Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 174: Trying To Reason

Chapter 174: Trying To Reason

In the thick silence that hung over the cafeteria, Lyra set down her fork with clinging sound.

She dabbed her lips with a napkin, and spoke in a voice that was calm yet unyielding. "Let me make this clear to all of you," she started, her words cutting through the tension like a knife, "whatever goes down on me next, I expect none of you to get involved."

Zinnia was the first to push back. "How can you expect us to just sit back and watch you get pushed around?"

Lyra didn’t budge. "This isn’t just about me," she shot back, her tone hard as steel. "It’s about your safety, your futures, and keeping me from carrying any more than I already do. If things get out of hand, believe me, I’ll ask. But as for now—" she paused, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass, "there’s no turning back with the Shedd family. We’re beyond that point."

Everyone’s expressions shifted, the weight of her words pulling them down like stones.

The room grew heavy with unspoken worries, their faces clouded in uncertainty. No one knew what to say, but the reality of it all hit like a freight train.

"Let’s go." Lyra broke the silence, standing up first to shatter the awkwardness.

As they made their way out, they ran into Kail, who was practically sprinting toward them, his face flushed with guilt. "Sis, I... I’m sorry—" he stammered, out of breath.

He’d just come off a heated argument with Ansel, and the aftermath was written all over his face.

Lyra’s eyes flicked over to the red mark on his cheek—a slap, no doubt. "You knew it was pointless. Why’d you bother?" she asked flatly, her gaze barely lingering before she brushed past him.

Kail spun around, voice rising as he tried to hold onto something. "I just wanted to help you!"

He always felt small next to Lyra, like he was still that little kid trailing behind her, never quite catching up. But even though he knew he wasn’t as strong, he wanted to share just a sliver of her burden.

Lyra paused, throwing him a side glance. "You don’t have to try so hard," she said coldly. "Just stay in your lane, play your part like a good little pawn, and that’ll be enough for me."

Because the person holding the chess pieces? They always wanted to use them best.

As Lyra and her crew walked away, Kail’s hands clenched into fists, frustration boiling inside him.

The few people milling around the cafeteria doors watched the scene unfold, but no one dared to say a word.

There were five of them in the group—two boys from a dorm shared with four older, more seasoned soldiers, and three girls from another dorm where two veterans also resided.

After grabbing their uniforms and comms gear, they’d spent the afternoon getting a lay of the land. By the time they got back to their dorms, night had already fallen.

In the girls’ dorm, the two senior soldiers were waiting, arms crossed and faces set like stone.

Lyra’s sharp eyes immediately caught the disorder on her bed. Her backpack had been rummaged through, its contents tossed carelessly over the mattress.

The disrespect was obvious.

The other girls’ bags had been opened too, but nothing inside was touched.

Lyra locked eyes with the tall women standing in front of them but said nothing. One of them, a woman with a shoulder-length fishtail braid, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling in an arrogant smirk. "Got a problem? It’s protocol. Vets check the rookies’ gear."

Zinnia wasn’t having it. "That’s BS!" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "Even if it’s a check, you do it while we’re here! What gives you the right to go through our stuff behind our backs?"

Vikie, her patience running thin, chimed in, "Yeah, and what happens if something’s missing? Who’s taking responsibility then?"

The woman with the fishtail braid chuckled, exchanging a smug look with her two buddies. The one with the high ponytail cracked a cold smile. "Oh, look at that. This year’s rookies came with some bite."

While the tension thickened, Lyra quietly spread out her bedroll, ignoring the confrontation. But as she unfolded her clothes, she saw they had been shredded.

Zinnia gasped, her fury flaring up instantly. She took an aggressive step forward, but Vikie grabbed her arm, pulling her back just in time.

"Remember what Lyra said," Vikie whispered under her breath, her grip firm. She had checked her own things earlier—nothing was missing, nothing was damaged. It was crystal clear who these soldiers were targeting.

Lyra didn’t flinch, didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. She simply set the ruined clothes aside and kept organizing her stuff as if it were just another day.

She unscrewed her water bottle, only to find it packed with dirt.

With a calmness that felt almost eerie, she closed it back up and placed it on the table.

Her blanket, mattress, sheets—every single thing had been trashed.

As Lyra worked in silence, the air in the room grew heavier with each passing second, the air so thick with tension it was suffocating.

After checking every corner of the room, Lyra released a soft sigh, her expression calm despite the chaos around her.

Without a word, she walked past everyone, quietly shutting the door and drawing the curtains closed.

As she moved, her sharp eyes caught a brief flash through the opposite window—a glimpse of Brielle, the leader of Alpha 10, disappearing into the shadows.

The sight was fleeting, but it was enough.

The two senior women, standing stiffly across from her, sensed it immediately.

Danger.

Their eyes flickered with alarm, instincts screaming at them to act.

The air around them stirred subtly as the superpower particles shifted. They straightened up, ready to unleash their abilities.

But before they could even react, shimmering green bands of energy shot out from Lyra, snapping around their bodies like chains.

The energy wrapped tight, silencing their cries as it forced them against the wall.

Their eyes blazed with fury, but they were completely immobilized, helpless against the power that had bound them.

