Ch. 291..295: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 291-295
Chapter 291: The Rude Prince
"What a few matters?"
Robin and the other adjutants assumed Lyra’s next orders would be focused on standard military operations. Instead, her next words left them stunned:
"Be pirates."
"...What?"
Lyra tapped a stack of documents on the table, her calm demeanor belying the shock in the room. The reports detailed the countless failures of forces attempting to garrison Voidstar No. 1 over the years.
"In this sector," she explained, "only pirates can land safely."
Realization dawned, and sly smiles spread across her team’s faces.
Lyra’s plan was unconventional, but it was as bold as it was brilliant.
She instructed the adjutants to select a scouting team and finalize their strategy.
Once the plan was set, she stood and dismissed the meeting, leaving her team buzzing with anticipation.
As the others filed out of the room, Aurelius lingered, standing in the shadows. His thoughts churned as he stared blankly at the empty table.
He didn’t notice Lyra approach until she stood directly in front of him. Her steady gaze pierced through his haze.
"Feeling down?" she asked, her voice calm.
Aurelius hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "A little," he admitted.
Before the Legion of Everglow had formed, Aurelius had served as Lyra’s adjutant for three years.
He had patiently waited for her rise to independence, hoping to earn a key position in her new legion. But when the time came, three newcomers outperformed him, claiming the coveted adjutant spots.
Worse, there was no excuse to cling to. The selections had been based on merit, not politics.
"Aurelius," Lyra said, her tone measured, "you, more than anyone, understand the importance of strength."
Her words hit home. Aurelius straightened, squaring his shoulders as he saluted her.
"Yes," he said firmly, "and I won’t let you down."
As he stepped outside, the sunlight made him squint, but it didn’t dim the renewed determination in his chest.
He had endured far worse than this. A setback was nothing. He would train harder, grow stronger, and prove himself worthy. His time would come.
As Aurelius exited the military district, his path was blocked by a group of soldiers. At their head was a man wearing the insignia of the royal crest.
"His Royal Highness Lucien requests your presence," the man announced, his tone formal but firm.
Aurelius’ expression darkened as he glanced at the Lev, its royal markings unmistakable.
The next morning, Aurelius returned to the base unconscious, carried in by Thierry.
"My uncle happened to see him being cornered by the Prince Lucien’s guards at the palace," Thierry explained as they laid Aurelius onto a bed. "He brought him out on his way back."
Thierry continued grimly, "The external injuries are treated, but the internal ones... those will need time."
Helion’s temper flared as he paced the room. "What a fool!" he fumed. "If the Lucien’s guards beat him up, why didn’t he just return the favor and punch Lucien in the face?"
Elsie shook her head, her voice softer. "He probably didn’t want to drag the rest of us into trouble."
At that moment, Lyra entered the room with Mandy. She approached Aurelius silently, assessing his condition before using a healing ability to stabilize him.
Then, without a word, she turned and left.
Helion cracked his knuckles, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "That’s it? No retaliation? If you want, I can pay the palace a little visit..."
Lyra didn’t respond. Her gaze shifted instead to the entrance of the dormitory, her expression sharpening.
"There’s no need," she said coolly. "They’re already here."
Lucien, now officially the Crown Prince, stormed into the base with the audacity only royalty could summon.
Flanked by a contingent of royal guards, including two level eight bodyguards, he strode through the halls as if he owned the place.
"Where’s that mutt?" Lucien barked, his voice echoing. "Tell Lyra to hand him over!"
His arrogance filled the air like a noxious fog, his every step oozing entitlement. He ignored the soldiers’ glares, too blinded by his status to sense the danger lurking beneath their restraint.
Lucien assumed his royal authority would shield him. Surely, not even Lyra would dare defy him outright.
When Lyra finally appeared, her expression was calm but glacial, her measured steps radiating quiet power.
"Welcome, Your Highness," she said, her voice laced with icy politeness. "Forgive us for failing to greet you properly."
Lucien didn’t even glance at her. "Hand over that bastard," he demanded, his tone dripping with contempt.
Lyra’s gaze flicked upward to the patrol drones circling above, their mechanical eyes recording the scene.
With a subtle signal, she directed Mandy to disable them.
Moments later, Koros remotely sent the drones away.
Lucien didn’t notice.
Despite the creeping unease gnawing at his confidence, his arrogance kept him steady. Lyra wouldn’t dare touch him, he assured himself. After all, he was the Crown Prince.
Raising his chin, Lucien repeated his demand, his voice sharper now. "Bring the damn bastard out. Now."
As Lucien’s tirade echoed through the hall, the group behind Lyra exchanged knowing looks.
The Crown Prince’s crude language was not only unbecoming but downright laughable—a glaring blemish on the reputation of the Alliance.
Noticing their expressions, Lucien scowled. "What’s with those faces?"
Helion smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Oh, don’t mind us, Your Highness. This is just how we look when welcoming royalty."
Lucien bristled. "Do you take me for a fool?" Crossing his arms, he added arrogantly, "None of you have even bowed to me yet! Show me the respect I’m due!"
He waved his hand impatiently, waiting for them to obey.
Helion raised an eyebrow and glanced at the others.
"Ah, I’ve got training to catch up on," Helion said with exaggerated nonchalance, turning to leave.
"Yeah, same here," another chimed in.
"I’ll check on Aurelius," added a third.
Before Lucien could blink, the group had scattered, leaving him alone in the corridor.
