Chapter 319: The Same Superpower as Lyra’s

Chapter 319: The Same Superpower as Lyra’sThat evening, Lyra and Phelixes came downstairs for dinner. After ordering bread and stew, a familiar figure slid into the seat beside them.

"Hi, I’m Serena. Mind if we get to know each other?" She grinned brightly, her braid swaying as she spoke.

Neither Lyra nor Phelixes answered.

Undeterred, Serena tapped the table and called to the innkeeper. "Tracy, one ham sandwich, please!"

Turning back to Phelixes, she propped her chin on her hand. "I’m a famous doctor around here. You’ve heard of Lyra Shedd, the Valkyrie of the Alliance, right? I have the same healing superpower as her."

Phelixes, hearing her repeat the claim, feigned surprise, his face twisting slightly.

He cast a glance at the impassive Lyra, then raised an eyebrow. "That’s pretty impressive."

"Of course it is," Serena replied, puffing up with pride.

She couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, but she carried herself with a swagger borrowed from the mercenaries she emulated. Pulling out a business card between two fingers, she slid it toward Phelixes.

"If you ever get hurt, just call me. Handsome guys get a twenty percent discount."

She finished with a playful wink, one eyebrow arched higher than the other, her expression a mix of mischief and youthful bravado.

The bystanders, who had been quietly observing, erupted into laughter.

Lucian, however, wasn’t amused. Grabbing the back of Serena’s jacket, he yanked her upright. "You little quack, already hunting for new customers? Why don’t you use that energy to fix my finger? Or give me back my money!"

Serena clutched her purse protectively, shaking her head like a wet puppy. "The money’s already spent! If I can’t fix it, you’re welcome to hit me."

She barely finished the sentence before Lucian cuffed her on the back of the head. "You little fraud!" he spat, before turning to Lyra and Phelixes.

"Don’t let her fool you. She’s always leaving people half-treated. Don’t waste your time with her."

Serena panicked and clung to Phelixes’ arm. "Believe me! My healing powers really are good!"

Lucian shoved her aside. "Mind your business, kid. The grown-ups are talking."

Lyra, who had been silent until now, cast a cold glance in Lucian’s direction. She didn’t speak, but the air around her turned icy.

Lucian seemed to sense the terrifying energy leaking from her and promptly swallowed whatever comment he was about to make.

The others, too, refrained from addressing the pair, returning instead to their own conversations.

Serena wolfed down her sandwich and disappeared into the back of the inn.

Lucian, now feeling chatty, began recounting what he knew about Serena to Phelixes and Lyra.

"Reckless kid came out of an orphanage and rents a storeroom here. She makes a living patching people up. Not that she’s any good at it," he grumbled, adding with a sneer, "Should’ve just stayed in the orphanage instead of pretending to be some big-shot healer. She’s nothing but a fraud."

The innkeeper, Tracy, clad in a leather biker jacket, wiped a glass as she chimed in with the others, "And she’s always late on her rent. If her healing ability wasn’t genuinely useful, I’d have kicked her out long ago."

Tracy’s gaunt face, with its prominent cheekbones, gave her a sharp, almost sour look.

Others around them nodded in agreement, warning Lyra and Phelixes to avoid getting involved with the "little witch."

Lyra, having finished her meal, dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She rose from her seat, and silently headed upstairs.

Lucian nudged Phelixes with his elbow. "Your wife’s always that cold, huh?"

"Pfft—cough, cough!" Phelixes choked, his face turning bright red.

Lucian slid his bowl aside to avoid the mess, frowning in confusion. "What’s with you?"

Taking the glass of water Tracy offered, Phelixes drank a gulp and managed to compose himself. Then, with a serious expression, he clarified, "Don’t say things like that. She’s my sister."

It was true that he admired Lyra, but not in a way that would invite such misunderstandings. To him, Lyra was like the purity of first snow—untouchable and unblemished.

Lucian scratched his head awkwardly. "My bad, didn’t mean anything by it."

"No harm done," Phelixes replied, handing the glass back to Tracy. "Thanks."

