Intergalactic conquest with an AI-Chapter 421: The enemy within. {9}

"Keep a tight perimeter! Don't let that thing escape! Shoot on sight!"

The voice of the squad leader echoed sharply through the camp's loudspeakers, ringing across the smoky battlefield like a war drum. Every soldier heard the order, and now there was no room for confusion. The hunt was on.

Within minutes, dozens of soldiers had converged on the crash zone. They formed a wide circle, surrounding the area where Lyra had fallen. Their weapons were raised while their eyes scanned for movement. The air felt electric with tension.

"Team Four reporting! we have visual contact!"

"Team Three also has visual! Crimson energy spotted!"

A pulsing, blood-red sphere sat in the center of a small crater, half-buried in ash and dust. The squads took cautious steps, fanning out to form a secure perimeter; each soldier was ready to open fire at the slightest movement.

"Bring the flamethrowers! Burn it down from a safe distance! Be ready for anything that comes out of it!" shouted one of the squad leaders.

A group of flamethrowers rushed forward, tanks strapped to their backs, nozzles in hand. They prepared to light the sphere ablaze... but they never got the chance.

In the blink of an eye, Lyra struck.

She emerged not from the sphere, but from the shadows behind one of the tents, silent and swift like a hunting panther. One heartbeat she wasn't there, the next, she was inside the flame squad.

And then they were dead with their limbs twisted, throats torn, and helmets crushed. It all happened so quickly that none of them even screamed.

"She's here! Open fire! Kill it! Kill it!" a soldier shouted in panic while already unloading his entire magazine toward Lyra.

Others followed suit, and soon after rifles roared, energy bolts sizzled through the smoke, and the air turned into a deadly storm of gunfire.

But Lyra didn't fall.

The bullets punched holes through her body; even though they were clean, direct hits, the wounds closed almost instantly, her flesh knitting together with a sound like wet silk. It was as if she were made of living liquid, untouchable and unkillable.

"AAAAAAHHHHH!!"

Lyra screamed with a wild, guttural sound that echoed through the night like a dying god's wrath. With inhuman strength, she hurled the lifeless bodies of the flame squad toward the soldiers still firing; the corpses crashed into them like meteors.

And then her hand clenched into a fist. Each body she had thrown detonated, the blood inside them bursting outward in a wave of lethal crimson spikes.

Like shrapnel from blood-made grenades, the spikes tore through unshielded soldiers in a shower of gore. Screams erupted as men were impaled mid-run, thrown backward, or pierced to walls or vehicles.

Those with active energy shields managed to survive but not without cost. Their barriers flickered and dimmed, drained by the impact. Their advantage was shrinking with every second.

"Spread out! Don't let her use the bodies against us!" a squad leader yelled into his comms while dodging a flying corpse headed straight for him.

"Oh crap! Move!"

He tried to run, diving for cover as the body soared over his head. He grinned to himself, thinking he had outsmarted her.

{Hah! I had time! You can't beat me, monster! I'm smarter than—}

But then, from above, a second wave of blood spikes rained down from the sky.

His shield flared brightly, absorbing the first few but then it failed with a high-pitched whine. The next spike went clean through his chest, lifting him off the ground and nailing him to the wall behind.

"Shit… that's cheating…" he choked, blood dribbling from his lips before his body went limp while being held upright only by the spike.

By now, panic was spreading through the ranks. Soldiers were scattering, hiding, and trying to regroup, but Lyra was unstoppable.

Her power had reached its peak.

The golden blood of Rex surged through her veins like liquid sunfire. As a member of the Blood Clan, Lyra could draw strength from the blood she consumed, but that was usually no more than 25% of the original owner's might.

But she was different.

She was one of the twins blessed with a strange, unexplained ability that let her wield 100% of Rex's power for a short time.

And this time… something had changed.

The blood she drank wasn't scavenged in battle or stolen through violence. It had been gifted to her. It was a sacred offering, given by Rex before she set foot on this planet.

It was stronger... Purer....Wilder.

Too wild....

Her body began to glow with unstable energy. The air around her shimmered with heat, and her wings flared wide, streaked with glowing gold veins. Her eyes no longer looked human... they were stars.

She could no longer control it. At this point, Lyra wasn't a warrior, or a woman, or even a soldier anymore. She was a beast, a living storm, unchained and roaring with divine fury.

And the soldiers were trapped in her path.

