Ch. 316..320: Interstellar_ Return of the Villain Chapter 316-320
Chapter 316: Swept into the Wormhole
Conners stood pinned between the wall and the sharp edge of Lyra’s sword, its tip pressing threateningly against his neck.
Then, in an instant, the blade halted mid-air.
Eyes widened in shock as a swirling black hole materialized between the sword and Conners.
"Lyra, must you really go against me?" Conners shouted, his voice dripping with desperation.
The pretense was gone. His mask of loyalty had fully fallen, revealing a sneer. "No wonder Westros was so insistent on recruiting you. With you against us, our plans never stood a chance."
Lynn, who had moments earlier been trying to hold Lyra back, froze in disbelief. His voice broke after a long silence. "You... you’re a spy?"
The revelation landed like a thunderclap. Admiral Conners, a figure admired throughout the Alliance, was an infiltrator. The betrayal shook the very foundation of their trust.
Trembling with emotion, Lynn confronted him. "Conners, how could you betray the faith Frederick and the Alliance placed in you? Your family, your honor—don’t they mean anything?"
"None of that matters to me!" Conners snapped, his voice cold and unrepentant.
The "injuries" he’d sustained earlier began to heal unnaturally fast.
Lynn’s face turned pale as realization dawned. "You... you’ve undergone superpower modification?"
"Not just any superpower," Conners said with a smirk. "Supreme-level. Endless Vitality. I can survive as nothing more than a head, even if my bones turn to dust. I’m immortal."
Lyra, who had remained silent, let out a frosty chuckle. "Is that so?"
Before Conners could process her words, he heard a whisper—low and chilling, like a death knell. He reached for his powers, but Lyra moved with blinding speed, binding his hands before he could react.
Switching her sword into twin blades, Lyra unleashed a torrent of strikes. Conners screamed in pain as he tried to escape, but the relentless arcs of her blades boxed him in.
Her eyes, cold and unblinking, mirrored her deadly precision.
Though his superpower worked to heal him, blood poured in torrents, staining the floor of the medical hall. Still, Lyra’s attacks left him cornered.
Drenched in sweat, Conners grinned darkly. "What can you possibly do to me, Lyra?"
Lyra’s blades glowed with a menacing green light. With a decisive slash, she carved a cross-shaped wound into his chest.
"See? That won’t—ahhhh!" Conners’ words dissolved into a blood-curdling scream. His body convulsed violently as the wound refused to heal, blood gushing endlessly.
Lyra pointed her blade at him, her voice icy and resolute. "How does it feel? Being torn between life and death?"
With swift precision, she severed his left leg, sending blood spraying like a geyser. A second swing took his right leg. Two more strikes rendered him a limbless husk.
Smirking, Lyra’s blood-splattered lips curled into a chilling grin. "Now... for the rest."
Her blade inched closer to Conners’ trembling face, and his pupils shrank in terror. Desperately, he cried into the void, "Save me... save me!"
As if answering his plea, the wall behind him turned jet black. His body collapsed backward into the darkness.
Lyra quickly summoned a shield of light, bracing herself, but a fiery wave of energy burst forth from the black hole. The heat it radiated was unimaginable—so intense it felt as though it could melt flesh and bone in an instant.
Even Lynn, a Supreme, felt his hair stand on end. His voice quaked as he muttered:
"This... this is... an Overarching!"
An Overarching Peculiar—a mythical being spoken of only in whispers, beings who transcended the universe itself. They were the closest to godlike entities.
For the first time in his life, Lynn, a Supreme feared across galaxies, was gripped by sheer panic. His hands trembled as he used his powers to sever the surrounding space from the wormhole.
Yet the fiery heat continued to pour through, melting the walls around the black hole. The scene before them became a surreal nightmare of flames and shadows.
As despair filled the room, delicate snowflakes began to fall, each one sparkling as it collided with the intense heat.
Lyra had activated her Power of Freezing, a stark counter to the fiery force emanating from the black hole.
The air grew taut with opposing forces—scorching heat and piercing cold locked in a deadly equilibrium.
Suddenly, a molten chain shot out from the black hole, its red-hot surface crackling as it wrapped around Lyra, dragging her toward the abyss.
"Lyra!" Phelixes lunged to save her, but as his hand touched the searing chain, his arm was burned to the bone. The agony was overwhelming, yet he refused to let go.
Lyra, however, did not resist. Her calm expression betrayed that this was part of her plan.
She allowed herself to be pulled toward the void.
"Sis!" Phelixes cried, his voice breaking. Without hesitation, he grabbed her hand, prepared to follow her into the unknown.
As they crossed into the black hole, Lyra made her final move.
With one swift slash of her blade, she dismembered Conners, ensuring he could never escape.
The fragments of his body were expelled from the black hole just before it snapped shut, leaving behind only a heap of lifeless gore and an eerie silence.
The medical facility trembled under the aftershocks of the clash. Lynn, regaining his composure, acted quickly to stabilize the crumbling structure.
"Evacuate the wounded!" he commanded, his tone sharp with urgency.
Mandy, standing motionless, stared at the space where Lyra had disappeared. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, silent tears streaming down her face as the weight of the moment pressed down on her.
