Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 193: Graduation

Chapter 193: Graduation

Lyra genuinely respected Morrison’s skills. He was sharp, reliable, and rarely let anything slip. But now, knowing that he had this emotional tie to Chloe? That was a vulnerability she couldn’t afford to ignore.

Unlike her, Morrison wasn’t willing to cut ties with everything or everyone just to survive.

"I care only about the results. Don’t make your problems my problems," she said coolly, her voice devoid of emotion.

Morrison’s face brightened instantly. "Understood!" he replied, a flicker of relief flashing through his eyes.

From the moment Lyra left Frenna’s apartment, trouble began brewing for the Shedd family. But she didn’t stick around to watch the chaos unfold. Instead, she returned to her workplace without missing a beat, as if taking down the Shedds was just another item on her to-do list.

When she arrived, the lobby buzzed with an unusual liveliness, considering it was well past work hours.

Laughter and flirtatious voices echoed through the space, drawing her attention:

"Oh, you really know how to make a girl feel good!" one woman giggled.

"Baby, I’m just calling it like I see it. You’ve got something special, and you should believe it when I say you’re amazing," a man’s voice replied smoothly.

The guy lounged on the couch, wearing a brown jacket and sunglasses, his blond hair tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly charming.

With one arm draped around the girl next to him, he leaned in, grinning like a rogue. "For instance, I’m guessing you like things a little rough in bed, don’t you?" he whispered mischievously.

The woman’s cheeks flushed crimson, clearly thrown off by how accurate his playful jab was. "Oh, stop it!" she giggled, giving him a playful shove. "Who said you could talk to me like that?"

But as soon as Lyra walked in, the mood in the room shifted like someone had flipped a switch. The laughter died instantly, and the three women shot to their feet, their faces going pale with panic.

"B-Boss!" they stammered, clearly rattled. Getting caught flirting on company time wasn’t something they’d be able to shrug off.

Morrison, frowning with disapproval, cut the tension with a stern, "This isn’t the time or place for this behavior. If you’re done here, I suggest you head home."

Relieved to escape further judgment, the women scurried off, muttering apologies as they disappeared.

Lyra turned her icy gaze toward the man still lounging on the couch. He looked irritated that his little game had been interrupted but didn’t dare show it for long.

"Follow me," she ordered, her voice carrying an edge that brooked no argument.

As soon as they entered the office, the man’s disguise melted away, revealing his true form—his bald head so pale that the veins beneath were visible.

Freon was one of the rare users of disguise-based superpowers, but unlike most, he preferred his natural form when there was no need to conceal himself.

"Pretend to be someone else too long," he often said, "and you’ll forget who you are."

Now he sat back lazily on the couch, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed casually. "Ah, my goddess of death, couldn’t you have waited just a little longer? I was so close to sealing the deal with that girl," he complained with a smirk.

Lyra was unimpressed. "When I arrive on Planet Nagano, you’ll use the teleportation station to join me. After that, I expect you to transfer directly to Voidstar No. 2." She shot him a sharp, warning look. "And if you cause any problems before then, you’ll regret it."

Freon straightened up immediately, awkwardly rubbing his bald head. "I wouldn’t dream of it," he muttered, clearly rattled by her intensity.

He hated how easily she got under his skin. He’d regretted not bolting the first time he crossed paths with her, back on Demetra.

He had been there for "supplies," but instead of stocking up, he had walked straight into Lyra.

In hindsight, he should’ve recognized the Rose insignia on her uniform and fled. But no, his brain had short-circuited when he saw her—a stunning beauty. She had seemed like an easy mark, maybe an intern fresh out of training, and he thought it’d be fun to mess with her.

Big mistake.

Her coldness wasn’t just for show. She’d killed his three men without breaking a sweat, their blood splattering across the ground before he even knew what was happening.

And, to top it off, she’d confiscated his ship, leaving him no choice but to submit. He had avoided the military’s wrath only by agreeing to let her implant a psychokinesis mark on him, binding him to her service.

Since then, Freon had worked for her, reluctantly at first, but over time, it wasn’t so bad.

Being under her command had its perks. Voidstar No. 2 had become a thriving hub under his watch, and his crew even started calling Lyra "boss" themselves. The funny thing was, they didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

After Lyra gave Morrison the task of keeping an eye on Freon, she shifted her focus to preparing for her return to Planet Nagano.

