you think I’m an idiot?" Dale thundered. "The Empire’s gone all out to snag the star map. You really believe my people alone could stand against what’s coming? If Wyrmtrace falls, the whole Alliance is toast! Get real!"

Dale may not have cared for political scheming, but he knew his way around a battlefield. Holding back might feel good, but if things went south, he’d be the Alliance’s next scapegoat. He wouldn’t risk it.

He wasted no time, shouting for the pilot to set a course straight for Wyrmtrace.

Suddenly, the pilot’s alarmed voice cut through the room, "Incoming high-energy projectile! Activate the quantum shield, now!"

The flagship’s hull lit up as a glowing shield enveloped it, but even with the defense, the blast rocked the vessel, throwing most off balance. But not Admiral Dale. He stayed steady, striding toward the command console with blazing determination, ready to face what was coming.

As the fleet patrolled through the void of space, intelligent satellites scouted ahead, mapping every nearby star and planet.

These advanced devices scanned for moving celestial bodies and pinpointed potential threats, ensuring the fleet stayed one step ahead of danger.

Dale’s gaze locked onto the holographic map before him, a chill settling in his gut as his pupils contracted.

"The Empire fleet!" he barked, snatching up the microphone and issuing a command that reverberated throughout the fleet. "All personnel, enemy fleet spotted! Prepare for battle!"

As he meticulously organized the fleet’s maneuvers, a troubling thought clawed at his mind.

Even if their navigation data had fallen into enemy hands, it shouldn’t have allowed the Empire to move at such astonishing speed. Not even the most advanced hyperspace channels could transport a fleet of this size instantly; if they could, the Alliance would have been overwhelmed long ago.

One grim answer loomed in his mind: someone had betrayed them.

Meanwhile, on Wyrmtrace, Cohen’s eyes remained glued to the satellite feed. The Empire warships appeared as ominous shadows, moving with deadly intent. "How could they have arrived so fast?"

"What do you think?" Chuck growled, his fists clenching. "Someone within the Alliance’s high command has sold us out."

Only the Alliance’s upper echelon knew the precise coordinates of Wyrmtrace. For the Empire to be lying in wait, ready to strike the moment the map was intercepted, the betrayal had to come from the very top.

"Those parasites!" Zarek spat, his voice laced with fury. "Prepare for combat! We cannot let them land."

"Exactly," Cohen replied firmly. The planet housed countless civilians, and if the Empire managed to breach their defenses, it would be a disaster. Without hesitation, the three officers sprang into action, coordinating their forces and preparing for a brutal battle to defend Wyrmtrace’s orbit.

While the commanders braced their troops, Lyra reached out to the Alliance’s leader on Planet Nagano. She listened closely as he recounted every detail of his recent meeting with Frederick.

"Frederick questioned the communication base?" she asked sharply, her mind racing.

"Yes, he did," the man confirmed.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed in thought. "Jarven, from now on, you and Vivian will oversee all affairs on Planet Nagano."

Jarven and Lucia were siblings of Crag. They had once been sponsored by Lyra through university.

Now, they’d become adept leaders, loyal to both the Alliance and Lyra herself.

Jarven’s face lit up with pride at the assignment. "Yes, ma’am!"

With a quick nod, Lyra turned her attention back to the impending battle. She relayed updates on reinforcements to the military command. Soon, the news spread through the ranks, kindling renewed hope and determination among the troops.

 

Chapter 258: Battlefield

In the vast, silent expanse of the universe, ancient stars continued their ageless journey, drifting through space in serene, unchanging rhythms.

But in an instant, the silence was shattered as high-energy cannon fire ripped through the void.

Mechas clashed with warships, and flashes of superpowered energy erupted in bursts of lethal brilliance.

This was a battlefield—a hell for the living, an anthem of death.

Under emergency protocols, Chuck commanded from the heart of the Alliance’s main warship. His voice was steady, clear as he issued orders to the scattered divisions.

"Captain Whyte, take Division C30 and pull back from the left flank. Captain Rymes, engage spatial transfer to get behind the enemy and execute a pincer maneuver!"

