Ch. 281..285: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 281-285

Chapter 281: Sharing Glory

As the first to uncover the Empire’s conspiracy, Lyra not only stopped the enemy from destroying the flagship but also saved Admiral Dale yet again.

Lyra even captured the enemy Admiral Barrett alive. Her actions single-handedly thwarted the Empire’s plan to take Wyrmtrace, a crucial strategic star. Without her, the star’s fall would have been a matter of days.

Such a brilliant achievement spread like wildfire, and Lyra instantly became the most talked-about officer in the military. Since her stellar performance during the AMAT mission, she had gained another wave of admirers.

"I’ve been following her since AMAT! She’s incredible, my idol!"

"This is what the military should represent—strength and charisma in one package."

"With Lyra around, why fear Stellar Devourers?"

Initially, the revelation about the Stellar Devourers had thrown the entire Alliance into panic. But Lyra’s dominance and her overwhelming victories restored the people’s confidence. Her rise was so impactful that the government didn’t even need to push propaganda—the public’s faith was already rekindled.

Back at the Wyrmtrace base, even the previously skeptical captains of the mecha and fighter squadrons had changed their tune. Once dismissive of her, they now greeted her with utmost respect, addressing her as "Commander" without hesitation.

Lyra nodded slightly in acknowledgment and proceeded directly to Orson’s office.

"Reporting in."

"Come on in."

Orson studied Lyra with a conflicted expression. Initially, he had only acknowledged her as a beautiful woman, considering her abilities secondary and hardly worth noting in the presence of someone of his rank. But when she revealed herself as a level-nine Peculiar, Orson had to admit he was shaken.

After all, in the current Alliance, even the admirals were typically no higher than level-nine Peculiars.

"Admiral Frederick has summoned you. Follow me," Orson said, suppressing his emotions as he led her to Admiral Frederick’s office.

On the way, Orson couldn’t help but speculate about the reason for Lyra’s summons. ’Is it to reward her achievements?’ If so, he felt a sting of jealousy. ’Or is it to investigate the delayed operations she’s been involved in earlier?’ That filled him with dread.

But when they arrived, Admiral Frederick’s first question caught him completely off guard.

"When did you ascend to level-nine, and why didn’t you report it?"

According to regulations, any Peculiar who ascends to level-nine must register with the Peculiar Management Office on their assigned planet.

Level-nine Peculiars have the potential to become Supreme Peculiars, and the government monitors such individuals closely.

Given Lyra’s youth, her potential to become a Supreme was undeniable, as long as she didn’t meet an untimely end and had the insight to continue advancing. But it was precisely for this reason that Lyra didn’t want to report her promotion.

As a level-eight, she was already facing hostility from certain individuals in the military. Advancing to level-nine would undoubtedly escalate their animosity, causing her to be viewed as a significant threat.

And indeed, sitting in the room were Admiral Dale and several vice admirals, all staring at Lyra. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and fear.

Their surprise was understandable. The Alliance’s most gifted Peculiar, Cohen, was still only a level-eight, despite being the same age as Lyra. Lyra had even "died" for seven years and still managed to surpass him. Her rapid ascent was nothing short of unprecedented.

"I advanced before the mission and hadn’t had the chance to report yet," Lyra replied calmly.

Her explanation was reasonable, as there was no evidence suggesting she had deliberately concealed her abilities.

Frederick didn’t dwell on the timing and pressed further. "Have both of your superpower types reached level-nine?"

"Only the healing ability," Lyra answered.

Superpower levels are determined by the scale of particles a Peculiar can manipulate. Dual-type Peculiars often find it challenging to advance both abilities simultaneously. When Lyra reached level-eight, she had defied the odds by advancing both powers at once. This time, however, only her healing ability had broken through.

The others in the room weren’t surprised. Lyra had clearly relied more heavily on her healing powers recently, so it made sense for that ability to advance first.

"You’ve Earned Great Merit This Time"

"You’ve earned great merit this time," Frederick said, his tone calm but firm. "I’ve already submitted a recommendation to the Alliance Military Council for your commendation. Wait for their response."

The room fell silent, the mood charged with awe. All eyes turned toward Lyra, their gazes filled with admiration. For someone with level-nine strength, such a feat wasn’t surprising—but it was no less extraordinary.

Suddenly, Orson stepped forward. His jaw tightened as he addressed the room. "I have something to say."

The air shifted. Orson held up a recording, and everyone’s focus moved to the projection that played above his hand. The footage was from the eve of the battle, showing Orson sternly ordering Lyra to remain stationed on the flagship.

"It wasn’t her achievement alone!" Orson declared.

Shameless.

The accusation rang clear in the minds of everyone present. It was obvious that Orson’s original words had been little more than an outburst of frustration. How could anyone but Lyra have neutralized Stellar Devourers?

Yet Orson didn’t flinch, pressing on with conviction.

"I foresaw the enemy’s attack on our flagship," he claimed. "That’s why I specifically ordered her to stay and defend it."

Frederick’s sharp gaze bore into Orson.

Orson stood rigid, his heart pounding, but he didn’t back down. If Orson could attach himself to Lyra’s success, he might have the leverage to petition the Alliance Military Council for an independent command—a rare opportunity for someone of his rank.

Frederick finally turned to Lyra. "Lieutenant Commander Shedd, is this true?"

Lyra’s face betrayed no emotion. "It is."