That day became a dark Chapter in the Alliance’s history, marked by loss and sacrifice.
...
In the official records of the Alliance, the events were chronicled:
- Admiral Conners, a traitor, met his end by Lyra’s hand.
- Thierry Whyte, nephew of the Fleet Admiral, was killed in action.
- Legion Glory was decimated, leaving only two survivors.
- The Empire breached the Alliance’s defenses, claiming Snowfall and two Voidstar colonies.
- And Lyra Shedd, the Valkyrie of the Alliance, along with her adjutant, was pulled into a black hole by an Overarching. Their fate remained a mystery.
...
Far from the battle, a battered warship drifted through the vastness of space. A blue planet loomed ahead, its surface shimmering with an ethereal glow.
"Sir, we’re approaching Planet Nagano’s jurisdiction," the pilot announced in a weary but determined tone.
Kogar, seated in the co-pilot’s chair, opened his eyes and nodded. "Request landing clearance immediately."
Rising, he glanced at the empty commander’s seat before heading toward the rest chamber.
He knocked lightly on the door, waiting.
After a long pause, a hoarse voice called out, "Come in."
Inside, a young man sat hunched on the edge of the bed. His once-proud posture was now broken, weighed down by grief.
Beside him rested two military caps—his own and Thierry’s. His white uniform was charred and bloodstained, his eyes bloodshot, and his unshaven face darkened by despair.
"We’ve arrived at Planet Nagano," Kogar said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.
Cohen remained silent.
Kogar hesitated, searching for words, but none seemed adequate. He, too, was haunted by memories of Thierry’s bright smile—and the moment it was snuffed out.
The ship jolted gently as it landed.
Cohen wiped his face and forced himself to stand. He had a task to complete, a confrontation he could not avoid.
...
Cohen entered Frederick’s office, immediately met by the acrid stench of cigarette smoke. Through the haze, their eyes locked—father and son, both bearing the weight of their shared loss.
"Do you blame me?" Frederick asked, his voice heavy with resignation.
Cohen’s reply was calm but cut deep. "If Lyra had been there, Thierry wouldn’t have died."
The words landed like a blow. Lyra, the one person who could have turned the tide, had been imprisoned under Frederick’s orders. In his heart, Frederick knew his actions had indirectly led to Thierry’s death.
Frederick’s hand trembled, the cigarette burning down to ash. Cohen’s voice, steady and unyielding, broke the silence again. "I will never compromise with filth the way you did. I won’t hesitate. I won’t let another Thierry fall because of inaction."
With that, he turned and left, leaving Frederick alone in the suffocating quiet of his office.
...
As Cohen stepped outside, the sunlight bathed him in warmth. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
In his heart, he sent a silent prayer. ’Please... let HER come back to us.’
"May the stars guide your way," he whispered softly, his voice carrying a faint but unyielding hope.
As Lyra was dragged into the swirling vortex of the interdimensional passage, she immediately felt the chaotic distortion of time and space.
The tunnel’s shimmering barriers pulsed with lethal energy, dangerous even to glance at too long.
Here, even the Overarching’s overwhelming dominance over superpowers seemed significantly curtailed by the unstable domain.
Unwavering, Lyra called out, "Phelixes."
He answered instantly, his voice steady despite the chaos. "I’m ready."
With a nod, Lyra summoned a radiant green light, forming a protective energy that enveloped them both.
Phelixes gripped the searing chain with both hands, his flesh burning and charring under its heat.
The verdant glow of Lyra’s power healed his wounds over and over, enabling him to endure the cycle of agony and recovery until he finally nullified the superpower coursing through the chain.
"Sis, I did it!" Phelixes exclaimed, a triumphant grin on his face before he collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
Lyra caught him effortlessly, cradling his unconscious form as she leaped from the chaotic corridor into the unknown.
Chapter 317: Into The Empire
Phelixes awoke to the cool sensation of dew dripping onto his face.
Blinking against the pale light of dawn, he sat up abruptly, scanning his surroundings. He was inside a makeshift treehouse, the air crisp and damp, and the tender new skin on his arms tingled as if reborn.
Carefully, he exited the shelter and climbed to its top. There, silhouetted against an infinite expanse of stars, was Lyra.
The vast night sky stretched endlessly, adorned with ancient stars that cast their cold, silent light.
Lyra’s silver hair caught the faint glow, giving her an ethereal quality as she stood motionless, gazing into the heavens.
Schedar shimmered brightly, framing her figure in its icy radiance.
Without a word, she turned from the stars, landing gracefully beside him.
Her voice, calm but direct, broke the silence. "Any discomfort?"
Phelixes shook his head, his attention drawn to the alien beat body scattered below the treehouse. Their twisted, unfamiliar forms were unlike anything he had seen before. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice hushed with awe.
Lyra’s expression remained unreadable. "I don’t know."
They had ventured far beyond the mapped regions of the Alliance, into a realm disconnected from familiar stellar networks.
Their opticomputer was all but useless, unable to pinpoint their location.
The planet itself, with its massive gravitational pull, distorted the flow of time.
