Normally, silencing an average human, committing dirty cris in secret without attracting dia attention—these things happened on a small scale all the ti, as superheroes were also human, driven by their own base desires and greed.
However, there was a strict limit to how far they could pursue soone, especially a man like Cruxius, who was presently in the blinding dia spotlight and backed by his family’s imnse wealth.
A clearly stupid decision and a wildly reckless action.
It seed as though they didn’t care about anyone except themselves, and this unprovoked attack on Cruxius revealed that they saw themselves as absolute, untouchable gods.
They did not care about dia judgnt, people’s sentints, or the laws taking action against them, simply because the governnt had been forgiving and was using taxpayers’ money to deal with their ssy collateral damage.
’Things seem ssy... what should I do?’ Eventide thought, her thick thighs shifting nervously as she realized the highly compromising situation had already caused massive misunderstandings.
Instead of dwelling on how Cruxius had that untraceable phone or wondering about the dark coincidence of his press conference followed by those encrypted ssages that led her here—where she arrived after tracking his signal—she knew there were far too many doubts.
But all of those had to be set aside for now. Things would only beco critically fatal if he brought this bloody matter to the outside world.
Additionally, it was painfully clear that Cruxius, based on his deep, velvety voice, was definitely not the person who had sent the ssage.
"You see, Ytrisia—"
"Young master Cruxius, it seems I made a terrible mistake and took you for soone else," Eventide interrupted him, her chest rising as she realized this was a desperate chance to clear the air.
She turned to face him, preparing to use her feminine charm, only to find that his dark gaze, which had been fixed on Ytrisia, was now directed downward instead of toward her eyes.
She followed the dark trajectory of his gaze.
It was locked dead center on her massive, heavily exposed cleavage.
"Why fake?"
Cruxius asked with a blank expression, his deep voice dropping flat.
He had intimately t this woman in his past life, though not in her present, voluptuous identity, but as sothing else entirely.
And back then, she absolutely didn’t have those... heavy assets.
Back then, she was completely flat.
"Sorry?" Eventide appeared flushed and confused, glancing down at her own bursting top and then looking back at him with a tilted, nervous gaze.
’Must be her ability,’ Cruxius realized with dark amusent.
Her atomic manipulation allowed her to aggressively rearrange her body’s atomic structure into any lush, hyper-sexualized form she desired.
Maybe she had taken on this thick, heavy-chested form specifically for him... for him to bask in and lust after.
But now that he understood that the alluring at was entirely synthetic, his rising heat instantly vanished, leaving only a cold, detached predatory instinct.
"I ant, why fake things?" Cruxius continued coldly. "Even if I suppose it was a mistake, you were going to violently attack soone looking like this. And suppose, instead of , that soone didn’t have a beautiful superhero beside them to protect them? You most likely would have slaughtered them." He stared at Eventide’s curves with cold, dead eyes, rarely looking at anyone with such dominant firmness, before adding, "Am I right or wrong?"
"N-no, the person, I—" Eventide stamred, a bead of sweat rolling down the deep valley of her chest. Hearing Cruxius casually condemn her for an unethical attack made her realize she had to choose her words incredibly carefully—this situation was deadly serious.
One wrong, sudden move could ignite a far greater, global problem.
She had unknowingly grabbed the untouchable heir of the Blac family by his throat.
Superheroes had raw physical power, yes, but the real, terrifying power lay much deeper—in the economy, in the corrupt system.
Superheroes and supervillains alike didn’t live on powers alone.
They desperately needed resources, dark influence, and most of all—wealthy funders.
The Blac family was one of the Hero Association’s largest, most vital backers.
If anything happened to Cruxius’s handso body, they might retaliate with devastating financial and military force.
In such a bloody case, the hero responsible—whether directly or indirectly—would be cast out and hunted without hesitation.
And considering Cruxius had already been brutally attacked once, it would be painfully obvious that the Hero Association was intentionally targeting the Blac heir.
"So, another pathetic excuse," Cruxius muttered, shaking his head. He slowly stepped past Eventide, completely ignoring her lush, trembling body, and approached Ytrisia. He vastly preferred the hot, natural weight of real beauty over a synthetic, plastic doll.
Eventide turned her head slightly, catching a sidelong glance at his broad back, her confusion deepening—yet sensing her bright future dimming with each passing second.
’...Should I just kill him...?’ The dark thought slithered smoothly through her mind. If she killed his arrogant ass right now and blad it on a rogue supervillain, maybe things wouldn’t escalate.
But with Volta standing right there, it was impossible to act unnoticed.
Her soft fists clenched tight, and her head lowered—not in sha, but in silent, simring frustration.
anwhile, Cruxius saw a golden opportunity in the chaotic tension.
He recognized her fleeting hesitation and sought to violently twist it to his own advantage.
"Let’s go, Ytrisia," he said softly—almost tenderly—but there was absolutely nothing tender in what imdiately followed.
In a swift, fluid motion, Cruxius pulled a small, wicked blade from his tailored pants pocket, tucking his long fingers around it before casually flicking it directly toward Eventide.
Her superhuman reflexes kicked in instantly.
Years of brutal training had made her incredibly fast—her smooth arm darted out, catching the sharp blade effortlessly mid-air.
But in that split second, she was only left deeply confused as to why Cruxius would randomly throw a tiny blade at her.
Too confused.
Unbeknownst to her, by catching the weapon, she gave him exactly what his dark mind wanted.
"Wha—" she started, her lips parting, but Cruxius had already turned his solid fra to Ytrisia.
Without warning, he shoved Ytrisia’s soft body—not violently, but with a firm, dominant push—toward the broken window behind them.
"Wait—!" Ytrisia stumbled, the sudden movent causing her thin gown to ride high up her pale thighs, the jagged edge of shattered glass glinting dangerously in the dim moonlight.
Then Cruxius lunged forward, wrapping his muscular arms tightly around her lush curves. His grip was absolute—one strong arm securing across her delicate shoulders, the other large hand gripping her waist before aggressively sliding down to firmly cup her plush ass.
He wasn’t just catching her. He was jumping with her.
He needed a beautiful, highly credible human shield—and her voluptuous body was perfect for it.
His hold on her was incredibly firm, intensely possessive, his fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her rear as though valiantly shielding her from the deadly fall he had entirely orchestrated himself.
They both tumbled backward out of the shattered window together, the freezing night air whipping around them.
"Ytrisia! Dodge!" Cruxius shouted mid-air, his deep voice sharp, desperately urgent—and entirely deliberate.
It was loud enough for anyone on the streets below to hear.
A heroic cry that twisted the narrative truth in one elegant, manipulative motion, like a dark dagger turned deep in the heart of public perception.
Instinctively, Ytrisia turned her head, her purple hair whipping across her face as she looked back up toward the broken window.
And she saw it perfectly.
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