Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 279: Cohen’s Plan

Chapter 279: Cohen’s Plan

On Wyrmtrace, three major forces held the line: Legion Glory, Legion of the Apollo’s, and Frederick’s Legion of Wasteland Walkers.

Their combined strength was formidable, and the two Admirals of the Empire had made little progress despite their relentless assaults. Frustration was beginning to set in.

"We should move the supply fleet closer," suggested Admiral Tauras.

The Empire’s slow progress stemmed from one key disadvantage: the battlefield was too far from their main fleet. Their forces constantly had to retreat to resupply their ammunition and energy reserves.

Admiral Barrett, however, hesitated. "What if we’re ambushed? Moving the main fleet and supply ships closer puts them at risk."

Tauras countered with a glint of determination. "It also gives us the opportunity to ambush the enemy’s main fleet or their bases. The forces are evenly matched, but we have more advanced weaponry—and the Stellar Devourer’s power. If we fail to push through again, we’ll have to answer to the Imperial High Command."

Barrett nodded reluctantly. "Alright, but we’ll need to plan this carefully."

Meanwhile, in the Alliance command center, Admiral Frederick reviewed reports detailing the deaths of several officers under Orson’s command.

Three Rear Admirals had perished in recent battles, all caught in conflicts between Lyra and Stellar Devourers.

The three Vice Admirals seated below Frederick wore varying expressions as they discussed the matter.

"That fool Orson provoked Lyra by stealing her military achievements and crediting them to his relatives. He enraged that young woman," one muttered.

"True, but Lyra went too far. Those were Rear Admirals—key pillars of Legion Glory," another added.

"She should have escalated her grievances to the higher-ups instead of acting on her own. Admiral, this woman is dangerous and should not be allowed to remain," the third concluded gravely.

At this, Vice Admiral Cohen, who had been quietly listening, arched a brow. "You suggest she escalate? If everyone already knew her achievements were stolen, why hasn’t anyone rushed to return her rightful credit? Instead, you’re all fixated on punishing her. Curious, isn’t it?"

Cohen’s tone was sharp, subtly reminding the others that they too were guilty of manipulating accolades in their own favor. His words left them uneasy, though they didn’t openly respond.

Frederick’s gaze turned to Cohen. "Do you think she did nothing wrong?"

"She’s wrong," Cohen replied without hesitation. "But Orson was at fault first. Besides, we still need her if we’re to deal with Stellar Devourers effectively."

That final point silenced the room. No one could deny Lyra’s tactical importance.

But the other Vice Admirals were far from pleased. "Since Cohen is so protective of her," one said with a sneer, "why not have her transferred to his command once he’s promoted? He could foster a deeper bond with her."

Cohen’s promotion had just been confirmed—he would be skipping the rank of Rear Admiral entirely.

Cohen smiled faintly, unbothered by their taunts. "No need. Lyra is part of Legion Glory, after all."

His words, seemingly innocuous, carried hidden meaning that made Frederick frown.

"You want to form your own regiment," Frederick said flatly. Though the sentence was brief, his tone carried enough authority to crush the air from the room.

Cohen met his father’s gaze unflinchingly. "Yes. I plan to submit the request soon, and I hope you’ll approve it."

He wanted to build a force of his own—untainted, disciplined, and fiercely independent. A clean slate, free from the corruption that plagued the Alliance. It was an ambitious dream, but one he intended to achieve.

Frederick’s silence was heavy. The three Vice Admirals exchanged startled glances before excusing themselves, leaving father and son alone in the now-quiet meeting room.

Frederick’s piercing eyes seemed to cut through Cohen as he finally spoke, his voice as sharp as a blade.

"Cohen, I thought you understood your responsibilities. Legion Glory is the Alliance’s largest and oldest regiment. As its pillar, it deserves a competent leader."

It was the first time Frederick had addressed him by his name rather than his rank. This wasn’t a conversation between an admiral and his subordinate—it was between a father and his son.

"I do understand," Cohen replied firmly. "I also understand that both Legion Glory and the Alliance are like rotting trees. They may appear strong on the surface, but their foundations are decayed. They need renewal."

Cohen’s posture was straight, his tone resolute. He did not flinch under Frederick’s oppressive stare.

