Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 210: First Day

Chapter 210: First Day

The grim reality of the shockingly high death rate became crystal clear. Yet, Lyra remained calm and composed, her face never betraying any emotion, as if she’d already accepted the brutal stakes of being part of the Special Force.

Across the table from her, Hazel sliced into her juicy steak with delicate precision. "Aren’t you afraid, Ensign?" Hazel asked, her tone casual, but there was a probing edge to her words.

Lyra barely blinked, her response as composed as ever. "Not really."

Hazel smiled faintly at the vagueness of her answer. "You’re well-suited for the Special Force," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "We don’t go on many missions, but next time it’ll be Squad No. 5 through 10’s turn. We’ve got to replace the losses from the earlier groups."

Lyra nodded, acknowledging the grim rotation. She finished her meal without another word, her focus inward.

The next day brought a new wave of recruits, eager to take the places of the fallen.

Despite the daunting mortality rate, there were always those hungry for glory, willing to throw themselves into the grinder of the Special Force.

After evaluations, the survivors of the morning tests lined up, ready to fill any open spots when the next round of casualties inevitably struck.

That morning, Lyra waited on the training grounds, eyes scanning for her squad members.

As expected, some were late.

Marty, leading his usual clique of five soldiers, strolled in like he owned the place, smirks plastered across their faces as they casually approached with their hands stuffed in their pockets.

Ryan had just finished roll call. He shot a glance at Lyra. "You’ve got three days to get them in line. If you can’t handle them by then, brace yourself for the consequences."

"Understood," Lyra replied, her voice cool and emotionless. She didn’t flinch, even though some of the other soldiers nearby couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for her. They knew what kind of trouble Marty and his group were.

Marty sauntered over, his usual cocky swagger on full display. "Sorry," he drawled lazily, barely trying to hide his smirk, "overslept this morning."

Lyra didn’t blink. "Points have already been deducted according to the rules," she said flatly.

Marty’s smirk deepened. He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

Lyra didn’t have the power to dock pay or bonuses; that was reserved for higher-ups.

And while repeated disobedience could lead to expulsion from the unit, Marty knew that under the Special Force’s collective punishment system, if his team got kicked out, Lyra would suffer too. To him, losing a few points was no big deal—just an annoyance at best.

Seeing her lack of anger only amused him more.

Ryan, sensing the brewing tension, gave a small shrug. "Alright, let’s get started."

The soldiers broke off into their usual training routines.

Some squads jogged laps, others paired up for sparring or tactical drills. Meanwhile, Squad No. 7 took their sweet time, barely going through the motions as they half-heartedly joined the others.

They clearly weren’t taking anything seriously, and it was obvious they were testing Lyra’s patience.

But Lyra didn’t seem to care. Arms folded across her chest, she stood back and watched with an air of detachment, as if she were merely an observer rather than their leader.

She didn’t look concerned by the growing tension between her and her squad.

After a while, one of the female members of Squad No. 7, Rowena, approached her.

Rowena, strong and self-assured, met Lyra’s gaze without hesitation. "Ensign," she said with a smirk, "how about a little sparring? No superpowers."

The challenge didn’t go unnoticed. Conversations dropped, and soldiers started paying attention.

Even Ryan pushed his sunglasses down to get a better look at what was about to go down.

Rowena was no pushover—one of Squad No. 7’s two Level-Six fighters, on par with Marty. She had been in line for squad leader before Lyra’s unexpected arrival had thrown a wrench in things.

Unlike Marty’s reckless show of force the previous day, Rowena’s challenge was strategic. By proposing a hand-to-hand fight with no superpowers involved, she leveled the playing field. It was a clever move.

From across the field, Marty scoffed. "Smart," he muttered under his breath.

Rowena was built like a bear, with strength that could put most men to shame.

Standing next to her, Lyra’s slim frame made her look almost fragile. The size difference alone seemed to promise a lopsided fight.

But Lyra didn’t hesitate. "Alright," she agreed, her voice as calm as ever.

The two women moved to the center of the training ground, and instinctively, the rest of the soldiers formed a circle around them.

Rowena and Lyra stood face to face.

Lyra was taller now, just over 175 cm, only slightly shorter than Rowena, but the contrast in their physiques was undeniable.

Rowena’s muscular frame was solid and powerful, while Lyra’s lean build made her look delicate by comparison.

To many, it seemed like a mismatch—Rowena’s thick arms alone looked like they could snap Lyra in half.

The morning sun bathed the sand in a soft glow. Suddenly, Rowena vanished, moving so fast that her form blurred.

In the blink of an eye, her fist was aimed directly at Lyra’s face, cutting through the air with deadly speed.

But Lyra was ready. She raised her arm at the last second, deflecting Rowena’s punch and seizing her wrist with a grip like iron.

