10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 45 - Handling a Small Child SuperVillain
Cruxius blinked, genuinely stunned. He honestly didn’t remember that—until her blunt words jogged a highly inappropriate memory.
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 smear of his own precum on her skin.
At the time, 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 handsome 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 confirmed it for her. He did do it. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
"...Darithi, shouldn’t you be fixing my image instead of wrecking it?" Cruxius muttered, deadpan.
It was the second time 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 same 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 something far warmer.
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 same dish of escape once again.
"You disgust me!" Thalia yelled, her hands pressing against his rock-hard chest, shoving him toward the exit. The movement made her torn skirt flutter, putting the pale, smooth skin of her bare thigh on full display. "Never show me 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 merely a tool to gain power, and after she called him a dirty pig and sprinted off while he casually let her go, Thalia was something else entirely.
She was simply his.
’I need to take a hot bath. Maybe Thalia will agree to strip down and help me wash my back?’
Location: Metro City - Channel Poggo Broadcasting Tower
Time: 4:22 PM
The street cracked open like a dropped mirror, huge shards of pavement flinging into the air as a colossal centipede, plated in jagged chrome armor, burst out from beneath the concrete. Horns blared. People screamed in terror. Cars swerved violently into each other.
Atop the mechanical 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 megaphone.
"I am Crime 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 me! 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 metallic 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
Time: 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 shimmered 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.
Moments ago, when the massive centipede first rose, her body had hummed 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 cameras. 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 media 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 cameras. This thing’s probably just a mindless rampage. Perfect for your next commercial campaign spot."
>
She muted the call in disgust.
Because something wasn’t right.
As the thick concrete debris settled, her enhanced eyes zoomed in closer on the mechanical beast’s head.
The figure riding the giant centipede... was small. Far too small.
’A kid.’
No visible cybernetic augmentations. No heavy body armor. Just... pure fury. And deep heartbreak.
Volta saw it instantly in the desperate way he gripped the beast’s chrome 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 someone 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 cameras, she instantly moved, her powerful thighs launching her into the sky.
