Chapter 179: Her Story

Chapter 179: Her StoryLiliana wasn’t Blackheart’s biological daughter. She had been a trophy—one of three girls captured in a brutal ambush against rival slavers.

All three were meant to fetch a high price in the underground market, beautiful and brimming with potential. Their memories were erased to forget their families and former lives.

At first, Blackheart treated them like prized possessions. They dined on gourmet food, wore luxurious clothes, and were addressed with respect, as if they were young noblewomen.

The girls, naive and brainwashed, believed Blackheart was a rough man with a hidden heart of gold.

But that illusion shattered as they grew older. When their bodies began to mature, so did Blackheart’s dark, twisted desires.

"He loves to play these kinds of sick games," Liliana said with a smirk, though her voice held an undercurrent of bitterness. "In the sixty or seventy years he’s been doing this, I’m the only one who survived long enough to grow up. I even became one of his deputies. Impressive, right?"

Her smile was a cruel, mocking thing, as though any pride in her position was long dead. She had learned that survival was the only real victory, even if it came at a terrible price.

Sitting on the bed, her bare feet swung playfully, but there was nothing innocent about it. "You, my little angel, are the first grown woman he’s ever been interested in right from the start."

Lyra’s expression didn’t change. Her eyes remained cold, detached. "If you’ve said your piece, leave."

Liliana found herself drawn to that indifference. It was precisely what made Lyra so compelling—untouchable, unaffected by the horrors that had broken so many others.

With a sigh, Liliana leaned in closer, resting her head on Lyra’s shoulder.

"If only you were a man," she whispered wistfully, her tone heavy with longing and a sadness that even she couldn’t quite explain.

Years of abuse had twisted her understanding of affection. The only way she knew how to love—or even feel close to someone—was through physical touch, intimacy that had long since lost its meaning.

"Daddy wants me to convince you to step out of that elastic metal of yours," she said softly, her fingers brushing against Lyra’s arm in a pleading gesture. "Just obey him. If you do, it’ll save me from suffering even more."

"I won’t," Lyra replied without hesitation. Her voice was as steady as ever, though she suddenly coughed, covering her mouth as she tried to suppress it.

Liliana’s face fell for a brief moment, but she quickly leaned in, pressing her lips against Lyra’s in a sudden kiss.

When she pulled back, her expression was soft, submissive, her face reflected in Lyra’s dark, unwavering eyes.

With a small hum, she stood up and left the room without another word.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Lyra wiped her mouth and retreated back into the protective confines of her silver egg.

Meanwhile, Blackheart sat in his command room, his eyes glued to the surveillance footage.

Fury bubbled within him, barely held back. His fist slammed down on the table as he abruptly stood and stormed off toward Liliana’s quarters.

The moment he entered, a strange scent hit his nose. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he crossed the room in a few long strides and grabbed Liliana by the arm, yanking her close.

"You hiding herbal plants from me?" he snarled, his grip tightening.

Liliana winced in pain, but her voice remained steady. "I was just taking medicine, Daddy."

On the vanity beside her bed, an untouched bowl of herbs sat in plain sight.

"We’ve been floating out here for so long," she explained, pouting. "I ran out of my regular medicine, so I had to brew something from plants."

To prove her point, she lifted the bowl and took a careful sip, her eyes meeting Blackheart’s without flinching.

For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of whether to believe her. Then, with a sneer, he tossed her back onto the bed.

"Liliana," he growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look up at him. "You’ll never escape my control. I don’t care how grown up you think you are—you belong to me, and you always will. Understand?"

Liliana forced a sweet smile, though her eyes held a trace of loathing. "Of course, Daddy."

"Good girl," he said, patting her cheek in a condescending manner. "We’ll be arriving at the base soon. Get Sis Marv out of that egg, or I’ll make sure you regret it."

"I’ll try," Liliana replied lightly, her voice hiding the contempt burning beneath the surface.

After Blackheart left, she pulled a small, damp green plant from beneath her pillow. It radiated a soft, comforting energy, and Liliana clutched it as though it were the only thing tethering her to sanity.

Meanwhile, Blackheart’s warship descended toward a distant, desolate planet.

Across the galaxy, under the cover of night, Thierry received an anonymous message that made him stop in his tracks. His mind raced, and he wasted no time.

Tossing his blankets aside, he hurried out of bed and rushed to find Leandro’s men. Though it was late, he didn’t care.

Together, they went straight to Leandro’s quarters, where the Vice Admiral was about to turn in for the night.

"Sir, we’ve just received a message from Lyra!" Thierry exclaimed, breathless with excitement.

Leandro, halfway through pulling on his uniform, paused for only a second. "Are you sure it’s really her?"

"Almost certain," Thierry replied urgently. "Lyra’s unit has a private communication system based on Wyrmtrace. Blackheart shouldn’t be able to block it."

