Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 231: Into the Dream

Chapter 231: Into the Dream

In the darkened forest, an uneasy quiet had settled, as every creature seemed to sense the impending storm.

Humidity hung thickly in the air, stifling and dense, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Lyra moved like a shadowed predator, leaping silently from branch to branch.

She was close now, but a sharp, metallic scent began to fill the air—fresh blood.

Fifteen slung over her shoulder, gasped as each jolt sent pain rippling through her body, yet she managed a ragged laugh. "Too late—they’re all dead."

Fifteen’s hand clawed into Lyra’s arm, leaving bloody smears across her skin.

Ignoring the taunt, Lyra pushed aside a thick wall of branches, and what she saw next made her pause.

"Got her, did you?" Valeria’s voice broke through the silence.

Standing in the middle of a battlefield painted in blood, the Admiral’s pristine white uniform and the casual cigarette between her fingers made her seem unaffected by the carnage around her.

Bodies—enemy and ally alike—were strewn across the mud-soaked ground, spattering the leaves and trees in dark crimson.

Judging from the scraps of fabric and scattered weapons, it was clear that most of these corpses were Peculiars from Fifteen’s own ranks.

Fifteen’s face twisted in shock and horror. "Impossible! These were level-five and higher... some even level-nine Peculiars!"

Valeria strode forward, her boots sinking slightly in the bloody mire. She took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling smoke as her eyes settled on Fifteen with an amused glint.

"Guess you thought I was an easy target," she chuckled darkly.

That fact alone was one the enemy had gravely underestimated.

This was an Admiral who had clawed her way up through the ranks over decades, tested by nearly seventy years of unrelenting war. She hadn’t ordered Lyra to go ahead without calculating every possible risk.

The bones of the enemies who had underestimated her could fill a battlefield.

Nearby, Ryan clutched his arm, still bleeding, but his expression held only relief.

When the enemy had split their forces to surround and conquer them, he’d thought they were as good as gone. But seeing Valeria’s power in action was nothing short of awe-inspiring. ’So this is what an Admiral really is,’ he thought to himself.

"Time to move," Valeria commanded, grinding her cigarette out into a puddle of blood.

Turning to face Fifteen, she raised her hand and, with a swift motion, trapped the woman in a tight bubble of compressed air.

Valeria leaned in close, her voice sharp and ominous. "You’re about to see just how far I can go if you step out of line. Behave, and maybe I’ll let you walk away in one piece."

The air inside the bubble grew thinner, and Fifteen’s body started to sag, her fingers curling in on themselves as she tried to fight against the invisible walls.

Anger and humiliation twisted her face as she forced out, "I... understand."

With tracking systems active, Lyra and Valeria were ready to cross-check every word that left Fifteen’s mouth, each one instantly verifiable.

Lying wouldn’t buy her any time—this was her only chance to cooperate if she wanted to live.

As they moved deeper into enemy territory, a steady drizzle began to fall, blanketing the forest with a soft, persistent rhythm.

The rain wasn’t heavy, but it was unyielding, casting a misty veil over the dense canopy. Each drop gathered on leaves and branches until, fat and heavy, they splashed to the ground below.

The squad advanced in a V-formation, Lyra at the front, eyes sharp and senses heightened, while Valeria kept watch from the rear, her stance as vigilant as ever.

The Everlongest Mountains loomed closer, their main ridge rising like a silent giant at 1,821 meters. Sheer cliffs and steep slopes presented a foreboding barrier as they approached.

When they reached the edge of a towering precipice, Fifteen halted abruptly, turning to the team with a sly grin. "The entrance is here."

Valeria’s gaze swept across the cliffside. "Optical camouflage, I presume?" she asked, knowing these cloaking systems worked by bending light to give the illusion of empty space.

"And how do we deactivate it?" she pressed.

"No fancy switch or button," Fifteen sneered. "You just walk right in."

