Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 229: The Truth

Chapter 229: The Truth

Late at night, the city lay beneath a faint glow from the satellite.

The satellite hovered above like a ghostly sentinel, casting an eerie light over Central City’s quiet streets.

In her dim dorm room, Lyra sat at her desk. The cold blue light of the screen reflected off her face, giving her the appearance of someone frozen in a chilling, unbreakable stillness.

Displayed before her were the classified documents she’d lifted from the explosion.

"Stardate 3012, May 7th: After investigation, it was confirmed that Rear Admiral Tyro and his wife were conducting illegal human superpower experiments with covert support from the Empire. Evidence is conclusive."

"Stardate 3012, May 10th: A military council convened, led by the Fleet Admiral and five Admirals, to discuss Tyro and Seren Shedd’s experiments. They resolved to execute the couple in secret following the upcoming beast migration operation."

"Stardate 3012, May 13th: After Tyro and Seren Shedd’s execution, news of the incident leaked, leading to a failed raid on their lab that allowed other involved parties to escape..."

Every detail of the Tyro couple’s fall was laid bare, from the planning stages to the aftermath.

Their list of contacts, personnel in the lab, and even the exact locations were there in ink. At the end of the report, the name ’Frederick’ appeared, marking him as the documenting officer.

"All that work... and this is what it comes down to," Lyra murmured, leaning back in her chair.

So, the rumors of their treason were true. And those horrific experiments really had happened.

Ansel, it seemed, had abandoned his own son to shield the Shedd family from scandal.

Yet a voice lingered in her mind, almost whispering: ’There’s more here. Something doesn’t add up.’

Lyra rested her head on her hand, the other idly tracing patterns on the desk.

Slowly, her eyes closed as thoughts circled in her mind, spiraling into darker depths.

The white ceiling above her began to morph, stretching and distorting as if the walls themselves were bending inward.

A black dot appeared overhead, growing wider until it shaped itself into a portal to subspace.

Westros stepped out of the swirling void.

Lyra jumped to her feet, eyes narrowing as a blade of pure light materialized in her hand.

With a swift motion, she struck, slicing through the air in an arc toward Westros. But her strike passed through his figure without resistance, and both he and the room behind him shimmered like a mirage, vanishing without a trace.

The space around her flickered, the illusion breaking apart before her as the quiet dorm room settled back into place, hauntingly still.

Westros perched lightly on the edge of Lyra’s bed, crossing his legs with an effortless grace.

His fingers drummed casually on his knee, and a faint, knowing smile flickered across his lips as he glanced at her opticomputer.

"Relax. I’m only here to talk," he said smoothly. "You blew that place up just to get a few answers. Bold move."

Lyra’s eyes narrowed as she registered something strange in the scene. "This is... a dream?"

Westros chuckled, clearly impressed. "Sharp as ever. Yes, one of my Peculiars enables me to communicate through dreams. He’s been working tirelessly for a full week to breach your defenses, waiting for a crack in your armor."

His voice drifted, as if the dream itself were struggling to hold its form. "This effort has left him drained—he won’t be able to use his powers for the next six months."

Ignoring the pleasantries, Lyra locked eyes with him. "Why are you monitoring me?"

"Because, Lyra, you are both our dream and our hope." His gaze lingered, his eyes gleaming with unsettling warmth. But when he seemed to expect more from her, she only scoffed, unimpressed.

"You can leave now," she said flatly.

A twitch of surprise crossed Westros’ face. "Aren’t you curious about your parents... and their connection to me?"

A flash of anger darkened her face. "I’ll find out the truth myself," she replied fiercely. "I don’t need lies from an Empire spy."

"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Who told you I’m a spy for the Empire?"

His smile twisted, growing darker as he leaned closer. "I am something beyond humanity."

Lyra’s mind raced. ’Beyond human?’ Her pulse quickened, and she jolted awake.

Harsh white light filled her dorm room, glaring and sterile.