Frederick nodded and addressed the clerk seated nearby. "Amend the battle report. Change the wording from ’Lyra single-handedly captured enemy Admiral Barrett’ to ’Captured enemy Admiral Barrett under orders.’"

This simple amendment was significant. Orson, shameless as he was, had managed to latch onto Lyra’s success.

While Lyra’s commendation would still stand as special merit, Orson’s name would now share the limelight.

Lyra’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stood at attention. "Admiral—"

"Enough. Dismissed," Frederick interrupted with a wave.

Lyra saluted and left the room without another word. Once the door slid shut, Admiral Dale spoke up, his tone biting. "Orson’s a coward. Now he’s hitching a ride on Lyra’s accomplishments for a special commendation? Admiral, this decision—"

Frederick’s face remained unreadable. His response was curt. "There’s another matter that requires a military meeting."

News Spreads at Wyrmtrace Base

The news of Admiral Barrett’s capture spread like wildfire through Wyrmtrace Base.

Ian burst into the dormitory with a wide grin. "Skylight! Did you hear? That bastard Barrett got caught!"

Ian was known for his grudges. He could remember every insult and repay every slight, no matter how small. Hearing about Barrett’s capture was the highlight of his day—suddenly, even the tasteless cafeteria fish sticks seemed palatable.

"I heard," Skylight replied, his tone softer, his smile faint and melancholy.

Ian frowned. His cheer dimmed as he took in Skylight’s expression. "You’re still thinking about the Empire, aren’t you?" he accused. "You keep telling me you want to start a new life with me, but it’s all lies!"

His voice cracked with irritation. Realizing how petty he sounded, Ian sighed and slumped into a chair, pouting.

"I’m just worried," Skylight said, his gaze distant as he stared out the window at the endless sky. "Admiral Barrett’s capture... knowing the Empire, they won’t try to ransom him back."

"And so what?" Ian snapped, his voice sharp and defensive.

Before Skylight could respond, a spatial rift shimmered open in the center of the room. Both men jumped to their feet, their hands instinctively reaching for weapons that weren’t there.

A Stellar Devourer emerged, his eyes gleaming. He barely glanced at Skylight before speaking. "You’re here, No. 19," he said. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Lord Westros has ordered you to assist in rescuing Admiral Barrett."

Ian’s expression turned ice-cold. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his posture mocking. "Oh, so now I’m needed, huh? When it’s convenient, I’m a dog to fetch frisbee for you. But when I’m not, I’m nothing. The Empire Admiral’s life or death—what does that have to do with me?"

His tone was dripping with disdain, his contempt unmistakable. Ian had no intention of making this easy for anyone.

Chapter 282: Prisoner Break

The Stellar Devourer paid no mind to Ian’s stunned expression and shifted his attention to Skylight, whose guarded stance betrayed his unease. With a flick of his hand, he summoned a virtual document. "This comes directly from your admiral," he announced.

The document detailed a mission briefing. If Skylight agreed to assist in rescuing Barrett, he would be allowed to return to the Empire. Not only that, but he’d be promoted to Vice Admiral, with the option to join the admiral’s elite legion or command his own.

The proposal hit Skylight like a bolt of lightning.

Return to the Empire? A promotion to Vice Admiral?

When he glanced at Ian, however, something in him hardened. He shook his head firmly. "I’m not going back."

He already knew Lyra’s plan: to escape to Voidstar No. 2—a distant haven where neither humans nor Stellar Devourers waged their wars. It was a place of absolute freedom, an ideal refuge for Ian.

The Stellar Devourer raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Your admiral was sure you’d accept."

When both young men stood defiant, his expression darkened. The air around him grew icy, his voice laced with menace.

"If you won’t cooperate willingly, don’t blame me for resorting to force."

With a single gesture, he extended a finger toward Ian.

Suddenly, the force of a black hole engulfed Ian. His body contorted in agony as invisible energies seized him, pulling at his very core.

Ian tried to withstand the torment, but the pain was unbearable.

"Aaaaah—!"

It felt as though his body was being shredded from within, the relentless agony paired with a chilling fear of the unknown. He collapsed, writhing on the ground in despair.

"Stop it! What are you doing?" Skylight shouted, panic flooding his voice. He charged at the Stellar Devourer, but the guy batted him away with a casual wave of his hand.

"No. 19," he said coldly, "How can you be so stupid? The black hole’s power is not infinite. When it’s depleted, the strength it granted you test subjects will vanish. And you know what comes next."

Skylight’s eyes widened in horror as Ian’s cries grew weaker. Memories of Ian’s agonizing transformation when he first gained his powers came flooding back.

Ian curled into himself, trembling uncontrollably, his voice cracking as he sobbed.

"I don’t want this! I don’t want this anymore! Skylight, help me..."

Skylight darted to Ian’s side, pulling him into a protective embrace. "Enough!" he cried out. "I’ll do it! I’ll agree to your terms!"

Since reuniting with Ian, Skylight had watched him mask his pain with a carefree demeanor. But beneath the facade lay scars too deep to heal. Skylight couldn’t bear to see Ian suffer like this any longer.

The Stellar Devourer’s expression softened, his satisfaction evident. "Good. I’ll send you the details of the plan soon." With that, he disappeared into the void.

As the oppressive air lifted, Ian’s sobs quieted. His entire body was drenched in sweat, as though he had been pulled from the depths of an ocean.

