Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 264: Fighting Stellar Devourers

Chapter 264: Fighting Stellar Devourers

As Lyra geared up for battle once again, she crossed paths with two familiar faces: Ian and Skylight, both now piloting their own mechas.

Ian’s excitement was palpable as his fingers flew across the control panel, shouting with enthusiasm, "Skylight, we’re going in! This time, I’ll prove I’m better than her!"

"I’m giving you a squad. You can command them however you see fit," Cohen said, his gaze lingering on Lyra, who was in the process of organizing her equipment.

Lyra had once been the top student in the Department of Command and Strategy during her NMA days, so it seemed only natural that she would be trusted with the responsibility. She was more than capable.

But Lyra didn’t even acknowledge Cohen’s words. Without a second thought, she jumped into the cockpit of the basic mecha, her nervous system syncing with the machine in an almost seamless motion.

"I don’t need them," she replied coldly, her voice unwavering. "They’ll just slow me down."

This mecha wasn’t a typical model—it was more like a suit of armor, lacking a traditional control panel. Instead, it relied entirely on psychokinesis for movement.

Lyra took a moment to adapt, but once she did, her movements were fluid and precise, as if she were one with the machine.

She quickly swapped out the power source for a higher-end energy stone mine, ensuring a longer-lasting energy supply for battle.

Then, she added an external oxygen system to her back, completing the adjustments.

From a distance, Zarek observed her actions with a nod of approval. "For handling Stellar Devourers and Master Peculiars, this setup suits her perfectly for solo combat."

Lyra didn’t need a team. The Stellar Devourers often fought alone, and with her agile, high-powered mecha, she’d have the upper hand in this type of warfare.

Cohen, after considering the logic behind her decision, finally relented. "Do your best, Ensign Lyra."

Lyra gave him a brief, cold glance before descending into the docking bay and launching herself into the vastness of space, ready for battle.

On the battlefield, Ian was wreaking havoc within the Alliance’s ranks, surrounded by swirling black vortexes.

He didn’t have to do much else—his mecha was advanced, fast, and capable of generating powerful gravitational pulls that sucked in anything in its path.

His mecha tore through the battlefield, indiscriminately pulling in enemy crafts and mechas, regardless of allegiance.

Ian laughed maniacally, his voice crackling through the comms. "Go to hell! All of you!"

His violent actions sent shockwaves through the Empire’s forces.

"Why is this madman even allowed on the battlefield?" one officer growled, frustration evident in his voice.

"Because his destructive power is unmatched," another officer answered flatly.

"But he’s killing our own troops!" someone else protested.

"Forget it," another sighed in resignation. "It’s war. There are always casualties. As Long as the Alliance has lost more than we have."

While Ian was lost in his madness, an unassuming golden light zipped through the chaos.

Wherever it went, an Empire general would fall—each strike swift and precise.

Lyra moved like a phantom in the heat of battle, her psychokinetic abilities perfectly synchronized with the energy of her mecha, allowing her to weave in and out of combat with impossible speed.

Within ten minutes, she had cut through half of the battlefield and reached the heart of the fiercest zone of combat.

Around her, a silver sphere of metal spun through the vacuum of space, shifting and reshaping in response to her mental commands. The sphere swept up the lives of nearby enemies with brutal efficiency.

This spectacle caught the attention of the Empire’s Admiral.

"That’s... that’s Schedar!" he shouted, grabbing the microphone in a panic. "Ian, Lyra is here!"

The Stellar Devourers had specifically ordered that she must be captured at all costs.

The Admiral hesitated for a moment before turning and striding into a smaller, lavishly decorated room behind the command center.

The chamber was sophisticated—its carved wooden chairs, a golden fireplace fueled by an energy stone mine, and the white walls adorned with dark-patterned fabric gave the space a regal feel.

At the center of the room, four men and women sat around a round table, playing cards.

A tower of pastries and a pot of tea sat beside them, while a crystal chandelier overhead bathed the room in a soft, ethereal light.

"Masters," the Admiral began, his voice tight with urgency. "SHE has appeared."

The four players glanced up simultaneously, their expressions unchanged.

"Bummer," the woman in a red strapless dress commented, crossing her legs with a calm air. "I was almost done with my hand."

"Don’t forget our mission," another voice chimed in, unfazed. "Westros instructed us to bring the experiment back."

"I still don’t get it," one of them said, rolling their eyes. "Why does Westros think the experiment is dangerous?"

"Why don’t we go find out?" another offered, standing and moving toward the door with no apparent sense of urgency. The others followed, clearly uninterested in engaging with the Empire Admiral.

One of them sighed deeply, muttering under their breath, "Get the new spacesuits ready."

Not one of them spared a glance for the Admiral.

He clenched his fists in frustration but held his tongue. With a deep breath, he turned to his subordinates. "Prepare the new suits," he ordered, his voice steely.

Despite his irritation, he knew better than to challenge them.

*****

Lyra moved with fluid precision, cutting down enemy after enemy as if she were a blade herself. But just as she was about to strike another target, blinding beams of light shot toward her from all directions.

