Cruxius muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching.
The very first na that popped into his mind was Nano—a brilliant, ruthless supervillainess. She was one of the few dangerous won in the dark syndicate who perfectly fit all those complex criteria. She was a woman who preferred tight latex and complete digital dominance.
She had single-handedly created the syndicate’s impenetrable firewalls and ranking systems. He had actually tried to contact her earlier at the hospital—but she had completely ignored him.
But why would she even target Thalia’s life? They had absolutely no prior connection.
’No... impossible.’ A flicker of dark doubt rose, but he quickly dismissed it. No one else had miraculously returned to the past like he had—not unless they also possessed a system of their own. He firmly believed that was a one-ti, divine gift ant for his dominance alone.
After all, it was not the System that initially brought him to the past; it was his own latent, awakened ability to turn back ti after his violent death that had been upgraded.
He realized that maybe he only thought about her na simply because he had recently been trying to use the syndicate’s ranking codes. So her image was fresh on his mind, nothing else.
"Master, should I track down and catch that villain for you?" Darithi asked softly. She took a subtle step closer, offering her unquestioning loyalty, her beautiful eyes locking onto the slight, dangerous frown on his handso face.
"No. You need to be right beside for the press conference," Cruxius said, shaking his head and actively pushing aside the spiraling, paranoid thoughts. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. There could still be another, hidden suspect playing a dangerous ga with his toys.
With that, he adjusted his cuffs and walked straight down the corridor toward the hotel’s grand hall, specially arranged for his sudden press conference.
Yet, while moving perfectly in step behind his broad back, Darithi spoke up. Her usually steady, husky voice wavered with genuine hesitation as she inquired about her master’s previous, cold-blooded instructions to endanger the life of the voluptuous hero, Volta.
"Master... what if Ytrisia really dies?"
"I... an, sending her to Saint Regalia Hospital might not be a good choice after all," Darithi said, her husky voice slightly breathless as she trailed behind his long, confident strides. She referred to the highly sensitive information she had given Ytrisia when the voluptuous hero had called to ask about the villain who manipulated the child into attacking the Poggo Channel.
And then, with a shiver that ran straight down her spine, she understood exactly what her dominant master had intended. By giving Ytrisia that false information, he was deliberately sending the hero into a deadly situation where, due to manufactured confusion, she might end up violently clashing with the group of villains hired for the contract killing of Alvian—the dean of the hospital.
"Nah, the branch of the villain syndicate I gave the contract to only had four A-rank villains. They probably wouldn’t act against an ordinary human, so it’d most likely be the lower ones. And Volta’s body is strong enough to handle them," Cruxius replied dismissively.
He finally turned towards the massive, heavy wooden doors. Beside them stood the elite Blac family bodyguards, who imdiately gave him a deep, respectful bow. The heavy doors slid open with a smooth chanical hum, instantly revealing hundreds of hungry reporters, their cara flashes erupting one after another like a violent storm.
"...I see," Darithi murmured, her chest rising against the tight fabric of her uniform as she was taken aback once again. She recalled how, at the hospital, he had casually made a call. At the ti, she hadn’t fully grasped the dark severity of the situation—only feeling a deep, unsettling confusion as to how her master had direct access to high-level contacts among supervillains.
But after hearing him speak so smoothly about his desire to walk the dark path of a supervillain—the very mont he handed those military-grade weapons to that naive child—she knew that things would never be the sa again. His dark allure was intoxicating, and it was pulling her entirely into the abyss with him.
The grand double doors creaked open with slow, deliberate weight, spilling a blinding cascade of flashlights and cara shutters into the hall like a rising tide of electricity.
The massive crowd of journalists and corporate representatives stood hushed, montarily stunned by the sheer, overwhelming arrival of the two figures. They walked with unshakable grace and a silent, predatory dominion.
Cruxius glanced around lazily, spotting dozens of dia channels and reporters swarming from all directions—clearly showing just how heavily his presence weighed on the world as the sole heir of the Blac family.
He took his place at the center podium, resting his large hands on the edges. He was surrounded by microphones that now felt as insignificant as tiny insects before a resting lion.
The heavy silence finally broke.
"Mr. Cruxius! Is it true that an A-rank superhero tried to assassinate you during your stay in Spain?!"
"Can you confirm if it was Ryken—the sa hero rumored to have a highly controversial record of such brutal actions?"
"Did the Hero Association know about the attack beforehand? Was it sanctioned?!"
Cruxius let the chaotic whirlwind stir for a mont longer—this was the absolute perfect ti to ruthlessly poke the self-righteous Hero Association, to ignite a fiery spark he could later fan into a devastating advantage by using Ryken’s attack as heavy leverage.
"Yes," he said, a dark, handso smirk curving his lips as he adjusted the main mic. He added, his deep voice vibrating through the massive speakers, "It’s true. An A-rank superhero, Ryken, assaulted with lethal intent. On foreign soil. Without authorization. In broad moonlight."
Gasps fluttered through the grand hall like dry leaves caught in a sudden, violent wind.
Naturally, everyone was already aware of the leaks—but now they had the cold, official statent from the heir of the Blac family himself, aggressively reigniting a matter that was dangerously close to being buried.
Cruxius leaned in slightly, his broad shoulders dominating the podium, his dark gaze slicing through the sea of widened eyes. "But more than that, I believe we’ve reached a dangerous threshold."
His tone didn’t drop in volu—but it drastically dropped in weight.
’...Oh, my Sugar is also here,’ Cruxius thought, casually scanning the hall mostly filled with frantic reporters.
His eyes paused deliberately on a stunning figure seated among them. She was gazing up at him with deep, piercing ruby eyes. Her tight, immaculate spokesperson attire hugged her generous curves perfectly, the fabric straining slightly across her chest as she took shallow, tense breaths.
But he quickly averted his gaze. She wouldn’t rember him—or care—after he ruthlessly used her soft, beautiful body as a stepping stone to completely ruin the Hero Association in his past life, right before he had killed her.
So, putting her alluring presence aside for now, he focused entirely on the present, preparing to officially unleash his next devastating move against the superheroes.
"I would suggest," he said slowly, deliberately letting the deep timber of his voice wash over the crowd, "that the Hero Association install mandatory, real-ti trackers on every single ranked superhero."
’!?’
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