Lyra gestured toward the opticomputer, explaining, "It’s still synchronized to the time standard of Elden Prime. But based on these constellations, we’re in uncharted space."
Phelixes frowned as he considered her words. "The black hole’s distorted spatial field was chaotic, but the interdimensional passage seemed stabilized by a Stellar Devourer. It’s a controlled black hole used to connect the Alliance and the Empire."
He paused, recalling the peculiar sensation of the passage. "Essentially, it operates on a higher-dimensional plane. Each step through it could span countless universes."
Lyra absorbed his analysis, her composure unshaken. "If that’s the case, we may still be within the broader territories of the Empire or the Alliance. But with the vast unexplored regions between systems, we might as well be lost."
Her calm words conveyed no panic, only purpose. She turned back toward the treehouse, stepping inside and seating herself cross-legged on the floor. "Prepare our supplies. We leave in two nights."
Closing her eyes, she began to radiate faint ripples of energy, sending them outward in steady waves.
Phelixes watched in awe as her psychokinesis expanded, probing energy signatures far beyond their immediate surroundings, reaching toward the distant horizons of this alien world.
He was stunned. Lyra had yet to achieve the rank of Supreme Peculiar, yet she performed feats requiring immense power and mastery—mapping stellar bodies that lay beyond the boundaries of the visible sky.
A surge of pride and admiration swelled within him.
Seated across from her, Phelixes silently observed.
Even in stillness, Lyra exuded a magnetic presence—a mix of steely determination and an icy ruthlessness.
he was a figure impossible to ignore, leaving an indelible impression on anyone fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to encounter her.
For Phelixes, her existence had become an anchor and an enigma. In her shadow, his thoughts, dreams, and aspirations seemed to orbit endlessly.
Lyra’s deep, unfathomable eyes snapped open, startling Phelixes so much that he instinctively straightened his back.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice low and steady.
He smiled nervously, shaking his head.
Her sharp brows furrowed slightly. "Then stop distracting me while I’m mapping star maps."
Inwardly, her frustration flared. ’When I make it back, I’ll tear them limb from limb,’ she vowed silently.
Lyra focused once more, her mind working tirelessly to chart the nearby star systems. Gradually, a mental map began forming, pinpointing habitable planets.
Once she identified a promising location, she and Phelixes would gather water, food, and essential supplies before setting off.
They repeated these routine countless times, mining for high-grade energy stones and maintaining their mecha between expeditions.
...
One night, Lyra’s eyes flew open, and she spoke with quiet triumph. "I’ve found one."
She had located a planet capable of supporting human life.
After stockpiling advanced energy stones from a nearby mine, they boarded their mecha and journeyed to the planet Lyra had identified.
As they approached its orbit, they noticed artificial satellites circling the planet—unlike anything used by the Alliance.
Lyra, ever cautious, retrieved two ear-mounted disguise devices from her Space Button. The devices emitted bio-molecular fields that altered their appearances.
After landing in an uninhabited area, Lyra handed one to Phelixes, who put it on without question.
The planet turned out to be an ore world, barren and unwelcoming, much like Voidstar No.2.
The landscape stretched out in a vast, featureless plain of red soil, scarred by countless mining pits. From above, the craters resembled grotesque pockmarks.
Whenever the wind blew, it carried with it red dust, tinting the air in hues of rust.
Their opticomputer still failed to connect to the stellar network, confirming that they were outside Alliance territory.
...
As they moved cautiously through the desolate terrain, the distant hum of machinery grew louder, followed by the rapid approach of footsteps.
"Stop! Who are you?" a gruff voice demanded.
Several figures appeared, their weapons trained on Lyra and Phelixes.
These people weren’t dressed in official uniforms, wearing instead rugged, practical attire. They were clearly not government personnel.
Lyra stood still, neither defensive nor hostile. "We had an accident while traveling through outer space. We were forced to land here."
The group exchanged skeptical glances. The leader, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes, wore a brown jacket and heavy boots. His cautious gaze swept over them. "How did you get here?" he asked.
"In a space flyer," Lyra replied calmly.
A space flyer was a small spacecraft designed for individual or small group travel—similar to a private jet. It was common enough not to arouse suspicion, and its design could range from basic to highly sophisticated.
"Can I see it?" The man still wasn’t convinced.
Lyra nodded. "Of course."
From her Space Button, she produced a space flyer manufactured by Snakehead.
Snakehead collected various models from smugglers and resold them, resulting in an assortment of mismatched designs.
The man inspected it briefly, his wariness easing somewhat—this particular model didn’t match any Alliance designs.
Lowering his weapon, the man introduced himself. "Name’s Wintour, squad leader for the mining company’s security team. I’ll take you to the city." He gestured to the right.
Lyra inclined her head slightly in thanks. "Appreciate it."
As they walked, Wintour struck up casual conversation. "You know the boss of Planet Royce Mining Company? He’s the most famous person around here." His eyes flicked toward Lyra, clearly gauging her reaction.
Lyra frowned slightly, sensing his subtle probing. Before she could respond, Phelixes interjected with feigned surprise. "Planet Royce’s mining operations aren’t run by the government? Did I miss something while drifting in space?"
Wintour’s scrutiny shifted to Phelixes, who returned his gaze with an innocent expression.