The team exchanged wary glances, memories of past missions flaring up—especially that one mission on Macraite’s second satellite, where "just walking in" had led to near disaster.

Marty’s jaw clenched at the thought, his expression grim.

Without a word, Valeria summoned a dense sphere of compressed air in her hand and launched it toward the cliff.

It shot through, detonating inside a hollow space, disrupting the cloaking device and exposing a massive opening in the rock.

The echo of the explosion confirmed a cavernous interior, and the once-hidden entrance gaped openly, revealing a dark corridor burrowing deep into the mountain.

A soldier muttered, "Did they all evacuate or something?"

Keeping her expression steely, Valeria scanned the corridor’s depths, cautiously releasing another air bubble inside to probe for hidden traps.

When nothing reacted, she turned to the team. "I’ll go first. Squad No. 7, watch the rear. No mistakes."

She strode inside, and one by one, the soldiers followed.

Normally, a mission would involve splitting up to cover ground faster, but in these unknown conditions, it was a risk Valeria wasn’t willing to take.

The last soldier had barely crossed the threshold when the entrance shimmered, sealing them in.

Fifteen took the lead again, her voice carrying a mocking edge. "Even if you reach them, those cadets are already lost. They’re broken, each one of them." Her tone was laced with contempt, her gaze taunting. "Did you think we were just lucky enough to develop dual powers? Guess again."

She scanned the Special Force soldiers with a calculating glint in her eyes, one that even the most hardened among them found unsettling. "HE has an eye for talent, and your own abilities look ripe for harvesting."

A shiver of dread settled over the squad as realization dawned. The missing cadets weren’t just captives—they’d been reduced to experiments, a mere means to an end.

Valeria’s eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through the silence. "Stay alert. Every one of you."

But Fifteen only laughed, her gaze lingering on Valeria. "So many secrets, Admiral. What a shame they’re kept from your team."

Lyra glanced at Valeria, catching a new hardness in her expression. Any warmth in her gaze had vanished, leaving her face an unreadable mask.

Guided by Fifteen’s taunting laughter echoing down the hall, the team pressed forward until, finally, they found the missing cadets.

Row upon row of "coffins" lined the walls, each holding a young recruit, thin and frail in medical gowns.

Their faces were gaunt and hollow, cheeks sunken, skin sickly pale with a faint blue hue.

Their arms, covered in scars and puncture marks, spoke of endless experimentation.

Some of them had strange, tumor-like growths; others’ skin was raw and ulcerated, wounds still oozing. They were nothing more than disposable resources.

A few of the cadets, the most recently captured, managed weak smiles upon seeing their rescuers. But the majority simply stared ahead, their expressions blank, devoid of any spark.

Even the seasoned Special Force soldiers, who’d seen their share of brutality, felt a pang of sorrow and anger at the sight.

The stillness was deafening—no alarms, no guards, no traps.

Valeria made a swift call. "We’re getting them out. Now. No delays."

Lyra kept her senses sharp, casting wary glances around as they moved.

When she struck through a heavy door with her blade, a faint tingling numbed her hand from the impact. She barely noticed, focused solely on freeing the cadets.

They helped each weakened recruit out of the cells, each one needing to lean on a soldier for support.

The last cadet, a student from EPMA, leaned heavily on Lyra as she supported him to his feet. His gaze was faint but grateful, his voice so soft it was barely a whisper.

"Thank you," he murmured, a hint of life flickering in his eyes.

Lyra’s senses prickled with an uneasy feeling, and in a swift, instinctive motion, she unleashed countless strands of sharp light that exploded outward in all directions.

Her teammates barely managed to jump back. They were startled and alarmed, narrowly avoiding the razor-like beams.

Valeria looked at her with a frown, voice sharp with concern. "Lyra, what’s going on?"

"Something’s off," Lyra replied, her tone as cold as ice.

SCHKT!

Before anyone could react, one of Lyra’s light strands plunged into Valeria’s chest.

"Lyra! What are you—?" Ryan’s horrified shout cut through the chaos, but he didn’t get the chance to finish.