"Skylight... I don’t want you to throw yourself back in danger for me," Ian murmured weakly.

Skylight shook his head, forcing a small smile. "I just want to return to the Empire."

"Really?" Ian’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah."

A quiet understanding passed between them—truths unspoken, but deeply felt. Both chose to pretend they didn’t notice.

Meanwhile, in a rest area near the military prison, Lyra stood with her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

As expected, her caravan had arrived.

Three days after the Empire’s victory at Wyrmtrace, Barrett’s transfer to headquarters for interrogation was finally scheduled.

The Empire had refused any ransom negotiations, leaving the Alliance no choice but to proceed with the move.

Due to the looming threat of Stellar Devourers, Frederick assigned Lyra to oversee the mission personally and escort Barrett.

Joining her was Orson, who had volunteered for the operation. He hoped to use the opportunity to gain political leverage for his dream: establishing an independent legion. Though the mission was dangerous, success promised the highest commendation.

At dawn, the heavily fortified convoy set out from the military base.

Inside the central prisoner transport, Lyra sat beside Barrett. She rested with her eyes closed, her icy demeanor filling the space with tension.

Barrett, wearing a superpower suppressor, glanced at her. Breaking the silence, he attempted a smirk. "Lyra, why don’t you join the Empire? Economically and technologically, we’re leaps ahead of the Alliance."

The driver and the officer in the passenger seat exchanged nervous looks. This wasn’t a conversation they wanted to overhear.

Lyra didn’t bother with a reply. Without opening her eyes, she raised a hand and smacked Barrett across the head.

"Behave," she said curtly. "And don’t waste your breath on cheap provocations."

The driver and the officer both exhaled in relief. Thankfully, no classified information had slipped into the prisoner’s taunts. Still, their complex gazes lingered on Lyra through the rearview mirror.

Her sharp eyes caught their stares, and they quickly averted their gaze, embarrassed.

The convoy continued for a while, the quiet hum of the engines the only sound, until Lyra’s eyes abruptly snapped open.

"Stop the vehicles! Prepare for battle!" she commanded.

Her voice carried such authority that the entire convoy reacted instantly, halting and assuming defensive positions like a well-oiled machine.

Orson scowled from his vehicle.

This was supposed to be his mission, but before he could object, Lyra was already out of her transport, leaping gracefully onto a Lev.

The vehicle containing Barrett activated a faint green barrier, sealing it against extradimensional interference.

Moments later, the air rippled with malevolent energy. Extradimensional rifts began tearing open around them.

"Attack!" Orson barked, drawing his weapon.

The convoy burst into action. It was staffed almost entirely by Peculiars—superpowered soldiers—and snipers and long-range specialists hidden nearby opened fire.

A brutal clash erupted as creatures emerged from the rifts, howling with fury.

Lyra, however, remained motionless atop her Lev, her piercing gaze scanning the battlefield.

As Orson fought off a lunging Therianthrope Peculiar with a fierce kick, he shot Lyra a glare. "Don’t forget your other mission!"

"I’m well aware," she replied coldly, her tone betraying no urgency.

Extending her psychokinetic senses outward, she probed the battlefield. ’Where are the Stellar Devourers?’

Suddenly, a prickling sensation ran down her spine. The sky grew dim, and a strange glow began descending—a faint light multiplying rapidly until the entire squad looked up, their faces twisting in horror.

A meteor swarm.

"Retreat! Now!" Orson’s voice cracked with panic.

"We can’t!" Lyra’s expression turned grim as she raised her palm.

Luminous shields formed layer upon layer above the convoy, glowing like a crystalline dome.

The first meteors struck with devastating force, shattering the shields almost instantly.

These weren’t ordinary meteors—they were infused with destructive energy, each carrying the weight of a Supreme Peculiar’s wrath.

The impacts churned the ground into chaos, sending shockwaves that pinned the soldiers where they stood. The squad felt a creeping despair, the realization of their powerlessness sinking in.

Then, without warning, a ripple of force surged through the air. The meteors veered off course, halting mid-air about a kilometer away.

Lyra’s sharp eyes narrowed. Two forces are clashing.

Moments later, the meteors disintegrated into fine, glittering dust, drifting harmlessly to the ground.

The squad stared in stunned silence until Lyra’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Stay alert!"

The warning came just in time. Extradimensional rifts expanded, and enermies began pouring through them, surrounding the convoy.

"I’ve already sent for reinforcements!" Orson yelled, rallying the soldiers. "Hold the line! Don’t give them an inch!"

The battle intensified as more Stellar Devourers emerged, their dark forms moving with inhuman precision.

Strangely, they ignored Lyra entirely, directing their attacks at the other Peculiars.

Lyra prepared to join the fray, but an ominous energy locked onto her.

The ground trembled, and metallic sand began rising into the air. It swirled into a dense cloud, then shot toward her like a swarm of sharp needles.

Lyra conjured a light shield, deflecting the sand, but the sheer force of the attack forced her to dodge.

The metallic swarm shifted direction, targeting the Lev containing Barrett.

From the largest rift, an old man emerged, his calm demeanor radiating malice.

Lyra’s expression darkened. It was another Supreme Peculiar.

The convoy’s defenders faltered as fear rippled through their ranks.

In the next moment, the metallic sand exploded outward in a devastating barrage, slicing through half of the Alliance soldiers like shrapnel. Agonized screams filled the air.