Just as the formations shifted into action, an urgent alert sounded. "Sir, high-grade mecha approaching fast!"

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Just one?"

"Yes, only one, sir."

"Deploy the ’Starlight’ mecha to intercept," he ordered, confident. The ’Starlight’ was one of the Alliance’s most advanced all-purpose mechas, a powerhouse with near-level-eight capabilities in speed, defense, and attack.

Chuck’s fleet only had access to two of these prized units, typically reserved for Admiral-led missions.

But his confidence wavered as soon as the enemy came into view. The single, silver mecha, marked with black and gold, tore through the battlefield with terrifying precision.

In a single shot, it obliterated ’Starlight’, leaving Chuck chilled to the bone.

The enemy mecha, sleek and relentless, now angled toward the main warship.

"Activate the light shield defense!" Chuck commanded urgently.

The pilot responded instantly, engaging the shield. But the crimson energy cannon, streaked with dark energy, barreled toward the ship’s engine core.

Just before it struck, a platinum mecha leaped into action, enveloping the enemy in a powerful gravity field that yanked it downward. Despite the interference, the shot was still released.

The thin beam of energy sliced through the light shield, leaving a smoking hole in the ship’s hull. The engine core was spared, and the ship maintained power, but the damage was severe.

In the cockpit of the platinum mecha, Cohen exhaled with relief. He barely had time to reinforce his shields before the next blast punched through, tearing into the shoulder of his mecha.

"Cohen, fall back!" Chuck’s voice came over the comm, tense with concern.

Cohen engaged his superpower, commanding the mecha to dash back toward the main ship, but the enemy followed close, relentless.

Just as it closed in, a blade of shimmering gold light swung down between them.

The golden sword dispersed on impact, but the enemy mecha didn’t even flinch.

"What the hell? Since when did the Empire’s tech get THIS strong?" Zarek’s voice crackled in disbelief. He had no choice but to dodge. He was trying to put distance between himself and the advancing red mechas that now surrounded him.

In response, golden spikes extended from his mecha, creating a ring of defenses around him like the spiky shell of a durian.

With a sharp burst, he launched them outward, skewering several of the enemy mechas. But his small victory was short-lived; this adversary was unlike any he’d faced before.

A wave of dread washed over him, a feeling so intense it jolted him to his core.

Almost instinctively, Zarek activated layers of golden shields around his mecha. But as a swirling dark vortex formed in front of him, his shields dissolved in an instant, powerless against it.

A black hole—a distortion of space where even light could not escape—materialized, consuming everything in its path.

The vortex twisted the very fabric of space, devouring any mecha, ally or enemy, that dared come near.

In seconds, there was nothing left but a dark, gaping void.

Every nerve in Zarek’s body screamed with terror. Just as he felt the pull of the vortex, a sudden gravitational force yanked him away, sparing him from being completely consumed.

Still, half of Zarek’s mecha was torn apart by the edge of the black hole. He clutched his mangled shoulder, blood leaking into the void from a gash inflicted by the vortex’s pull. He managed to limp his battered mecha back to the main ship.

The battle had only begun, but already, the toll was heavy.

The Alliance forces were up against a nightmare—an enemy stronger than anything they had prepared for.

As Zarek staggered back to the main ship, a team from the medical corps rushed to his side. They worked frantically, applying salves and stitching where they could, but their faces grew grim.

"Report to Vice Admiral Whyte immediately—Captain Rymes’ injuries aren’t healing!" one medic shouted urgently, his voice thick with worry.

"It’s the same with every soldier brought back from the front lines," another medic added, shaking his head. "Their wounds resist even our most advanced treatments!"

When Chuck received the report, he didn’t hesitate. "Get Lyra over here—NOW."

A pause, and then a hesitant voice over the comm line. "Uh... sir, she didn’t deploy with us."

Chuck’s patience snapped. He opened a direct line to the medic head, his tone icy and controlled. "You knew Lyra could handle this specialized injuries. Why wasn’t she assigned to this unit?"

