Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 178: Silver Egg Again

Chapter 178: Silver Egg Again

Ansel and Leandro arrived at the scene, but instead of the bustling market that once stood, they were greeted by a charred wasteland.

The town had been reduced to a massive crater, still smoking.

The devastation was overwhelming, and the air was thick with the remnants of destruction.

Ansel’s expression hardened as he surveyed the ruins. But when his eyes caught sight of a few survivors huddled near the crater’s edge, a flicker of something cold flashed in his gaze.

Several interns stood among the survivors, their faces blank with shock and disbelief. Whatever ideals they once held had been shattered in the wake of this disaster.

When they saw Ansel and Leandro approaching, the interns’ eyes darkened with resentment, barely masking the anger boiling within them.

"Vice Admiral Shedd, I hope you’re proud of yourself," Thierry rasped, his voice raw like he’d been screaming for hours. "You sent Lyra out on her first mission, and she had no mecha to protect herself when she faced space pirates."

He paused, the weight of his next words heavy. "It’s worse than that, though. The pirates knew Lyra was here before they even showed up. You don’t really believe that’s just some freak coincidence, do you?"

Leandro’s usual cool demeanor cracked under the force of the accusation, while Ansel remained composed, his face revealing nothing of the tension that had settled over them.

He hadn’t expected any survivors, but he wasn’t about to let that shake him.

"What are you insinuating?" Ansel snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. "Get the medics over here—these interns need immediate psychological help!"

But Leandro wasn’t letting it slide. "Hold up, Vice Admiral," he interrupted, not allowing Ansel to shift control so easily. "This attack wasn’t random. There’s a traitor in the ranks."

Ansel’s eyes narrowed. "These interns are under my command. They’re none of your business," he replied icily, making it clear he wasn’t about to let Leandro meddle in his affairs.

Leandro met his gaze head-on, brushing some hair out of his face as the wind whipped past. "While we’re on Demetra, we play by my rules. Hundreds of thousands lives were lost here, Shedd. If we don’t find out who betrayed us, that blood will be on me." His eyes lingered on Ansel for a moment, the tension between them thickening.

"And another thing," Leandro continued, his tone firm. "We need to recover Lyra’s communicator. It could be the key to tracking Blackheart’s base."

With that, Leandro turned and walked away, his strides purposeful. Dark thoughts swirled in his mind. If Ansel was involved, Leandro wouldn’t rest until the truth came out—and there would be no mercy.

Yet, there was a significant issue at hand.

Demetra’s satellite network had been obliterated by Blackheart’s forces, leaving them blind and unable to trace where the pirates had escaped.

The following morning, the tech team delivered bad news. "We’re still unable to track Lyra’s communicator. It’s probably being jammed—or worse, it may not even be connected to the base anymore."

Leandro, who had been quietly trimming roses in the garden, froze. His hand slipped, ruining the delicate flower in front of him.

He cursed softly under his breath, trying to maintain his composure.

The tech officer continued, his voice tense. "Sir, there’s also mounting pressure from the public. Online chatter is exploding, and families of the victims are preparing to take legal action against the military. Should we try to quiet the outrage?"

Leandro sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Let them talk. They have every right to be angry. We failed to protect them, and..."

His voice faltered as he recalled the image of the ruined town, the smoldering crater where so many lives had been lost. Guilt weighed heavily on him.

"As if Blackheart wasn’t enough, there’s another threat lurking in the shadows," his adjutant added, his frustration evident.

Leandro set the clippers down and looked up at the clear sky. "Maybe... just maybe, that girl could be our chance."

If Blackheart hadn’t killed Lyra outright, that meant she had some value to him. The real question was how long she could survive in his hands and how far she could push the limits.

"Keep those four interns safe," Leandro said after a pause, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "They might end up being more important than we thought."

As the weight of everything settled on his shoulders, Leandro’s mind raced. If Ansel was in league with Blackheart, this wasn’t just about taking out Lyra.

But if Ansel thought he could play this game on Leandro’s turf, he was in for a rude awakening. The battle was far from over.

...