Lyra sprang into action, unleashing her healing abilities to save the wounded. But the shards of metal embedded in their bodies resisted her powers, leaving many beyond her help.

The old man waved his hand, and the metallic sand coalesced into a swirling storm around him. His gaze locked onto Lyra, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Lyra summoned Schedar, forming a glowing sword of pure psychic energy.

The old man’s eyes glinted with interest, and with a flick of his hand, he almost wrenched it from her grip.

Forced to retreat, Lyra reluctantly sealed the weapon back into her Space Button.

"Fascinating," the old man mused, his voice calm yet menacing. "Such extraordinary psychokinesis for someone so young."

His failed attempt to seize her weapon seemed to fuel his resolve. The metallic storm around him intensified, spinning with deadly precision.

Lyra tightened her grip on a staff of superpower-forged energy. Her expression steeled as she prepared to confront him head-on.

Chapter 283: A Hash World

The Empire had sent two Supremes, confident that such a force would be more than enough to secure Barrett’s rescue. But they hadn’t accounted for Lyra, whose recent ascension to level-nine made her a formidable opponent.

While the Supremes’ powers could threaten her, Lyra’s physical combat abilities turned the tide in close quarters. Even the smallest hesitation on their part meant taking a punishing blow.

Lyra swung her staff with precision, scattering a volley of metallic sand aimed at her squad. Though the staff disintegrated under the strain, she deftly dodged and formed another weapon mid-movement, her efficiency unrelenting.

Nearby, the old man lifted a Lev as though it were weightless and hurled it toward an extradimensional portal.

Lyra intercepted, closing the portal with her powers before the Lev could pass through. It crashed to the ground with a deafening clang.

Lyra’s tenacity paid off. She held the line just long enough for Alliance reinforcements to arrive—two Supremes of their own.

With Lyra now supported by equally powerful allies, the enemy quickly lost their upper hand.

Realizing their disadvantage, the enemy leader gave the order to retreat.

Lyra had anticipated this. Earlier, she had sealed off the surrounding extradimensional rifts, forcing the enemy to flee on foot using their superpowers.

Without hesitation, the two Alliance Supremes pursued them, intent on capturing at least one Stellar Devourer for research.

"Lyra, follow them!" Orson barked, his tone heavy with authority.

Lyra didn’t budge. "I must guard Barrett."

Her calm response frustrated Orson. With both Supremes gone, the remaining convoy was now defended only by level-eight Peculiars.

If Lyra left, it would leave a gaping hole in their defenses.

"I’m the mission commander!" Orson snapped. "I’m ordering you to pursue them!"

One of the mission’s critical objectives was to bring back a captured Stellar Devourer. Only Lyra’s unmatched strength could make that possible.

"As you command," she said, her tone even.

Before departing, Lyra’s gaze lingered on the prisoner transport.

Orson caught her look and felt a twinge of unease. ’Is there something she hasn’t told me?’

Shaking off his doubts, Orson dismissed the moment and led the convoy forward. He reassured himself that the suppressor key was in his possession. ’Nothing can possibly go wrong—right?’

The convoy hadn’t traveled far when the prisoner transport suddenly came to an inexplicable stop.

"What now?" Orson growled, stepping out to investigate. He surveyed the surroundings cautiously but saw nothing amiss. Approaching the transport car, he knocked sharply on the window.

No response.

Frowning, Orson walked to the front of the vehicle. His heart nearly stopped when he looked inside.

The driver, the guards, the prisoner—all gone.

Orson stumbled back, his mind reeling. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to regain composure.

"Start searching immediately!" he bellowed, though his voice betrayed his anxiety.

In a desolate, barren landscape, a black hole shimmered into existence, depositing three figures onto the ground.

"Cough, cough! What just happened?" Barrett growled, brushing dirt from his uniform.

Ian staggered to his feet, only to collapse again as a glowing green collar reappeared around his neck. The suppressor activated with a painful pulse, sending him writhing in agony.

"Ian!" Skylight rushed to his side, ignoring Barrett as he tried to help Ian stand.

"That damn witch!" Ian spat, fury and pain twisting his features. He clawed at the collar, his attempts to remove it only intensifying the feedback.

Barrett, growing impatient, grabbed Ian by the collar and snarled, "What’s going on? Did you betray us?"

"Let him go, sir!" Skylight shouted, prying at Barrett’s grip.

"Stay out of this!" Barrett roared, shoving Skylight away with force enhanced by his newly liberated powers.

The impact sent Skylight hurtling backward, his body slamming into a jagged rock. He hit the ground with a sickening crack, blood pooling rapidly beneath him.

"Skylight!" Ian’s anguished scream echoed across the empty landscape. His eyes, already bloodshot, filled with tears as helpless rage consumed him.

The collar pulsed again, driving him further into the ground.

Barrett froze, the gravity of what he’d done dawning on him. Then he scowled, unwilling to acknowledge his guilt. "You’re a level-eight Peculiar, Skylight. Quit faking it!"

But Skylight didn’t move.

"Get up!" Ian’s voice broke as he cried out again.

Blood streamed down Skylight’s head, soaking the ground as Ian’s desperate pleas filled the air.

Barrett frowned, his confusion growing. "Why isn’t he using his powers?"

He didn’t realize the answer lay in Lyra’s meticulous planning. She had suppressed their abilities with psychokinetic markers before allowing their escape.

By eliminating any trace of superpower particles at the scene, she ensured no evidence could lead back to her.

