Chapter 275: Cohen and Lyra?

Chapter 275: Cohen and Lyra?Chuck had always been the black sheep of the Whyte family—a slacker who seemed content to drift through life while his family thrived on discipline and ambition. But in this rare moment, Cohen found himself begrudgingly agreeing with Chuck’s pragmatic outlook.

Cohen had spent his military career far removed from the murkier depths of military politics. He focused on his duties, maintaining strict discipline among his subordinates and avoiding the scandals he had only heard about in hushed whispers.

On Wyrmtrace, his command was tight and clean, the kind of unit where even the smallest infraction would be swiftly dealt with.

Yet, during the recent Legion Glory reunion, he had been thrust face-first into a reality he couldn’t ignore.

"This is so unfair to the victims," Cohen muttered, his voice low, but filled with frustration.

Chuck leaned against the wall, his usual air of laziness giving way to something sharper. "And what would fairness even look like?" he asked, his tone unexpectedly somber. "Unless Orson loses his command entirely, nothing will truly change."

Cohen’s jaw tightened. Stripping a Vice Admiral of their authority was practically unthinkable—an action reserved for egregious offenses, the kind committed by someone like Ansel, whose crimes were too monstrous to overlook.

As much as Cohen hated to admit it, Chuck’s assessment was painfully accurate.

Chuck shrugged and continued, "Fairness only exists when both sides have equal power. When one side has all the authority, the weaker party is always at a disadvantage."

Cohen remained silent, the weight of those words settling over him.

"You want justice? Then climb higher. Your father, as the Fleet Admiral, has to think beyond just right and wrong. He has to balance the entire system. One day, when you’re in his position, you’ll understand." Chuck gave Cohen a light pat on the shoulder and walked off, his usual carefree attitude slipping back into place.

The sheer scale of Legion Glory made the conversation hit harder.

With over twenty Rear Admirals and countless officers beneath them, scandals were inevitable. Even Frederick, the fourth-generation leader of the Legion, couldn’t exert full control over such a sprawling organization.

Yet Chuck had been right about something else too—Frederick was grooming Cohen for leadership, preparing him to shoulder this immense responsibility. The question was: could Cohen accept the compromises that came with it?

For a long moment, Cohen stood there, unmoving. Finally, he took a step he’d never dared before, using his special privileges to access the Legion’s disciplinary records.

What he found shattered what remained of his faith in the system.

Orson, the perpetrator of the vile incident, had received nothing more than a formal warning. For someone of his rank, it was a meaningless gesture—a token punishment to sweep the matter under the rug.

Meanwhile, Orson remained as smug as ever.

When he heard that Cohen had entrusted Lyra with his "prey," Orson almost laughed out.

"So young, so naive," he muttered under his breath before making a series of calls. With confidence in his every step, he went directly to Frederick’s office.

"Sir, I propose that Lyra take command of the X21 Vanguard Regiment," Orson declared, his tone righteous and his posture stiff with faux dignity.

Across the room, Chuck sipped his coffee, barely masking his disdain for Orson’s theatrics. His eyes followed every calculated move Chuck made, his expression one of faint, amused contempt.

Frederick’s gaze remained steady as he listened. "Cohen intends to assign Lyra to his command," he replied curtly.

Cohen’s division was a powerhouse—a well-oiled unit of five regiment and a Special Forces team, filled with soldiers he had personally vetted and trained.

Recently, one of his Lieutenant Commanders had been promoted and reassigned, leaving a vital vacancy Cohen planned to fill with Lyra. Her battlefield prowess made her the perfect fit.

But Orson dismissed the idea with a casual wave of his hand. "With all due respect, sir, I think Cohen should maintain his distance from her. Women like Lyra often have ulterior motives. Besides, their personalities clash. They’re like two monarchs in a chess game—both vying for control. Who’s to say whose hands Legion Glory will ultimately end up in?"

Frederick didn’t reply immediately. His face remained impassive as Orson continued to press his point before finally retreating with a self-satisfied smirk.

Once the door shut behind him, Frederick wasted no time. He contacted three other Vice Admirals, proposing that Lyra be reassigned to their command instead. Each one declined, their excuses vague and transparent. Words like "unsuitability" and "logistical challenges" littered their responses, but the underlying truth was clear: none of them wanted Lyra.

When the final call ended, Frederick’s face darkened.

