Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 325: Seeing Cohen Again

Chapter 325: Seeing Cohen Again

Iskandor, clad in sleek light mecha, wasted no time after immobilizing Scarvoci and Phelixes. To Lyra’s surprise, the Empire’s admiral launched a personal assault, charging at her with staggering speed.

Through his transparent visor, she locked eyes with his piercing blue gaze, cold and calculating.

Lyra’s brows furrowed as she steadied herself.

The superpower "the Absolute" was an unparalleled mind-control ability. While Lyra could resist it to some degree, it remained a formidable obstacle.

Gripping her weapon, Eclipsite, Lyra left the flyer to meet Iskandor head-on, knowing she needed to end this quickly.

A storm of light particles coalesced around her, streaking toward Iskandor like a swarm of glimmering needles.

But with a simple flick of his finger, he uttered a single word:

"Disperse."

Instantly, the particles vanished.

Lyra grit her teeth. Superpowers alone wouldn’t be enough against him.

Without hesitation, she conjured thousands of light shields that spread across the void, forming a dazzling path.

In the weightless expanse of space, she dashed across the shields with incredible speed, weaving through the void like a streak of light.

She closed in on Iskandor’s flank, Eclipsite poised to strike. But just as her blade was about to land, his voice reverberated in her mind:

"Stop."

Her body froze for a split second—just long enough for Iskandor to deliver a devastating kick to her abdomen.

The impact sent her careening backward, crashing into a nearby asteroid with bone-rattling force.

Lyra coughed as pain radiated through her torso. She quickly formed a light shield behind her to stop her momentum, her insides aching as if her organs had been shaken loose.

But even as the pain gnawed at her, her eyes remained steady and resolved.

She remembered now: Iskandor was the second survivor of the same experiments she had endured.

Ian had once told her that, among their batch of test subjects, Iskandor’s superpower readings had been closest to hers. His abilities were refined, precise, and terrifyingly efficient. No wonder he was so powerful.

In the distance, an Imperial fleet approached.

"Why is Admiral Iskandor engaging directly?" a pilot asked, glancing nervously at the vice commander on the operations deck. "We can’t fire the high-energy cannons with him out there—we might hit him."

...

Back in the fray, Lyra steadied her breathing, forcing herself to remain calm. The closer she got to Iskandor, the stronger his influence became, and he was undeniably a Supreme-level combatant.

Realizing her options were limited, she hurled Eclipsite with all her strength. As expected, Iskandor’s psychokinesis immediately latched onto the weapon, attempting to seize control of the elastic metal.

The battle of wills that followed was fierce, like an unyielding mountain standing against a relentless storm. Iskandor strained to claim the weapon, but Lyra refused to give ground.

Through sheer focus, her psychokinetic power surged into Eclipsite. The weapon trembled in midair before shattering into thousands of radiant fragments that flew toward Iskandor like a cascade of falling stars.

"Redirect," he commanded, his voice calm.

Yet the fragments didn’t veer off course.

For the first time, Iskandor’s expression shifted—subtle, but unmistakably surprised. The shards were beyond his control.

Dark energy surrounded him, the manifestation of his superpower—a black hole capable of consuming all matter. But before it could envelop him completely, the first shards struck, piercing his body.

The sound of cracking bones echoed faintly in the vacuum.

Pain briefly broke Iskandor’s concentration, creating the opportunity Lyra needed. With a powerful kick, she launched the flyer out of his immediate range.

Scarvoci, regaining control, gripped the controls tightly and adjusted their trajectory.

As Imperial forces scrambled to tend to Iskandor’s injuries, Lyra retracted Eclipsite, the fragments reforming seamlessly, and dashed back to the flyer.

...

The escape was far from over. Swarms of Stellar Devourers poured out of black holes that appeared around them, relentless in their pursuit.

"Sis, are you okay?" Phelixes called out anxiously.

"I’m fine," Lyra replied, a faint green glow enveloping her body. Within moments, her injuries healed completely.

Scarvoci glanced nervously at her calm expression. "Rear Admiral Shedd, I’ve used a specialized communicator to call for reinforcements. Please, just hold out a little longer!"

Lyra’s tone was steady, almost indifferent. "Understood."

Scarvoci stole a glance at Lyra as she strapped on her light mecha and adjusted her oxygen apparatus.

Without hesitation, she climbed to the top of the flyer, ready to face yet another grueling battle.

