10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 70- A Beauty Got Smashed

Ytrisia folded her arms tightly beneath her heavy breasts, the motion inadvertently pushing her lush cleavage up against the plunging, loose neckline of her thin hospital gown. She squinted at him as she stepped closer, her bare thighs brushing together—recalling Darithi’s blunt words and aiming her frustration directly at Cruxius. He had been shamelessly stalking her, and not once had his handsome face shown a single shred of remorse.

"..."

Cruxius hadn’t expected that. He stared at Ytrisia’s flushed, indignant face for a moment, his dark gaze dipping briefly to the soft swell of her chest straining against the sterile fabric before he casually turned his head back to the ceiling.

A heavy realization settled in—Darithi messed up.

Most likely, Ytrisia had aggressively questioned Darithi about the highly sensitive information she had received so quickly regarding the person behind the attack on the headquarters of Channel Poggo.

But of all possible, clever excuses, Darithi had chosen the absolute worst one: that Cruxius had explicitly asked her to keep a close eye on Volta. Like some lovestruck, obsessed fool, intimately following his crush in secret.

A strong, bold move from Darithi to act as a supportive wingwoman, maybe—but completely unnecessary right now.

Cruxius sighed quietly. Now that the family head’s strict, demanding calls about the two of them formally dating might have reached her, she would naturally assume he was completely behind it all, using his immense wealth and influence to manipulate her vulnerable situation and force her into loving him back.

Things could have flowed so much more smoothly.

Before, she might have doubted the family head’s intentions. But now, her fiery anger was squarely focused on him. All because of that one tiny, frustrating mistake.

A rogue variable he hadn’t accounted for.

"I did. And she said I should remain near Ytrisia... for protection."

Cruxius definitely knew he felt well-protected lounging beside a hot, voluptuous beauty with a cold face. The night was beautiful—one of those rare, electric nights that could become even more intimately memorable... if he managed to score a few physical points with her.

He casually glanced toward the expansive glass window of the 24th-floor room.

"And why is that?" Ytrisia asked, clearly confused by his words. The thin hospital gown slipped slightly off one creamy shoulder as she shifted her weight. She noticed his dark eyes briefly flick to his sleek phone before he slowly, deliberately tore a long piece of the white bedsheet and began wrapping it tightly around his handsome face.

Her confusion only deepened.

"Well... a superhero is about to attack me. Because of that press conference," Cruxius said matter-of-factly, casually picking up the remote and switching on the flat-screen television mounted on the wall.

He knew Volta—Ytrisia—might not be fully aware of the dominating press conference he’d just held. As the screen lit up, the urgent news broke like a blaring siren.

// Breaking News: The heir of the Blac family condemns superheroes for unethical behavior and self-serving agendas. Are heroes really what they claim to be? Let’s take a look at his explosive statements... //

’!’

"Wh-What?" Ytrisia’s wide, amethyst eyes shot back to Cruxius, completely stunned as the scathing report played for a few more minutes.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing—he had actually said those dangerous things? Publicly?

"Come on. You know some heroes are literal psychos," Cruxius replied casually, his broad chest rising in a lazy shrug as he adjusted the makeshift fabric mask around his face.

Only his dark, calculating eyes were visible now—his raven hair, his mouth, and his sharp jawline completely hidden beneath the torn bedsheet.

He had to look like a helpless, terrified victim after all.

Play the pathetic part.

Because any moment now, a furiously angry, misunderstood hero was going to violently burst through that window.

"I mean... I do. But the Hero Association would never—" Ytrisia began, her breath hitching, trying to desperately reason it out.

There was absolutely no way they’d ruthlessly attack over a simple press conference, right?

Not when the man giving it wasn’t just some average government lackey—but the untouchable, wildly wealthy heir of the Blac family.

Why would they respond so violently and make things infinitely worse by proving his dark words true?

BAM! 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Her panicked thoughts were cut off—literally—by a deafening, shattering explosion of thick glass.

’!?!’

Her beautiful purple eyes widened in sheer, paralyzing disbelief as the heavy, reinforced window shattered inward like fragile tissue paper. A violent gust of freezing night air rushed into the room, whipping her thin hospital gown violently against her lush curves.

A massive, armored clawed hand reached through the jagged wreckage, grabbing Cruxius brutally by the neck.

"Argh!"

"Cruxius!" Ytrisia screamed, her husky voice tearing through the sterile room.

"Kurgh!" With a deafening crash, the reinforced window shattered—shards scattering like lethal glass rain—as a powerful, leather-clad hand clamped brutally around his neck, lifting his heavy frame clean off the ground. The grip was vice-like, crushing and unnaturally precise. He gasped, his large hands instinctively clawing at her smooth, muscular arm, struggling to drag air into his burning lungs.

"Cruxius!" Ytrisia’s husky voice cut through the thick tension, sharp with genuine alarm, as the pale moonlight illuminated the dangerous intruder from the side.

Cruxius squinted through the sting of glass dust in the cold air—and completely froze.

And then he truly saw her.

Goddamn.

A breathtakingly mature beauty.

Not some bulky armored tank or boring tactical getup—she wore an obscenely short, skin-tight skirt that barely covered the plush curve of her thick ass.

Glossy black thigh-high boots hugged her long, meaty thighs, leaving a tantalizing strip of bare, pale skin exposed. Her sleek top was practically painted onto her torso, her massive cleavage front and center, bouncing heavily with every ragged breath. No padding, absolutely no shame.

Just her heavy breasts thrust out proudly—firm, deeply flushed, and practically spilling over the plunging neckline with every subtle, lethal move. Her waist was cinched tight, hips impossibly wide, her lush body built exactly like a violent wet dream on steroids.

Cruxius’s dark eyes locked shamelessly onto her dangerous curves, slowly dragging his gaze up to her beautiful face—long, wild hair, piercing yellow eyes that were currently turning toward him, widening slightly as if she intrinsically knew what his perverted mind was about to say. With a dark smirk, he rasped out, "Ytrisia, don’t be jealous, but she’s got a lot more meat on her bones than you."

BANG!

’Tch. What a violently jealous woman,’ Cruxius thought lazily as the world began to slow down and flip upside down.

The voluptuous superheroine who had grabbed his neck completely blurred from his vision, her thick body launched sideways as if she had been hit by a speeding freight train.

His heavy body remained suspended in mid-air for a split second before crashing hard to the cold floor.

Thud.

Swoosh.

A hot, purple wave of kinetic energy surged violently through the sterile room, hurling medical documents into the air and rattling the very floor beneath their bodies.

Cruxius realized Ytrisia’s athletic figure had just ruthlessly punched the heavy-chested beauty—whose face he couldn’t remember from his past life.

He was absolutely sure he’d remember riding curves like hers.

"...What are you doing here?"