Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 180: Last Dance

Chapter 180: Last Dance

Lyra lay still inside the egg, and she was carried into a bleak, windowless room that seemed more like a tomb than a prison.

The moment the guards left, the assault began.

First, the scorching heat rolled in, waves of fire licking the metal shell.

Then came the violent crackle of lightning, zapping the surface, followed by the deafening roar of the warship’s cannons.

But the egg? It stood firm, shrugging off each brutal attack like it was nothing.

Around Lyra, the annoying hum of cutting machines filled the air, their sharp teeth gnawing at the steel. But even those ferocious blades couldn’t pierce through. They were loud, obnoxious, but completely useless.

"No point, sir."

The man gripping the cutter looked up at Blackheart, fear oozing from every pore as he trembled under his leader’s gaze.

Blackheart didn’t even hesitate. With a savage swing of his clawed hand, the man’s head was gone—clean off.

Blood sprayed, splattering the horrified crew who stood frozen, pale as ghosts.

Panting with rage, Blackheart barked at his men, "Where the hell’s Liliana?"

"She... uh, she’s off delivering supplies to the Broken Blades," one of them stammered, shaking under his captain’s murderous glare.

The crew owed everything to the Broken Blades. Without that brutal pirate faction’s protection, they never would’ve survived on Voidstar No. 1.

But that safety came at a steep price—a third of every raid went to them, no exceptions. Even their latest score from Demetra had to be sliced up, though it was supposed to be a joint mission.

Liliana slinked back late that night, exhaustion dragging her down. Her heavy steps only pissed off Blackheart more. He scowled as she walked in. "Sis Marv didn’t rough you up again, did she?"

Liliana rolled her eyes, slipping into his arms with a lazy sway of her hips. "Oh please, when hasn’t she? That witch can’t seem to keep her hands off me."

Liliana wasn’t exactly new to being treated as a tool for Blackheart’s deals. Hell, back in the day, he’d regularly thrown her to his men as a "reward."

But tonight, his mind was elsewhere. He traced her waist absentmindedly, muttering, "Think you can make Sis Marv bow to us?"

She twirled a strand of her fiery red hair between her fingers, stifling a yawn. "The only thing that woman bows to is money. And you’re running short on it."

Blackheart’s temper flared instantly. He shoved her to the ground with a snarl. "That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said!"

His boots stomped furiously as he paced, his mind spinning with frustration. "There’s no way that girl will last in that thing for seven damn years without food or water!"

Liliana calmly adjusted the high slit of her dress, covering her legs as she stood back up. "Well, I might have an idea," she purred, "but it’ll take a few days before I can try."

He snapped back at her, his patience thin as paper. "Why wait?"

Before she could answer, the floor beneath them rumbled violently. The walls trembled, sending pirates into a frenzy. "Is it an earthquake?!"

They scrambled outside, but as quickly as it came, the tremor faded.

Blackheart cursed under his breath, his nerves already hanging by a thread. "Nothing’s going right today! Why the hell didn’t the environmental monitors pick that up?"

One of the crew tried to explain, "It was a localized quake, sir. It ended as fast as it started."

But Blackheart wasn’t having it. Another poor soul met their end under his merciless claw, rage boiling over.

Liliana stepped forward, her scarlet dress swaying like flames in the dim light. "Daddy, don’t lose it over nothing," she said in a low, soothing voice, casting a glance at the terrified crew.

Without a word, they scrambled to vanish from sight, obeying her silent command.

Blackheart shoved her away with a snarl. "Just handle it! I won’t be so forgiving if this plan falls apart." He stormed out, his heavy steps echoing like thunder through the base.

Liliana stood her ground, her fiery hair and dress glowing against the cold steel floor, as if she was surrounded by dancing flames.

The blood at her feet, from those freshly killed, seemed to pulse and swirl in a dark, twisted rhythm.

Three days later, Liliana made her way to see Lyra. No one knew what was said between the two women, but when Liliana reappeared, she delivered shocking news—Lyra had agreed to meet with Blackheart.

The announcement sent a thrill of excitement through Blackheart, and he practically bolted to the meeting room.

Inside the stark, empty space, Lyra sat quietly, sipping water. She looked frail, her body drained from days without food.

But her eyes? They still held a fierce fire of rebellion. That cold, defiant gaze made Blackheart’s fingers twitch with anticipation.

Liliana glided in behind him, carrying a tray of food, her expression bored as she muttered, "I worked hard to get her out of that egg. Don’t screw it up by getting all worked up, Daddy."

Blackheart’s eyes remained locked on Lyra as if sizing her up, a predator circling its prey. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he ordered, "Get out."

