Interstellar: Return of the Villain-Chapter 197: Isadora’s Challenge

"So, what do you guys think?" Benedict asked, grinning like he’d just witnessed two kids squabbling over a toy.

Kritt gave the scene a quick look, his tone as level as ever. "Too soon to tell."

"Isadora’s gonna lose," Robin chimed in without skipping a beat.

Benedict raised a brow, clearly amused. "That sure of yourself?" He paused for effect before adding with a sly grin, "Or are you just salty because you’ve fought Lyra and lost every time?"

Kritt, not one to miss an opportunity, threw in his two cents. "Pretty sure you lost to Isadora in sparring too."

Robin didn’t bother to deny it, but he wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of a reply either.

Just a few feet away, Isadora caught the tail end of their conversation. She spun on her heels, glaring daggers at Robin. "Oh, Robin! Clearly, I haven’t whooped you enough if you think I’ll lose this!"

Predictably, Robin stayed quiet, earning an eye roll and a muttered, "Sore loser," from Isadora.

Lyra, watching from the sidelines, was caught off guard. ’Wait, Robin lost to Isadora?’

"I’m coming for you, Lyra!" Isadora’s voice cut through the air, followed by a pulse of sound that made Lyra’s head buzz.

Before she could even process what was happening, Isadora’s fiery red figure was already in motion, charging straight at her.

Lyra instinctively threw a punch, but Isadora caught her wrist with ease. In a heartbeat, Lyra found herself airborne, flung across the room.

"That’s for the attitude you gave me this afternoon!"

But Lyra wasn’t about to be outdone. Mid-flight, she twisted her body, landing gracefully back on her feet, a mix of surprise and admiration flashing across her face. "You were holding back earlier, weren’t you?"

There was no way someone with Isadora’s skills should’ve been handled so easily earlier.

Isadora just tilted her chin with a smug grin. "Not everyone fights like a savage. A lady knows when to show restraint."

With a casual flick of her fingers, she summoned a sphere of water, which quickly thinned out until it stretched across the entire training room like a shimmering web.

Lyra was impressed. Isadora wasn’t just flashy—she was a dual-ability Peculiar, and a level seven one at that.

"Admiring the view?" Isadora teased, eyes gleaming as she caught Lyra’s startled reaction. The water tendrils trembled, becoming sharp, needle-like spikes.

With a single thought, Isadora sent them flying straight at her opponent.

A thousand water needles rushed at Lyra in a deadly wave.

The room’s temperature dropped sharply. Benedict, watching from a distance, blinked in mild surprise as his tea instantly froze solid.

Lyra had transformed the water spikes into delicate ice crystals, which then shattered into a fine mist with a brilliant flash of green light.

Isadora leaped backward, her feet vibrating with the sound waves she was controlling. But the green light didn’t slow—it surged forward with even more intensity.

In a panic, Isadora desperately tried to summon more power, but Lyra’s onslaught was too fast, too precise. Before she could react, the light closed in, stopping just shy of her throat.

"That’s enough," Benedict said calmly, stepping in to end the skirmish. A smile tugged at his lips. "Both of you come have some cake. It’s fresh out of the oven." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Without a word, they pulled back their powers and joined the others at the table.

Isadora sat down with a pout, her face flushed, and her eyes a little too red for her pride.

"Come on, Isadora. You just need to train harder," Benedict said kindly, sliding a slice of cake toward her.

She accepted it but didn’t take a bite. "Thanks, Grandpa, but I’m not eating that. Late-night sweets make you fat." She shot a glare at Lyra, who was enjoying her own slice without a care in the world.

Isadora couldn’t wrap her head around it. When they were younger, she’d chalked up her losses to the age gap. But now? Lyra had basically been a walking corpse for seven years, and somehow she was STILL this strong?

"Witch," Isadora muttered under her breath, standing abruptly. "I’m off to do my nighttime facial routine. Good night."

And just like that, she stormed out, leaving the room as quickly as she’d entered it.

"That girl..." Benedict chuckled, shaking his head fondly before turning to Lyra. "You know how Isadora can be."

