Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 317: Into The Empire

Chapter 317: Into The Empire

Phelixes awoke to the cool sensation of dew dripping onto his face.

Blinking against the pale light of dawn, he sat up abruptly, scanning his surroundings. He was inside a makeshift treehouse, the air crisp and damp, and the tender new skin on his arms tingled as if reborn.

Carefully, he exited the shelter and climbed to its top. There, silhouetted against an infinite expanse of stars, was Lyra.

The vast night sky stretched endlessly, adorned with ancient stars that cast their cold, silent light.

Lyra’s silver hair caught the faint glow, giving her an ethereal quality as she stood motionless, gazing into the heavens.

Schedar shimmered brightly, framing her figure in its icy radiance.

Without a word, she turned from the stars, landing gracefully beside him.

Her voice, calm but direct, broke the silence. "Any discomfort?"

Phelixes shook his head, his attention drawn to the alien beat body scattered below the treehouse. Their twisted, unfamiliar forms were unlike anything he had seen before. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice hushed with awe.

Lyra’s expression remained unreadable. "I don’t know."

They had ventured far beyond the mapped regions of the Alliance, into a realm disconnected from familiar stellar networks.

Their opticomputer was all but useless, unable to pinpoint their location.

The planet itself, with its massive gravitational pull, distorted the flow of time.

Lyra gestured toward the opticomputer, explaining, "It’s still synchronized to the time standard of Elden Prime. But based on these constellations, we’re in uncharted space."

Phelixes frowned as he considered her words. "The black hole’s distorted spatial field was chaotic, but the interdimensional passage seemed stabilized by a Stellar Devourer. It’s a controlled black hole used to connect the Alliance and the Empire."

He paused, recalling the peculiar sensation of the passage. "Essentially, it operates on a higher-dimensional plane. Each step through it could span countless universes."

Lyra absorbed his analysis, her composure unshaken. "If that’s the case, we may still be within the broader territories of the Empire or the Alliance. But with the vast unexplored regions between systems, we might as well be lost."

Her calm words conveyed no panic, only purpose. She turned back toward the treehouse, stepping inside and seating herself cross-legged on the floor. "Prepare our supplies. We leave in two nights."

Closing her eyes, she began to radiate faint ripples of energy, sending them outward in steady waves.

Phelixes watched in awe as her psychokinesis expanded, probing energy signatures far beyond their immediate surroundings, reaching toward the distant horizons of this alien world.

He was stunned. Lyra had yet to achieve the rank of Supreme Peculiar, yet she performed feats requiring immense power and mastery—mapping stellar bodies that lay beyond the boundaries of the visible sky.

A surge of pride and admiration swelled within him.

Seated across from her, Phelixes silently observed.

Even in stillness, Lyra exuded a magnetic presence—a mix of steely determination and an icy ruthlessness.

he was a figure impossible to ignore, leaving an indelible impression on anyone fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to encounter her.

For Phelixes, her existence had become an anchor and an enigma. In her shadow, his thoughts, dreams, and aspirations seemed to orbit endlessly.

Lyra’s deep, unfathomable eyes snapped open, startling Phelixes so much that he instinctively straightened his back.

"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice low and steady.

He smiled nervously, shaking his head.

Her sharp brows furrowed slightly. "Then stop distracting me while I’m mapping star maps."

Inwardly, her frustration flared. ’When I make it back, I’ll tear them limb from limb,’ she vowed silently.

Lyra focused once more, her mind working tirelessly to chart the nearby star systems. Gradually, a mental map began forming, pinpointing habitable planets.

Once she identified a promising location, she and Phelixes would gather water, food, and essential supplies before setting off.

They repeated these routine countless times, mining for high-grade energy stones and maintaining their mecha between expeditions.

...

One night, Lyra’s eyes flew open, and she spoke with quiet triumph. "I’ve found one."

She had located a planet capable of supporting human life.

After stockpiling advanced energy stones from a nearby mine, they boarded their mecha and journeyed to the planet Lyra had identified.

As they approached its orbit, they noticed artificial satellites circling the planet—unlike anything used by the Alliance.

Lyra, ever cautious, retrieved two ear-mounted disguise devices from her Space Button. The devices emitted bio-molecular fields that altered their appearances.

After landing in an uninhabited area, Lyra handed one to Phelixes, who put it on without question.