"She... refused to come, sir," the medic head replied, sounding uneasy. Lyra’s abilities were invaluable, but her reluctance was as well-known as her talent. No one on the team could force her to join the front line.

Chuck clenched his fist, seething. "And you didn’t think to report this?" His roar echoed through the command center, cutting through the tense silence.

Taking a breath to steady himself, he switched channels, trying to contact Wyrmtrace’s surface. But the communication base remained offline, leaving him with no way to get through.

"Send all soldiers injured by the Stellar Devourer back to the surface—immediately," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for questions.

The medical corps scrambled into action, swiftly preparing the wounded for emergency transport back to Wyrmtrace.

As the injured were sent down, the battle above raged on, consuming hours in relentless, brutal fighting.

The Alliance forces, though outnumbered and outmatched technologically, managed to withstand the Empire’s initial assault by relying on their proximity to resupply points.

Against all odds, they held their ground, and eventually, the Empire’s forces pulled back to regroup.

When Cohen finally emerged from the medical bay, he went straight to the command center. "Vice Admiral Whyte, what’s the current status?"

Chuck was slumped in his chair, the strain of command evident in his undone collar and weary gaze. Without a word, he gestured to the tactical report on his console. "All the details are here. Read them."

Cohen took in the numbers, grimacing. Despite knowing firsthand how intense the battle had been, he was shaken by the stark reality of the losses and the damage.

"Our equipment..." he murmured. "It’s a catastrophe."

"The Empire’s tech has advanced astronomically since they started experimenting with the Stellar Devourer," Chuck said, bitterness lacing his words. "They’re meddling with forces beyond their control, but it seems they’re willing to risk it all."

Cohen’s thoughts drifted back to his father. Thirty years ago, the Empire had crumbled under his father’s command, forced into silence for decades. But that quiet had merely masked their preparations for this brutal resurgence.

Unable to stay still, Chuck began pacing the room. "Where’s Admiral Dale’s backup? That old fool was supposed to be here hours ago!"

Though Chuck had been born into a military family and trained from an early age, he had never fully embraced the life. He had taken the quietest post he could find. Now, thrown into the heart of a devastating battle on Wyrmtrace, he was on the verge of snapping.

"He might not be coming," Cohen said, his expression darkening.

Chuck stopped mid-step, narrowing his eyes. "What are you saying? Is that old man scheming something?"

"He wouldn’t dare," Cohen replied, voice firm. "But think about it: the Empire’s fleet was already lying in wait, yet they didn’t send an overwhelming force against us. It’s likely that Admiral Dale’s fleet has been intercepted en route."

Chuck’s face fell as he realized the gravity of Cohen’s words. The Empire’s ambush wasn’t just a random assault. They were aiming to systematically eliminate Alliance forces.

"We need to buy time until my fa... Fleet Admiral Whyte’s reinforcements arrive," Cohen said. "If Dale’s fleet has been blocked, then we’re on our own."

Chuck groaned, pressing his hands to his temples in frustration. "We’re already outgunned and outmanned! And don’t forget, that level-nine Peculiar—the one that attacked our base earlier—is still out there. If he joins the fight..."

Cohen slammed his fists down on the table, his eyes blazing with determination. "We have no other choice. If our defenses fall, Wyrmtrace’s civilians—and the entire Alliance—are as good as gone."

His gaze met Chuck’s, fierce and resolute. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

 

Chapter 259: The Ace Card

Chuck let out a heavy sigh of resignation.

At this point, they had no choice but to call in their last resort. Slapping his hand down on the table, Chuck declared, "Then let’s bring in the big guns."

Cohen, already knowing exactly who Chuck was referring to, managed a wry smile and nodded. "I’ve already instructed the medics heading back to Wyrmtrace to pass along the request."

Meanwhile, back in the medical ward on the main ship, Thierry and Mandy were receiving emergency treatment.

Thierry, still haunted by the loss of his squad mates, stared vacantly at the ground. His voice, thick with exhaustion, broke the silence. "Do you know why Lyra didn’t deploy with us?"