They didn’t waste another moment, practically sprinting to the tech department. It didn’t take long to confirm the message’s origin—it was traced back to Voidstar No. 1.

"That bastard’s hiding there, just as I thought!" Leandro growled, slamming his hand on the table. But his fury quickly gave way to concern, and he frowned. "We might not be able to land there."

Voidstar No. 1 was nothing like its barren sister planet, Voidstar No. 2.

While Voidstar No. 2 had a desolate landscape with minimal activity, Voidstar No. 1 had developed small, habitable settlements—though not the kind any law-abiding citizen would want to visit.

Its lack of resources meant it never grew into a large city, but it became a perfect breeding ground for space pirates and criminals. Its surrounding asteroid belts made it impractical for major development, but ideal for those looking to hide in the shadows.

While Voidstar No. 2 maintained shaky connections with the Alliance through Snakehead, Voidstar No. 1 was completely isolated—a chaotic stronghold of lawlessness.

It was larger, far more dangerous, and filled with complex, rival factions. Its relationship with the military was volatile at best, openly hostile at worst.

Several military campaigns had been attempted over the years to root out the criminals, but each time, the pirates vanished into thin air before any real battle could begin.

And if the military tried to establish a base there, the local forces united to crush them.

After repeated failures, the military had given up. Voidstar No. 1 was left to rot as a lawless wasteland, a notorious haven for criminals.

And now, hearing that Blackheart had set up his base there, Leandro felt the full weight of the situation.

"If we charge in guns blazing, we’ll provoke every pirate and criminal faction on that rock. It’ll be a disaster," he muttered to himself.

Just then, Ansel entered the room, having been informed of the news. "Did you locate Blackheart?" he asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

The thought of Blackheart slipping through his fingers again—robbing him of a major victory—was infuriating. Still, at least the potential of getting rid of Lyra offered him a small consolation prize.

Leandro looked at him, slightly annoyed by Ansel’s visit, but he eventually gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Yes, we found them on Voidstar No. 1," he said, pausing before adding with a hint of satisfaction, "You’ll be pleased to know your granddaughter is still alive, Vice Admiral Shedd."

Ansel’s face tightened at the mention of Lyra, and Leandro couldn’t help but enjoy the small jab. He continued, keeping up the appearance of cooperation, "Since I’m responsible for protecting Demetra and keeping the Broken Blades Pirates in check, how about you take the lead on this one?"

Ansel gave him a sharp look, his mind quickly processing the situation.

"Given that the higher-ups have ordered us to work together," Ansel began, "we should approach this carefully. This isn’t a mission to rush into."

Voidstar No. 1 was a hornet’s nest, and Ansel had no intention of being the one to stir it up. It was far too risky, and despite the opportunity to strike at Blackheart, the prospect of dealing with the chaos of Voidstar No. 1 made him hesitate.

Thierry, who had been standing nearby, felt a cold wave of disappointment wash over him.

Even with Lyra’s life hanging in the balance and Blackheart’s hideout exposed, these two were still more focused on maneuvering for their own interests than the mission itself.

Thierry had hoped that once Blackheart’s location was revealed, it would be a straightforward matter of saving Lyra and crushing their enemies. But the selfish agendas of men like Ansel and Leandro were always in the way.

Ansel, making his excuses, left the room, muttering that they would "discuss further options tomorrow."

As he departed, Thierry’s opticomputer buzzed with a new message.

"Tell Leandro to send in support quietly. I’ll handle the rest."

The message was from Lyra herself. She had clearly anticipated that the military wouldn’t opt for an all-out assault.

Leandro read the message, his irritation fading into a strange calm. He smirked. "Does she seriously think she can take down Blackheart’s entire army on her own?"

Thierry, his voice tight with frustration, responded, "Lyra always has a plan. Since she’s reached out, the least we can do is support her efforts."

Leandro gave a nonchalant shrug. "Fine."

But he didn’t miss the anger in Thierry’s tone, and with a knowing smile, he added, "You’re still young, full of fire. Someday, when you reach my position, you’ll see things differently."

Thierry had enough. His voice rose with sharp defiance. "I will never become like you. My only purpose is to protect this nation, and I’ll make damn sure nothing like what happened at the marketplace ever happens again!"

Without waiting for a response, Thierry turned and marched out, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Leandro was momentarily taken aback by the intensity of Thierry’s glare. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head.

"He’s the naivest Whyte I’ve ever come across, isn’t he?" he muttered under his breath, his amusement barely concealed.

With a sigh, Leandro leaned back in his chair, the weight of years—and countless battles—settling over him like an old coat. ’Foolish boy,’ he thought, his smile edged with pity. ’Every man who holds power once had those same dreams in his youth.’

’In the end, to last in this game, you need more than just a good heart. You need to be willing to do what’s necessary,’ Leandro reflected. Thierry’s youthful idealism might get him through for now, but in time, the boy would either learn the hard way, or be swallowed whole by the same universe he sought to protect.