10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 153- Crimson Matron’s Rage

Something specific tugged at the back of her ancient thoughts.

A name.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, the tiny wet sound echoing in the profound silence.

"Wait," she breathed out.

High from the darkened rafters above, a shape dropped—a rapid flutter of leathery wings slicing through the stagnant air.

The small creature landed with surprising elegance upon the obsidian frame of her full-length mirror. Its crimson eyes glowed in the dark, wings twitching as it folded them tight.

The bat bowed its furry head in utter submission.

"You called, my Queen?"

She tilted her head just a fraction, allowing a single strand of silver to fall across her high cheekbone.

"What was his name?" she asked, her smooth voice acting as a quiet, prodding dagger. "The human who killed the newborn."

The bat looked up, exposing its sharp teeth in a reverent grimace. "Cruxius Blac. The new flagbearer chosen by the Order."

Total silence filled the chamber.

The swirling mist abruptly halted right at the curve of her waist, clinging to her hips.

A subtle flicker of confusion passed over her flawless face. A slow blink. A breathless moment where time itself seemed to hesitate around her form, unsure whether it was permitted to continue.

"Flagbearer...?" she echoed, her dark tone shifting into something almost curious.

"Yes, my Queen," the bat confirmed with a bob of its head. "Chosen just days ago."

Her plush lips parted slowly, revealing the sharp glint of a fang. The tight frown on her brow loosened—the corners of her mouth curling upward, ever so slightly.

It made a twisted sort of sense. If he was truly a vampire, then the issue of her failed assassination was logically solved. A freshly turned newborn wouldn’t possess a fraction of the value or strength of an older immortal. She needed to inquire further, just to confirm if she should still personally make a move on him or not.

"A vampire?" she asked.

"No," the bat replied, its voice a raspy squeak. "He belongs to no known lineage. He is not of our blood."

She arched a pale eyebrow, the very first hint of genuine, predatory interest cracking through her stoic, icy shell.

"Then what is he?"

The bat hesitated, sensing the gravity of the revelation. Its leathery wings fluttered nervously against the mirror glass.

"A Crimson Bearer."

Another heavy stretch of silence.

The room stilled entirely, the very air seeming to retreat into the cold stone walls.

Her voluptuous body, once caught mid-transformation, now fully materialized back into the physical realm. The red mist dispersed into the floorboards with a soft, dying hiss.

Her red eyes gleamed with a sudden, brilliant hunger. Her lips twitched, finally forming the shape of a wicked smile that didn’t quite reach the coldness of her cheeks.

Slowly, she took a measured step away from the moonlight, her thighs brushing together beneath the sheer satin.

"So... not a vampire," she murmured softly, "but a consort."

A wave of clear amusement washed over her.

This was the exact same man she had spied upon in her earlier vision. She had watched him engaging in filthy, lustful deeds with another woman, casually musing how he, just like any other pathetic mortal male, was simply enslaved to his own bodily urges and affairs.

The irony was delicious. Most of the time, Crimson Bearers didn’t live long enough to see the light of a new day once their true identities were revealed. Vampires from all over the globe would immediately swarm them. The blood of a Crimson Bearer wasn’t just food; it was a potent, mind-altering addiction. It held the intoxicating quality of the world’s most exquisite, aged wine, driving any immortal wild with the desperate need to drink from the source.

So this man, just by the sheer revelation of his existence, made himself the ultimate, easy target.

Then, the contradiction hit her.

"Wait. A Consort and a flagbearer? What?" Evangeline narrowed her sharp gaze, looking toward the bat.

She found it profoundly confusing. Why on earth would someone who should be treated as a rare, delicate feast be dragged into the brutal battle of the royal lineages? The Flagbearer Battle was an arena of death where the bloody winners were chosen to become the governing Members of the Order.

"My Queen," the bat whispered, shrinking back from her intense stare. "He is of Royal Bloodline."

’!’

"What?"

The silence fractured.

Not with a sudden sound, but with a suffocating presence. It was the kind of heavy aura that crawled up the bare skin of her arms, sank deep into the spine, and whispered that the very fabric of the room had shifted.

Evangeline exhaled. A slow, unhurried breath that made the sheer silk of her nightdress pull taut across her collarbones.

The corners of her plush lips lifted into a smile—not one born of affection, but something far sharper. Knowing. Amused. Purely dangerous.

"A consort. And a flagbearer..." she murmured again. This time, her voice carried a laced venom, wrapped in dark silk and poured out slow. "How charmingly stupid."

It was beyond foolish.

First, the man was merely food. And second, he was actively participating in a brutal battle where every single contender was starving for each other’s lives.

The bat stirred near the arched window. A visible wave of unease rippled across its leathery wings as it gathered the courage to speak.

"My Queen, he is of royal bloodline."

That made her dark smile vanish.

The thick mist that had been lazily curling around her bare, pale ankles rapidly receded, vanishing like a sharp breath sucked back into tight lungs.

The cold in the chamber deepened. Not a drop in temperature, but a crushing increase in sheer weight.

"...Say that again," she commanded.

It wasn’t loud. But every measured syllable fell against the stone walls like a final warning bell.

The bat bowed so low its trembling wings brushed the polished floor. It wrapped them tight around its fragile body, its raspy voice shrinking into deep reverence—or pure, unadulterated fear.

"His name is Cruxius Blac. Crimson Bearer. Son of—"

It faltered. Just for a heartbeat. But it was enough.

"...the Crimson Matron... of the Bloodmoon Lineage."