Lyra glanced at her companion, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Clever.
Then a memory struck her—Phelixes had been taken from the Empire and sold to the Alliance by the Seething Fires.
He had grown up in the Empire. And yet, back then, he had lied about his origins, claiming he couldn’t remember where he came from.
Wintour chuckled lightly. "Still the government, but they’ve outsourced the mining rights."
Phelixes picked up on the shift in tone and remarked casually, "Mr. Wintour seems to be asking a lot of questions."
Wintour waved him off with a chuckle. "Ah, you know how it is. Things aren’t exactly stable these days. Got to keep an eye out for Alliance spies sneaking in."
So Lyra’s deduction had been correct—they were indeed within the Empire’s domain.
As they continued walking, a settlement came into view on the horizon, perched like a blemish against the vast red plains.
Two towering skyscrapers, each over a hundred stories tall, rose starkly from the barren landscape, resembling bamboo shoots sprouting from dry, cracked soil.
As they drew nearer, Phelixes noticed facial recognition scanners mounted at the settlement’s entrance. A flicker of unease crossed his face, betraying his thoughts.
Lyra saw them too. Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
Without a word, she activated her psychokinesis, delicately manipulating the moisture in the air to form near-invisible blades.
In a display of precise control, she severed the internal circuits of the scanners, disabling them completely.
The process was executed so seamlessly that Wintour didn’t notice even the faintest trace of superpower energy.
Phelixes, observing in silence, was once again struck by the terrifying growth of Lyra’s abilities. Her level of mastery—subtle, refined, and exact—was something that even seasoned Peculiars rarely achieved.
They passed through the checkpoint without incident.
The scanners remained silent, giving no indication of malfunction. Wintour’s shoulders relaxed, his demeanor softening as his smile turned more genuine. "There’s a decent hotel in town," he offered. "Fair rates and clean enough."
Phelixes’ stomach sank at the reminder of a glaring issue—they were completely broke.
Alliance currency and credit cards would be useless in the Empire, leaving them with no means to pay for even the simplest necessities.
Chapter 318: The Empire Ore Planet
"All our money is gone. Could you tell us where the exchange hall is? We’d like to exchange some funds." Phelixes wore an anxious expression, as if genuinely troubled by their lack of money.
Wintour, understanding but resigned, shook his head. "This is just an uninhabitable ore planet. Even the government doesn’t bother with this place. But Jerome, the mining overseer, is willing to accept all kinds of supplies."
Jerome? The name didn’t ring a bell for Phelixes. It had been a long time since he was taken to the Alliance, so Jerome must not have been a notable figure back then.
"Got it," he replied with a nod.
After bidding Wintour farewell, Phelixes and Lyra headed to the exchange hall.
The hall was bustling with activity—beast hunters and plant gatherers haggled with the staff, carrying goods in locked safes or simple bags.
Lyra scanned the items being exchanged, quickly assessing their quality.
"Use the red ones," she said decisively.
Having roamed the universe extensively, they had visited numerous resource-rich planets. Their nearly ten-thousand-cubic-unit Space Buttons were packed to the brim with supplies, filling seven or eight of them.
When a chunk of energy stone ore radiating intense heat was placed on the counter, the scanning machine beeped, displaying a value exceeding six thousand credits. The hall erupted with astonished murmurs.
Energy stones were rare to begin with, and this was grade six—valuable enough to make everyone envious.
As the staff went to fetch the manager, someone in the crowd couldn’t resist stepping forward. "Hey, pal, that’s some good stuff you’ve got there. Where’d you find it?"
"Yeah, tell us! We could all make a fortune together," another chimed in.
Phelixes glanced at Lyra, whose face remained impassive. He stifled a laugh. This was the worst item they had brought, chosen purely for the circumstances.
Anything of lower grade would have been a waste of space. Yet even this caused such a commotion.
He had no doubt that, if not for the exchange hall’s security, someone would have tried to rob them already.
"Hmph," Phelixes snorted, sweeping his gaze lazily over the crowd. "Stay away from us."
Releasing a fraction of his level-seven superpower, he watched as the onlookers blanched and backed away in fear. His abilities had grown significantly during their time drifting through space.
Even the manager, who rushed out of the elevator, paused briefly. A Master Peculiar, the manager quickly sized up the pair and their goods, formulating a plan.
"You must be the ones exchanging the grade-six energy stones?" The manager’s warm smile gave him an air of sincerity.
As Phelixes had taken the lead, the manager naturally assumed he was in charge.
"Yes." Phelixes stepped forward, knowing Lyra preferred silence. "How much can we get for them?"
The manager gestured for them to follow him to the VIP lounge. "Energy stones are always in high demand here. They’re solid currency," he explained as they walked.
"The ones you brought are particularly pure. We can offer you ten percent above the market price. How does that sound?"
Phelixes glanced at Lyra, who gave a faint nod. Turning back to the manager, he said, "That’s acceptable."
The manager, deep in thought, missed the subtle exchange between the siblings.
After completing a series of formalities, Phelixes accepted a crystal storage card from the manager and left the VIP lounge with Lyra.