For a moment, Frederick’s inner conflict was clear. As a father, he couldn’t help but recognize his son’s maturity and strength. Cohen had grown into someone capable of standing on his own. That should have been a source of pride—but Frederick couldn’t ignore the growing divide in their ideals.

The young man before him was no longer a soldier in his shadow, but a force entirely his own.

"But have you considered what will happen to Legion Glory if it doesn’t have a capable leader?" Frederick’s voice softened as he studied his son’s pensive expression. "I’ve poured my entire life into stabilizing Legion Glory and the Alliance. Only now are things finally steady. Are you prepared to let all of that go to waste?"

For all his strength and resolve, Cohen had to admit that when his father used the emotional card, it was difficult to resist.

"Let me think about it a little longer," Cohen said at last, his tone unusually light. "Besides, Father, it’s not like you can’t handle it for another fifty years."

The comment was almost playful, though his expression stayed serious.

Frederick blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "You little rascal..."

Before he could say more, Cohen straightened and saluted crisply. "Permission to leave, sir."

Without waiting for a reply, Cohen turned and left the room. His determined figure disappeared down the corridor, leaving Frederick alone.

The faint smile on Frederick’s face slowly faded, replaced by an unsettling calmness. Picking up his communicator, he dialed a secure number.

"When will it be ready?" Frederick asked, his voice cold.

"We’ve entered the experimental phase," came the reply.

Frederick exhaled slowly, his thoughts sharpening like a blade. If his son was truly ready to stand on his own, then Frederick would have to take steps to neutralize all threats to the Alliance—no matter the cost.

Cohen, meanwhile, changed course on his way back to his office and sought out Lyra. He found her mid-training and wasted no time with pleasantries.

"I’m planning to establish my own regiment," he said bluntly.

Lyra paused mid-motion, clearly surprised. "I assume the admiral hasn’t approved it yet."

"He hasn’t," Cohen admitted. "I think Legion Glory is too bloated and stagnant to reform. It’s better to dismantle and rebuild it from scratch. But my father... he insists it’s his life’s work."

Lyra gave him a curious look, unsure why he was sharing this. Still, she replied bluntly, "No offense, but decades of effort haven’t fixed Legion Glory. It’s a mess—just like the Alliance. Beyond saving."

Her words were harsh, but Cohen couldn’t deny their truth. They struck a chord.

His expression lightened as though a weight had been lifted. His gaze drifted to Thierry, who was diligently practicing hand-to-hand combat nearby. For the first time in hours, his features softened.

"Actually," Cohen said thoughtfully, "there’s someone far more suited to inherit it."

"True enough," Lyra agreed with a faint nod.

Thierry might come across as simple at times, but that was a reflection of his straightforward personality, not a lack of talent.

As the two continued their quiet conversation, Thierry noticed them talking and bounded over with a wide grin. "Lyra! Brother! What are you two whispering about?"

"Thierry." Cohen’s tone turned serious, immediately grounding the younger man.

Thierry’s grin faded, and he straightened instinctively. "What is it?"

"I have an important task for you," Cohen said, his voice weighted with significance. "If you succeed, you’ll become the Alliance’s strongest shield. Billions of lives will depend on you."

Thierry’s eyes lit up, brimming with excitement. "Count me in!"

His enthusiasm was so pure, so instant, that Cohen couldn’t help smiling. Reaching out, he ruffled Thierry’s hair. When had the little boy who once followed me everywhere grown so much? Cohen wondered.

For a moment, Cohen’s thoughts drifted to the past. He remembered Thierry standing solemnly at his parents’ funeral, determined not to cry because he wanted to make them proud.

Yet later that night, Thierry had crawled into Cohen’s bed, clutching a pillow and sobbing so hard in his sleep that he could barely breathe.

Now, years later, that same boy grinned like an overexcited puppy, full of life. Watching from a distance, Aurelius smirked faintly, his cold gaze unreadable.

The scene etched itself into Lyra’s memory, vivid and unforgettable even as the moment passed.

Each of them carried unwavering beliefs, yet their paths would diverge in sharp, irrevocable ways.

As the dust seemed to settle for now, a storm brewed quietly in the distance—an upheaval that would change everything.