Lucien stood rooted in disbelief, his face twisting in anger. "Stop right there!" he shouted after them, his voice bouncing off empty walls.
Beside Lyra, Mandy tilted her head, studying the prince as though he were an unusual and particularly slow specimen.
Lucien’s frustration boiled over. He whirled on his guards, pointing at Lyra and the others. "Arrest them all!"
But his guards hesitated, paralyzed by the unyielding pressure radiating from Lyra. The oppressive energy made their knees weak and their palms slick with sweat.
"Lyra," Lucien hissed through clenched teeth, "they disrespected me first!"
Lyra’s response was cool and dismissive. "And?"
The single word hit Lucien harder than any insult, leaving him sputtering in fury.
"You’re outrageous!" he spat.
Lyra gave a faint shrug. "Perhaps."
Lucien’s rage peaked. "Guards, arrest her! Now!"
The guards exchanged nervous glances, their fear evident. One finally spoke, his voice shaky. "Your Highness... she’s a Rear Admiral. We don’t have the authority to detain her."
The second guard whispered under his breath, "And... we can’t win against her."
Lucien’s bravado cracked. His face paled as the realization sank in, leaving him momentarily speechless.
With no recourse, Lucien lashed out bitterly. "Lyra, are you really siding with that mangy mutt over me? I am the Crown Prince!"
Lyra didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she gestured toward the perimeter. "This is a restricted military zone, Your Highness. You’re trespassing. I suggest you leave."
Before Lucien could retort, Lyra’s patience wore thin. With a flick of her wrist, green bands of energy materialized, encasing the prince and his entourage.
In one smooth motion, they were launched from the base.
A collective THUD followed as the group landed unceremoniously outside the gates, dazed and disoriented.
Soldiers stationed nearby struggled to contain their laughter, some failing outright.
One officer shook his head, grinning. "Did he really think he could intimidate HER of all people?"
Another chuckled. "That kid needs to learn some manners before throwing his weight around."
*****
Back at the palace, Lucien fumed as he recounted the events to his father.
"Father, you must punish that insubordinate woman! Arrest her for this humiliation!" he demanded, his fists clenched.
King Edmund’s patience, already worn thin, finally snapped. With a thunderous clang, he slammed his goblet against the table, silencing his son.
"Are you a complete idiot?" the king roared. "You want me to march into the military and arrest a Rear Admiral? Do you have ANY idea what that would provoke?"
"But she insulted me!" Lucien whined, his tone edging toward petulant.
Before he could continue, Edmund hurled the goblet at his son, narrowly missing his head.
"You insolent fool!" the king bellowed, his fury shaking the chamber. "The Empire is at our doorstep, and you’re picking fights with the very people keeping us from annihilation? Keep this up, and I’ll strip your title myself!"
Lucien recoiled, his face a mix of shock and indignation. He slunk behind the queen for cover, seething silently.
But deep within, his resentment toward Lyra burned brighter than ever.
*****
Unbothered by royal drama, Lyra turned her attention to the mission ahead. The deployment to Voidstar No. 1 was fast approaching, and every detail needed to be in place.
On the eve of their departure, Aurelius left the base early and didn’t return until well past curfew.
"Where were you?" Lyra asked when she spotted him during a final inspection.
Aurelius snapped to attention, saluting crisply. "Reporting in, Rear Admiral. I come to thank you for your assistance."
Lyra regarded him briefly, her sharp eyes searching for any sign of lingering weakness. Satisfied, she nodded and turned her focus back to the formation.
With the final preparations complete, Lyra dismissed the troops.
The Legion of Everglow was ready to embark on its first mission—and carve its name into history.
Chapter 292: The Venus’ Seashells
On Voidstar No. 1, the crew of the Broken Blades space pirates stumbled upon a struggling village nestled among the barren plains.
Wielding state-of-the-art weapons, the thirty-something pirates fanned out, forcing every villager to gather in the central fountain square. They moved with practiced precision, going door to door to ensure no one was left hiding.
"Our boss has one simple demand," the squad leader announced, his voice low and menacing as it carried through the crowd. "From now on, twenty percent of your harvest is ours. On top of that, you’ll pay a monthly tax of 100,000 astrocredits. Play along, and we’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you."
The square was filled mostly with the elderly, women, and children. The few men among them were gaunt and weak, their hollow eyes and tattered clothing reflecting the grinding poverty of the village.
They stood silent, unable to summon the strength or courage to resist.
The village chief, a frail old man with shaking hands, stepped forward hesitantly. His voice wavered as he pleaded, "Sir... please... we’re already paying tribute to the Falcons and the Wolf Fangs. There’s nothing left for us to give."
The squad leader’s lips curled into a mocking grin. He clapped his hands slowly, his sarcasm biting. "Well, aren’t you lucky! Three different pirate crews squeezing you dry. That’s impressive."
The crowd shifted nervously. The Falcons and the Wolf Fangs were both notorious, with leaders who had climbed to level Nine, solidifying their status as some of the most dangerous forces on Voidstar No. 1.
But the squad leader wasn’t impressed. His grin soured into a sneer. "I don’t care what you’re already paying. I said twenty percent, and I mean it. You’re not starving yet, are you?"
His words cut like a blade, slicing through any fragile hope the villagers might have had.
Sixty percent of their harvest was already promised to the other gangs. Now, with this new demand, there would be nothing left—no food, no money, no way to survive.
The village chief fell to his knees, desperation in his voice. "Please, sir, I beg you—"
He didn’t get to finish. The squad leader’s blade flashed, silencing the old man mid-sentence.