Not long after stepping outside, Phelixes and Lyra exchanged a glance—
someone was following them.
Lyra’s expression remained calm. "Ignore it."
On this planet, she hadn’t encountered anyone capable of posing a threat to her.
The two headed for the town’s only inn.
It was a modest three-story white building with dusty windows, exuding the mingled aromas of alcohol and food.
Laughter and lively chatter filled the air, making the place feel vibrant—especially to two people who had spent so long adrift in the void of space.
Phelixes pulled out a newly purchased opticomputer from his pocket and glanced at it, sighing softly. "Three years..."
Time flowed differently on the first planet they landed on after escaping. Although they had experienced just over a year subjectively, three years had passed in the outside world.
Being away from human society for so long, even their language skills had dulled.
Yet when Phelixes looked at Lyra, her face remained as steady as ever.
From the moment they escaped the interdimensional tunnel until now, her expression hadn’t changed—always calm, always resilient.
Lyra responded with a faint hum.
From that simple response, Phelixes detected a glimmer of warmth. At least now Lyra would answer him on her own accord.
In the past, unless he asked her a direct question, she would have remained silent.
This was the bond forged by years of sharing every moment together.
As they entered the inn, a flash of green superpower energy dissipated in the air.
At the same time, a loud, brash voice rang out: "Hahaha! You’ve all heard of Lyra Shedd from the Alliance, haven’t you? Well, guess what? THIS girl has the EXACT same healing power as her! Healing people is no big deal for me."
The speaker was a brunette with wavy hair, wearing a short, brown-green baseball jacket over a black tube top. She paired it with shorts and strappy flat sandals
An orange headband held back her hair, with a single braid hanging over her right shoulder.
Her bright eyes and radiant smile gave her an air of fiery playfulness.
The others around her were all grinning and singing her praises. "Serena, you’re amazing! The hospital doctors said it’d take two days to fix me up!"
Someone else grumbled impatiently, "Oh, stop sucking up! It’s my turn already."
A man with a severed arm took a seat in front of her.
Propping one foot on a wooden stool, Serena rolled up her sleeves with a flourish and tossed her braid confidently. "Ah, Lucian! Trust me, you made the right choice coming to me!"
She extended her hands over his arm, and the green superpower energy flared to life once again.
Within moments, the man’s severed arm began to regenerate.
Phelixes watched in surprise. "Is that...?"
"It’s an Aesculapius’ Grace hidden in her Space Button," Lyra explained calmly.
Due to the ongoing war between the Empire and the Alliance, the borders had become porous, and piracy flourished.
Black market exchanges were now more common than ever. Over time, devices like the Aesculapius’ Grace, originally developed by the Alliance, had been replicated by the Empire.
Serena’s actual superpower was just basic healing, but her psychokinesis was strong enough to partially open her Space Button and operate the medical device hidden within to treat injuries.
As Lyra explained, something went wrong on the other side of the room.
Serena was in the middle of treating Lucian when his regrowing pinky finger abruptly stopped growing.
A flicker of guilt crossed Serena’s face. She quickly feigned exhaustion and deactivated her superpower. "That’s it for today! I’m too tired to continue. Next time!"
"What do you mean, next time?" Lucian growled, glaring at her. "You can’t just stop halfway! Finish the job!"
"I told you, I’m too tired to use my superpower. What do you want me to do about it?" Serena replied smoothly, slapping the dust off her shorts. She smirked as she added, "Even experts need their rest, you know. Hmph."
After her brazen retort, Serena darted into the inn’s back room and shut the door behind her.
The small scene didn’t leave much of an impression on Lyra and Phelixes.
They checked in at the front desk and headed upstairs to their room.
Unbeknownst to them, the topic of conversation downstairs quickly shifted in their direction.
"It’s them, isn’t it? The ones with the Grade Six energy stone mine. Said they got it after a space accident."
"Of course, it’s them. Who else could it be? They’re the only strangers in town."
"No way—REALLY a Grade Six energy stone mine?"
Lucian, whose pinky finger was still incomplete, stroked his thick beard.
"Plenty of people saw it at the exchange hall. Can’t be fake."
...
Upstairs, Lyra closed the window. The town was sparsely populated, and in this gray-zone settlement, news traveled fast.
According to Wintour, the entry scanner at the gate was inspected weekly. There were still three days until the next check.
If the scanner was found to be tampered with, suspicion would immediately fall on them.
This place wasn’t safe for a prolonged stay.
Chapter 319: The Same Superpower as Lyra’s
That evening, Lyra and Phelixes came downstairs for dinner. After ordering bread and stew, a familiar figure slid into the seat beside them.
"Hi, I’m Serena. Mind if we get to know each other?" She grinned brightly, her braid swaying as she spoke.
Neither Lyra nor Phelixes answered.
Undeterred, Serena tapped the table and called to the innkeeper. "Tracy, one ham sandwich, please!"
Turning back to Phelixes, she propped her chin on her hand. "I’m a famous doctor around here. You’ve heard of Lyra Shedd, the Valkyrie of the Alliance, right? I have the same healing superpower as her."
Phelixes, hearing her repeat the claim, feigned surprise, his face twisting slightly.