The planet turned out to be an ore world, barren and unwelcoming, much like Voidstar No.2.

The landscape stretched out in a vast, featureless plain of red soil, scarred by countless mining pits. From above, the craters resembled grotesque pockmarks.

Whenever the wind blew, it carried with it red dust, tinting the air in hues of rust.

Their opticomputer still failed to connect to the stellar network, confirming that they were outside Alliance territory.

...

As they moved cautiously through the desolate terrain, the distant hum of machinery grew louder, followed by the rapid approach of footsteps.

"Stop! Who are you?" a gruff voice demanded.

Several figures appeared, their weapons trained on Lyra and Phelixes.

These people weren’t dressed in official uniforms, wearing instead rugged, practical attire. They were clearly not government personnel.

Lyra stood still, neither defensive nor hostile. "We had an accident while traveling through outer space. We were forced to land here."

The group exchanged skeptical glances. The leader, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes, wore a brown jacket and heavy boots. His cautious gaze swept over them. "How did you get here?" he asked.

"In a space flyer," Lyra replied calmly.

A space flyer was a small spacecraft designed for individual or small group travel—similar to a private jet. It was common enough not to arouse suspicion, and its design could range from basic to highly sophisticated.

"Can I see it?" The man still wasn’t convinced.

Lyra nodded. "Of course."

From her Space Button, she produced a space flyer manufactured by Snakehead.

Snakehead collected various models from smugglers and resold them, resulting in an assortment of mismatched designs.

The man inspected it briefly, his wariness easing somewhat—this particular model didn’t match any Alliance designs.

Lowering his weapon, the man introduced himself. "Name’s Wintour, squad leader for the mining company’s security team. I’ll take you to the city." He gestured to the right.

Lyra inclined her head slightly in thanks. "Appreciate it."

As they walked, Wintour struck up casual conversation. "You know the boss of Planet Royce Mining Company? He’s the most famous person around here." His eyes flicked toward Lyra, clearly gauging her reaction.

Lyra frowned slightly, sensing his subtle probing. Before she could respond, Phelixes interjected with feigned surprise. "Planet Royce’s mining operations aren’t run by the government? Did I miss something while drifting in space?"

Wintour’s scrutiny shifted to Phelixes, who returned his gaze with an innocent expression.

Lyra glanced at her companion, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Clever.

Then a memory struck her—Phelixes had been taken from the Empire and sold to the Alliance by the Seething Fires.

He had grown up in the Empire. And yet, back then, he had lied about his origins, claiming he couldn’t remember where he came from.

Wintour chuckled lightly. "Still the government, but they’ve outsourced the mining rights."

Phelixes picked up on the shift in tone and remarked casually, "Mr. Wintour seems to be asking a lot of questions."

Wintour waved him off with a chuckle. "Ah, you know how it is. Things aren’t exactly stable these days. Got to keep an eye out for Alliance spies sneaking in."

So Lyra’s deduction had been correct—they were indeed within the Empire’s domain.

As they continued walking, a settlement came into view on the horizon, perched like a blemish against the vast red plains.

Two towering skyscrapers, each over a hundred stories tall, rose starkly from the barren landscape, resembling bamboo shoots sprouting from dry, cracked soil.

As they drew nearer, Phelixes noticed facial recognition scanners mounted at the settlement’s entrance. A flicker of unease crossed his face, betraying his thoughts.

Lyra saw them too. Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly.

Without a word, she activated her psychokinesis, delicately manipulating the moisture in the air to form near-invisible blades.

In a display of precise control, she severed the internal circuits of the scanners, disabling them completely.

The process was executed so seamlessly that Wintour didn’t notice even the faintest trace of superpower energy.

Phelixes, observing in silence, was once again struck by the terrifying growth of Lyra’s abilities. Her level of mastery—subtle, refined, and exact—was something that even seasoned Peculiars rarely achieved.

They passed through the checkpoint without incident.

The scanners remained silent, giving no indication of malfunction. Wintour’s shoulders relaxed, his demeanor softening as his smile turned more genuine. "There’s a decent hotel in town," he offered. "Fair rates and clean enough."

Phelixes’ stomach sank at the reminder of a glaring issue—they were completely broke.

Alliance currency and credit cards would be useless in the Empire, leaving them with no means to pay for even the simplest necessities.