Blood splattered across the dried-up fountain as the chief collapsed. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Parents shielded their children’s eyes as muffled cries broke out.
"Sir!" someone screamed, but no one dared to move.
The squad leader wiped his blade and scanned the crowd with cold, unfeeling eyes. "Get moving," he barked. "Load everything up!"
Under the watchful eyes of armed pirates, the villagers could only stand by as their precious grain was taken.
Sack after sack was hauled away, leaving their storage bins empty. Even the stale black bread left on their tables—bread that had been their lunch—was taken.
"What are we supposed to eat?" a woman cried, clutching her young child. Her voice was shaky, her despair spilling out.
A pirate raised his weapon and aimed it lazily in her direction. "Say another word, and I’ll shoot that brat in your arms."
Her sobs turned silent, tears streaming down her face as she hugged her child close.
Before leaving, the squad leader issued one final command. "You’ve got until tomorrow night to cough up this month’s protection fee."
The pirates climbed into their transport vehicles, and the roar of engines echoed across the village as they disappeared into the distance.
The villagers were left in stunned silence, exchanging defeated glances.
Slowly, they began the grim task of burying their chief. Then they returned to what was left of their homes, finding overturned furniture, smashed storage bins, and even their hidden caches ransacked.
It was too much to bear.
At last, the weight of their despair spilled over, and the village was filled with wailing cries of anguish.
*****
In the desolate outskirts of Voidstar No. 1, the sudden roar of engines shattered the silence. A small, battered spaceship, trailing smoke and debris, was being relentlessly chased by a military warship.
The damaged craft barely made it through the atmosphere before crashing into the dusty plains with a deafening thud.
A boy, no older than ten, was out gathering firewood when he saw the ship fall from the sky. His bundle dropped to the ground as his eyes widened with fear.
Without hesitation, he turned and ran back toward the village.
"Dad! Mom! Another bunch of space pirates is here!"
Only the children still panicked at the sight of a ship. The adults, hardened by years of unending struggle, barely reacted. Exhaustion had stripped them of the strength to be afraid.
The boy’s panicked cries brought a ripple of unease through the village.
Villagers began gathering at the settlement’s entrance, their faces etched with worry. Among them was an elderly man with snow-white hair leaning heavily on a cane.
He squinted at the distant crash site and spoke slowly, his tone wavering between doubt and resignation.
"How do you know it’s space pirates? Couldn’t it be the military...?" he asked, his voice almost hopeful.
A younger man cut him off sharply, his frustration boiling over. "Grandpa Rick, stop daydreaming! The Alliance left us to rot ages ago."
The bitter truth was something everyone knew too well.
Years ago, the Alliance military had attempted to intervene, but their forces were decimated by the pirates.
Since then, the Alliance had all but erased Voidstar No. 1 from its maps.
"We’re nothing to them," the younger man continued, his voice heavy with despair. "We’re just the abandoned descendants of scavengers. The Alliance doesn’t care about people like us."
The villagers were the offspring of scavengers who had once eked out a living by salvaging and refining scrap metal from the surrounding junk planets.
When the pirate gangs blockaded the area, cutting off trade and communication, their once-fragile connection to the outside world was severed.
Over time, generations were trapped in poverty and forgotten.
Without resources, skills, or powers to resist, their existence became one of quiet suffering, sinking further into despair with each passing year.
The boy’s outburst was like a slap across their collective faces, a cruel reminder of their hopelessness.
Rick’s hand trembled slightly on his cane. He sighed deeply and muttered under his breath, "Dig the grave... and make it bigger."
His quiet words landed like a thunderclap among the villagers.
The older ones looked up at him, their tear-streaked faces filled with sorrow. Slowly, they began to move, resigned to his grim instructions.
It was against this backdrop of fear and desperation that the second group of pirates arrived.
*****
At the forefront of this new pirate crew was a striking woman whose presence demanded attention.
She stepped gracefully from the sleek transport ship, her crimson stiletto heels clicking sharply against the cracked earth.
Her fitted red gown, slit high at the thigh, emphasized her commanding figure.
Draped over her shoulders was a black coat with a fox-fur collar, the luxurious fabric stark against the village’s dilapidation.
Her silver hair, cascading over one shoulder, shimmered like moonlight, and her sharp eyes missed nothing as they swept across the scene.
With her confident stance, radiant crimson lips, and look of quiet authority, she seemed equal parts regal and lethal.
A small entourage followed close behind her, their movements casual yet alert. Each radiated danger, their mere presence a warning.
Rick, the new village head, shuffled nervously forward, bowing his head. "M-may I ask why you’re here?" he asked, his voice trembling.
The woman walked past the crude wooden barricades without so much as a glance at them. Her tone was calm but firm as she replied, "We’re staying the night. We’ll leave tomorrow."
Rick and the other villagers exchanged confused, uncertain looks. ’Pirates asking to stay, not demanding it?’
A young man from her crew broke the momentary silence. Flashing a theatrical grin, he kicked over a wooden post and shouted, "Don’t you know who we are? We’re the infamous space pirate crew—the Venus’ Seashells!"
The villagers blinked, momentarily puzzled by the name.
’Venus’ Seashells? Is that supposed to sound intimidating?’ Rick thought, fighting the urge to let the confusion show on his face.
The young pirate seemed to revel in the reaction. He stomped on the broken post, snapping it in half, then jabbed a finger toward the villagers. "Didn’t you hear them? Get some rooms ready! Or we’ll feast on you instead."