Tracy nodded, rolling her eyes at Lucian. "Idiot. What part of those two makes you think they’re married? That one looks more like her boss than the wife."

Tracy’s sharp observation caught Phelixes off guard.

"To be honest," Tracy added, "normal couples, no matter how bad their relationship, at least exchange glances. But this young man—he treats her with such caution, like she’s the center of his world."

Phelixes silently acknowledged her perceptiveness.

After settling both the meal and room charges, Phelixes politely excused himself and headed upstairs. The patrons watched him until he disappeared around the stairwell corner, their curiosity unabated.

Once in the room, he found Lyra standing by the window, looking toward the inn’s backyard.

Serena was there, holding a slightly worn Aesculapius’ Grace, her face a mix of frustration and despair.

"How is it broken again? Where am I supposed to find someone to fix this?" she muttered, slapping the machine in frustration.

The device let out a puff of black smoke, covering Serena’s face in soot.

She froze, coughed out a mouthful of blackened air, and looked comically pitiful. "Cough, cough!"

Phelixes glanced at Lyra, expecting her to comment, but neither one of them was in the mood for idle amusement.

When Serena left the backyard, Lyra nodded toward the window. "Follow her."

For outsiders like them, forming connections in an unfamiliar town was unwise—especially in a place where the locals acted oddly toward them.

Phelixes vaulted out of the window, landing on the roof. Silently, he trailed Serena, keeping to the shadows as she moved away from the town center, bypassing tall buildings until she reached the orphanage on the western outskirts.

As Phelixes observed the orphanage’s surroundings, the sound of slicing wind reached his ears.

Reacting instinctively, he turned and deflected an incoming wind blade with a swift motion.

He frowned at the group of men who emerged from the shadows. "What do you want?"

"Relax," one of them said, smirking. "Our boss just wants to discuss a business proposition."

Phelixes didn’t wait for further explanation. With a few sharp movements, he dispersed the attacks coming his way and leapt from the rooftop to the ground.

As he landed, he noticed Serena standing near the orphanage gate, waving him over. "Hurry, come here!"

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing, before deciding to capture her first. Lowering his stance, he dashed toward her with blinding speed.

But before he could reach her, Serena flicked her wrist, releasing a cloud of white smoke from her sleeve.

Phelixes barely had time to react before dizziness overtook him. His vision blurred, and he staggered before collapsing to the ground.

Serena’s bright, cheery demeanor melted away, replaced by a cold, expressionless face. "Take him," she ordered.

In the inn, Lyra, who had been resting with her eyes closed, suddenly opened them and stood up. She made her way downstairs, her movements unhurried.

"Where are you off to?" Tracy asked with a smile, her sharp eyes watching Lyra carefully. "If you’re heading out for a stroll, be careful. You can go anywhere around here, except..."

She gestured toward a tall building visible from the inn’s doorway, the one marking Jerome’s territory. "A pretty girl like you should stay far away from there."

Lyra nodded slightly, acknowledging the advice, and stepped out of the inn.

Tracy’s smile vanished as she watched Lyra’s retreating figure.

"She going to be okay?" Lucian asked, setting down his glass of liquor.

"Maybe she’ll make it, maybe she won’t," Tracy said with a shrug. "Doesn’t matter either way. After all these years, not even the government’s been able to deal with that bastard. At this point, anyone who tries is worth a shot."

As Lyra walked through the town, she noticed the stares. People glanced her way with expressions that hinted at curiosity, expectation, and even a touch of malice, as if waiting for an inevitable spectacle.

...

Elsewhere, in an opulent room adorned with lavish furnishings, Serena was flung onto a bed with little ceremony.

"Get off me!" she shouted furiously, struggling against the large man pinning her down.

The man pressed his weight onto her, his hands roughly grabbing at her arms and shoulders. Despite her best efforts to kick and push him away, she couldn’t budge his heavy, muscular frame.

"Let go of me!" Serena screamed, her rage blazing as she twisted and thrashed.

The man, wearing a well-tailored suit and with long hair slicked back, sneered down at her. He grabbed her flailing hands and pinned them above her head.

"What’s the matter? Don’t want to save those little brats anymore?" he taunted coldly.