As the final communication line cut off, Frederick’s face darkened, his expression a storm of suppressed frustration. Chuck, leaning casually nearby, sighed as if resigned to the inevitable.

"He’s already coordinated with the others," Chuck remarked. "Even if you force Lyra into their command, they can still shuffle her around through internal transfers. She won’t escape their grasp."

The Legion Glory was a delicate balance of power. The four Vice Admirals collectively commanded nearly a million soldiers, while Frederick himself held authority over 800,000.

If those Vice Admirals ever sought independence, even without the full loyalty of their troops, they could fragment the Legion enough to undermine Frederick’s command.

Especially in this state of wartime emergency, Frederick had to tread carefully.

Soon after, orders were finalized and sent out.

*****

The rapid clatter of approaching footsteps broke the heavy silence outside the office.

Chuck glanced at Frederick’s tense expression, then set his coffee down and went to intercept the newcomer.

"You won’t accomplish anything by barging in there," Chuck warned, blocking the door. "Don’t make a scene."

"Father, you’re forcing her into this!" Cohen’s voice, uncharacteristically loud and full of emotion, broke through.

For the first time, Chuck saw his usually composed nephew in complete disarray. Cohen had never referred to Frederick as "father" within the military before.

"If you need her to fight the Stellar Devourer," Cohen continued in a furious rush, "why are you sacrificing her to power games?" His outburst drew the attention of passing officers who glanced toward the scene, wide-eyed. It was rare to see Cohen this agitated.

Chuck struggled to restrain Cohen, eventually managing to pull him aside. "You have to trust your father. He’ll find another way."

Cohen’s glare bore into the closed office doors, his frustration palpable. Then, with a sharp turn, he stormed away, his white cape flaring behind him like a banner of unyielding conviction.

His ideals, pure and uncompromising, would not bend to political machinations.

*****

Inside the office, Cohen sat in brooding silence for a long time before he regained his composure. The tension hung in the air until a soft knock broke through.

Mandy stepped in.

"Captain," she said with quiet determination, "I have a request."

"You want to return to her side?" Cohen asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

"Yes," Mandy affirmed, her expression resolute. "It was Lyra’s and my agreement. I vowed to become her strongest ally, her right hand."

Cohen’s lips tightened. "Do you realize she’s already made Aurelius her adjutant? Adjutants are limited to two per commander. How can you be so sure that you’ll be chosen?

Mandy hesitated for a fraction of a second but then broke into a confident smile. "I may not become her adjutant, but she’ll leave a place for me. The one most suited to my abilities."

Cohen was momentarily taken aback, his mind flickering to the memory of Lyra’s unwavering determination. Cold as she was, her sheer resolve drew people to her.

Perhaps that was her true strength—her ability to inspire loyalty through her clarity of purpose.

"Fine," Cohen finally said. "Once her reassignment is complete, you can go." He stood abruptly, a decision crystallizing in his mind. He wanted to see her for himself.

When Cohen arrived, the orders for Lyra’s promotion and reassignment to lead the X21 Vanguard Regiment had just been finalized.

Aurelius, still adjusting to the new reality, looked as though he had been handed a cruel twist of fate.

Earlier, he had celebrated his escape from one harsh posting, only to find himself thrown back into an even harsher one.

"Why won’t HE leave me alone?" Aurelius grumbled, his handsome features twisted into a scowl.

Slumping onto a bench in the base’s training field, he clutched his head, staring blankly into the distance like a man on the verge of breaking.

"Facing someone like HIM again, I’d rather die." His voice was low and bitter, the words escaping like a curse.

Lyra, standing nearby, shot him a cold glance. "If you’re ready to die, why not take your enemies down with you first?"

Her sharp retort cut through Aurelius’ self-pity. Despite his despair, his bitterness didn’t mask his stubborn will. "I won’t die," he said through gritted teeth. "Not until I’ve dealt with them all. Even if I have to grovel, I’ll survive."

"Don’t forget," Lyra said icily, "you’re my subordinate now."

Aurelius stiffened. The woman standing before him bore no resemblance to the younger, greener version he had met during the AMAT campaign. Her face, now hardened and defined, reflected only cold ambition and unshakable confidence.

When Cohen arrived, this was the Lyra he saw—a woman who no longer needed protection or concern. His worries, he realized, had been completely unnecessary.