Another crew member, younger but equally intense, stepped forward with a menacing look. "And make sure there’s food! I’m starving."
Behind them, two others—Vikie and Elsie—watched the antics with thinly veiled amusement.
Helion and Grains had a knack for over-the-top theatrics, perfectly fitting their role as stereotypical space pirates. Still, even they couldn’t help mentally wincing at the crew’s peculiar name. ’Venus’ Seashells? Really?
The villagers, however, weren’t focused on the name. All they could think was how cursed their luck had been: two pirate crews in a single day.
Rick swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak again. "Everyone, we... we have a farewell ceremony tonight. Please, don’t be offended."
His gaze lingered on Helion’s oversized blade, haunted by memories of the earlier slaughter.
Trembling, he gestured weakly. "My house is at your disposal. Please, make yourselves comfortable."
An elderly couple stepped forward hesitantly. The man spoke, his voice low and cautious. "You can use our house too. Please... spare the young people and children. Without them, we can’t harvest the fields."
His wife nodded silently beside him, her eyes pleading. Their words hung in the cold air, a desperate prayer wrapped in trembling fear.
On Voidstar No. 1, the unspoken rule among pirates was simple: avoid unnecessary large-scale slaughter of young people and children.
Ordinary inhabitants were already few and far between. If they were wiped out, there would be no one left to grow crops. Instead, to ensure compliance and discourage rebellion, the pirates often took children as hostages.
"Smart move," Helion sneered, baring his teeth in a mockery of a grin as he followed Rick to the offered lodging.
Once inside, Helion wasted no time playing his part. With exaggerated disdain, he kicked over a chair, causing the villagers trailing behind him to flinch.
"What a dump!" he growled. Turning to the woman at the center of their group, he added, "Boss, I don’t think these people are taking us seriously. We should just teach them a lesson."
Grains chimed in eagerly, "Yeah, let’s just wipe them out! Saves us the trouble!"
Rick staggered, clutching his chest as if the threat alone might cause him to faint. Behind him, villagers clutched their children tightly, their wide eyes filled with terror.
The woman was Lyra. She glanced briefly at her overacting companions before sauntering to a chair. She sat gracefully, crossing her long legs, her voice smooth and commanding.
"We barely escaped. Keep a low profile."
Phelixes chuckled softly. Even Lyra was committed to the act, though her commanding presence made her convincing without effort.
Chapter 293: The Young Man Gultong
That evening, whispers circulated among the group about the village’s "farewell ceremony." Speculation grew as to who or what was being sent off, until they arrived at the square and saw for themselves.
In the center of the square lay the body of the village chief, carefully prepared for burial.
Around him sat several elders in white robes, including Rick, their expressions solemn and calm.
Villagers knelt in a circle, their hands clasped in prayer, the scene imbued with an almost mystical stillness.
Even the pirates’ arrival barely elicited a reaction.
Helion, unable to contain his curiosity, grabbed a boy who had come to call them for dinner and gestured toward the scene. "What’s going on over there?"
The boy, his temper still fresh, pulled against Helion’s grip but couldn’t free himself. Irritated, he snapped, "Are you blind? We’re saying goodbye to the old chief, Rick Harvin."
Realizing his tone had been disrespectful, the boy stiffened and glanced nervously at the pirates to gauge their reaction. Fortunately, none seemed offended.
Vikie, intrigued, asked, "Why say goodbye to Rick? Is he going somewhere?"
The boy’s expression darkened. "He’s going to be buried with the chief."
"What?" Vikie exclaimed, shocked.
The boy scowled, his anger flaring again. "They’ll die soon anyway. Better to do it now and leave more food for the children!"
Helion and the others froze. Raised in a society governed by order and law, they struggled to process what they had just heard.
The boy clenched his fists, his voice trembling with fury. "If it weren’t for you pirates forcing us to pay tribute—"
"Gultong!" His parents’ voices cut through the air, sharp with terror. They abandoned their places in the prayer circle and rushed over, their faces pale as they grabbed him.
"Apologize to them!" his father pleaded, bowing repeatedly and forcing Gultong into a hasty retreat. His mother added, her voice cracking, "Please forgive him. He’s just a foolish child. He didn’t mean it!"
Gultong stood stubbornly, his chin raised in defiance. His father, panic-stricken, slapped him hard across the face. "Apologize! Now!"
The slap echoed in the tense air. Tears welled up in Gultong’s eyes as he stared at his father. For the first time, he noticed the redness in the older man’s eyes, the deep pain and sorrow etched into his face.
His gaze shifted to Lyra, seated like a queen, her icy eyes piercing straight through him. His breath hitched as he felt the full weight of her commanding presence.
"I... I’m sorry," he mumbled, his voice breaking.
It was a bitter blow to his pride. Unable to bear the humiliation, he wiped his tears with a trembling hand and bolted from the square.
Gultong’s parents, paralyzed with fear, watched as Lyra and her crew disappeared into the darkness, heading in the direction their son had fled.
His mother’s trembling hand gripped her husband’s arm as she began to rise, desperate to follow. But Rick’s frail voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Don’t throw your lives away," Rick said softly, his voice heavy with resignation. His cloudy eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his gaze fixed on the ground. "You’ll only drag the rest of us down."
The words cut through her panic like a blade. Seeing the pleading expressions of the other villagers, she sank back to her knees, her lips trembling as silent tears streaked her face.
Gultong’s father placed a shaking hand on her shoulder.