Though she had seemingly let them go, Lyra had done so only under her terms. They were free—but only within boundaries she controlled.

Just as the desolate clearing descended into grim silence, Orson arrived with reinforcements. His voice rang out with authority, shattering the eerie stillness.

"Arrest them all!" he barked, unaware of the disaster looming before him.

Barrett’s lips curled into a cruel grin as his body began to morph, flesh and bone reshaping into a towering demon-beast form.

Now standing over three meters tall, he exuded a monstrous presence. With a single swipe of his massive claw, he decapitated Orson in one horrifying motion. The man’s head hit the ground before anyone could react.

Barrett, a level-nine Peculiar, made quick work of the rest of the squad. His claws tore through flesh and bone as though they were paper.

Within seconds, the clearing was painted red, and silence returned—broken only by Skylight’s faint groans as he lay injured on the blood-soaked ground.

Barrett surveyed the scene, his glowing eyes flickering between the carnage and the two people left alive.

He grabbed Ian, who was still doubled over in pain, his suppressor collar glowing faintly.

For a moment, Barrett hesitated, debating whether to wait for reinforcements or flee to ensure he wouldn’t be abandoned.

"Wait! Skylight isn’t dead. Take him with us!" Ian’s voice was hoarse with desperation as he stretched an arm toward his unconscious brother.

Barrett growled, his annoyance evident even in his monstrous form.

Ignoring Ian’s plea, Barrett seized him by the arm and spread his massive wings. The wind roared as he launched into the air, leaving Skylight behind in the clearing.

Two minutes later, Lyra arrived. She moved through the carnage with quiet purpose, her expression unreadable.

Lynn stood at her side, his jaw clenched in fury as he took in the aftermath. "Damn the Empire spies!" he spat, his voice sharp. His gaze landed on Skylight, who was barely clinging to life among the remains of the squad.

Without hesitation, Lynn raised a hand, and Skylight’s chest erupted in a spray of blood. The young man’s body convulsed before going still.

Lynn turned to Lyra, his tone grim. "Lieutenant Commander Shedd, see if there’s anyone left to save. I’m going after the fugitives."

Before Lyra could respond, Lynn vanished, using teleportation to pursue Barrett and Ian.

Left alone, Lyra knelt beside Skylight’s lifeless body.

Her hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out a travel pass of her caravan.

A trace of unease crossed her face—if the pass were found by the military, her own involvement in this debacle would be exposed.

She tucked it away in her uniform and examined Skylight’s injuries.

His chest rose and fell faintly. Blood seeped into the dirt around him, pooling beneath his head. His eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused, but filled with unspoken pleas.

For a moment, Lyra hesitated. Then, with a faint spark of energy, she sent a trace of vitality into his body, enough to draw his consciousness back from the brink.

Skylight’s voice was weak, trembling as he spoke. "Ian... he’s not like you." His breath hitched as he struggled to continue. "When we were kids, over three thousand of us were implanted with black hole seeds. Only two survived."

Lyra listened silently, her face impassive.

"They didn’t alter us—they made us vessels for the black holes. The others... their bodies disintegrated. Not even their bones were left. Ian and I were the only ones who made it."

He coughed weakly, blood staining his lips. His dim eyes stared upward, lost in painful memories.

"Our parents died in the war. We grew up in the same orphanage. I promised to protect him, but... when Westros came to choose test subjects, I was afraid. Ian stood up for me. They took him instead of me."

His words cracked under the weight of guilt.

"He survived and escaped, only to find his birth mother. She... sold him. He killed her and her buyer, then ran until he found me again. For a while, we stayed together. But then the Stellar Devourer came..."

Skylight’s voice faltered, and tears spilled down his face as he choked out his final words.

"The day we met again... the sun was so bright. It felt like a rebirth. But we both cried."

His breathing slowed, and his eyelids grew heavy.

"I thought the military would keep me away from war. I thought I’d be safe... but I broke my promise. Lyra, please... save him. Don’t let them use him again."

The faint vitality Lyra had granted him flickered and faded.

Skylight’s head tilted to the side as a final tear slipped from his eye, mingling with the blood that soaked his hair. His lips parted one last time.

"If only... this world were kinder to us..."

Lyra rose to her feet slowly, her face unreadable as she stared down at Skylight’s body.

The crimson stains of battle were everywhere, painting the earth and clinging to the air like a heavy shroud.

The wind shifted, carrying away the faint scent of blood. Lyra closed her eyes briefly, exhaling a soft sigh. Her steps faltered for a moment as she turned to leave, but she didn’t look back.

The world was harsh—she knew this truth better than anyone. It was no place for kindness, no matter how desperately people longed for it.

Yet, for the briefest second, a thought lingered in her mind, unspoken and fleeting.

’If only.’

 

Chapter 284: Perfect Scheme

As Lynn caught up, Ian suddenly felt his long-lost power coming back to him again.

Acting on instinct, he activated a portal.

Barrett’s eyes lit up with excitement. "I’ll go first!" he shouted, rushing forward.

But just as he reached the edge, the black hole snapped shut.

"You wish," Ian said with a cold sneer.

Barrett’s face twisted in rage. "What are you trying to pull?"

Before he could react, another black hole materialized—this time directly above his head.

In his final moments, Barrett’s expression froze in shock, his disbelief carved into his features as the void consumed him.

