Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 201: The Chief Justice

Chapter 201: The Chief Justice

No one knew Lyra had the guts to pull a move like that.

She didn’t just shed light on the chaos—she turned the whole thing upside down.

Chief Justice Ron was in charge of the military’s law system. He was stunned when he heard what happened.

"Should we inform the Admirals?" Ron’s secretary asked, his voice shaky with concern.

Ron gave a cold chuckle. "Of course! It’s their mess; they need to deal with it."

The audacity—they were out there bullying Lyra while their own world was falling apart.

"And then?"

"Then we do what we always do—hold the trial."

Ron’s gaze shifted to the hurricane of outrage swirling online. No way was he about to let the reputation of the military court take a hit, especially not now.

Right as he finished speaking, his phone buzzed—Admiral Dale.

The old man didn’t bother with formalities. "Ron, buddy, push the trial back for a bit."

Ron’s eyes flashed with anger, but his tone stayed in check. "It’s not that I don’t want to give you some breathing room, but have you seen what’s happening online? If I delay, by tomorrow, protesters will be at the court’s gates—mark my words."

"I’ll handle the online stuff," Dale said, his voice calm and full of confidence.

Ron let out a dry laugh. "Well, you better start now."

Within thirty minutes, like clockwork, every mention of Constan Dale’s illegal arms deals and Randal Marty’s human trafficking disappeared. The former one was a relative of Admiral Dale, and the later one was Admiral Vince’s nephew.

Articles, posts, even the most minor comments hinting at the scandal were wiped clean off the web.

But outside, on the streets and in buses, people were fired up.

"Wow, classic admiral move. Ruthless."

"Hah! If they’re erasing the news like that, it’s gotta be true. Is the government covering for criminals now?"

"They always said the Reserved Corps were dirty, but now they’ve dragged the whole military down with them."

"Wait, is this why my daughter went missing? And they’re covering it up?"

As night fell, Lyra sat, unfazed, in the command center of the tech division. Her voice broke the tension like a sharp blade. "Let’s begin."

Across social media, posts exploded, tagging the military court, Admiral Dale, and Admiral Vince.

Not even the patrol guards or Frederick were spared as everyone demanded answers.

The flood of mentions crashed social media platforms left and right. Servers couldn’t handle the load.

But that was just the opening salvo. By the next day, the streets were flooded with the voices of the victims—women saved from trafficking, families who’d lost loved ones to space pirates.

They rallied in protest, streaming their demands live, waving signs in the air. Eventually, they all converged in front of the military court, their chants for justice echoing across the city.

They weren’t just angry—they wanted blood. They were ready to take on the military itself, no matter the cost.

Over 100,000 people had gathered, their sheer numbers like a tidal wave crashing against the court’s walls.

Chief Justice Ron, who hadn’t slept a wink, finally stepped forward.

He was dressed in his robe, and the emblem on his chest sparkled in the first rays of morning light.

"Please, calm down! This afternoon, we will hold a public trial for Constan Dale, Randal Marty, and their accomplices," he announced, his voice cutting through the crowd with firm authority.

He stood tall, embodying the law itself. "I swear by our most sacred laws, we will never allow evil to go unpunished, and we will never bend to the will of the powerful!"

Just then, a voice from the crowd shouted, "We demand the trial be live-streamed!"

The crowd erupted in agreement, hands shooting up in support.

Ron could feel the weight of their demands, like the heat of a flame licking at his skin. "Fine!" he finally agreed, his voice tight.

"We’ll be waiting!" the man shot back.

Ron glared at the man for a moment before turning and marching back into the courthouse.

He had just sat down when his screen lit up with calls from both Admiral Dale and Admiral Vince.

Before the Admirals could fire off their demands, Ron beat them to it. "This is what you call handling the situation? Sure, you’ve dodged public outrage, but you’ve thrown the entire military court under the bus!"

The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him—a judge, sitting here negotiating with military brass to protect criminals who were undeniably guilty, all to shield them from facing the full weight of the law.

Vince, the more hotheaded of the two Admirals, snapped back, "That clever little witch, Lyra, is behind all this chaos. We’ve already got people working on dispersing the protesters. Just stall them for a while."

As if it were that easy.