Lyra’s voice, soft yet tinged with mockery, broke the silence. "Did you even bother to ask about me when Erin gave you your orders?" She tilted her head, eyeing them coldly. "Pity that you didn’t."

With a casual flick of her hand, Lyra summoned two glowing orbs of green light, their soft hue belied by the danger they held.

The orbs hovered for a moment before sinking into the women’s bodies.

Instantly, their cells began to mutate, multiplying at an unnatural rate.

Their organs swelled grotesquely, their bodies twisting and bloating into monstrous shapes.

Their faces contorted in horror as their eyes bulged in sheer agony. But the real nightmare had just begun.

Two slender green tendrils snaked out, slithering toward their faces.

With a cold precision, they stabbed into their eyes, writhing and churning like living things inside their skulls.

The pain was unimaginable. Every nerve in their bodies screamed in torment, as if their very souls were being torn apart.

Lyra’s long fingers moved with eerie grace, each motion deliberate, inflicting pain so deep it reached their bones.

And every time they teetered on the brink of death, she brought them back.

Their shattered bodies were healed, their blood replenished, only for the process to begin all over again.

The endless cycle of agony became their reality.

Minutes dragged into what felt like an eternity. The torment shattered their minds, their bodies breaking apart and reforming in a relentless loop of suffering.

Slowly but surely, they began to lose any sense of self, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of endless pain.

Through it all, Lyra’s face remained expressionless, as if the torture she inflicted was nothing more than routine.

Her eyes, however, told a different story—a flicker of barely restrained madness lurked beneath her calm demeanor, a darkness that hinted at something far more dangerous.

Zinnia and Vikie, who had been silent witnesses to the horror, instinctively took two steps back.

Their stomachs churned with nausea, and the sight left them shaken to their core.

After about twenty minutes, the two senior soldiers were no longer recognizable as the confident, fierce women they had once been.

Now, they were broken husks, pale and trembling, huddled together on the bed like children lost in a nightmare.

They stared blankly at the ceiling, their minds shattered. It was as if they had been dragged through hell and back, left with nothing but the echoes of their torment.

Lyra stepped forward, crouching down to study them like a scientist examining a failed experiment. One hand rested on her hip while the other thoughtfully cradled her chin.

She observed them closely, noting how their bodies bore no visible marks of the torture, yet their vacant eyes betrayed the horrors they had endured.

"Not bad," she murmured quietly, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

The difference between their once-proud selves and the broken, hollow figures they had become was night and day.

Now, as they looked at her, they trembled violently, their terror so overwhelming that it seemed like their hearts might give out at any moment.

"Please... help us..." the short-haired woman whimpered, staggering to her feet and scrambling toward the door.

The long-haired one followed suit, crawling on all fours in a desperate bid for escape.

Outside, Brielle had been observing the scene from a second-floor window. Alarmed by what he saw, he jumped down, rushing over to the door with panic in his voice. "What happened here?!"

The two women, still shaking uncontrollably, cried out in desperation, "Lyra... she’s going to kill us!"

Their wails echoed through the dorms, drawing attention from both the male and female soldiers, who quickly crowded their windows to see the commotion.

Brielle’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew these soldiers well. Despite being women, they were elite members of the Vanguard Squad, some of the toughest and most mentally resilient fighters in Alpha 10.

Yet here they were, completely and utterly broken, reduced to begging for their lives.

Her voice boomed with fury, "L-y-r-a! What did you DO?"

Lyra’s response was cool and effortless.

Without a word, she tossed a set of shredded clothes, a dirt-filled water bottle, and ruined bed linens at the feet of the terrified women.

These petty acts of sabotage now looked trivial compared to the devastation she had just unleashed.

The message was clear. You mess with me, you better be prepared for the consequences.

Lyra stepped forward with a calmness that seemed almost eerie, her posture straight as she saluted. "Sir, They destroyed my belongings, so I had a reasonable conversation with them. As a result, they’ve completely reformed and are now filled with remorse."

Baird’s face darkened, his expression hardening at her words.

Veteran soldiers hazing new recruits wasn’t exactly rare in the military—it was an ugly reality he’d seen more times than he cared to admit. But acknowledging that in front of a crowd was out of the question.

He couldn’t afford to let the situation spiral, especially not in public.

His glare was sharp enough to cut steel. "You think just saying that makes it true?"

Lyra met his eyes with a gaze as cold and lifeless as ice. Then, with unsettling calm, she turned toward the two women still trembling in terror. "Why don’t you ask them yourself?" Her voice, chilling in its neutrality, hung in the air. "Did you cut up my things?"

The two women, still trapped in the hellish pain Lyra had etched into their very souls, felt that same agony rise from the deepest parts of their bodies.

It was as if every nerve was set on fire again. Their shudders became uncontrollable.

"Y-yes... we did it," one of them choked out, her voice barely a whisper, thick with fear.

The other, just as broken, managed a weak, "We’re sorry..."

Baird whipped around, eyes wide with disbelief and fury. ’What were they doing?! Didn’t they realize I’m trying to help them, trying to offer a way out?’ But their confessions had thrown it all back in his face.

He stared at them, but there was something off—something that gnawed at him.

If he had taken a moment to really look, he would’ve seen it: the emptiness in their eyes, the hollow, haunted expressions.