Their pursuers were relentless—other experiment survivors like Scarvoci himself, their identification numbers burned into the skin of their necks.

Stripped of humanity and brainwashed into mindless servitude, these test subjects charged forward without fear or hesitation.

Lyra met them head-on.

With her left hand, she froze their blood, crystallizing it into deadly shards that tore through their ranks.

With her right, she unleashed vibrant green healing energy, a river of life that simultaneously fueled her allies.

All the while, her psychokinesis manipulated Eclipsite, constantly reshaping the elastic metal into barriers, blades, and projectiles to shield the flyer and strike down attackers.

She was a one-woman fortress, an unyielding wall against the torrent of foes. Even when her superpower reserves waned, she transitioned seamlessly to melee combat, wielding her blade with lethal precision.

Inside the flyer, Phelixes fought to keep their vessel intact, deflecting blasts with his diminished powers.

He cursed his own weakness, knowing he lacked the strength to offer more substantial aid. Still, he refused to stop, gritting his teeth as he defended their only sanctuary.

Outside, Lyra was unstoppable. She carved through wave after wave of enemies, leaving a grisly spectacle in her wake.

Blood and debris drifted weightlessly in the void, forming what seemed like a river of the underworld, a silent battlefield adorned with the blossoms of death.

Her movements were ceaseless, commanding the superpower particles around her as though she controlled the cosmos itself. But even the strongest warrior has limits.

The number of enemies continued to swell, and exhaustion began to creep in.

Lyra’s body trembled, her breathing grew ragged, and her glowing crimson eyes burned with fury and desperation. Her strikes slowed, and the weight of fatigue became inescapable.

Then, the communicator crackled to life.

"Lieutenant Scarvoci, please report your position. Repeat, report your position..."

Scarvoci’s hands shook with relief. He nearly crushed the communicator as he replied. "Sir, we’ll transmit our coordinates immediately! We have three aboard requiring extraction!"

In the command center of the incoming fleet, a pilot sprang to attention. "Sir, we’ve received Lieutenant Scarvoci’s transmission!"

At the center of the room, Vice Admiral Cohen Whyte turned sharply from the operations console. His stern expression softened into a grin. "All units, full speed ahead! Prepare for extraction!"

As the crew scrambled into action, the pilot hesitated. "Vice Admiral, Scarvoci mentioned... three individuals."

Cohen frowned. "Three?" He paused, then nodded firmly. "Prepare three docking tracks."

...

The situation for Lyra’s group had grown increasingly dire. Her relentless fighting was pushing her to her limits. Her limbs ached, her breaths were shallow, and yet she cut down another Peculiar as it charged recklessly at her.

"How much longer for the support fleet?" Phelixes shouted, deflecting an incoming energy blast with what little strength he had left.

Scarvoci’s face dripped with sweat as he scanned the display, his voice strained. "Almost there!" Then, a signal lit up on the navigation map. His voice rose with excitement. "They’re here!"

Ahead, the fleet surged into view.

A voice came over the communicator. "Lieutenant Scarvoci, proceed with your mecha to the recovery bay."

"Yes, sir!" Scarvoci replied immediately. Turning to Lyra and Phelixes, he called, "Are your mechas operational? The flagship’s recovery bay is open!"

"Go," Lyra commanded through gritted teeth, summoning the last dregs of her strength.

A blinding green light erupted from her body, flooding the surrounding space with brilliance. The sheer intensity of the light stunned their enemies, halting their advance.

...

Aboard the flagship, Vice Admiral Cohen’s breath caught as the radiant green light illuminated the monitors. His eyes widened in recognition, his heart pounding.

"Could it be...?" he whispered. Without waiting for confirmation, he bolted from the command deck, his urgency overriding protocol. Soldiers saluted as he passed, but he ignored them, sprinting toward the recovery bay.

The elevator ride was agonizingly slow. When the doors finally opened, Cohen froze, his gaze locking on the figure emerging from the light mecha.

Lyra stepped out, her movements slow and deliberate. Her long hair, tangled and damp with sweat, clung to her face and legs.

Though she swayed slightly, every step radiated an unbroken will. She was a vision of survival, scarred by battle but unyielding.

Cohen’s legs refused to move. His chest tightened as he stared at her, his lips trembling as he whispered, almost inaudibly, "It’s really... you."