Without hesitation, Lyra pushed off the ground, driving her knee upward toward Rowena’s midsection.

Rowena managed to block with her other hand, but the impact sent a shockwave of pain through her arm, her eyes widening in disbelief.

She had managed to deflect some of the force, but not enough.

A second later, Lyra’s knee connected with her abdomen, sending a surge of pain through her body that left her gasping for breath.

’How can someone this small hit so hard?’ Rowena thought, gritting her teeth as she pulled back to regain her balance.

Lyra’s strength was far beyond anything she’d expected.

Shaking off the pain, Rowena reset her stance and launched a rapid barrage of attacks—hook punches, palm strikes, and sweeping kicks.

Her speed was impressive, too fast for most to follow. But Lyra anticipated every move, effortlessly dodging and parrying each strike with precision.

Every time Rowena’s fist was met with a deflection, Lyra responded with a sharp counterstrike. One well-placed punch to Rowena’s knee nearly sent her to the ground, her leg going numb.

Rowena took a couple of steps back, her mind racing to figure out a new approach, but before she could even think, Lyra was already on her.

Moving with the speed and grace of a cheetah, Lyra drove her fist into Rowena’s stomach. The force lifted her off her feet.

Before anyone could react, Lyra grabbed her by the arm and effortlessly flipped her over her shoulder, slamming her into the sand.

The crowd watching was stunned. But Lyra wasn’t done.

In one fluid motion, she raised her fist high above Rowena, preparing to deliver a finishing blow with terrifying power. The speed and ferocity of the move left everyone holding their breath.

"I surrender!" Rowena cried out, her voice shaking.

Lyra’s fist came down, but instead of landing on Rowena’s head, it stopped just inches away, burying itself into the sand.

The ground trembled slightly from the impact, and Rowena’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized how close she had come to serious injury—or worse.

The sunlight, still creeping across the training ground, caught Lyra’s dark eyes, and something in her gaze extinguished any lingering defiance in Rowena. The energy of control and power that radiated from her was undeniable.

For a long moment, no one moved. The silence was thick, filled with the disbelief of what they had just witnessed.

Even Ryan, who had watched countless sparring matches, slowly pushed his sunglasses back up, realizing that Lyra was in a completely different league. He replayed the fight in his mind and couldn’t help thinking, ’Can I even last ten minutes against her?’

Lyra calmly pulled her fist out of the sand and shook off the dust. "Continue with training," she said, her voice calm but commanding.

The soldiers, still in a daze, quickly obeyed. Something in them told them to follow her orders instinctively.

A leader with this kind of strength didn’t need years of experience to command respect—her raw power was more than enough.

Over in the corner, Marty and his group were no longer lounging with their usual cocky expressions. One of his lackeys leaned in and whispered nervously, "Maybe we shouldn’t mess with her..."

Marty’s face darkened, but he didn’t say a word. He shot the guy a sharp glare. "If you want to follow her, go ahead," he muttered under his breath, clearly displeased with the shift in power.

The rest of his group fell silent, the tension among them thick and uncomfortable.

Lyra, who had noticed the exchange, turned her attention back to Rowena, who now stood beside her with a newfound respect in her eyes.

Rowena seemed eager to offer some insight. "Want to know why they follow Marty?" she asked, hoping to prove her loyalty.

Lyra unscrewed her water bottle, taking a casual sip. "Go on."

"Bruce and the others—they’re loyal to Marty because he saved their lives when they first joined the squad. They’ve been following him ever since," Rowena explained, her voice lowered.

Lyra raised an eyebrow as she screwed the cap back on her bottle, letting out a small chuckle. "That’s it? They follow him because of a single life debt?" She shook her head, an amused smile playing on her lips. "How stupid."

Rowena blinked, surprised. ’Stupid? Isn’t loyalty based on a life-saving act something honorable? Something most soldiers would value?’

"Whatever," Lyra said, tucking her bottle away and leaning against the wire fence. "As long as they don’t get in my way, I couldn’t care less."

Rowena was even more confused now. Surely Marty’s constant defiance would become a problem, especially if he continued testing the limits. Yet Lyra didn’t seem concerned in the slightest.

For the next two mornings, Marty and his crew continued to arrive late, swaggering in as if nothing could touch them.

Even though Ryan had warned that Lyra would face consequences if her squad didn’t shape up, she showed no signs of stress or urgency.

She remained calm, almost indifferent to their antics.

Then, on the fourth day, something completely unexpected happened.

When the first soldiers arrived at the training ground, they were greeted by an unusual sight: Marty and his crew, bound tightly by glowing green bands, writhing on the ground like helpless insects.

Their clothes were soaked with morning dew, and it was clear that they had been there, ALL NIGHT.