In Vince’s mind, all it would take was greasing a few palms, getting a few protest leaders to accept the right bribe, and the whole movement would collapse like a house of cards.

Ron’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Deal with them? What, are you planning to have blood spilled in front of the sacred halls of justice?"

"Relax," Vince shot back, though his voice had all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman. "It won’t come to that."

What neither Admiral realized was that outside, things were spiraling out of their control. The internet was ablaze with praise for the protestors, who were being hailed as brave warriors standing up against corruption.

Journalists swarmed the scene, and local business owners brought food and water to the crowd.

The heat and fatigue were real, but the outpouring of public support only strengthened the resolve of those gathered.

When the protest leaders were approached with bribes to step down, they didn’t just refuse—they exposed the bribes on social media.

The backlash was immediate, with hashtags trending, calling out the Admirals and military brass for their underhanded tactics.

Amid the sea of demonstrators, a few shady figures lurked, inching closer to the leaders of the movement. But before they could act, they were taken down—swiftly and silently—by unseen protectors.

The leaders, realizing what had just happened, cried out, "Look! They’re trying to take us out!"

The whole thing was live-streamed in real-time, showing several Peculiars caught red-handed, armed and ready to attack.

It was like throwing gasoline on a fire—the crowd erupted, furious.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of town, Lyra crouched low with her special ops team outside a villa.

This was the home of one of the protest leaders’ families, and something felt off. The air around them seemed to shimmer, a sign of something sinister closing in.

Without hesitation, Lyra sprang into action.

Bright points of light streaked through the sky, and an invisible Peculiar was taken down. But that was just the beginning—within moments, a dozen more Peculiars appeared, surrounding her.

"Open fire!" Lyra’s voice was like steel.

Her team didn’t need to be told twice. Bullets tore through the air as Lyra, clad in sleek silver armor, moved like a storm through the chaos, cutting down enemies with deadly precision.

In mere minutes, the entire group of Peculiars was captured, their wrists bound with suppressor cuffs.

With a swift motion, Lyra gave the command, "Take them all to the military court."

Now, it was up to the court and the military to face the growing storm. This was their fight to finish.

Lyra’s expression remained steady—cold and unreadable. Not a hint of emotion flickered across her face.

Rubens and the rest of her team followed in her footsteps without a word of complaint. She had them all under her spell.

And here she was, playing both Admirals like puppets on a string.

God knows how they would ever hope to salvage their dignity in the military after this.

Back at the military court, Ron’s mood darkened as each wave of detainees was brought in.

The pressure was building, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He picked up his comm and called Lyra, his voice low and laced with frustration. "Kid, you’re pushing this way too far."

She was using him as a tool to carry out her agenda, and it was becoming clearer by the minute.

Lyra shielded her eyes from the sun, her tone light but sharp. "Your Justice, isn’t it your job to judge criminals and rid the world of evil? I’m simply doing my part."

The subtle edge in her voice was unmistakable—this was a game of survival, and she wasn’t going to pull any punches.

Then she added, her voice turning colder, "The military court has always stood independent of the three factions. Why are you so tangled up in their mess?"

—’Just stick to your duty, and leave the rest alone.’

Because at the end of this, Lyra knew, the two Admirals would turn their fury on her.

Ron paused, thinking it over. She had a point. ’Why should I care about the power struggle playing out in front of me? It’s not my fight.’

So, he decided to let it go—let them duke it out. Whoever came out on top didn’t matter to him in the slightest.

And so, the afternoon trial finally arrived.

Despite the overwhelming evidence, the long delay had given both families plenty of time to maneuver behind the scenes.

They pressured the pirates into altering their testimonies, found scapegoats to take the fall, and shifted as much blame as possible onto the pirates.

In the end, what should have been a lifetime sentence or even the death penalty for their crimes was reduced to a mere twenty years of imprisonment.

The other party involved in the crimes—those less connected and without powerful allies—was swiftly executed that very afternoon.

It was all smoke and mirrors, a loud show that ended with a soft punch. The public wasn’t fooled. The leniency toward Constan Dale and Randal Marty sparked outrage.

Heated debates flared up everywhere, from the streets to the media, as people questioned the integrity of the military court.

What had been intended to quell the situation only fueled the flames of discontent.