Mandy, seated beneath a treatment device with her bloodstained uniform clinging to her skin, looked up at the ceiling. "You and I have known Lyra for years, Thierry. You know why she wouldn’t come."

Thierry gave a bitter nod. Lyra’s motivations were never a mystery—she moved only when it served her interests.

No matter how many soldiers she healed, the battlefield’s chaos wouldn’t grant her enough leverage or recognition to make it worthwhile.

Lyra didn’t give her all for nothing.

Around them, soldiers filled the ward, their faces weary and pale. The air was thick with the quiet despair that accompanied heavy losses and the dread of an ongoing battle.

Back on Wyrmtrace, the medical corps had returned with the injured and wasted no time seeking out Lyra.

Following directions, they were led to a large hall where a soft, glowing dome, nearly ten meters wide, dominated the center of the room.

"She left this here," one of the attendants explained. "Anyone who needs healing can step inside."

The medics exchanged skeptical glances. "Are we sure this thing works?"

Without waiting, Zarek—clutching his ravaged arm—limped into the dome.

As he collapsed within its boundary, a gentle, rain-like energy cascaded over him, and his wounds began to heal visibly, the damaged tissue regenerating rapidly.

The other soldiers watched in shock before stepping into the dome themselves, each letting out sighs of relief as the healing took effect.

"Thank heavens... but where’s SHE?" one soldier asked.

"Apparently, she’s... fixing the base," a medic replied, his tone uncertain.

The medics who had just returned couldn’t hide their shock. "The enemy is practically on top of us, and she’s busy with repairs? Captain Whyte ordered her to the front lines!"

Without another word, one of them sprinted off, determined to locate her.

Zarek, lying on the floor as his injuries mended, chuckled under his breath.

Lyra’s "healing dome" was still doing its job even in her absence. She was intentionally keeping herself out of the line of fire, fixing the base under the pretense of being indispensable elsewhere.

She wouldn’t budge unless the military gave her what she really want.

Zarek smirked, wondering if the higher-ups would finally relent to her terms this time.

Meanwhile, Lyra stood atop a crumbling wall, overseeing the workers as they restored the base with surprising speed.

She had called in extra help, including Koros and a few others.

"Prioritize the communication base," she instructed. "We need clear lines of contact ASAP."

Just then, the medic from earlier came running, his face flushed and breathing labored. "Ensign! Captain Whyte insists that you come to the battlefield—he wants you on the front lines!"

The workers paused, glancing up, waiting for Lyra’s response.

Lyra, unfazed, raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady. "I’m a doctor. Why would I join the battle?"

The medic stammered, "But... you used to serve in the Special Forces!"

"Perhaps," Lyra replied smoothly, "but I’m now assigned to the logistics division, and according to protocol, I’m supposed to be under protection, correct?"

"But, ma’am..."

"There’s no ’but,’" she said sharply, her voice carrying across the repair site as she looked down at him from her perch. "Relay exactly what I said to Captain Whyte."

At that moment, Koros’ voice called out from a distance, "Communications are back online!"

Lyra nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction crossing her face. She turned back to the medic. "Perfect timing. Now, go tell Cohen."

The medic, still bewildered by Lyra’s curt refusal, walked into the makeshift command tent and relayed her exact words to Cohen.

Cohen’s initial relief at the restoration of communications was swiftly overshadowed by mounting frustration.

Just then, he received a terse transmission from Admiral Dale, confirming Cohen’s worst fears: Dale’s fleet had indeed been intercepted by the Empire.

And if that weren’t bad enough, an update from Planet Nagano confirmed that reinforcements wouldn’t arrive for at least two more days.

Taking a deep breath, Cohen braced himself to face the stark reality of Lyra’s refusal.

He had once believed he understood her pragmatism and could even respect her strict sense of self-interest. But he now saw he had deeply underestimated her resolve.

Lyra was willing to stand her ground—no matter what, no matter who it affected.

With grim determination, he opened the comm line directly to her.

"Ensign Lyra," he began, barely containing his anger, "are the lives of so many soldiers and civilians really not worth you bending, even a little? And what about all the effort you’ve poured into Wyrmtrace? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?"

