Transmigrated as the Mary Sue: The Villainess's Revenge System | Chapter 77 | The Valkyrie's Gambit | Novela.app

Breaking News Flash We have just received the latest report from the Interstellar Communication Station regarding a large-scale attack occurring between space lanes A1 and C3. The Federation Government has urgently dispatched military personnel to handle the situation. The cause of the attack remains unknown, though rumors suggest the involvement of alien species. Currently, numerous civilian spacecraft have been affected and are reported missing. The Department of Aerospace is cross-referencing previously issued flight permits; internal sources reveal that the satirical writer Feliscatus happened to be aboard one of the vessels, along with several political and business dignitaries. We are still awaiting an official press release from the Department. We will bring you further updates as they become available. Thank you for watching. --------------------------- The black sedan tore across the desolate highway, its engine roaring in a rhythmic, mechanical scream that echoed against the jagged rock formations lining the route. Behind them, the persistent whine of a low-flying pursuit craft cut through the air, a predatory shadow that refused to be shaken. The aircraft hovered at a calculated distance, its pilot clearly hesitant to open fire while Emily Vrataski—the Union’s celebrated spokesperson and high-ranking Colonel—remained "captive" within the speeding vehicle. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of tension. Que Tang stared out the window, her gaze sharp and expectant as she scanned the passing blur of the forest. Her wine-red hair, a stark contrast to the sterile military grays she usually wore, whipped slightly in the turbulent air leaking through the seals. Finally, a flash of movement amidst the dense treeline caught her eye—the signal she had been waiting for. "If this mission fails here, the consequences will be catastrophic," Emily muttered, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned a ghostly white. For the first time in her storied career, the composed Colonel allowed a curse to slip past her lips, a testament to the sheer pressure of their gambit. Que Tang turned away from the window, her expression softening into a gentle, almost serene smile that seemed entirely out of place in a high-speed chase. "Don't worry," she said, her voice a soothing balm against the roar of the engines. "Whatever it is you want to achieve, I will do everything in my power to help you." As she spoke, Que Tang reached out. Her left hand moved with a deliberate, lingering grace, her fingers brushing through the hair at the back of Emily’s head before sliding down to the shell of her ear. She kneaded the earlobe gently, a gesture of startling intimacy that caused Emily’s breath to hitch. Emily’s face flushed a deep crimson, her stoic mask momentarily crumbling. "Stop messing around," she hissed, though she didn't pull away. But the moment of levity was short-lived. Her eyes widened as she looked back at the road. "What in the...?" Ahead, the highway was no longer empty. A fleet of rugged, armored vehicles had swerved into a jagged line, effectively sealing off the path. Emily slammed on the brakes, the tires shrieking in protest as the car skidded. With a sharp tug on the steering wheel, she veered toward the shoulder, trying to find a gap, but the blockade was absolute. "That’s the insignia of the rebels," Que Tang noted calmly, pointing toward the stylized eagle claw painted in harsh white across the lead vehicle's chassis. "Drive straight toward them." Though confusion flickered in Emily’s eyes, she chose to trust the woman beside her. She swung the car back onto the asphalt, decelerating as they approached the armed convoy. Through the windshield, the glint of multiple laser sights danced across the dashboard—a silent warning that they were being watched by dozens of hidden marksmen. Ten meters from the front line, Emily brought the car to a full stop. A voice boomed over a loudspeaker, harsh and demanding. "Identification and pass!" Que Tang didn't hesitate. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the swirling dust, her hands raised high in a gesture of feigned surrender. In her right hand, she clutched the small, unassuming card she had retrieved from the depths of the old library. A man clad in mismatched tactical gear stepped forward, squinting at her through the haze. After a moment of realization, he burst into a raucous, mocking laugh. "Well, well! Look at this, boys! The Union’s very own Valkyrie has come to seek refuge with us!" A wave of derisive laughter rippled through the rebel ranks, but Que Tang remained unmoved. Her eyes, cold and predatory as a hawk’s, locked onto the man. "Il didn't mention you were such a talker," she said, her voice carrying clearly despite the wind. "Are the preparations ready or not? The Union’s heavy hitters are right on our tail. The nearest military district is less than twenty kilometers from here, and they aren't known for their patience." The laughter died down instantly as the weight of her words settled over the clearing. The game had moved beyond mere words; the storm was finally here.