Neither spoke, but the despair they felt was shared by everyone present.
The villagers bowed their heads in unspoken agreement. No one dared to say it aloud, but in their hearts, they all believed the same thing: Gultong was as good as dead.
Gultong stood by the crude, weathered wall encircling the village, his small frame shaking with fury as he kicked at it over and over.
His hoarse voice echoed into the empty night, a mixture of frustration and defiance.
"I’ll join the pirates one day! I’ll become the strongest pirate in the galaxy, and then no one will dare ruin my village again!" he shouted, his words raw with emotion.
From the shadows, Lyra and her crew watched the scene unfold. A quiet unease settled among them.
They had expected anger or fear, but not this—a child with no choice but to dream of becoming one of them as his only chance at survival.
"Look at him," Helion sneered, breaking the silence. "The kid’s already dreaming about becoming a pirate."
Startled, Gultong spun around to face the group. His red-rimmed eyes widened at the sight of them, centered around the striking woman whose presence felt overwhelming, like the weight of the stars bearing down on him. He tried to mask his fear, balling his fists tightly.
"Mind your own business!" he snapped, his voice trembling but defiant.
"Tsk, the kid’s got some fire," Helion said, clicking his tongue with mock appreciation.
Grains, always eager to escalate, stepped forward with a predatory grin. "Why waste time talking? Let me eat him right now!"
His body began to shift grotesquely, muscles bulging and claws elongating as he transformed into a beast-like form. His feral grin revealed sharp teeth that glinted in the moonlight.
Gultong froze, his face turning pale. But instead of cowering, he squared his shoulders, his trembling fists clenching tighter.
In a burst of reckless defiance, he shouted, "Go ahead! Kill me! I will haunt you!"
The words came out in a rush, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as though bracing himself for the inevitable.
But the floodgates had opened, and he couldn’t stop. "If it weren’t for you space pirates, our ancestors wouldn’t have been trapped here! We’d have real lives—kids here could go to school, eat white bread, and live without fear!"
His voice cracked as he continued. "We wouldn’t have to grow up learning how to read from stories the elders barely remember. Now even those stories are fading. Everything is disappearing!"
As his tirade ended, his voice dropped to a whisper. Slowly, he opened his eyes, confused by the silence. The pirates were still standing there.
They hadn’t killed him yet.
"Quite the temper, huh?" Grains muttered, looking irritated.
He took a step forward, his claws glinting dangerously. But Lyra stopped him with a sharp glare, her icy gaze freezing him in place.
Reluctantly, he relaxed his stance, scratching his neck with mock indifference.
Lyra crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. Her sharp eyes bore into Gultong, assessing him. "I have a few questions for you," she said, her tone cold and measured.
Gultong swallowed hard, his instincts screaming that this woman was dangerous. Still, he managed to snap back, "I have nothing to say to you!"
Grains bared his claws again, his voice low and threatening. "Talk, or I’ll slaughter everyone in your village."
The words sent a jolt of terror through Gultong. He stumbled back a step, his heart pounding, but his defiance didn’t immediately crumble.
Gritting his teeth, he blurted out, "If I answer... will you let me join you?"
His desperate question hung in the air, met by a beat of stunned silence. Then, unexpectedly, the "pirates" began to laugh.
Lyra regarded Gultong critically, her sharp gaze slicing through his defiance and determination. After a moment of silence, she spoke bluntly, "You’re too weak."
Gultong’s face twisted in frustration. "But I heard anyone with a superpower can join a pirate crew!" he protested, his voice trembling with desperation. "I’m strong. I swear I can help!"
Helion chuckled and slung an arm around the boy’s shoulders, his grin wide and teasing. "Haha, and why would a little squirt like you want to join us?"
Caught off guard, Gultong flushed and struggled to articulate his thoughts. "Because... because you’re different from the other pirates," he stammered.
Helion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And how exactly are we different?"
"You didn’t kill me," Gultong said earnestly. "Not even after I yelled at you and insulted you."
Helion’s grin faltered slightly, and a faint sigh escaped him. Ruffling the boy’s unruly hair, he patted Gultong lightly on the cheek. "Well, kid, I’ll give you this—you’ve got a sharp eye. Or maybe it’s just dumb luck."
The idea that sparing someone could inspire this kind of trust struck Helion as both amusing and deeply unsettling.
Gultong, emboldened by their reactions, hesitated for a moment before making another request.
His tone turned tentative, his gaze pleading. "If I can’t join... then maybe you could help protect the village? Tomorrow, another crew is coming to collect their tribute. We can’t pay. If we don’t..." He swallowed hard. "They’ll take the women and children instead. Please. I’m begging you."
His words were chilling in their casualness, as though this grim reality was an accepted part of life.
The "pirates" exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the boy’s plea settling heavily over them.
Lyra’s companions looked to her, waiting for her decision.
She crossed her arms, her icy gaze lingering on Gultong for a long moment before she spoke. "Fine."
The single word stunned everyone.
Gultong’s eyes widened in disbelief before a flicker of joy broke through his guarded expression.
"You mean it?" he asked, his voice trembling with hope. "What do you want to know? Ask me anything!"
Lyra didn’t respond, but her calm demeanor made it clear the decision was final. She turned and gestured for the others to follow her back toward the village square.
When they arrived at the fountain square, the gathered villagers froze in stunned silence.
All eyes were on Gultong, who walked alongside the pirates with a newfound sense of purpose, his back straight as if he were already one of them.