Liliana pouted playfully; she let out a soft hum before shimmying out of the room. The seductive rhythm of her walk lingered in the air.

Just before the door closed, she turned her head ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of Lyra’s gaze—deep, mysterious, and cold as ice.

With a flick of her hair, Liliana handed her communicator to the squad leader standing nearby. "In Daddy’s name, gather everyone here."

The man didn’t hesitate. "Yes, ma’am," he replied, quickly sending out the call without so much as a question.

Back inside the room, Blackheart stepped toward Lyra, his hulking frame casting a shadow over her.

She sat still, her face emotionless, eyes cutting right through him.

"So, you’ve finally decided to submit?" Blackheart sneered, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her to look up.

His brutality simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt. His grip tightened as if testing her, daring her to break.

Lyra’s gaze never wavered. "Do you remember years ago, Blackheart? When you stormed into my clinic like a rabid dog?"

A wicked grin curled on his lips. "You should’ve stayed put when I gave you the chance. But no, you ran, and now you’re paying the price."

Lyra’s voice remained calm, though a flicker of something dangerous flashed in her eyes. "Yes, I remember. It hurt, quite a bit actually."

As she spoke, a faint glow flickered at her waist. Her Space Button activated, and in an instant, a sleek, elastic metal armor unfolded, wrapping around her body.

Blackheart’s eyes flared with fury, his form shifting as scales sprouted from his skin, morphing him into a monstrous, draconic humanoid.

Just as his transformation completed, a silver blade came slicing toward him.

He reacted instantly, swiping his claws to block the attack, but not without a cost—his middle toe was severed clean off, blood spraying across the metal floor.

A guttural roar of rage tore from his throat, his wings unfurling from his back as his beastly form took over. His voice rasped with fury. "You’re dead, Lyra!"

In a blink, he launched himself at her, his speed terrifying.

Lyra swung her blade again, but he dodged with ease, his movements too fast.

Before she could react, he slammed his foot into her chest, sending her crashing into the wall with enough force to splinter the steel. Cracks webbed out around her like a fractured mirror.

Blackheart hovered above her, his wings beating menacingly. His draconic form was the peak of his power, combining his beastly strength with flight.

He was nearly unbeatable—at least, for anyone in their right mind.

Lyra, weakened by days of confinement, stood little chance.

With a cruel smirk, his fanged face leered at her. "What makes you think you can stand against me?"

Coughing, Lyra wiped the blood from her lips and sighed heavily. "I’m tired of fighting, honestly."

Her words hung in the air, but Blackheart only laughed—a deep, mocking sound. "Oh, giving up now, are we? Too bad it’s far too late for that!" He beat his wings harder, creating gusts of wind that forced Lyra to her knees, barely able to keep herself upright.

Just as he was about to strike again, the ground shook violently beneath them.

The lights overhead flickered erratically, casting wild shadows across the walls. The entire base trembled with a force far greater than before, and even Blackheart, in his heightened form, could feel the oppressive weight of it.

Outside the room, Liliana stood drenched in blood, her once pristine dress now soaked through, clinging to her body.

Blood dripped from her hair, and at her feet, a pool of crimson spread wider with each second.

Her subordinates stood around her, their faces pale, trembling with fear. One of them raised a shaky finger, pointing behind her. "M-miss Liliana? What... what is that?!"

Liliana slowly turned, her gaze falling on a massive purple creature tearing through the base, her golden, vertical eyes gleaming with malevolence.

A level-eight wyrm. Her monstrous form dwarfed everything around her as she wreaked havoc.

Liliana carelessly discarded the severed head she’d been holding, sighing as she muttered, "So, this was your plan all along?"

Suddenly, green energy shields appeared, forming steps in the air, and a figure descended gracefully.

A woman with beautiful hair and cold eyes floated down, dragging an unconscious, battered man with her.

It was Lyra.

She flung Blackheart’s mangled body to the ground, his broken form landing with a sickening thud in the growing pool of blood.

"He’s still alive," the woman stated flatly.

Blackheart lay gasping, barely clinging to life. His eyes darted around in terror, taking in the pile of mutilated corpses nearby.

Liliana knelt beside him, her blood-soaked form eerily calm.

She leaned in close, her voice a quiet whisper. "Daddy, how did you get hurt so badly?" Her fingers traced his chest as she spoke, pressing gently against his wounds.

"Such a mess... it almost makes me not want to drag this out," she murmured, her tone mocking.

Blackheart’s body convulsed in agony as he watched her lick the blood from her fingers, her lips curling into a smile.

"Let me, your good girl, give you one last dance."