As she packed her belongings into a metal case by the window, keeping everything minimal to fit inside her Space Button, the sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention.

Phelixes rushed in, his eyes red from holding back tears. "Are you leaving, sis?" he asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

Lyra didn’t stop packing. "Yes. Do you need something?"

Concern etched across his face, Phelixes quickly jumped in to help. He grabbed items and neatly organizing them in the case.

"Once you join the military, we won’t see each other for a long time, right?" His voice wavered slightly, filled with the weight of that reality.

"I’ll help you pack," he added earnestly, trying to be useful. He even slipped a few frozen meals he had prepared into the box, determined to make sure Lyra was taken care of, even if from afar.

Later that night, they sat down to dinner, a quiet sense of finality hanging in the air. Phelixes, ever hopeful, tried to keep the mood light. "Have you decided which legion you’ll join yet?" he asked between bites.

Lyra shook her head. "Not yet."

With a smile, he continued, "Well, by the time I graduate from the military academy, you’ll probably have your own legion. Then I can help you out all the time."

He had never doubted her abilities for a second. But Lyra couldn’t help the faint, sarcastic smile that tugged at her lips. There was something almost mocking in her expression, as if she knew better.

"Maybe," she replied softly.

The next day, she left for Planet Nagano, taking the quickest route to make it in time for the NMA graduation ceremony.

The ceremony itself was a grand affair. As tradition dictated, the students wore their NMA uniforms, the same ones they had worn during their freshman welcome event all those years ago, but this time, they weren’t just students—they were soldiers in the making, honed by years of grueling training and battlefield experience.

The principal stood on the stage, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of graduates with pride. "You are the pride of NMA," he declared, his voice brimming with emotion. "Our entire faculty and staff are honored by each and every one of you."

As the representative of the graduating class, Lyra stepped up to give a brief speech. She spoke of perseverance, sacrifice, and the lessons learned through their trials.

Afterward, the presentation of diplomas and badges began.

The excitement in the room was palpable at first, but it quickly shifted when instructors brought out portraits—images of the students who hadn’t survived to see this day.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the principal solemnly pinned a badge on each portrait, paying tribute to those who had fallen.

"It is with great sorrow that they could not be here today," the principal said, his voice thick with emotion. "But their spirit will forever be engraved in the heart of NMA. Their sacrifice will be remembered in our school’s history. Their blood, shed for the cause, will live on as our undying creed. And their souls will guide future generations of students."

His eyes glistened as he finished. "Fight on, my children."

The graduates stood tall, their faces serious as they saluted in unison, the weight of that moment sinking into them.

Soon after, a military representative arrived to distribute ranks and medals to select students.

It was Cohen, and his name had been well-known across the nation for his exploits on Wyrmtrace. His rise through the ranks had been meteoric, and he was on track to become one of the youngest Rear Admirals in the next few years.

Cohen took the stage and, after a moment of scanning the room, called out the first name. "Lyra."

The crowd buzzed in surprise as he continued. "For your outstanding contributions on Demetra, Vice Admiral Rong has proposed to the Alliance Military Council that you be granted the rank of Ensign."

Whispers rippled through the room.

It was nearly unheard of for a graduate to be awarded a Ensign rank right out of the gate. Only a handful had achieved that over the years, and all had gone on to become military powerhouses—people like Cohen himself, who at only thirty was already on his way to Rear Admiral.

But then again, Lyra had always been different.

After the ceremony, Zinnia caught up with Lyra, her face full of worry. "Lyra, have you received any offers from the legions yet?"

Lyra shook her head. Despite her stellar record and high rank, she hadn’t received a single invitation—not even an interview.

Thierry frowned, equally confused. "Not even the Rose?"

Normally, graduates from prestigious military academies like NMA would have legions lining up to recruit them. With Lyra’s exceptional performance, it made no sense that she hadn’t been picked up.

Lyra’s expression hardened, bitterness creeping into her voice. "None of the high-ranking legions want anything to do with me."

The Rose, where she had interned, had been relatively kind about it compared to others. Instead of sending a rejection with the standard "rejected" label, she received a personal message from Leandro’s adjutant: "Due to your background and identity, we are unable to process your application."

No matter how capable she was, her past—her family—still cast a long shadow.