"Gultong!" his mother cried, rushing forward. She threw her arms around him, holding him tightly as tears poured down her face. "Oh, thank the stars! You’re alive!"
Gultong grinned, his voice bursting with excitement. "Mom, Dad! They said they’ll help us! They’ll protect the village!"
His parents’ relief was short-lived. Their joy drained from their faces, replaced by pale, stricken expressions.
Around them, the other villagers began murmuring, unease rippling through the crowd like a cold wind.
Chapter 294: Being Space Pirates
One of the villagers stepped forward, his voice filled with desperation. "Please, we can’t spare any more food for your protection. We really can’t."
"That’s right," another added. "We haven’t even harvested this year’s crops yet. We’re living off hunting and foraging now—there’s nothing left to give."
"Please, don’t take our children. Our village is already doomed; we can’t lose anyone else!" another elder begged, his voice cracking.
To the villagers, what Gultong saw as help seemed more like an excuse for the pirates to extort them for protection money.
"No, you misunderstand..." Gultong started to explain, but Lyra cut him off sharply.
"When are we eating?" she asked, her voice slicing through the tension.
With a casual, almost lazy motion, she sat down at the table, as if she were royalty awaiting a feast.
Helion, one of the pirates, chimed in with mock annoyance. "Yeah, do you plan to starve us or what?"
The villagers exchanged helpless looks before going to work, pulling out the animals they’d caught that afternoon. They began gutting and preparing the meat for dinner, their faces drawn with exhaustion and resignation.
Compared to the ragged villagers, the pirates looked almost regal, their clothes and weapons gleaming in the dim light.
After the meal, the village chief’s body was carried outside, and a large pit had been dug for his burial.
Moths fluttered around the oil lamps, their flickering light casting eerie shadows that made the scene feel even more ghostly.
Other elderly villagers, leaning on each other for support, slowly made their way to the pit. Though they had accepted the reality of death, there was no escaping the fear and sorrow that gripped them.
As the dirt began to fall, tears flowed freely, and an old woman sobbed quietly as the first shovelful of earth hit her husband’s grave.
But then, a strong gust of wind swept through the village, knocking everyone to the ground.
"Enough noise!" a cold voice rang out. It was Elsie, the "pirate woman" who had remained stoic and distant throughout the evening. "What’s all this burial nonsense? The wind’s so strong, the body’s going to stink up the place. Are you trying to kill us with the smell?"
She stood, her face expressionless, and waved her hand. The wind seemed to obey her command, blowing dust and debris in every direction. Her words, spoken with menace, froze everyone in their tracks.
"Scatter. Now!" she ordered, the wind picking up, threatening to bury the villagers under a storm of dirt. With a flick of her wrist, she intentionally covered the chief’s body, forcing the villagers to retreat.
Powerless, the villagers gathered their tools and reluctantly helped the elderly back to their homes.
Meanwhile, high above, a small drone buzzed, transmitting everything that had just happened. A hidden figure in the shadows grinned as they watched the footage on a screen.
"Where did these pests come from, daring to stir trouble in my territory?" A middle-aged woman sneered, flicking ash from her cigarette. "But... hmm, these men aren’t bad-looking."
She tapped the side of her chair, causing holographic images of two figures to glow in front of her.
An old man with a rooster’s comb hairstyle spat on the ground, his voice full of disdain. "Broken Blade. You can’t seem to stop staring at any man who looks decent, can you?"
"Shut up and drop the woman in your arms first," Markle, head of the Falcons responded, smirking as he admired the view of the two women.
The drunk man next to them squinted, barely lifting his eyelids. "Before you start plotting, maybe you should check if you can even handle them." He tossed a hologram into the air, showing an image from space.
Broken Blade and Markle stared at the image, their expressions instantly shifting to one of shock and concern.
"Are they from the Legion of Everglow?" Markle asked, his voice tense.
"Yes," came the reply.
"So, that rumor about Lyra planning to station troops at Voidstar No. 1 is true?" The Falcons’ grip on his iron balls tightened.
Gino, head of the Wolf Fangs, still drunk, belched loudly. "The ship’s just sitting out there."
Markle’s fingers worked faster on the iron balls, his anxiety rising. "Then should we strike first?"
The Wolf Fangs shook his head, disagreeing. "You’re an idiot. Do you have any idea how many level-nine warriors have died at Lyra’s hands?"
Broken Blade stroked the spot on her chest, her face darkening with anger. "That little bitch Lyra and I have old scores to settle. I’ll find a way to bring her down."
"Same here," Gino growled, his tone matching the intensity of his expression.
Gino’s bloodshot eyes scanned the two pirates before they shifted to the images streaming from the drone. He smirked.
"We need to deal with this... Venus’ Seashell first," he muttered.
Broken Blade waved her hand dismissively. "I’ll have my people test the waters tomorrow. Don’t worry about it for now."
The other two exchanged uncertain glances. If it weren’t for the intel about Lyra planning to station troops at Voidstar No. 1, they might not have bothered with these pirates at all.
They suspected these newcomers were just scouts, nothing more.
*****
The village was uneasy that night. With sharp ears and watchful eyes, several villagers overheard fragments of conversations.
"Not enough..."
"What do we do?"
"We don’t have any more money..."
The next morning, as promised, Broken Blade’s crew arrived to collect the tax.
Rick, carrying a wooden crate, shuffled forward. Inside was everything the village could scrape together—a pitiful sum. There were a few large bills, but most of it was made up of small coins that barely filled half the crate.
