10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 109 - The Superhero’s Aim

Same old chaos. Her comfortable, messy chaos.

But then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Right on the center of her desk—amid the messy piles of code printouts, half-soldered circuits, and her beloved cracked keyboard—was a flower bouquet.

Fresh. Impossibly soft. Entirely out of place in her sterile, tech-heavy sanctuary.

Roses. Deep, velvety crimson, the petals looking almost wet under the blue LED glow. They were bound perfectly with a thick, dark velvet ribbon.

A small, elegant card tucked delicately between the lush petals bore a name, scrawled in confident dark ink. As she read it, a sudden, electric chill shot down her spine, making the fine hairs on her exposed shoulder stand up.

’From your beloved Cruxius... my Lulu.’

’!?!’

Hero Association Headquarters, Hero City

Within a dimly lit chamber that carried a suffocating weight of tension—the kind that made the very air feel sharp against the skin—Eventide stood in the dead center. Her dark cloak was pushed back, revealing the skin-tight friction-weave of her hero suit that mercilessly hugged every dip, curve, and muscle of her athletic frame. Her chest rose and fell in a measured, controlled rhythm, her piercing eyes scanning the three high-ranking figures seated before her.

One sat in the center, silent and unnervingly still. The other two flanked him like watchful wolves, though their patience was visibly wearing thin.

"You attacked Cruxius Blac?" the man on the left barked, half-rising from his leather seat. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

The woman on the right slammed her palm onto the polished desk. Her chest heaved with indignation beneath her crisp, tailored blouse, the sheer force of her anger making the fabric strain tightly against her full curves. "He’s the heir of the Blac Corporation, Eventide! Not some back-alley thug in Zone 3!"

"We’ve just barely started recovering from the incident with that Ryken idiot who attacked him in Spain," the man growled, his face flushing red. "Did you forget how humiliating that press conference was for the Association? How we had to bend over and throw Zone 7 of the Villain Syndicate under the bus just to save face?"

"And now," the woman hissed, her perfectly painted lips curling into a sneer, "you repeat the exact same mistake."

Eventide’s icy gaze didn’t waver. "It wasn’t intentional. I misread the target."

The woman stood abruptly, leaning over the desk. "This isn’t a missed shot; it’s a diplomatic grenade! The Blac Corporation has already been breathing heavily down our necks. The Hero Association is walking a razor-thin line. We’ve been sweating blood trying to rebuild our image while cleaning out the Villain Syndicate from Zone 7—and then you go and assault Cruxius Blac?"

"I’m not afraid of what comes from this," Eventide said, her voice low but steady, her leather-clad fists clenching subtly at her sides.

"Then you’re reckless," the man spat.

"No," she corrected, her gaze narrowing sharply. "I’m calculating. Cruxius won’t retaliate. Not over this."

The center figure finally stirred, but said nothing. The room’s heavy energy shifted—growing even tighter, wrapping around them like a vice.

"And how are you so incredibly sure of that?" the woman asked, crossing her arms beneath her bust, pushing her cleavage up defiantly.

"Because his true intentions from this attack were not to target the Hero Association, but something else entirely."

Even exhausted, Eventide perfectly recalled the sheer calculated fluidity of the man. She remembered how he had intentionally thrown that blade at her out of nowhere, and then boldly jumped from the window—acting the flawless victim as if she had attacked him.

All while completely confusing her. But as he leaped, bewildering her at first, she had watched closely through the shattered windowpane. She had seen exactly how he landed. He had pinned the beautiful heroine Ytrisia beneath him, his heavy hips deliberately and firmly grinding against her soft thighs as they tumbled onto a nearby hoarding board. The friction, the blatant, unhurried physical dominance—it was unmistakably intentional.

It became sickeningly clear that his real target from the very beginning was to weaponize this chaotic event just to press his body against that woman and get closer to her.

Something entirely expected from an infamous, insatiable playboy like Cruxius Blac, whose bedroom reputation was well known to any intelligence officer worth their salt.

The female executive raised a perfectly plucked brow, staring at Eventide like she was insane. "You’re trusting a man who just used a minor attack against him to leverage the whole Hero Association? A man who openly targeted our heroes by suggesting something as invasive and ridiculous as embedding microchips into their bodies? Forget the politics; this was sheer, undiluted humiliation. Most superheroes will never forgive that, considering their privacy and personal lives would be deeply threatened."

Eventide clenched her jaw. "I know what I saw. He didn’t come to that hospital to get intel. He came to flirt with Ytrisia."

That name lingered heavily in the air. The silence grew deeper, thicker.

"...So, you’re telling us he somehow knew that you were going to attack, manipulated you into acting on it, and orchestrated this whole thing just to get physically closer to another superhero? All while clearly seeing her stance against him?" The woman was utterly pissed off now, looking exhausted as she finally found the angle to corner Eventide.

She finally had the chance to intimidate the stoic hero. Eventide did commit a very serious mistake that might cost them billions.

And her defense? That he had a hidden, lustful agenda.

An agenda that relied on insane, random variables. There was not a single logical chance for Cruxius Blac to know that they were going to attack someone within that specific hospital, allowing him to arrive at the exact perfect time, be present in the same room, and flawlessly execute his little stunt.

How ridiculous was that to begin with?

"...Did you say you tracked him?"

The deep, rumbling voice came from the one who had remained utterly silent. The man seated in the middle, observing every breath, every twitch in the room.

It was Elbawar. He sat with a narrowed, calculating gaze. He was clearly turning over the slim chances of it being a coincidence, but he knew the terrifying possibility of Cruxius’s manipulation could absolutely not be overlooked—especially after the devastating financial blow the last press conference had dealt the Association.

Elbawar finally spoke, his voice composed, yet carrying a dark edge that made even the aggressive woman flanking him flinch slightly.

"...So you tracked him, and yet you still fell face-first into his game."

Eventide didn’t reply. Her throat felt tight.

Elbawar’s gaze pierced right through her armor.

"I guarantee he will not do something as reckless as holding another press conference," Eventide said, desperately trying to regain her footing.

Elbawar leaned forward slowly, interlacing his thick fingers. "Fine then. If that’s what you truly hope, Eventide... but if you are wrong, then you will be the one stripped bare to explain things and solve this yourself."

He was about to continue, but before the final, damning words could leave his lips—

SLAM.

The heavy double doors burst open. A figure stepped in briskly—one of the Association’s elite reconnaissance heroes. He was panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, instantly aware of the suffocating tension he’d just pierced through.

The woman on the right narrowed her eyes, her lips pulling back in a snarl. "This better be—"