By the time Lynn arrived, all that remained was a headless corpse, blood still seeping into the ground.

...

Elsewhere, Ian stumbled out of an interdimensional passage, collapsing beside Skylight’s lifeless body. His knees buckled as he cradled his brother’s form, his voice thick with grief.

"Skylight... Time to go home."

The words felt hollow, and a pang of doubt pierced his chest. Home? But where was home now?

Before he could process the thought, a slender hand clamped around his throat, cutting off his breath. Another hand slipped into his pocket, retrieving the access pass.

Ian’s gaze shifted upward to meet the cold, unreadable eyes of the woman before him. In an instant, clarity struck him.

Of course. The sudden return of power had been no random stroke of luck; it had been calculated. Lyra had known their plan from the start and allowed them to proceed, just to remove Orson from the board.

The Empire and the Alliance—both sides had been expertly played, pawns in her hands.

Ian’s resistance faded as he closed his eyes. Oddly, a strange sense of peace washed over him.

*****

Flying through the sky, Lynn carried the lifeless body, his flight steady until a familiar figure appeared in his path. He halted abruptly, startled.

"Lyra? What are you doing here?"

Lyra’s expression was unreadable, her voice flat. "There’s a Stellar Devourer. I couldn’t risk him getting away."

Lynn’s expression hardened. "You’re too late. He’s already gone."

Even he couldn’t defeat a Stellar Devourer—a predator born to hunt Peculiars.

"How many survivors?" Lyra asked, her tone detached.

"Three. They’re being treated." Lynn’s face darkened as a realization struck. "Wait. If the Stellar Devourer escaped, those survivors might still be in danger!"

Without wasting another second, he grabbed Lyra and teleported them to the site.

When they arrived, they found the survivors encased in a glowing healing barrier. Inside, three frail military officers clung to life, their breathing faint but steady.

Lyra stepped into the barrier, her hands moving swiftly as she tended to their wounds.

Lynn scanned the area with sharp eyes. "Did the Stellar Devourer come through here?"

One of the officers weakly nodded. "He did... He took the body of its companion."

The officer’s voice quivered as he recalled the scene. The creature had only glanced at them before vanishing into an interdimensional portal, leaving behind a terrifying emptiness.

*****

On Voidstar No. 2, Ian emerged from the interdimensional portal, still supporting Skylight’s pale, lifeless form.

Scanning his surroundings with weary eyes, he made his way toward the tallest structure in the outpost.

"We’re looking for Snakehead," he muttered.

*****

On Wyrmtrace Planet, after the battlefield had been cleared, Lyra, Lynn, and the three surviving officers returned to base.

Though the Empire’s elaborate plan had been thwarted, the cost had been catastrophic.

As for the captured Stellar Devourer, he hadn’t even lasted long enough to be studied. He died in the lab before dissection could begin.

Frederick, grim-faced, summoned the biochemical division’s top expert to evaluate the situation.

"At least the body is intact," the expert said, his voice tinged with regret. "With the right tools, we can still examine it. But we won’t uncover anything about the spies from it now."

The spies had infiltrated deeply enough to learn the identities of the convoy’s driver and escorting officers.

Even more unsettling was the absence of any superpower traces at the scene. The meticulous nature of their actions suggested the spies were Peculiars intimately familiar with military protocol.

Frederick’s jaw clenched as he thought of the lives lost. His voice dropped to a steely growl.

"Bring Lyra in."

Lyra walked in, her face cool and calm.

Frederick’s eyes narrowed as he asked, "Lyra, why did you leave the prison transport?"

"Sir, I was acting under Vice Admiral Whyte’s direct orders to pursue the Stellar Devourer," she replied calmly.

The surveillance footage from the transport had already corroborated her story. No one could fault her; soldiers were bound by duty to follow orders.

In truth, Orson’s death was largely his own doing. But Frederick’s instincts nagged at him—there was something deliberate about Lyra’s involvement in Orson’s demise.

And then there were the two spies, who had gone to great lengths to conceal their identities. Suspicious, yes, but there was no evidence.

"Lieutenant Commander Shedd," Frederick called.

"Yes, sir," Lyra responded, lifting her gaze to meet his.

Frederick’s penetrating eyes seemed to strip away all pretense, searching for the truth beneath her stoic exterior.

"I trust you understand the importance of prioritizing the greater good at all times," he said.

Lyra nodded, her expression unwavering. "I will remember, sir."

But Frederick wasn’t convinced. Her words were precise, but they lacked conviction. Lyra was like a blade—sharp, cold, and without warmth.

"There’s one more thing. I need you to help test some machines."

Lyra raised a brow, intrigued.

When the towering black machines were revealed, her eyes flickered with a rare glimmer of surprise. "So, the Alliance finally managed to create it..."

"This is the Countervoid model," one of the technicians explained, pride evident in his tone. "It detects black hole energy. We’re planning to mass-produce it to pair with the Aegis Shield and city surveillance systems. This will significantly reduce the chances of Stellar Devourers and Empire infiltrators entering our territories."

The technician’s enthusiasm was palpable as he continued, "Lieutenant Commander Shedd, could you test its functionality?"

As expected, Lyra gave an affirmative evaluation after using her abilities to interact with the machine.

Standing before the five-meter-tall structure, she cast a glance at Frederick, who remained as impassive as ever.

’The test is real enough,’ she mused, ’but this is also a warning from him.’