The currency circulating in Voidstar No. 1 came from space pirates—purchased from locals like the villagers at inflated prices and funneled back to larger pirate gangs like the Broken Blades.
Without even needing to count, the squad leader knew it wasn’t enough.
His eyes gleamed with malice as he scanned the villagers. With a sneer, he muttered, "Boys, it’s time to collect."
In pirate slang, "collect" meant to take people—specifically women and children.
The villagers recoiled in fear, women and children shrinking back as panic set in.
But then, a sharp voice cut through the tension. "Our village has a few outsiders. They’re beautiful, probably worth more than we are!"
A disheveled woman’s eyes burned with wild, desperate light. "Really. They’re worth at least fifty thousand, no—more like a hundred thousand!"
In that moment, the villagers shared a common thought: ’Let the pirates tear each other apart. Why not let them fight over the newcomers?’
The squad leader’s eyes lit up at the mention of the "outsiders." This was his chance.
He adjusted the tiny camera on his chest and grinned. "Where are they? If you’re lying to me, I’ll slit your throat."
The woman nervously pointed. "At Rick’s house!"
Gultong tried to speak, but his father placed a hand over his mouth, silencing him. They could do nothing but watch as the squad leader led his men toward Rick’s home.
From a distance, they saw men and women stepping out of the house.
"Everyone inside, step forward!" the squad leader shouted, kicking open the small wooden door.
Lyra glanced up. Her piercing gaze locked with his, and the squad leader froze in his tracks. Instinctively, he knew she was dangerous.
Quickly, he holstered his gun, trying to regain composure. "May I ask where you’re from, big girl?"
Lyra gave him a cold, dismissive glance but didn’t answer.
Helion, lounging casually on a wooden post with a small electromagnetic cannon across his lap, lazily picked his ear, totally nonchalant. "We were just drifting through the far stars and decided to settle here at Voidstar No. 1. Didn’t mean to intrude," he said, snapping his fingers as though he were talking about the weather.
The squad leader tried to recover. "We came here to settle at Voidstar No. 1 and ran into the Legion of Everglow... What luck, huh?"
Behind the scenes, Broken Blade stroked her chin thoughtfully, then spoke into a microphone, issuing orders.
Back in the village, the squad leader chuckled darkly.
"My boss wants to invite you all to the Broken Blades’ base for a visit," he said, his tone dripping with malice.
The group hesitated, unsure.
Lyra glanced up with a playful smile. "Well, if you insist, I suppose it’s alright to go for a visit."
"Please, do come," the squad leader insisted, his eyes flickering with a mixture of arrogance and bravado.
The villagers stepped aside, breathing a collective sigh of relief. But their hope was short-lived.
Suddenly, one of the pirate thugs, a hulking figure, reached out and grabbed two children, one in each hand.
"Ha! You think you can get away with not paying? Dream on!" he barked, his grip tightening around the children.
Chapter 295: The Orphanage
The burly pirate was about to throw the children into the prepared cage when his arm was suddenly seized. He glared at the intruder, his muscles bulging as he used his superpower to make himself look like a walking mass of steel.
"Hmph."
Helion didn’t even flinch. With a casual flick of his hand, he dispersed the pirate’s superpower. The man’s muscles deflated like a punctured balloon, and the children were effortlessly snatched from his grip. In one smooth motion, Helion tossed them back into the arms of their crying parents.
The squad leader’s spine went cold. ’Damn, this guy seems like nothing more than a follower. But he’s THIS strong?’
He turned to Lyra. "What do you want, ma’am? What’s your game?"
Lyra’s eyes sparkled with an alluring intensity. He flicked her hair and gave him a teasing glance, her every movement exuding confidence and charm.
"This village is now under my protection," she said smoothly.
The squad leader’s face twitched. "That doesn’t seem to follow the rules of the game, does it?"
Before he could finish, Lyra’s gaze turned sharp and cold, and a crushing pressure descended on him. His face went pale.
"Who do you think you’re to negotiate here with me?" Lyra asked, lifting her chin with an almost regal posture. "Didn’t we say we’re going to your base? Lead the way."
With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a hover board from her Space Button.
The squad leader wiped the cold sweat from his brow, sneering inwardly. ’Bossing us around here, huh? Let’s see who’s the real boss here when you see Broken Blade.’
Lyra and her crew quickly ascended into the sky, their long hair and robes billowing like divine beings flying through the air.
Gultong gazed upwards, his neck aching from looking at them for so long. His heart raced, and in a burst of excitement, he suddenly shouted, "I want to join them!"
He moved to follow the pirates, but his father grabbed him by the back of his collar, halting him.
"Gultong, don’t do something stupid!" His father’s voice was filled with urgency. "Go to Father Kyle. Ask him to take Shella to the orphanage."
Shella, the late village chief’s granddaughter, was only five years old.
Gultong hesitated, his heart aching. "Can’t you adopt Shella?"
The adults in the village stayed silent. They couldn’t even feed their own children—how could they possibly take in another?
Gultong’s father patted him on the head, speaking gently. "At least at the orphanage, Shella will get proper care. Father Kyle of the orphanage will protect her, and she won’t be taken and sold off."
In the shadows, Mandy and the others watched, their faces revealing shock. ’So Gultong hasn’t been completely honest?’
’Who exactly is this head of the orphanage?’
Before they could dwell further on the mystery, the sound of raucous laughter echoed from the distance.
