Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 175: Fragile Hand?

Chapter 175: Fragile Hand?

Most soldiers had no clue that Lyra was being specifically targeted by higher-ups. To them, she was just another fresh-faced intern.

So, when they saw the aftermath of last night’s drama, they were floored.

"Brilley did all that? Man, I was thinking about asking her out!"

"Who does that? Slashing sheets and clothes? That’s just childish."

"Typical woman drama. Why not rough ’em up like we usually do with recruits?"

Baird’s patience snapped as he overheard the grumbling from his subordinates. His fury was barely contained as he barked, "Do you all have too much free time? It’s almost lights-out! Get back to your bunks!"

The soldiers scrambled away, some still chuckling under their breath, as they disappeared into the night.

Lyra turned to leave as well, but Baird’s sharp voice cut through the air. "Lyra, did I say you could go?"

She stopped, throwing him a cold glance over her shoulder. "Aren’t you here to make sure justice is served for me?" she asked, her tone as icy as her stare.

Baird hesitated for a split second, then jabbed a finger in the direction of the two broken women. "What did you do to my soldiers?"

Lyra’s voice remained eerily calm. "I already told you, I just had a reasonable discussion with them."

The short-haired veteran, her senses slowly returning in the cool night air, suddenly blurted out, "Liar! You... you tore us apart, blinded us again and again...!"

The more she rambled, the more Baird’s face twisted with disbelief.

Without wasting a second, he stormed into the dormitory, expecting chaos, blood, or at least some sign of a struggle. But everything was in perfect order. No bloodstains, no debris—nothing that suggested the kind of carnage his soldiers were describing.

Frustrated, he stalked back outside, his expression a mix of confusion and fury. "Call the medic!" he shouted.

A few minutes later, the medic arrived, assessing the two women’s bodies with practiced efficiency.

After a thorough check, his face showed nothing but confusion. "There are no signs of physical injury," he reported plainly.

Baird blinked, incredulous. "Check again! Lyra’s a healer—maybe she patched them up after torturing them."

The medic’s expression didn’t budge. "That’s impossible. She’s only at level six. If the injuries were as severe as they’re claiming, even with her skills, there would still be lingering signs of damage—unhealed cells, scars, something."

His clinical explanation left Baird speechless, unable to refute him.

The medic gave him a pointed look, clearly growing impatient.

"Besides, look at their mental state..." Baird muttered, pointing to the two women who were still trembling uncontrollably.

"Psychological trauma doesn’t always leave physical marks," the medic said flatly, clearly suggesting that the veterans might’ve cracked under pressure rather than actual violence.

His tone made it clear he didn’t have time for what he considered baseless accusations. "I’ve got real patients to attend to," he added under his breath as he packed up his equipment and stormed off.

Eventually, the two shattered veterans were led away for psychological evaluation, their bodies unscathed but their minds utterly broken.

As the medic disappeared into the shadows, Baird turned back to Lyra, his eyes filled with barely contained rage.

Lyra’s face was pale and emotionless, but in the dim light, something about her sent a chill down his spine.

"It’s almost lights-out, sir," she said softly, her tone so calm it was unsettling.

"Get to your bunk," he snapped, spitting the words out through clenched teeth. Then he stormed off, unable to shake the unsettling feeling she left in his gut.

If he had looked back, he might have seen the unnerving way her eyes followed him, cold and calculating.

Lyra bent down to gather the ruined remnants of her belongings, tossing them into the trash with as much care as one might give to litter.

When she finally made it back to her bunk, the room was strangely empty—Zinnia and Vikie were nowhere to be found.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and the two girls shuffled in, arms loaded with fresh bedding.

Zinnia grinned as she dropped the pile onto Lyra’s bed. "Good thing the supply office hadn’t closed yet."

In reality, the two had tracked down Thierry and sweet-talked him into handing over the keys to the supply room so they could snag replacements for Lyra.

"You can borrow our clothes until you get more," Vikie added, offering a small, sympathetic smile.

Lyra’s expression softened for a brief moment as she watched them set down the new bedding.

After a beat of silence, she muttered, "Thanks."

The rest of the night passed quietly, with no more drama or surprises.

By the time morning came, the three of them had already settled into the rhythm of military life.

Being top graduates, the training and daily routines were easy for them to adapt to. In fact, they even managed to arrive at the training grounds before the veterans, catching the attention of a few soldiers still sipping their morning coffee.

Baird, on the other hand, had spent the night grappling with what had happened.

He was no fool—he knew by now that Lyra wasn’t someone he could handle using the usual rules. She was a dangerous variable, and last night had only solidified that fact in his mind.

After a brief round of drills, Baird’s sharp gaze swept over the assembled troops. His voice boomed across the field, snapping everyone to attention. "Interns, step forward!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd as the soldiers, still buzzing from last night’s events, watched eagerly.

The stage was set, and everyone was waiting to see what would unfold next.

The five interns stepped forward in perfect unison, facing the formation with calm confidence.

