Cruxius blinked, genuinely stunned. He honestly didn’t rember that—until her blunt words jogged a highly inappropriate mory.
When he’d turned his broad body to leave the room, the thick, heavy weight of his erection had swung freely, and he had indeed felt the soft, flushed heat of a woman’s cheek smack wetly against his shaft, leaving a sar of his own precum on her skin.
At the ti, he’d ignored the wet slap, more focused on saving Thalia.
But now... yeah. That definitely happened.
’!?’
"Y-you dirty pig!" Thalia’s mouth hung open, a deep, furious blush spreading down her neck and into her cleavage.
Her shock turned into absolute disbelief, then a trembling hesitation. She looked at Cruxius again, seeing his handso face shift from confused to a dawn of realization.
And worst of all—he didn’t even look remotely sorry. He looked almost amused. That confird it for her. He did do it.
"...Darithi, shouldn’t you be fixing my image instead of wrecking it?" Cruxius muttered, deadpan.
It was the second ti a beautiful woman had called him that—first Volta, now Thalia.
He turned to Darithi, his expression blank, as if she’d betrayed him more than anyone ever could, though his dark eyes raked over the tight fit of her uniform.
"It’s not tainted. Your image is just black, Master," Darithi replied, shaking her head with the sa cold, beautiful gaze she used whenever she told him the uncomfortable truth—he was her master, and she should always be truthful to him, no matter how vulgar the topic.
’Damn this woman...’ Cruxius sighed, then turned his attention back to watch Thalia. Her face was tight, her delicate throat swallowing hard, like she was holding back a mix of mortification and sothing far warr.
She was putting on a whole performance, acting as if she was offended beyond repair by the sheer size of his ego and his anatomy, but he knew better—that girl was cooking up the exact sa dish of escape once again.
"You disgust !" Thalia yelled, her hands pressing against his rock-hard chest, shoving him toward the exit. The movent made her torn skirt flutter, putting the pale, smooth skin of her bare thigh on full display. "Never show your face again, Cruxius Blac!"
"...."
"...."
"Should I catch her, Master?" Darithi asked calmly, her chest rising against her tight shirt as she watched Thalia storm off like a passionate woman who’d just caught her husband cheating.
Darithi didn’t even look at him as she posed the question, her eyes narrowed after seeing the obvious intentions of Thalia, who had once successfully fooled her by using her master’s dominant voice.
"It’s pretty simple, isn’t it..." Cruxius slipped his large hands back into his pockets, his predatory gaze lingering on the seductive sway of Thalia’s hips as she walked away.
She was trying to escape his bed—again—thinking this little tantrum might be her way out.
But unlike Volta, who was rely a tool to gain power, and after she called him a dirty pig and sprinted off while he casually let her go, Thalia was sothing else entirely.
She was simply his.
’I need to take a hot bath. Maybe Thalia will agree to strip down and help wash my back?’
Location: tro City - Channel Poggo Broadcasting Tower
Ti: 4:22 PM
The street cracked open like a dropped mirror, huge shards of pavent flinging into the air as a colossal centipede, plated in jagged chro armor, burst out from beneath the concrete. Horns blared. People scread in terror. Cars swerved violently into each other.
Atop the chanical beast’s crown sat a child-sized figure, his feet barely touching the leather saddle he’d strapped securely between the monster’s twitching antennae. He wore an oversized hoodie covered in colorful badges of old cartoon shows, a pair of rusted goggles pushed over his wild, tear-filled eyes.
He raised a heavy gaphone.
"I am Cri Master Goggo! I love to watch Robo Doggo and today I’m going to destroy the new channel Poggo!" he bellowed, his pre-pubescent voice cracking, not from fear but from raw, unadulterated fury. "You took Robo Doggo from ! So I’m taking YOU off-air forever! No more fake laughs! No more lies! No more mid-season cancellations!"
The giant centipede roared in tallic response, its massive mandibles crashing through the gleaming glass windows of Channel Poggo HQ, violently knocking out a huge section of the broadcast tower.
Two blocks away – Abandoned rooftop
Ti: 4:24 PM
A lush, womanly figure stood completely alone, crouched low beside a cracked concrete water tank. Her vibrant purple hair fluttered wildly in the city wind. The blondish strand within her hair shimred beautifully in the dawning sunlight.
The skin-tight spandex, black with a lustrous sheen of violet, clung to her thick thighs like a second skin. It dipped deeply into the plush, alluring curve of her ass, cinched tightly at her narrow waist before stretching taut over her heavy, braless breasts. The chilly wind caused the rigid peaks of her nipples to press distinctly against the thin, unforgiving fabric. Every breath made her ample chest rise slow—deliberate. Focused.
But it wasn’t the roaring beast she was focused on.
She’d already moved.
Monts ago, when the massive centipede first rose, her body had humd with raw kinetic heat as she zipped across the panicked crowd, her muscular thighs propelling her fast enough to pull six bystanders from certain death.
She didn’t stop to wave her hips for the caras. She didn’t strike a sexy pose. She didn’t wait for applause. She just moved them to safety. Quietly. Efficiently.
No one noticed. That was perfectly fine with her.
Her earpiece comm buzzed, vibrating against her skin.
> "Volta, hold position," her manager’s voice crackled, sharp and calculating. "We’ve tipped off three dia houses. Give them five minutes to set up. When you take that thing down, I want four drones filming every angle of your suit. A clean save, single hit if possible—make it a hero-of-the-month kind of thing."
>
She narrowed her sharp eyes, her enhanced vision zooming in.
Given her mutant ability to convert pure kinetic energy into her own physical strength, and with kinetic energy being one of several sources that, through intense vibrations, bring signals from places inaccessible, her entire body ran hot. She was watching everything—the chaos, the flying dust, the terrified civilians—through a very different, highly sensitive lens than normal humans.
"Got it," she replied, though her voice sounded far less certain, her plush lips pressed into a thin line.
> "Oh, and Volta?" the manager’s voice added smoothly. "Look strong, but sympathetic. Arch your back a little for the caras. This thing’s probably just a mindless rampage. Perfect for your next comrcial campaign spot."
>
She muted the call in disgust.
Because sothing wasn’t right.
As the thick concrete debris settled, her enhanced eyes zood in closer on the chanical beast’s head.
The figure riding the giant centipede... was small. Far too small.
’A kid.’
No visible cybernetic augntations. No heavy body armor. Just... pure fury. And deep heartbreak.
Volta saw it instantly in the desperate way he gripped the beast’s chro shell—not like a hardened warlord commanding a weapon of mass destruction, but like a crying child clinging to the last favorite toy he had left in the world.
She whispered softly to herself, her chest heaving against the tight spandex.
"...What the... He doesn’t even know what he’s doing."
Then her eyes hardened, a fierce, protective heat rushing through her veins.
If that little kid made one wrong move—just one—and soone died in the crossfire, it wouldn’t be a harmless tantrum anymore.
It would be mass manslaughter.
And a kid like that? The ruthless society they lived in wouldn’t care why he did it.
They’d brand him a monster. A villain. Forever.
Without another thought for the caras, she instantly moved, her powerful thighs launching her into the sky.
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