He cast a glance at the impassive Lyra, then raised an eyebrow. "That’s pretty impressive."
"Of course it is," Serena replied, puffing up with pride.
She couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, but she carried herself with a swagger borrowed from the mercenaries she emulated. Pulling out a business card between two fingers, she slid it toward Phelixes.
"If you ever get hurt, just call me. Handsome guys get a twenty percent discount."
She finished with a playful wink, one eyebrow arched higher than the other, her expression a mix of mischief and youthful bravado.
The bystanders, who had been quietly observing, erupted into laughter.
Lucian, however, wasn’t amused. Grabbing the back of Serena’s jacket, he yanked her upright. "You little quack, already hunting for new customers? Why don’t you use that energy to fix my finger? Or give me back my money!"
Serena clutched her purse protectively, shaking her head like a wet puppy. "The money’s already spent! If I can’t fix it, you’re welcome to hit me."
She barely finished the sentence before Lucian cuffed her on the back of the head. "You little fraud!" he spat, before turning to Lyra and Phelixes.
"Don’t let her fool you. She’s always leaving people half-treated. Don’t waste your time with her."
Serena panicked and clung to Phelixes’ arm. "Believe me! My healing powers really are good!"
Lucian shoved her aside. "Mind your business, kid. The grown-ups are talking."
Lyra, who had been silent until now, cast a cold glance in Lucian’s direction. She didn’t speak, but the air around her turned icy.
Lucian seemed to sense the terrifying energy leaking from her and promptly swallowed whatever comment he was about to make.
The others, too, refrained from addressing the pair, returning instead to their own conversations.
Serena wolfed down her sandwich and disappeared into the back of the inn.
Lucian, now feeling chatty, began recounting what he knew about Serena to Phelixes and Lyra.
"Reckless kid came out of an orphanage and rents a storeroom here. She makes a living patching people up. Not that she’s any good at it," he grumbled, adding with a sneer, "Should’ve just stayed in the orphanage instead of pretending to be some big-shot healer. She’s nothing but a fraud."
The innkeeper, Tracy, clad in a leather biker jacket, wiped a glass as she chimed in with the others, "And she’s always late on her rent. If her healing ability wasn’t genuinely useful, I’d have kicked her out long ago."
Tracy’s gaunt face, with its prominent cheekbones, gave her a sharp, almost sour look.
Others around them nodded in agreement, warning Lyra and Phelixes to avoid getting involved with the "little witch."
Lyra, having finished her meal, dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She rose from her seat, and silently headed upstairs.
Lucian nudged Phelixes with his elbow. "Your wife’s always that cold, huh?"
"Pfft—cough, cough!" Phelixes choked, his face turning bright red.
Lucian slid his bowl aside to avoid the mess, frowning in confusion. "What’s with you?"
Taking the glass of water Tracy offered, Phelixes drank a gulp and managed to compose himself. Then, with a serious expression, he clarified, "Don’t say things like that. She’s my sister."
It was true that he admired Lyra, but not in a way that would invite such misunderstandings. To him, Lyra was like the purity of first snow—untouchable and unblemished.
Lucian scratched his head awkwardly. "My bad, didn’t mean anything by it."
"No harm done," Phelixes replied, handing the glass back to Tracy. "Thanks."
Tracy nodded, rolling her eyes at Lucian. "Idiot. What part of those two makes you think they’re married? That one looks more like her boss than the wife."
Tracy’s sharp observation caught Phelixes off guard.
"To be honest," Tracy added, "normal couples, no matter how bad their relationship, at least exchange glances. But this young man—he treats her with such caution, like she’s the center of his world."
Phelixes silently acknowledged her perceptiveness.
After settling both the meal and room charges, Phelixes politely excused himself and headed upstairs. The patrons watched him until he disappeared around the stairwell corner, their curiosity unabated.
Once in the room, he found Lyra standing by the window, looking toward the inn’s backyard.
Serena was there, holding a slightly worn Aesculapius’ Grace, her face a mix of frustration and despair.
"How is it broken again? Where am I supposed to find someone to fix this?" she muttered, slapping the machine in frustration.
The device let out a puff of black smoke, covering Serena’s face in soot.
She froze, coughed out a mouthful of blackened air, and looked comically pitiful. "Cough, cough!"
Phelixes glanced at Lyra, expecting her to comment, but neither one of them was in the mood for idle amusement.
When Serena left the backyard, Lyra nodded toward the window. "Follow her."
For outsiders like them, forming connections in an unfamiliar town was unwise—especially in a place where the locals acted oddly toward them.
Phelixes vaulted out of the window, landing on the roof. Silently, he trailed Serena, keeping to the shadows as she moved away from the town center, bypassing tall buildings until she reached the orphanage on the western outskirts.
As Phelixes observed the orphanage’s surroundings, the sound of slicing wind reached his ears.
Reacting instinctively, he turned and deflected an incoming wind blade with a swift motion.
He frowned at the group of men who emerged from the shadows. "What do you want?"
"Relax," one of them said, smirking. "Our boss just wants to discuss a business proposition."
Phelixes didn’t wait for further explanation. With a few sharp movements, he dispersed the attacks coming his way and leapt from the rooftop to the ground.
