Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 145: Lyra’s Show

Chapter 145: Lyra’s Show

Robin never underestimated his opponent.

As the countdown hit zero, he unleashed his superpower. Water surged from his feet, soaking his ankles, while rain poured down amid booming thunder, transforming the arena into his domain.

It was a powerful water-electrical combo.

Lightning danced with the water, creating an inescapable trap.

Lyra quickly understood his strategy and wrapped herself in a shield of light.

When the electric flash faded, her green form stood unharmed.

Robin frowned; he knew defeating her wouldn’t be easy. He braced himself for her punch.

Just as they closed the distance, Lyra suddenly asked, "Did your grandpa make you choose me? Or was it your team leader?" Sending a level five against her in the finals felt reckless.

Robin’s expression gave away his surprise.

With a swift kick, Lyra sent him flying, smirking, "If you want to ride my coattails, you better have the skill."

The host was shocked to see the usually reserved Lyra take the lead. "Lyra’s attack is fierce, and by the way, Robin is her cousin!"

Lyra kept her cool as she dodged lightning and water traps, moving so fast she seemed to leave no trace. Just as Robin reacted, another blow struck.

Lyra kicked him into the air, binding him in green light before slamming him into the water.

Dazed, Robin lost his superpower.

One minute and forty-seven seconds. The audience held their breath; this was an overwhelming victory.

Lyra knew the Calvin family aimed to develop Robin, but she wouldn’t be a steppingstone.

After the match, she helped him up, shook his hand, and smiled as she left the arena.

Robin bit his lip; the applause felt distant.

Once outside, his leader’s criticism hit hard. "Robin, didn’t you say you had a secret weapon? How could you lose so quickly? You’ve embarrassed EPMA!"

"Sorry, I underestimated her," he replied, straightening up.

Before the leader could respond, a teammate interjected, "Let it go. Anyone facing Lyra would lose. At least Robin faced her; we have a better chance in the team match."

With rules allowing each player to participate in only two of three matches, they expected Lyra to compete in the team round.

However, they underestimated NMA’s desire for a quick win. Lyra entered as the final contestant for the individual competition.

In the production room, the director’s frustration echoed, "This is the finals! Can’t NMA show a little teamwork?" The anticipated team match seemed to be unraveling!

The surprised host asked, "Lyra has just fought in the first round; how does she still have so much energy left?"

It was truly an unexpected turn of events.

Anton scoffed, glancing at Webber. "All the senior students have received legion invites, none of them wanted to play this game anymore."

Webber rubbed her forehead, exasperated. "The chief instructor treats Lyra like a pawn—just moves her wherever needed. Isn’t it a bit much for her? She’s physically weak, after all."

"They’re just students; it’s no challenge for her," Anton replied.

And it was evident. The military academies were evenly matched, and Andre aimed to finish the match quickly, sending Elsie and Nicholas into the fray.

Their opponents had to unleash their top players, resulting in a fierce clash before Lyra faced the second challenger.

He prepared to attack, but in an instant, she kicked him out of bounds.

The EPMA leader was the next one. He charged in aggressively, but Lyra dominated effortlessly, tossing him aside without breaking a sweat.

The highly anticipated finals ended abruptly.

Just as it reached its peak, making people felt a bit disappointed.

The audience froze, and the host, recovering quickly, shouted, "Crushing victory! Lyra led NMA to a record win!"

He scrambled to hype the crowd, which finally erupted into applause.

"It was basically a solo show for my idol!" one fan exclaimed.

"Has she really been frozen for seven years?" Kail gripped the railing, emotions swirling—she was still the genius she used to be.

As the results came in, the trophy proudly displayed the winning school’s name, and medals awaited the team.

In that moment, they basked in the limelight.

Back on Planet Nagano, the principal, flushed with excitement, declared, "Notify everyone! Our school finally won first place—extra dishes in the cafeteria today!"

Cameras scanned the jubilant team, lingering on Lyra’s composed, elegant face.

The principal’s joy dimmed slightly, replaced by a sense of complexity; the greater ones are destined for greater struggles.

Sitting for interviews was inevitable—an enviable privilege. Lyra sat next to Elsie, a clear sign of special treatment.

Most questions aimed at her, given her high-profile background and skills.

"Miss Lyra, why choose NMA over EPMA?" a reporter asked. She smiled, replying, "NMA’s focus on freedom and combat suits me better than EPMA’s rigid, theoretical approach."

"Is it because of family conflicts that you left Elden Prime?" another pressed.

"My family relationships aren’t relevant here," she replied, signaling her unwillingness to discuss the Shedd family.

Another reporter jumped in, "Rumor has it you’re actually twenty-seven but appear twenty due to seven years of freezing, right?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Miss Shedd, what caused your freezing? Was it really due to the rampage? Does that mean you only have the power of healing left?" The reporters buzzed with anticipation, eager to uncover every detail about her, hoping for a big scoop.

Lyra didn’t respond, simply clearing her throat and sipping her water.

Andre shot her a glance and, keeping a straight face, said, "I think you all have questions for the other team members as well, right?"

The reporters seemed a bit off their game. Even though the rest of the team was impressive, none had the fiery spirit of Lyra.

"Miss Lyra..."

With a swift snap, Andrei broke the microphone stand, eyeing the puzzled reporter. "Did you mix up the names?"

The reporters snapped back to reality, feeling the weight of his unspoken warning.

Anton then smiled, adjusted the microphone, and added, "Any more questions? If not, you’re free to go."

’Is this the NMA style? It felt so harsh!’