Her reply came back, sharp and resolute. "Of course, it means something. That’s why I’m staking billions of credits on Wyrmtrace’s survival. But the real question is, who values this planet and those lives more? Your military, with all its grand ideals, or me with my investments?"

Her words echoed in the silence that followed, sinking into Cohen with a brutal clarity.

They both knew the answer.

The burden lay with Cohen, with the military, with those who had sworn to protect the civilians on this war-torn planet.

Lyra could afford to make demands; she could afford to gamble. They could not.

The silence stretched, charged with tension, until Cohen’s hand tightened around the comm.

"Fine," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I’ll escalate this to the admiral," he spat, ending the transmission. He couldn’t bear the icy calm that had seeped into her voice.

As the line cut, Cohen leaned over the tactical map, his gaze hardening.

 

Chapter 260: Back On The Stage

In the boundless darkness of space, a formidable fleet carved its way forward, its sleek vessels slicing through the void with lethal precision.

The lead ship bore an imposing emblem of a blazing sun on its hull, its golden rays seeming to burn through the cold emptiness—a symbol as fearsome as it was awe-inspiring.

Inside the ship’s command center, Frederick sat, radiating a quiet but intense focus. A holographic projection of Cohen, standing tall and resolute, flickered before him.

"The situation near Wyrmtrace is deteriorating fast," Cohen reported. "I’m requesting clearance to transfer Lyra to my C30 Division and get her into the field immediately."

In this brutal, unyielding war, victory wasn’t just a matter of tactics; it came down to superior tech and the deployment of the strongest Master Peculiars. And the Empire excelled in both.

Frederick’s expression didn’t waver. "Is that her request?" he asked, his tone flat but probing.

"No," Cohen admitted, shaking his head slightly. "This is my decision. There’s no time for objections." He knew this was their window—if they hesitated, they risked losing the advantage.

Frederick barely paused. "Transfer authorized. She’ll reinforce the front line immediately." His reply was as firm as it was swift, his decision marked by absolute certainty.

Lyra’s frequent departmental transfers were well-known across the Empire. Wherever she went, she earned both respect and notoriety, her results speaking volumes.

Given her unique lineage and remarkable power, Frederick himself had to monitor her assignments, with each decision often requiring high council oversight.

When Admiral Dale got word, he was still under the weight of the Empire’s relentless attacks. But even as he managed an emergency briefing, his frustration was evident. "Why send her to the front again? I strongly oppose this!" he blurted out upon entering.

But Frederick’s icy stare shut him down immediately, forcing Dale to clarify in a stammer. "Th-that woman has Stellar Devourer DNA. What if she turns on us?"

Valeria scoffed. "I bet she couldn’t wait to kill more Stellar Devourers. Going back to them would be a suicidal for her."

As the tension simmered down, Frederick addressed them with renewed intensity. "The Wyrmtrace outpost has been compromised. We have a traitor in our midst. Lyra’s combat strength is essential—she’s one of the few capable of holding off the enemy’s Master Peculiars and lowering our casualties."

Her power on the battlefield was staggering, almost akin to a small warship. Outfitted with the right space-adaptive gear, her strength would be nothing short of devastating.

Yet Dale was relentless. "This is war. Death is inevitable. My Legion of the Apollo’s—do you know how many of them have fallen?"

Valeria shot up, practically radiating fury. "Oh, cut the nonsense! Maybe you’ve survived, but most of those out there are barely level three! Every soldier we can save makes it worth sending Lyra. Or are you too dense to understand?"

They all knew that death was unavoidable in battle, but they couldn’t simply dismiss it as a statistic. Each life saved mattered.

Outside of the battlefield, even a few losses would be treated as a tragedy.

Dale, seeing nothing but disapproving stares from Lynn and the others, finally relented. His face sour, he muttered, "Fine, but she should still be under the Apollo’s. At least that way, I’ll be able to monitor her closely."

"In your wildest dreams," Valeria snapped. If the holograms had been real, she’d have practically lunged at him. "Do you think we’re all idiots here, or do you just use that head of yours for height?"