As he landed, he noticed Serena standing near the orphanage gate, waving him over. "Hurry, come here!"
He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing, before deciding to capture her first. Lowering his stance, he dashed toward her with blinding speed.
But before he could reach her, Serena flicked her wrist, releasing a cloud of white smoke from her sleeve.
Phelixes barely had time to react before dizziness overtook him. His vision blurred, and he staggered before collapsing to the ground.
Serena’s bright, cheery demeanor melted away, replaced by a cold, expressionless face. "Take him," she ordered.
In the inn, Lyra, who had been resting with her eyes closed, suddenly opened them and stood up. She made her way downstairs, her movements unhurried.
"Where are you off to?" Tracy asked with a smile, her sharp eyes watching Lyra carefully. "If you’re heading out for a stroll, be careful. You can go anywhere around here, except..."
She gestured toward a tall building visible from the inn’s doorway, the one marking Jerome’s territory. "A pretty girl like you should stay far away from there."
Lyra nodded slightly, acknowledging the advice, and stepped out of the inn.
Tracy’s smile vanished as she watched Lyra’s retreating figure.
"She going to be okay?" Lucian asked, setting down his glass of liquor.
"Maybe she’ll make it, maybe she won’t," Tracy said with a shrug. "Doesn’t matter either way. After all these years, not even the government’s been able to deal with that bastard. At this point, anyone who tries is worth a shot."
As Lyra walked through the town, she noticed the stares. People glanced her way with expressions that hinted at curiosity, expectation, and even a touch of malice, as if waiting for an inevitable spectacle.
...
Elsewhere, in an opulent room adorned with lavish furnishings, Serena was flung onto a bed with little ceremony.
"Get off me!" she shouted furiously, struggling against the large man pinning her down.
The man pressed his weight onto her, his hands roughly grabbing at her arms and shoulders. Despite her best efforts to kick and push him away, she couldn’t budge his heavy, muscular frame.
"Let go of me!" Serena screamed, her rage blazing as she twisted and thrashed.
The man, wearing a well-tailored suit and with long hair slicked back, sneered down at her. He grabbed her flailing hands and pinned them above her head.
"What’s the matter? Don’t want to save those little brats anymore?" he taunted coldly.
Chapter 320: Let’s Talk Business
Phelixes opened his eyes, only to witness a stomach-turning scene unfold before him.
He frowned deeply, his brows practically fused together, and remained that way until Serena’s anguished screams finally died down.
Serena, pale and trembling, kicked the man away and hurriedly dressed, her whole body quaking. She didn’t dare glance toward the corner where Phelixes sat.
With a shaking hand, she tossed a stack of cash onto the bed.
"This time, I’m taking two!" she declared, her voice laced with suppressed fury.
The disheveled man, Jerome, picked up the money and barely glanced at it before tossing it aside. Leisurely, he lit a cigarette.
"This time, I’m raising the price by fifty percent," he said casually. "You can take one child. If you want two, you’ll either need to pay the difference—or cut one of them in half and take one of the two pieces."
Serena’s body trembled with rage, but she didn’t bother wiping away the streak of deep red blood trickling down her leg. She seemed long accustomed to such humiliation, as though it no longer mattered.
"Jerome! You’re breaking your promise!" she snapped, her voice thick with anger. Grabbing a handful of powder, she flung it at him.
Jerome simply inhaled deeply, a satisfied expression crossing his face. "Ah, this poison’s potency is impressive," he said with amusement.
Gripping her chin tightly, Jerome’s fingers dug into her pale face. "Serena, just say the word. Join me, and I’ll give you anything you want."
"Get lost!" Serena shoved him away, her voice trembling with disgust. "I’d rather die than follow you disgusting pig!"
She snatched the extra money off the bed. "I’m taking Sherry with me!"
Facing Jerome’s unrelenting pressure, she didn’t even bother arguing further. She knew it was pointless.
Serena tried to leave with her head held high, but her steps faltered, a painful stagger giving her away. She briefly glanced at Phelixes, who sat with his head bowed, and forced herself to walk steadily out of the room.
Jerome turned his attention to Phelixes, his rancid breath fouling the air.
"What a fiery young woman," Jerome mused with a sinister grin. "And her poisons are remarkable. Quite the talent." He extended a hand toward Phelixes. "Apologies if I startled you."
Phelixes slapped his hand away. "What do you want?"
Jerome feigned surprise. "Didn’t my men tell you? I’m here to talk about that level-six energy stone mine."
A flicker of something dark passed through Phelixes’s eyes. "Your approach feels less like a business proposal and more like a robbery."
"Call it what you want," Jerome said with a smirk. "You can ask around about my past. I wasn’t exactly a saint. Negotiating with a level seven like you? I don’t need to play nice."
Unexpectedly, Phelixes chuckled.
Despite being captured and restrained, he showed no sign of panic. Instead, he crossed his arms and sat comfortably, legs folded. "If you want to talk business, you shouldn’t be talking to me."
Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass filled the room. A cold wind blew in, carrying snowflakes that scattered across the floor.
Lyra appeared, standing lightly on the windowsill. Her slender legs, clad in round-toed leather boots, rested gracefully on the edge.