"A few measly folks think they can steal from us?" A loud voice bellowed, filled with arrogance. "If that woman wants to protect this village, let’s leave her with just an empty shell!"
A team of pirates, their arms wrapped in the signature cloth of the Broken Blades, stormed into the village.
The leader, a rotund man, spat out the end of his cigarette, his predatory gaze sweeping over the villagers. "Old ones, take them down. Young ones, bring them back as slaves. The kids—cage them!"
The villagers screamed and scattered, panic rising as they ran for their lives. But they were no match for the pirates. Without the strength to resist, the pirates swiftly took control.
Just as all hope seemed lost, a fireball suddenly hurled toward the fat pirate.
His eyes narrowed, and with a swift motion, he slapped the fireball to the ground, extinguishing it. "Who did that?" he growled, fury flashing in his eyes.
From the crowd, Gultong’s face drained of color. He straightened up, chest out, determined to act.
"...I did it!" Gultong shouted, his voice filled with defiance.
He locked eyes with his father, but before he could react, the fat pirate threw a knife.
The blade sank deep into Gultong’s father’s chest. The man fell to the ground, lifeless.
"Dad—!"
The fat pirate chuckled cruelly. "Sick of living, huh?"
Then, he grabbed the wailing Shella by the arm and pulled her toward him. "Hurry up and get to work!"
Hidden in the shadows, Mandy furrowed her brow, preparing to make her move.
But before she could react, a shadow darted faster than she could track. A hand grabbed the fat pirate’s wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"Another one, damn it..." The fat pirate cursed halfway, but when he saw the newcomer’s face, he immediately plastered a smile on his face. "Well, if it isn’t Father Kyle! What brings you here?"
Father Kyle took the child from his hands without a word, his face impassive. "I heard the Broken Blades have their sights set on a village. I’m here to collect the orphans."
Every time these pirate groups raided a village, people died, and Father Kyle always made his way there to take the surviving orphans.
He glanced at the pleading faces of the villagers, and his heart softened. "Can you spare them? For my sake, please let them go."
Mandy, watching from the shadows, widened her eyes in disbelief. ’How is HE here?’
The fat pirate feigned hesitation, scratching his head. "Father Kyle, it’s not that we don’t respect you. But there’s this new pirate group from outer space causing trouble. They’re stealing from our boss, and that can’t be allowed."
He subtly shifted his arm, preparing for a possible fight. "Your rule is to only take the orphans and not interfere with our business, right? How about this: we’ll take anyone over fifteen, and you can keep those under fifteen. Sound fair?"
The fat pirate knew the man before him wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. As long as things didn’t go too far, the Broken Blades wouldn’t want to waste time or energy going after him.
Father Kyle bit his lip, visibly torn, but eventually relented. "That will have to do."
The villagers, their heads pressed against the guns of the pirates, were moved to tears. "Thank you, Father Kyle," Rick and the others murmured, their voices shaking with gratitude.
Father Kyle knew, however, that he couldn’t save everyone. He had to let go of those who couldn’t be protected.
He turned his face away, knowing there was no way to save the whole village from the Broken Blades’ tyranny.
The fat pirate nodded, understanding the unspoken message, and signaled to his crew.
Just as the pirates aimed their guns, the sound of gunfire rang out, but the bullets all hit the ground, kicked up by the sudden gale of wind.
"Who’s there?" The fat pirate spun around, his eyes scanning the air.
Suddenly, a small, blonde woman stepped out from an alley, a cheerful smile on her face. She casually lowered her superpower, the wind dying down as she did so. It was Mandy.
Behind her, almost twenty of her crew followed, each one with a cold, deadly air about them.
Another young man, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, dropped down from the rooftop, his gaze sharp and calculating, exuding an aura of controlled elegance. That was Caleb, of course.
"Our boss said this village belongs to us now," Caleb declared coldly. "Venus’ Seashells."
The name, Venus’ Seashells, was absurd. The fat pirate muttered under his breath, clearly disgusted by it.
Father Kyle’s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the approaching crew. Every single one of them was at least a level-three Peculiar.
He’d been in Voidstar No. 1 for a long time, and he had never heard of a pirate group this powerful. And the young man with glasses... there was something familiar about him, though he couldn’t place it.
But right now, his priority was to get the villagers out of the pirates’ conflict. With a deep breath, he spread his arms, shielding the villagers as they retreated.
The fat pirate, now realizing the situation had shifted, was left with no choice but to address the new arrivals. "Don’t you know the rules of Voidstar No. 1?" He sneered, his hand subtly reaching behind him. "Everyone keeps to their own business. No stealing from others."
If a conflict broke out here, the military would swoop in and take advantage of the chaos.
Mandy grinned sweetly, but her eyes were deadly. "Sorry, we prefer to eat alone."
With a wave of her hand, she signaled to her crew.
In an instant, eighteen men and women moved with deadly precision, leaping toward the Broken Blades pirates.
The sound of knives cutting through the air was followed by rapid and efficient strikes. Within moments, the pirates had been incapacitated.
The fat pirate, enraged, tried to retaliate, but Mandy casually sent a wind blade slicing through the air, decapitating him with a single, effortless strike.
Father Kyle watched in stunned silence. ’These aren’t pirates... they’re military!’ His mind raced, recognizing the precise, regulated movements as military combat techniques. There was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a band of pirates—these people were soldiers.
As he discreetly observed the group, his gaze was drawn to the young man in glasses. When their eyes met, Father Kyle quickly lowered his head, unsure whether the recognition was mutual.