In an instant, her energy shield flared up, wrapping around her mecha like a protective bubble. But just as quickly, the shield flickered and vanished.

Lyra seemed to have seen this coming. With a swift motion, she activated the mecha’s maneuvering systems, darting out of the beam’s path just in time.

"Ah, so you’ve learned!" Ian’s mocking voice echoed through her comms, as he wagged a finger at her from his mecha.

The battlefield erupted into chaos as multiple energy shields sprang up around Lyra, blocking her way. Lyra, unfazed, used them to her advantage. She stepped from one shield to the next with practiced ease, each leap bringing her closer to Ian.

Ian’s cocky grin faltered as he realized what she was doing. His fear began to spike. "Not this time!" he muttered under his breath, retreating swiftly and shifting his mecha’s position.

Behind Lyra, Skylight and several Master Peculiars moved to trap her, their attacks converging from all sides. But Lyra wasn’t about to be caught.

With each encirclement, she used the energy shields as launchpads, soaring away at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding their strikes.

Ian, watching from a distance, sneered in disbelief. "I don’t believe it. You can’t keep jumping around like that without superpowers."

He flicked his wrist, a smug grin spreading across his face as he attempted to deactivate her shields. He was certain that his maneuver would bring her down.

But before he could finish his action, Lyra struck first. A sharp, disorienting wave of psychokinetic energy surged through the air, hitting Ian like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred, and his senses spun in disarray.

Before Ian could react, Lyra used her last shield as a springboard, propelling herself across the battlefield with such force it was as if she had teleported.

In a blink, she was standing directly in front of him, her mecha towering over his.

Ian’s eyes widened with panic as he saw her massive mecha foot coming down toward his cockpit. He scrambled to react, summoning a swirling black vortex beneath him in a desperate attempt to escape. But Lyra’s shield slammed into his exit route, sealing it shut and leaving him trapped.

Without hesitation, Lyra drove a long, gleaming blade into his cockpit. The steel pierced through the reinforced glass with ease, impaling Ian right in his seat.

The vacuum of space muffled his screams, but his mouth still moved in frantic agony. His hands fumbled at the controls, trying to escape, but it was no use.

"Skylight! Help me! I COMMAND you to save me!" Ian screamed, his voice desperate.

His pleas, however, were nothing more than a faint whisper in the silence of space.

Meanwhile, Skylight and the other Master Peculiars were rushing toward him, but before they could reach his mecha, Lyra fired a precise shot.

A brilliant beam of light sliced through the air, cutting off their path. One of the Peculiars, caught off guard, was hit directly, her mecha disintegrating in an instant. The light snuffed out their life with brutal efficiency.

Desperation clouded Ian’s mind as he tried to escape into a spatial rift. But before he could complete the maneuver, Lyra’s psychokinesis reached out like an iron chain.

She had formed Schedar into a thick, unyielding chain that snaked around him, pulling him back with unrelenting force.

In the blink of an eye, Lyra transformed another segment of the Schedar into a sharp, cruel blade and drove it deep into Ian’s skull, ending his struggle once and for all.

Lyra looked down at the cockpit, her gaze cold and unfeeling as she watched the blood stain the inside.

This time, it was no mere machine she had destroyed—it was a life.

As the chaos unfolded, a mocking voice suddenly rang out in her ears, interrupting her brief moment of victory.

"She’s getting quite good at this," the voice jeered, its tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lyra’s brow furrowed as she scanned the virtual interface in front of her—there were no incoming communications. But How could there be sound in the vacuum of space?

The voice didn’t belong to any human. It wasn’t transmitted through the comms—it was biological, an exchange of electric signals, directly within her mind.

A cold chill ran down Lyra’s spine as her instincts screamed danger.

Without hesitation, she pulled back, retreating from the area at full speed.

"She’s fast," the voice continued, still smug despite his impending demise. "Suxie, go after her. Don’t let her escape."

Before the last syllable left his lips, Lyra’s made her move.

"What? Can she hear us?" came a shocked voice over the line.

"Impossible," another voice replied. "She’s just some lab experiment with mixed genes. There’s no way she should be able to hear us."

Lyra’s expression darkened as the realization hit her like a cold wave. ’So it’s someone like Westros.’

The thought sent a shiver of dread through her. She had already suspected that someone with abilities like Westros’ might be in play, but now, she was certain.

Just as she considered her next move, the darkness of space around her seemed to shift.

Suddenly, she found herself surrounded by a vortex of black shadows. They swirled around her, indistinguishable from eyes—countless unseen forces closing in from every direction, leaving no room for escape.

Out of the swirling abyss emerged four people, clad in sleek spacesuits. They moved toward her with the precision of hunters and the cold determination of predators.

Without a word, they charged, their movements synchronized and lethal.

Lyra immediately went on the offensive, but the mecha’s psychokinetic controls still required a moment of focus to activate. Before she could raise her shields or even retaliate, one of the four delivered a swift kick. That blow sent her crashing backward, destabilizing her for just a split second.

A powerful gravitational force slammed into Lyra, pulling her into an energy shield that lay behind her. She was pinned, mere inches away from the rift to the spatial tunnel.