The Alliance had developed technology to detect black holes and was already close to deploying countermeasures against Stellar Devourers. Frederick wanted to remind her—subtly—that the Alliance would no longer tolerate reckless actions, not even from her.

The news of Barrett’s death soon reached the Empire, igniting a surge of outrage.

Seizing the opportunity, the Empire’s higher-ups declared full-scale war on the Alliance.

Stellar Devourers joined forces with Empire Peculiars, launching coordinated attacks on Alliance settlements.

This blatant aggression shattered any pretense of adherence to humanity’s shared principle: avoiding war and slaughter targeting civilians. In the face of real war, principles gave way to survival.

But the Empire’s plans, seemingly unstoppable, met unexpected resistance.

The moment black holes opened near major Alliance cities, beams of light from the Aegis Shield locked onto them. Patrolling drones swarmed in, unleashing precise volleys of firepower.

In larger settlements, Master Peculiars lay in wait, dispatching Empire soldiers with ruthless efficiency.

The Stellar Devourers, as indifferent as ever, fulfilled their role of opening passages but refrained from fighting. Their attitude was clear: "We agreed to create the path, not to wage your war."

The Empire, desperate for their assistance, had no choice but to hold their frustration in check.

Still, the Empire wasn’t without its victories. In settlements with weaker defenses or where the attackers overwhelmed their targets, casualties mounted.

The resulting chaos sent shockwaves through the Alliance, straining its already stretched resources to the breaking point.

Late that night, Lyra received an unexpected call. She opened the screen to find Leona’s haggard face staring back at her, dark circles under her eyes and deep lines framing her mouth.

"You’ve been working too hard," Lyra greeted her, tone polite but distant.

Leona let out a dry laugh. "Thanks to the war, I’ve been sleeping in my office for a week straight."

She brushed back a stray lock of hair and continued, her voice tinged with both bitterness and sincerity. "Every bomb you throw, every high-energy beam you fire—it’s all burning through the Alliance’s budget. Of course, as a citizen, I deeply appreciate your sacrifices."

The contrast between her gritted teeth and genuine gratitude was striking.

Lyra tilted her head slightly, her tone calm. "If it’s financial trouble, I can’t help you. I’m wealthy, but not enough to fund a war of this scale."

Leona chuckled softly. "Not money, Lyra. Weapons."

Lyra’s expression hardened, the faintest glimmer of displeasure flickering in her eyes.

Chapter 285: War, Weapons, and Deals

Leona lit a cigarette, the curling smoke casting a ghostly haze over her sharp, calculating features.

Her voice, steady and firm, carried the weight of two decades managing the Alliance’s labyrinthine finances.

"I’ve overseen the Alliance’s coffers for nearly twenty years," she began, her gaze slicing through the screen. "No transaction—public or private—escapes my notice. Voidstar No. 2 may not appear on official records, but deals of that size always leave traces. I’m not interested in where the money goes. I just want your weapons."

In times of war, currency became a fleeting abstraction, its value eroded by desperation and inflation. Only resources—tangible, practical, and destructive—held any true worth.

Lyra sat up straighter, her composure steady. "Let’s talk price."

"I can only offer half the market rate," Leona replied, her tone unyielding.

"Eighty percent," Lyra countered, her voice unwavering.

"Sixty," Leona snapped back. "You know the risks. If your factories are discovered, the military will come down on you like a hammer. Troops will seize everything, and any ambitions you have within the Alliance will be over before they start."

Lyra’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Seventy. If official channels had succeeded, you wouldn’t be here bargaining with me."

Their gazes locked across the virtual divide, the silence stretching as each weighed their options.

Finally, Leona sighed, a sound that carried the weariness of endless nights spent fighting battles with numbers instead of bullets. "Sixty-five percent. That’s my final offer. And I’ll throw in compensation in the form of public treasury assets—plants, minerals, whatever we can spare."

The discount was steep, transforming what should have been a profitable arms deal into a yard sell.

"Deal," Lyra said crisply.

Leona snuffed out her cigarette with a sharp motion. "Tell your people to prepare the shipment. I’ll send a team to collect it immediately."

The screen went dark, and Leona wasted no time drafting the necessary logistics. Every second counted in war.

In Central City, Elden Prime...

When Leona’s work was done, night had fully settled over the city.

The faint green glow of the Aegis Shield illuminated the skyline, its protective dome casting an ethereal glow over the bustling metropolis.

Leona paused by her office window, taking in the sight. Even the artificial beauty of the shielded skyline felt like a luxury after days spent buried in reports and emergency meetings.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself a tired smile, but it vanished quickly. If the Empire’s forces breached this city, the skyline would be replaced by fire and carnage.

Back home, she sank into a hot bath, letting the tension in her body melt away. But just as she began to relax, an insistent knock shattered the quiet.

Muttering a curse, she wrapped herself in a robe and stomped to the door. Pulling it open, she snapped, "What is it now?"

Standing in the doorway was Caspian, his irritation mirroring her own. He didn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past her into the apartment.

"Why did you send me to Voidstar No. 2?" he demanded.

Leona arched a brow but remained unfazed as she followed him back into the room.

Caspian’s frustration boiled over. "Do you have any idea how close I came to getting killed on Wyrmtrace? Now you’re sending me on arms deals?"

Leona rolled her eyes, settling in front of her vanity to apply a face mask. Her voice was calm but laced with sarcasm. "I fought tooth and nail for this discount. If I left it to the bureaucrats, they’d drain me dry in bribes. Do you have any idea how high the deficit is right now?"