Another flash of green light sliced through him, splitting him in half.

Soldiers scattered, diving for cover, but the deadly web of beams spread relentlessly, cutting them down one by one.

In the midst of the destruction, Fifteen stared at Lyra from within her containment bubble, her face a mask of shock and terror. "You’re insane! You killed your whole team!"

"Fifteen, right?" Lyra’s voice dripped with contempt, her eyes gleaming with something far darker than malice.

"What...?" Fifteen’s voice faltered as she stared into Lyra’s eyes, dread curling in her stomach.

A cold realization dawned: Lyra shouldn’t have known her name.

A chill swept over Fifteen as she understood—someone had tampered with Lyra’s mind, planting that knowledge there.

B She looked around, and the world seemed to waver and blur at the edges, like a mirage breaking apart.

"You pulled me into this dream, didn’t you?" Lyra’s tone was filled with dark amusement.

The false reality around them began to ripple and dissolve as she unleashed waves of psychokinetic energy, pushing back against the dream’s fabric.

The walls cracked, the sky trembled, and, in a final shudder, the illusion shattered.

Back in the real world, Fifteen immediately activated her cloaking powers, hoping to flee. But she barely took a step before Lyra’s blade pierced her, swift and unyielding.

Lyra twisted the sword mercilessly, and Fifteen crumpled to the ground, her body spilling blood and gore as her life drained away.

Lyra crouched, dipping a finger into the blood.

A faint chemical odor confirmed her suspicion—a sleeping agent.

They’d likely drugged Fifteen, using blood contact to pull Lyra into the dreamscape.

But there wasn’t time to dwell on it now. Brushing off the residue, Lyra turned her attention back to the mission. She was at the cliffside entrance once more, back in reality.

Without missing a beat, she charged into the enemy’s base.

Her mind was focused, all senses heightened as she navigated the shadowed tunnel.

Around the first bend, her foot splashed in a fresh pool of blood, and she glanced down to see the uniformed body of one of her fallen teammates.

Ignoring the body, Lyra sprinted ahead, every muscle alive with purpose.

From deeper in the passageway came hurried footsteps, followed by labored breathing.

Lyra rounded the corner to see a Peculiar with beast-like features, blood-streaked and panting, carrying two bodies over his shoulders—one under each arm.

It was Marty. His eyes brightened with desperate hope the second he spotted her. "Ma’am! Help us!"

Lyra immediately conjured a healing orb and threw it toward him, but a sudden flash of movement caught her eye.

A gleaming blade sliced through the air, cutting into Marty’s back with brutal precision.

SHHK!

Marty fell, severed in two by the unexpected attack, his dying gaze still filled with the urgency to save his teammates.

Lyra’s face remained expressionless, her lips set in a hard line.

She redirected the healing energy into a lethal spear of light and hurled it down the corridor.

Leaping over Marty’s body, she reached the figure in black who had ambushed him and, in one fluid motion, beheaded them.

Only then did she assess the situation.

The two people Marty had been trying to save were Ryan and Bruce.

Bruce lay dead, severed at the waist, his face contorted in pain. Ryan, missing both legs below the knees, was clinging to life.

Lyra quickly pressed her hands against his stumps, staunching the bleeding.

Ryan’s face twisted with anguish as he stared at Marty’s lifeless body. "Stupid kid...if he hadn’t tried to save us, he’d still be alive."

Lyra glanced at the shadows stretching down the corridor, her mind already focusing on what was next. "Where’s everyone else?"

Ryan’s voice cracked. "Everyone...everyone except Admiral Valeria...they’re all dead." His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he struggled to look at her. "There are a dozen more level-nine Peculiars. We already sent a distress signal. Don’t go, Lyra, it’s suicide!"

But Lyra didn’t answer. She rose to her feet, her grip tightening around her blade.

Her silhouette disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, determination radiating from every step as she pressed forward, unyielding.