In the endless void of space, a massive warship carved its way through the darkness, like a lethal predator in pursuit.

Just beyond its reach, a team of astronauts meticulously worked along the ship’s perimeter, disabling the stealth satellites that had been tracking their every move.

Their mission completed, they reported back to Blackheart, "Just as we suspected—Ansel, that slippery old fox, planted a tracker on us," one of them said, confirming their suspicion.

Blackheart, gripping a goblet of liquor, downed it in a single motion, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

His thoughts kept returning to Lyra, the woman who had defied him more times than he could stomach.

The urge to finally put her in her place was overwhelming.

He stormed toward the prison where she was held, his mind racing with increasingly twisted ideas of how to break her. ’How should I make her suffer this time?’

The thought of lashing her, watching blood drip from her defiant body, tempted him.

Perhaps even tearing off her clothes, humiliating her further. But no, that would be too easy, too fleeting.

Keeping her alive, forcing her to continue in that military uniform she wore with such pride, while she unwillingly revealed the secrets of the Core’s technology—that would be far more satisfying. Yes, death would come later.

As anticipation swelled in his chest, he reached her cell, where the devices in place ensured her superpowers were nullified.

"Is she awake?" he demanded.

His guard hesitated, stammering. "She should be, but..."

"But what, you fool?" Blackheart snapped, already losing patience.

Swiping his crystal card, he opened the cell door. The thick metal slid aside, revealing something unexpected.

In the middle of the room sat a massive silver egg, gleaming ominously under the dim light.

Blackheart’s momentary surprise quickly turned into a twisted grin. "So, Sis Marv, you think hiding inside this thing will save you?" he sneered.

The egg gave no response, silent and still. If he hadn’t been there to witness Lyra’s capture himself, Blackheart might’ve thought this was some sort of elaborate decoy.

But he wasn’t easily fooled. Snarling, he unleashed his fury, transforming his hands into massive dragon claws and slashing at the metallic shell.

His strength, capable of tearing through mechas, left not a single mark on the egg.

As he paused, catching his breath, thin, razor-sharp blades suddenly shot from the egg, slicing through the air with blinding speed.

They cut shallow wounds into Blackheart’s body, forcing him to retreat, seething with rage.

He stormed back to the command room, his mood dark and dangerous.

When Liliana saw the look on his face, she felt a knot of fear tighten in her stomach.

The others in the room quickly turned their attention back to their tasks, pretending not to notice the storm brewing in him.

"Where were you hiding, you useless brat?!" Blackheart bellowed, his eyes locking onto Liliana.

She approached with a sly smile, trying to ease the tension. "Daddy, let me—"

Before she could finish, he struck the cup from her hand, sending it crashing to the floor.

In a flash, his hand closed around her wrist, yanking her into a chair.

With a cruel grin, he ripped at her clothes. The sharp crack of a whip cut through the air, striking her skin.

Liliana’s eyes widened in pain, but deep within them, hatred simmered, masked by her outward submission.

Meanwhile, inside her cell, Lyra remained within the safety of her silver egg.

...

The door opened and closed again, and soft footsteps approached.

Quickly concealing her Schedar, Lyra tensed as Liliana, trembling and wounded, rushed into her arms.

"It’s all your fault," Liliana pouted theatrically. "Look how badly I’ve been hurt because of you!"

Lyra’s fingers moved through Liliana’s red hair, her touch brushing against fresh blood.

With a slight frown, Lyra healed the wounds with ease, then pushed her away. "What are you doing here?"

Liliana clutched at the torn straps of her dress, making a half-hearted attempt to cover herself before dramatically flopping onto the bed.

Her expression was teasing, a sharp contrast to her earlier distress. "You know, when I was little, I was locked in here for two months. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have come back."

Lyra crossed her arms, her gaze steady. "Because you fought back?"

Liliana flicked her hair over her shoulder with a seductive smirk, crossing her legs. "Back then, I had two sisters. They resisted him, too. But they died for it."

Her lips curled into a mocking smile, the bitterness evident. "Idiots, really. They survived being sold by human traffickers only to throw their lives away so easily. They should’ve known better."