10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 81- Mass Hackings

But her hand had already taken the cheque, her fingers brushing against his for a fraction of a second.

Ytrisia stood with her mouth open beside her, similarly struck silent, her eyes darting between the two. Cruxius was already rising from his seat, his guards falling into formation around him with practiced, lethal grace. He moved toward the door without looking back, the coat draped over his shoulders swaying with his stride.

His plan had been to win Lira over. To impress her. To begin something carefully.

Fate, as usual, had its own schedule.

"Master, what happened?"

Darithi was beside him the moment he cleared the door, her heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement as she matched his pace. Ytrisia followed close behind, her breath hitching slightly from the sudden tension.

Darithi had been watching the whole time. She’d noticed the change in his expression while he was eating—the way his throat moved when he reached for the water, the faint, satisfied reaction that confirmed it. He could taste. Really taste.

She had been quietly preparing to approach the cook—to offer her a position at the main estate. Something structured, close, manageable.

Whatever he had just handed that girl suggested entirely different, far more aggressive intentions.

"Darithi," Cruxius said sharply, already reaching for his phone as he stepped toward the car. "Tell Ermond to shut down our servers. Stop all online activity across the subsidiaries—now."

"But Master, the losses would be in the millions—"

He was already dialing, his thumb moving with a cold, frantic precision.

She hesitated for a single beat, then recognized the predatory look in his eyes and pulled out her own phone without another word. She had limited direct authority—the most she could do was relay the order through the butler and let it carry the young master’s name. But seeing him dial straight to the head of the family, her movements became frantic.

The call connected.

A gruff voice, slow and skeptical:

// Brat? //

Something tugged at the corner of Cruxius’s mouth—a ghost of a bitter smile that he didn’t let become anything. His father’s voice, after years of silence—and the first word out of his mouth was still brat.

"Father," he said, cutting past the greeting. "Shut it all down. Every company. Full system lockdown. Now."

// ..... //

A pause from the other end—longer than expected. When the voice returned, there was something underneath it. Not just surprise at the urgency. Something else. Like a man who had hoped, briefly, that the call might be something other than business.

// What happened? //

"It will happen soon enough. I’ll explain later. Just do it."

// You realize what you’re saying? We’ll lose billions—live contracts, real-time systems, years of— //

"Do it, Father." Steel. Flat and final. "A supervillain with S-rank hacking capability is about to target us."

’!’

Silence.

Then, all resistance gone from the voice:

// ...Alright. //

The call ended.

Cruxius sat back in the leather seat of the car, one hand over his mouth, the other resting still on his knee. He could feel the engine’s low vibration beneath him.

Which one will make the next move?

He was still inside the thought when a voice tore through the alley, a screeching electronic distortion loud enough to turn heads and make the air vibrate—

"I WILL KILL YOU! CRUXIUS BLAC!"

’!?’

Far away, within the main estate mansion of the Blac family.

The call landed in the room like a stone dropped in still water. Silence rippled outward from it.

Seated at the head of the table was a man whose mustache gave his face a particular weight—the kind that came not just from age but from decades of decisions that had no good options. His fingers tapped the mahogany table in a slow, measured rhythm. Thinking.

"My lord," Ermond said from the side, his voice low and urgent, "I’ve just received word from Darithi as well. The situation appears to be serious."

They had full confidence in their firewall systems. But they also knew the young master—when he moved with this level of urgency, he had already finished the analysis before picking up the phone.

The head of the family stared at the glowing device in his hand. His brow furrowed. Then, he decided.

He reached for the secured redline terminal—smooth black, wired directly to the central executive core.

One number dialed.

The moment it connected, his voice came with finality:

"This is Raekin Blac. Blackout Protocol. Level Seven. All subsidiaries. Immediate execution."

No argument from the other end. Just cold obedience.

And across the globe, the machines began to sleep.

Neo-Tokyo — GenCore Biologics

CEO Araki was mid-sentence on a funding proposal when his screen flashed crimson. His assistant rushed in, her face pale, before the alert finished its cycle.

"Sir—central command just initiated full shutdown."

The direct call followed seconds later.

// This is command center. All systems must go offline. Now. //

Araki’s mouth pressed flat. "We’ll lose years of trial data—" He was already moving, reaching for the local network override device kept specifically for emergencies. "Back up everything and cut us from all external sources. Now."

He keyed in the manual command himself, his hands shaking slightly.

"All servers, offline. Send emergency evacuation protocols to labs Alpha through D."

Berlin — Stratosync Networks

Warning sirens blinked red across the subterranean server hall, the air smelling of ozone and overworked cooling fans. Chief Systems Engineer Elira Myrvold stared at the mainframe with the expression of someone who had prepared for this and still didn’t want it to be real.

Her comm crackled.

"Initiate blackout. Clean kill."

"Are you—"

"Authority: Blac."

A breath. Then a sharp nod to her staff.

"Shut it down. All of it. Isolate every relay. We’ll sort the rest after."

Dubai — Auracron Robotics

The drone assembly line went still. Sparks hissed and died as the robotic arms froze in mid-motion. CEO Mateo Delgado watched the control feed vanish, screen by screen.

An urgent notice lit his watch: Central Executive Override — Level 7.

"No warning?" he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. Then the call came through.

// Main command. Highest authority. Shut down the systems. //

He didn’t argue. "We’ll bleed funds by the second—but it’s the head’s order." He turned to his control chief. "Kill the grid—"