"I’ll have a talk with her," Kritt added, obviously wanting to smooth things over.

But Lyra wasn’t fazed. "It’s all good," she said, her voice cool and composed, not a trace of irritation in her tone.

Benedict let out a deep sigh of relief, his expression softening as the tension faded from the room. "I see it now, Lyra," he said, shifting the conversation back to the earlier fight. "You’ve been through a lot over these past few years. Your freezing ability—it’s gotten much stronger."

While most people only saw the raw power she wielded, Benedict, ever observant, recognized the blood, sweat, and sacrifice behind her abilities. He knew the cost of such strength.

Lyra met her grandfather’s eyes for a brief moment, then stood up. "Grandpa, Uncle Kritt... I’m heading to bed."

Without waiting for a response, she left the room. As her figure disappeared down the hall, the silence stretched between the three men.

Robin was the first to break it, setting down his teacup. "I’m calling it a night too."

...

Lyra only stayed at the Calvin residence for a couple of days.

By the morning of the third day, she, Robin, and Kritt were en route to the direct force district.

As they walked, Lyra’s gaze drifted toward Robin, who was busily filling out his enlistment papers. But it wasn’t just him—Caleb and Grains, his usual sidekicks, were there too, following his lead.

What really surprised her, though, was the unexpected presence of Prince Aurelius.

His being here sent a clear message: the new military corps had made it known they were rejecting recruits of noble birth. Yet the aristocracy wasn’t ready to give up the fight. They clung to their direct forces like their last line of defense.

Lyra’s shock didn’t linger long, though. She quietly filled out her own enlistment forms.

"When you’re done with that, follow the usual process," Kritt instructed them, his voice commanding as always. "Medical exam, superpower assessment, and then just wait for your assignment."

Kritt, being a Rear Admiral, wasn’t just a typical officer overseeing the usual divisions. His job was to lead a permanent military force, stationed in key strategic locations.

Every few years, he’d be moved to a different hotspot, depending on the needs of the Alliance.

Lyra thought the whole process would be straightforward, but things took a turn when her medical exam results came back. Her enlistment papers were flagged and put on hold.

When Kritt heard about it, he immediately stormed into the office of the officer in charge of application reviews.

"Vice Admiral Calvin," the officer greeted, pulling out a copy of Lyra’s medical report, "I believe the issue is clear. Lyra has a serious respiratory condition, which is listed as disqualifying."

The Alliance had strict health standards for military service, and respiratory issues were on the list of non-negotiables.

Military academies might be more lenient for cadets training in specialized roles, but for the frontline units, the rules were ironclad. If Lyra were to have an episode in the middle of combat, it wouldn’t just put her at risk—it could jeopardize the whole team.

While the official position was based on protocol, the officer also knew that higher-ups were leaning hard on him to follow the rules to the letter. There was no wiggle room.

Kritt hadn’t expected bureaucratic red tape to rear its head this aggressively, even here.

Frustration simmered beneath the surface as he stepped out of the room to make a call. Meanwhile, Lyra stood by the doorway, calm and composed, while the office staff kept casting glances her way.

A few minutes later, Kritt returned, his face tight with concern.

Seeing that not even her uncle could cut through the red tape, Lyra decided to speak up. "I’m filing an objection."

The review officer blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing as he sized her up.

"The medical report is inaccurate," she stated firmly, her voice steady.

"Our medical professionals are some of the best. There’s no way they could—" the officer began, but Kritt quickly interrupted him.

"Then reexamine her. That’s within the regulations, isn’t it?"

Military protocol allowed for one re-examination if the applicant contested their results. The officer, now caught in a corner by their insistence, begrudgingly agreed. After all, what could change in a few hours?

When the new results came back, the officer stared at the paper in disbelief. "This... this can’t be right!"

The report now stated, clear as day: Subject’s health is in optimal condition.

Frantic, the officer shuffled through Lyra’s previous records, which still flagged her respiratory defect as a disqualifying factor. "You must have cheated!" he accused, his voice rising in frustration.

Lyra met his wild accusation with a steady gaze. "My illness was cured, just now," she said calmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.