Better to let Lyra stay as a medic than let her be sacrificed under Dale’s command. At least then, she’d survive.

Just then, a tall, brawny guy let out a scoff, slicing through the tension in the room.

"What’s all this fuss about?" he asked with a grin. "If that young lady can actually hold her own against a Stellar Devourer, then of course we’re sending her to the front! Who keeps their best weapon stashed away?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "Here I was thinking this meeting was about launching a real offensive against the Empire. All this drama over one recruit... Anyway, I spotted some pirate scum on my radar, so I’m out!"

With a flash, his hologram winked out.

Another voice piped up, this one lazily amused. "Raphel’s right; this debate is going in circles." A young man lounged nearby, half his face hidden by a military cap pulled low.

"Honestly, this is a snooze-fest. Send her to the front if she’s got the skill—that’s my vote." With that, his projection blinked off, leaving the room a little quieter.

"Dessel, that lazy fool," Valeria muttered under her breath, exasperated.

Admiral Dale gritted his teeth. "What do those two young hotheads know?" He huffed, though "young" was relative—both Rudolph and Dessel were in their fifties, juniors compared to the more senior officers.

Frederick’s gaze swept the room. "Let’s take a vote," he said, his tone direct. "Count Dessel and Rudolph’s votes as ’yes.’"

Lynn and another middle-aged Supreme raised their hands in support, tipping the vote six to four in favor.

"Good. I’ll finalize the deployment orders. Meeting adjourned."

One by one, the commanders logged out until only Admiral Dale and Vice Admiral Vince remained.

Dale turned to Vince, frustration boiling over. "Why didn’t you back me up this time?"

Unruffled, Vince simply shrugged. "It wouldn’t have mattered. With a Stellar Devourer roaming around, Lyra’s deployment was a given. Today, tomorrow—she’d be on the front eventually."

Dale could only mutter to himself before logging off, not that he’d have time to stew over it.

The Empire’s next wave was already closing in.

Meanwhile, Lyra’s orders popped up on her opticomputer barely an hour after Cohen’s initial request. She skimmed the orders with a slight smile. "Looks like the opportunity’s finally here."

Just then, a military medic jogged up. "Captain Whyte figured you’d be taking this mission. You good to go?"

Lyra nodded, but her expression hardened as her gaze shifted upward. Her sharp eyes focused on the distant horizon, spotting something she hadn’t seen moments earlier. Her face grew tense as she turned to Shane. "Get everyone here, right now."

"Uh—got it!" Shane stammered. He darted off to round up the team, who were still casually working on construction tasks nearby. "Listen up, everyone! Drop what you’re doing! Get to the base immediately. Ensign Lyra has an urgent call!"

Lyra activated her comm line, connecting to Cohen.

"What’s up?" Cohen’s voice crackled through, brisk and no-nonsense. He was clearly already deep in deployment planning, his brows drawn together in concentration.

"I need the key to the base’s weapon vault," she said without hesitation.

He blinked. "Say again?"

"The Empire’s infiltrators are here," Lyra replied, her voice calm but firm.

Cohen’s steely expression cracked into shock. "This better not be a joke."

She kept her eyes trained on a cluster of small red dots on the horizon, descending fast and growing larger by the second. "Want proof?"

"Fine. I’ll send Kogar to back you up," Cohen replied, transmitting the vault codes. "How many are we dealing with?"

"Approximately five thousand," she answered, almost nonchalantly.

Two years ago, Liliana had assigned her five hundred top soldiers to train under Lyra. Now, they stood before her, awaiting her orders, as straight-backed and resolute as ever.

"Coordinate with Kogar for ground defense!" Cohen’s voice barked over the line as he raced back to the command room to prepare for the incoming assault.

Chuck nearly jumped out of his chair when the news came through. "Wait—did Lyra actually agree to fight?"

"Yes," Cohen confirmed. "She’s teaming up with Kogar to intercept the incoming forces."

Luckily, they had left Kogar with a small detachment of soldiers stationed at the base. If the enemy thought they could take it easily, they were about to get a rude awakening.