Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 334: The Stellar Devourer Riot

Chapter 334: The Stellar Devourer Riot

The three women caught up well into the night.

When Mandy arrived, she had brought a reinstatement application. Once Zinnia finished filling it out, Mandy carefully tucked the form into a folder and smiled. "If Helion and the others find out you’re rejoining the Legion of Everglow, they’ll be over the moon."

Zinnia, still weak, managed a faint joke. "Hmph, they might even pick a fight over it."

The light-hearted comment brought a spark of nostalgia to Zinnia’s face, brightening it slightly as memories of their roommate days resurfaced. Though the smile was small, it was genuine.

Mandy, however, couldn’t help sighing inwardly. She rose, tucking the folder under her arm. "It’s late. I should get going."

As she stepped outside, the night wind struck her, and she hurried to the wall for support.

Covering her mouth, she trembled with silent sobs, trying not to make a sound.

After a moment, she forced herself to regain composure and walked toward the gate.

Just then, she noticed a Lev car parked nearby.

The dim glow of a cigarette flickered under the faint streetlights.

Leaning against the car, a woman turned her head. She wore a white dress layered with a black blazer, her hair lightly curled, and her makeup flawlessly done.

Mandy recognized her immediately, surprise flashing across her face. "I thought you weren’t coming. Why didn’t you go inside?"

Vivian stubbed out her cigarette on the car window, flicking it neatly into a nearby trash bin. "I can get all I want to know here, from you, so why bother? How’s she doing?"

Mandy shook her head. "She’s still not herself."

Vivian looked like she wanted to say something sharp, but the words caught in her throat. She clicked her tongue instead. "Of course, she isn’t."

She tilted her head back, gazing at the night sky. Memories of Zinnia’s once-arrogant and unyielding demeanor crossed her mind. Vivian couldn’t picture her in this broken state.

The four of them—once roommates—had since walked vastly different paths in life. Among them, Vivian had changed the least, remaining as carefree and unrestrained as ever.

Vivian glanced back at Mandy and raised an eyebrow. "Want to grab a drink?"

Mandy declined. "No, I have a lot of work tomorrow."

"Work?" Vivian’s tired eyes glimmered with faint sarcasm. "With the way the Legion of Everglow is now, you still have work? Hmph. If you want to say no, just say it."

In the past, being called out like this would have flustered Mandy. Now, she simply smiled lightly. "If not for that years of memory we share, I wouldn’t have stopped to talk to you at all."

The once-intimidating Vivian now seemed to Mandy like nothing more than an unpretentious, carefree socialite.

Vivian was briefly taken aback, then shrugged. "Well, being able to chat with Lieutenant Commander Mandy is an honor for me."

With a wave, Vivian got into her car and drove off, disappearing into the night.

Vivian didn’t feel sadness or regret.

Her life was rich in its own way, and there was little she envied about anyone else. What struck her, instead, was how much the people around her—and the world itself—had transformed.

The streets were now plastered with news of the Empire’s invasion. Even those out at night in search of pleasure carried subtle tension in their faces, as if a shadow loomed over them.

But one person stood apart.

Vivian’s mind conjured the image of Lyra—her calm, composed face seemingly untouched by time.

Over the past ten years, Lyra had moved steadily forward, overcoming obstacles, conquering challenges, and facing sorrow with unflinching resolve.

Vivian turned her gaze back to the road, murmuring softly, "May everyone find what they’re looking for."

...

Zinnia officially rejoined the Legion of Everglow.

Lyra assigned her to a position as a personal guard, sparing her from the complex dynamics of other roles.

Although Zinnia’s superpower remained formidable, her physical condition had deteriorated over three years of inactivity.

Veterans like Helion outpaced her in stamina and strength, so Lyra adjusted her expectations, allowing for leniency.

This decision sparked murmurs throughout the Legion—no one had expected Lyra to make exceptions for anyone.

...

During lunch, Zinnia scratched her head awkwardly. "Am I causing trouble for you?"

Lyra, sipping her soup with her usual calm, replied, "No."

Mandy grinned as she dropped a drumstick onto Zinnia’s plate. "Trouble? Who here could give Lyra a hard time? Most people wouldn’t even dare dream of getting special treatment from her."

Zinnia chuckled, biting into the drumstick with gusto. "Well, I feel lucky then."

Helion appeared suddenly, balancing his tray as he sat down. "Zinnia, how about we switch places? I’d love for Lyra to spoil me like that."

Vikie slid into the seat beside him and snatched his drumstick. "Keep dreaming, Helion."

"Give me back my drumstick!" Helion grabbed it back, not caring that Vikie had already taken a bite. He bit down, ripping the meat clean off the bone with a satisfied crunch.

Vikie scoffed, "You’re such a dog."

The banter made Zinnia laugh genuinely. But every now and then, her gaze would drift toward the window, and the light in her eyes would dim, clouded with lingering sorrow.

With a sharp clap of her hands against her cheeks, she forced herself to focus. "I’m heading to the training grounds!" she declared, quickly clearing her plate and striding off.

Watching her leave, Helion’s expression darkened. "She’s still struggling."

Vikie let out a heavy sigh. "People with deep emotional bonds always have a harder time letting go."

They had all lost friends and comrades, and even now, those wounds felt fresh.

Lyra, finishing her meal, placed her fork down with deliberate calm. "If you’ve got energy to wallow, you’ve got energy for more shooting practice."

The room froze.

"Rear Admiral Shedd, you’re heartless!" Elsie groaned, shooting her a pitiful glare.

"What’s the point? No matter how much we train, they’re not sending us to the frontlines anyway," Aurelius grumbled, frustration clear in his voice.

Lyra’s gaze swept across the room, catching the attention of everyone listening in.

"You’ll get your chance soon enough," she said, her tone cool and steady.

She knew the Alliance Military Council would call for her when Westros finally made their move.

Thinking of the Empire’s experiments on the ore planets, her expression darkened. The inevitable clash felt closer than ever.

...

That afternoon, Lyra summoned several adjutants and regimental leaders to the shooting range.

From her Space Button, she retrieved a set of sleek, newly developed weapons. "These will be distributed to the troops," she announced. "Ensure that pilots, mech operators, and snipers master their use."

The officers exchanged curious looks before picking up the weapons to test them.

When the green, photon-like bullets fired, a stunned silence followed—then a wave of excitement erupted.

The implications were clear.

With these weapons, the threat of the Star Devourers no longer seemed insurmountable.

On the far side of the galaxy, deep within the crushing embrace of a black hole, Phelixes remained ensnared, his form straining against the overwhelming gravitational forces.

Ahead of him, an army of Stellar Devourers loomed ominously. Desperation filled his voice as he shouted, "If you go through with this, you’ll only bring about your own annihilation!"

Westros turned slowly, his lips curling into a warm yet unmistakably sinister smile. "If destruction is inevitable for us, then humanity has no right to exist either."

For Westros, the path was clear. If Lyra insisted on adhering to the Rules, then he and his kind would fulfill their purpose—to annihilate any civilization that dared to threaten the universal balance.

"Begin the operation."

Westros strode into a sterile laboratory and pressed a concealed switch on the wall. One by one, overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating rows of glass chambers.

Within each chamber stood a figure, motionless, their necks adorned with numbered collars.

"Even without the Supreme specimen, these will suffice," Westros muttered to himself.

With a decisive motion, he pulled down a large lever. A hiss echoed through the room as the glass chambers began to open, their contents stepping forward into the cold, artificial light.

Silent and bare, the experimental subjects emerged one by one.

The same chilling process unfolded simultaneously in countless laboratories scattered across the Empire.