Baird, under the guise of an "assessment," casually suggested that the veterans spar with the newcomers.

The soldiers around them couldn’t contain their excitement—this was their chance to show the rookies their place.

But things didn’t play out the way they expected.

These weren’t ordinary interns; they were AMAT champions, battle-hardened in ways the veterans hadn’t anticipated. Though they lacked battlefield experience, their sheer strength was undeniable.

Thierry was a prime example. His match barely lasted two minutes before he had his opponent pinned to the ground, his victory swift and decisive.

The watching veterans let out a collective sigh of relief—at least they hadn’t been the ones to lose in such an embarrassing fashion.

When it was Lyra’s turn, however, a palpable tension filled the air.

None of the male veterans stepped forward, visibly uncomfortable with the idea of facing her.

To them, she appeared delicate, almost fragile—a quiet girl who looked like she’d fold at the first punch, like a lily pad crushed underfoot.

"I’ll handle this myself," Baird suddenly declared, his voice cutting through the hesitation.

Thierry and the others immediately tensed, but they held their ground.

Lyra had warned them not to interfere, and this was a fight she clearly intended to face alone.

Facing a squad leader with decades of combat experience, Lyra looked small, outmatched—like a child up against a fully grown man.

To the onlookers, it seemed she wouldn’t last more than a second.

She coughed softly into her hand, her expression calm.

Her frailty surprised the soldiers watching—how could someone like her stand a chance?

But Baird’s eyes glinted with ruthless determination. He was not about to go easy on her.

Without warning, he lunged at her with frightening speed, his muscles rippling as his fist hurtled toward her like a freight train.

His movements were a force of nature, but to Lyra, they were as predictable as a passing breeze.

With a deft movement, she sidestepped his punch, raising her arm to block his knee strike, feeling the sheer power behind his blows.

But instead of being overwhelmed, something shifted in Lyra’s icy gaze.

A fierceness ignited within her, and she retaliated without hesitation.

Her slender arm, deceptively delicate, tightened as veins bulged, and she threw a punch straight into Baird’s face.

The crowd gasped—no one expected her to go on the offensive like that.

Baird staggered back, his eyes wide with surprise. He could see now why Ansel had warned him about this intern.

With a roar, he unleashed his superpower, his body swelling as tiger-like stripes formed along his skin.

His frame nearly doubled in size, and his clawed hands slashed through the air with a terrifying speed, aiming to end the fight in one devastating blow.

But his attack never landed. Instead, it crashed into a glowing green shield.

Lyra waved her hand, and shimmering green energy ribbons shot out, winding around Baird’s massive tiger form like pythons coiling around prey. The more he struggled, the tighter the ribbons constricted, binding him like an iron grip.

"Roar!" Baird snarled, his muscles bulging as he strained to break free. But Lyra’s hand clenched into a fist, and with that motion, the ribbons tightened even more, forcing his hulking form into a compact, football-like shape.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the "ball" flying, crashing through the wall and sending Baird rolling across the ground.

He tumbled into the neighboring Alpha Squad 09’s training ground, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

Kail and his squad, in the middle of drills, turned their heads in stunned silence.

"Uh... is that Captain Baird?"

"Looks like him... in his tiger form."

"Damn... who did TAHT to him?"

The veterans from Alpha 10 stood frozen in place, their pride taking a massive hit.

Baird, their captain, had been bested in a single exchange.

Meanwhile, Lyra calmly let the green energy ribbons dissolve into the air, shimmering like dust particles as they vanished.

She walked through the wreckage with the same unbothered air she had maintained throughout the fight.

Approaching the groaning Baird, who lay twitching on the ground, she crouched down.

"Sir, are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft as if she were genuinely concerned.A light cough followed, adding an air of feigned modesty. "Sorry about that. When you activated your superpower so suddenly, it startled me. I didn’t mean to go so hard."

Baird, humiliated beyond words, felt the weight of a thousand eyes on him.

Soldiers from two vanguard squads had witnessed his defeat.

He glared at the outstretched hand Lyra offered to help him up, his pride urging him to crush it. But he knew he couldn’t afford another loss in front of the crowd.

Swallowing his pride, he forced a strained smile. "As expected of AMAT champions. It’s been a while since I’ve faced such a powerful intern."

He took her hand, standing up, but then a sickening CRACK echoed in the air.

His eyes widened in shock as pain shot through his hand—Lyra had crushed his bones with ease.

"Sir, your hand seems rather fragile," Lyra commented, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.

Baird’s face contorted with pain and barely restrained fury.

Without saying another word, he stormed off toward the medical bay, shooting one last murderous glare at Lyra.

The intensity of his hatred was clear, but she met his gaze with cool indifference.

As Baird disappeared from sight, the surrounding soldiers could only stare in disbelief.

They had witnessed something they wouldn’t soon forget. The collective thought that ran through their minds was clear: ’Holy crap, this intern is a beast.’