Her scorpion-tail braid hung to her knees, and she gripped the window frame with precision, her posture as still and emotionless as a machine.
Her voice was icy. "Why not talk business with me instead?"
Jerome’s eyes widened in shock. "Damn it—she’s a level nine!"
Phelixes’ lips curved into a faint smile. "He hurt me," he said in a voice tinged with mock petulance, reminiscent of his younger self.
Jerome reacted instantly, his hands turning jet black as he lunged toward her.
Lyra moved fluidly, pushing off the window with a light kick and landing effortlessly on the coffee table.
Jerome’s claws tore through the air with a screech, leaving deep, dark purple gashes on the pristine white wall. The acrid stench of poison filled the room.
Without a word, Lyra pointed her fingers at him, and countless ice spikes shot toward Jerome.
His claws glowed with an ominous black light, slashing through the incoming shards with rapid movements.
The ice hissed on contact, evaporating into a poisonous cloud—a chilling testament to the potency of his venom.
Phelixes’s expression turned grim. Now he understood how Jerome had managed to secure the mining rights for Planet Royce.
This wasn’t just another thug—Jerome was a level nine.
The government likely couldn’t suppress him completely, so they had struck a "token" agreement. By giving Jerome a position as a contractor, they let him handle the dirty work while everyone shared the profits, conveniently ignoring his other dealings.
Jerome, sensing the shift in the situation, ceased his attack. Disabling his superpower, he adjusted his disheveled clothes and plastered on a conciliatory smile. "I seem to have misjudged the situation. A misunderstanding, nothing more."
Lyra didn’t respond, her icy gaze boring into him.
Phelixes, however, smirked faintly. "Just a misunderstanding? Surely you don’t think it’s that easy to brush this off."
Jerome gritted his teeth, inwardly cursing the exchange hall manager. That fool had mistaken Phelixes for the leader of the pair, leading Jerome to target the wrong person.
Had he known Lyra was a level nine, he would have approached this very differently. Now, as the chill radiating from her grew even colder, Jerome swallowed his pride. "How might I make amends?"
He was prepared to compromise—not out of fear but because his goals revolved around profit, not conflict. A full-blown fight would leave both sides badly damaged, giving the government the perfect excuse to swoop in and seize everything.
"I want a spacecraft," Lyra said coldly.
Jerome’s eyes gleamed with understanding. "If you’re planning to leave, I could arrange for a caravan to escort you."
Before she could refuse, he added, "The situation’s been tense lately. The war has escalated, and the Empire has increased security internally and along routes to the Alliance. Without a pass, even if I gave you a spacecraft, you wouldn’t get far."
His warning wasn’t an exaggeration. The heightened patrols weren’t just about the war—they were also meant to intercept spies from the Alliance. Traveling without a pass risked getting stranded in the void of space.
Lyra lowered her gaze, considering his words.
The Empire and the Alliance were separated by countless star systems, and even with the star maps she’d calculated earlier, less than half of the route was covered.
"No," she said firmly, "I want the spacecraft."
Jerome hesitated but ultimately relented, the prospect of the level-six energy stone mine tipping the scales. "Fine. It’s yours."
He dispatched his men to retrieve a ten-passenger spacecraft from the warehouse.
After a thorough inspection for hidden faults or sabotage, Lyra stored the craft in her Space Button.
Jerome’s composure faltered for a moment. A Space Button capable of holding a spacecraft was far more valuable than the ship itself.
Curiosity gnawed at him. Lyra didn’t seem like someone lacking resources, so he wondered why she was so insistent on getting a spacecraft?
His earlier warnings echoed in his mind. If she was planning to return home... But then it struck him—Lyra had never explicitly claimed to be from the Empire.
Jerome’s thoughts turned to the town’s facial recognition system. Accessing its data required official clearance, which he lacked.
’Fine,’ he thought. ’If I can’t confirm her identity now, I’ll stall her for a couple of days.’
"Miss...?" Jerome began, fishing for her name.
"Freya," Lyra replied smoothly, using her alias.
Phelixes twitched slightly at the mention of the fake name but said nothing, instead standing and moving closer to Lyra.
Jerome forced a smile. "Miss Freya, about the level-six energy stone mine—what’s your proposal?"
"It’s just a mine," Lyra said indifferently. "I’ll take you there. We split it fifty-fifty."
Jerome’s focus sharpened. "Only fifty percent for all the effort and risks on my end? You’re simply providing the location, and I’m supposed to handle everything else? That hardly seems fair."
Lyra’s tone didn’t waver. "Without me, you wouldn’t even have the opportunity to expend that effort."
After some negotiation, they agreed on a 70-30 split in Jerome’s favor.
Lyra arranged for their departure in two days and left with Phelixes.
Back at the inn, Phelixes’ concern was evident. "How are we going to get the star map we need?"
He could guess Lyra’s plan. First, they’d secure the map. Then, they’d use Jerome’s caravan to reach the start of the mapped route. From there, they’d find a way to slip away.
Lyra’s gaze shifted to the girl in the back courtyard, working quietly in the storage room.
"I have someone in mind," she said.