Caspian faltered, her words hitting their mark. Guilt crept into his expression as he sank into a chair.

"But I’m not even part of the government," he protested weakly. "This has to be against regulations."

Leona’s tone turned icy as she smoothed the mask over her face. "Right now, I couldn’t care less about regulations. If anyone so much as touches my funds, they’ll regret it."

Even muffled by the mask, her voice carried a blade’s edge.

Caspian sighed, running a hand through his hair. Leona’s resolve was unshakable, and he knew better than to argue when she was like this.

"Fine," he muttered. "If it’s for the Alliance’s survival, I’ll do it."

After a pause, he leaned forward, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Where did you even find this supplier? Voidstar No. 2 doesn’t exactly sound... legitimate."

Leona shot Caspian a withering glare. "Don’t ask questions that aren’t your business, you idiot."

Caspian flinched but held his ground, though her cutting tone left little room for argument.

For years, Lyra had worked with Caspian, and he didn’t even realize what she was doing.

Lyra had commissioned entire fleets, amassed resources beyond imagination, and constructed a covert empire under the Alliance’s nose. Caspian, oblivious to the machinations around him, hadn’t even suspected a thing.

Of course, what they were doing was illegal. Arms trading outside the military’s tightly controlled supply chain wasn’t just frowned upon—it was treason.

If even a fraction of these weapons ended up in the wrong hands, like space pirates or insurgents, the Alliance would face chaos on a scale it couldn’t afford.

But desperate times demanded desperate measures. The Alliance stood on the brink, and Leona wasn’t the kind of person to let rules dictate survival. She would use any tool at her disposal, including covering for Lyra’s unorthodox dealings.

Caspian’s voice cut through her thoughts, tinged with uncertainty. "What happens if the military starts asking questions?"

Leona didn’t flinch. "Tell them to take it or leave it!"

For a moment, Caspian was stunned by her audacity. Leona wasn’t just brave; she was fearless—unyielding in the face of power.

*****

The shipment of weapons was promptly distributed to the Alliance’s military.

On the frontlines, the advanced technology turned the tide in several battles, but their origin raised questions.

When Frederick inspected the armory, his expression darkened at the sight of the unfamiliar models.

"These aren’t standard issue," he said flatly. "Where did they come from?"

Since the last overhaul of the Alliance’s procurement system, all weapons had to pass through centralized and heavily regulated channels. Deviations weren’t just rare—they were almost impossible.

An adjutant cleared his throat nervously. "Leona procured them, sir. They were shipped from Voidstar No. 2."

Frederick’s gaze shifted to Lyra, standing silently nearby. His voice took on a steely edge. "Investigate it."

Thierry frowned. "Whoever’s behind this must have immense resources. If they can manufacture at this scale, why haven’t they shown up on any of our radars?"

Cohen turned to Lyra. "You’ve been involved in procurement before. Heard of them?"

Lyra’s tone was measured, her expression neutral. "I haven’t dealt with Voidstar No. 2 in years."

The implication was clear: if she knew anything, it wasn’t recent.

Cohen decided to let the matter drop, though the suspicion lingered.

*****

Frederick’s investigation hit one dead end after another.

While the shipments were traced back to Voidstar No. 2, the actual production site was a mystery.

The intelligence report was maddeningly sparse: "We infiltrated Snakehead’s factory. It produces medical equipment and related supplies. No signs of illegal activity."

Even the underground facilities yielded no evidence of weapons manufacturing.

When Frederick asked if Leona had clarified the situation, the adjutant hesitated before relaying her response:

"She said... ’Take it or leave it.’"

*****

Behind the scenes, Leona and Lyra solidified their arrangement. The contract ensured a steady supply of advanced weaponry to the Alliance for the duration of the war.

These weapons became the backbone of the Alliance’s resistance, helping repel invasion after invasion. With every hard-won victory, scrutiny over their origins dwindled.

Survival outweighed bureaucracy, and the military eventually stopped asking questions.

Lyra’s bold deal with the Alliance wasn’t without its costs.

Snakehead, her sharp-tongued business operative, threw up his hands in frustration.

"This is madness," he grumbled. "Sixty-five percent? Do you know how much we’re losing on this deal? I might as well cough up blood and call it even!"

He paced the room, puffing angrily on a cigar. "Sis Marv, this isn’t you. You’ve always chased profit like a hawk. Now you’re practically giving it all away!"

Lyra’s expression remained unreadable. She had structured the deal to protect her associates, absorbing the financial losses herself.

"To me, money doesn’t matter anymore," she said calmly.

Snakehead narrowed his eyes. "Then what does?"

"Who knows?" Her tone was indifferent, but it carried a faint note of finality.

Snakehead exhaled a plume of smoke, shaking his head. "You don’t have to say it. I already know. It’s power, isn’t it?" He leaned back, a wry grin playing on his lips. "We’re all just waiting for the day you take the top seat in the military."

His words weren’t just flattery. Those who worked under Lyra believed she was destined to become the most powerful figure humanity had ever seen.

Lyra’s voice was steady, her eyes glinting with quiet determination.

"Trust me," she said, her words cutting through the air like a blade. "That day is coming soon."

As the night stretched over Wyrmtrace, her declaration lingered in the stillness, a promise to shape destiny itself.