In the quiet, a distant machine ticked steadily. Meanwhile, across the compound, a young woman collapsed in a stark lab, trembling as if the life had been drained from her body. Her face was pale, her breath ragged.

Westros rose from an experiment table. He pressed his fingertips to his temple to steady himself, feeling a dull ache from the effort.

He glanced up at the projection clock on the wall. "Only five minutes?" he muttered, displeasure flickering across his face.

The woman on the floor, catching his irritation, struggled up onto one knee, her head bowed. "Forgive me, Doctor. Her psychokinesis surged and shattered the dreamscape."

Her voice was strained with frustration; a full week’s worth of work, all unraveled in seconds.

"Even your psychokinesis couldn’t contain her?" Westros’ eyes gleamed with something close to pride. "I should’ve seen this coming. You’re no match for her."

He leapt down from the table with a casual air. "You’re dismissed."

The woman nodded, her hands clenched tightly against the floor as her body began to ripple and dissolve, fading into nothingness.

After a pause, Westros placed a hand over his chest, frowning slightly. "Is something wrong with my heart, Number 9?"

A figure in a black jacket emerged from the shadows—a man with a blank, expressionless face. "Your heartbeat accelerated, Doctor."

Westros chuckled, almost amused. "Ah, so I really am in love with her," he murmured, as if making peace with a strange revelation.

His expression softened as he issued his next command, his voice low, almost reverent. "Since she’s beginning to grasp her purpose, it’s time for a little nudge. Make the announcement public. Let the world prepare—soon, they’ll have new ’companions’ to welcome."

Westros’ low, sinister laughter echoed through the laboratory, reverberating against the cold metal and harsh lights.

The sound slithered into the shadows, weaving past rows of tall, glass cylinders lining the walls.

Inside each cylinder, a motionless figure floated in eerie silence, illuminated by the pale, ghostly glow of the equipment.

...

After securing the classified files, Lyra chose a different course. She steered clear of the old laboratory site entirely.

First, the Alliance had leveled the place, leaving little behind to investigate; second, any attempt to approach it would only make her a suspect.

For now, her strategy was to observe and wait, avoiding any moves that might draw suspicion.

On her day off, she returned to her apartment, sharing a quiet dinner with Phelixes before heading over to visit the Calvin family.

As she strolled through the city, street-side news screens glowed in the gathering dusk, casting flickering light across the pavements.

"Breaking news: Another military academy student has vanished under mysterious circumstances. The cadet, identified as Hok Ramar, was last seen under strict supervision but disappeared while walking from the training room to his dorm. A gap in the surveillance network has left investigators without any leads."

Lyra caught part of the report. It was the third cadet disappearance the public knew about in the past two months.

However, her position as a Special Forces squad leader meant she was privy to the real count—nine students had disappeared. Each one was an elite cadet, carefully selected for their exceptional superpower potential, and highly valued by the military’s upper echelons.

Ryan had mentioned it once, shrugging as if used to such grim news: "Cases like this—dangerous ones that nobody can crack—they always land in Special Forces’ lap."

The next morning, over breakfast, her grandfather Benedict wore a deep frown as he studied her. "Kritt says this string of disappearances might get assigned to your team. Lyra, don’t you think it’s time to step aside from cases like these?"

"It’s just a routine disappearance case, Grandpa," she replied with practiced calm.

But Benedict’s concern didn’t waver. He shook his head, unconvinced. "You think I’m this easy to fool? One close call on Macraite was more than enough for you, Lyra. I don’t want any more scares."

Setting down his fork, he looked at her with a serious expression. "What if you feigned an illness? Now that Ansel’s out of the picture, I could pull a few strings, have Kritt arrange a transfer out of Special Forces."

"There’s no need, Grandpa," she said gently but firmly. "Special Forces suits me best." Besides, each mission was a step closer to what she was after, as long as she survived.

Just as Ryan had foreseen, the case was officially passed to Special Forces.