"Don't get close to that beast!" the camp commander shouted out his order, his voice blaring through the high-powered speakers that echoed across the battlefield.

"Spread out! Open the circle; give her space! We're bringing in the heavy weapons! Squad leaders, deploy more flamethrowers and protect them at all costs!"

The moment the order left his lips, the entire encampment came alive.

The heavy machine gunners stationed atop the tanks immediately opened fire, their weapons spitting out high-caliber tracer rounds that lit up the night like fireworks.

The thunder of their guns rolled across the ground in waves. Meanwhile, the medium-sized armored vehicles unleashed their rotating laser turrets, spraying concentrated beams of searing light toward Lyra's position.

The bullets were little more than annoying pinpricks to Lyra's body, barely tearing her skin before her regeneration kicked in. But the lasers… those were different.

Where bullets bruised, lasers burned.

They sizzled against her flesh, leaving glowing scars that refused to close. Even in her frenzied, half-mad state, some sliver of instinct still lived within her. That primal, combat-honed awareness screamed danger, and she reacted.

Lyra began leaping and weaving through the chaos with terrifying speed, using the corpses and even live soldiers around her as living shields. Whenever possible, she dove at flamethrower squads, seeking to kill them before they could roast her again.

But now, the enemy was smarter. The soldiers moved in tight formation, guarding the flamethrower troopers with interlocking shields and coordinated fire. And it worked, at least for a moment.

One of the flamers got a clean shot, spraying white-hot fire across Lyra's back. The flames clung to her, eating through flesh and burning away regenerative tissues faster than they could rebuild. Lyra screamed, twisted, and thrashed in pain, but the fire didn't stop her.

If anything, it made her angrier.

The blood around her stirred like a beast. In a flash, the ground around her became soaked in red. Dozens of fresh corpses fed her, and from that crimson sea, a series of glowing rings appeared, the crimson rings of death.

They expanded and retracted rapidly in pulses, slicing through the air with bone-chilling hums. The rings shredded everything within a 20-meter radius, denting the sides of armored vehicles, tearing metal plating, and sending chunks of steel flying.

"Commander, she's gotten even stronger!" a nearby officer shouted while peering through the enhanced night vision of his helmet. "The frontline's collapsing! the vehicles are taking hits!"

The commander, now standing tall at the center of the camp, remained cold and focused. His eyes didn't leave the sky as he responded. "Doesn't matter. We only need to hold her off a little longer... Reinforcements have arrived."

As if summoned by his words, three frigates descended from the heavens like silent giants. Their bulky forms loomed above the battlefield with their thrusters glowing and their weapon systems already deployed. Each one carried massive turret arrays now locked onto Lyra's position.

She didn't even notice... she was too focused, ripping a turret off one of the armored vehicles with sheer brute force, blood dripping from her cracked fingers.

And then... the frigates fired.

Massive artillery shells screamed through the air and crashed into the battlefield with deafening fury. Explosions rippled across the encampment, shaking the ground and sending fire and dirt into the sky like volcanic eruptions. Soldiers ducked, tanks rocked, and even the hardened bunkers groaned under the shockwaves.

It was like watching the wrath of gods.

"Cease fire!" the commander ordered again while shouting, his voice cutting through the static. "Take this chance to reposition! Expand the encirclement! armored units, fall back! Damaged units, retreat and regroup!"

The surviving soldiers moved fast, many limping or dragging wounded comrades, trying to obey before the next phase of the battle began. The air was thick with smoke and ash, making it nearly impossible to see.

The commander stood firm, waiting... and then, through the thinning haze...

"...Unbelievable…" murmured the soldier with night vision while adjusting his scope.

From within the smoke, a figure slowly emerged or more like what remained of her.

Her body was torn apart, with huge portions of her arms and legs missing, ribs exposed, and one wing entirely gone. Golden and crimson blood dripped from her open wounds, hissing as it touched the ground.

Her breathing was ragged, and her posture unsteady. She looked like a ghost... half-dead and barely standing.

But she was standing and even now, slowly… regenerating.

The wounds were closing slower than before, yes, but it was happening. Chunks of muscle pulsed and reformed. Bone fused. Veins stitched themselves together. Her fingers twitched, curling into weak fists. Her one remaining eye glowed faintly with that eerie crimson light.

She was still alive.

"Impossible..." the commander muttered as he stared at her. "She's still moving after that?"

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