10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 155- Cruxius Mother

Her pink tongue darted out, thoughtfully pressing against the sharp point of her elongated fang. Her ruby gaze grew distant, yet wildly calculating.

"...his blood must be truly divine."

She could almost taste it on the back of her tongue. Raw, unrefined power, wrapped in the intoxicating, musky aroma of a strong male, just begging to be claimed and dominated by true, ancient royalty like herself.

The heavy air in the bedchamber shifted, thickening with a potent mix of lust and predatory intent.

Right now, her primary hunger wasn’t just for his firm body—it was for the legacy flowing through his veins. That rich blood. That buried truth. That forbidden history.

To know it intimately. To pull it from his throat and taste it.

It was a dark, pulsing temptation in its most untainted form.

Given the unique ability of high-noble vampires to vividly absorb the memories of those they drank from, a thrill of genuine exhilaration shot straight to her core.

What sort of ancient, earth-shattering truths might that rare bloodline hold? What hidden, dormant knowledge or terrifying power of the Crimson Matron might still be dwelling deep within her half-human son?

"Let’s taste him," she whispered. The sultry words curled off her tongue like thick, intoxicating smoke. "And if he proves to be worthy..."

Her slender fingers slowly drifted up, the soft pads touching her own plush lips.

Her blood-red eyes flickered with a wicked thrill as she lightly bit down on her lower lip, dragging her sharp fang over the plump flesh. A sudden rush of heat pooled in her lower belly.

She felt genuinely, deeply interested for the very first time in decades.

Especially now that she was going to be the one to sponsor him.

"...I’ll make him my consort. Officially."

’Puny humans.’ Moving silently through the opulent corridor, the man let his gaze sweep over the hallway. His eyes were a deep, sharp crimson, looking as though they were forged from liquid blood.

His clear amusement at seeing this mortal estate decorated with all the material riches of the world only reinforced his belief. It highlighted exactly how small humans truly were, so desperately clinging to fragile, mortal things that would inevitably crumble and vanish—just like they would.

Of course, the vampires themselves were swimming in unfathomable wealth. In fact, the top ten richest individuals in the world all hailed from ancient vampire heritage, though their true origins were heavily scrubbed from public records.

They held riches accumulated over thousands of years, safely covered by a thick, hidden veil.

Long before this genetic mutation began and flashy superheroes started filling the skies, the vampires had existed. They were the original beings possessing power that defied mortal logic.

Yet, the sudden arrival of these "new ones" had forced an uncomfortable balance.

It was a delicate balance the vampires had never asked for, placing them firmly on a razor’s edge.

They weren’t completely threatened—their ancient grip on human society was far too deep for that. They had successfully woven a complex web from the shadows, content to sit back and watch humans with superpowers brutally fight each other, entirely unaware of the apex predators watching from above.

"So, I’m late."

A voice pulled the vampire from his arrogant thoughts.

He turned his gaze toward the far end of the hallway. A single young man was walking toward him, mirroring his own arrogant posture—hands casually tucked into the pockets of his dark slacks.

It was Cruxius.

He entered the grand hallway, his steady steps unhurried. The casual, unapologetic sharpness of his presence sliced through the heavy silence like a paper cut.

His dark eyes, cold and completely unreadable, landed squarely on the man ahead.

The vampire halted his advance.

His crimson gaze—deep like aged wine and vicious in its utter stillness—settled on the newcomer. His smile widened into a slow, unsettling curve that didn’t come close to reaching his cold eyes.

A dry, hollow chuckle cracked the tense air like snapping brittle wood. He shook his head slowly, acting as if he were deeply amused by fate itself.

"You look exactly like your mother," the vampire murmured. His hushed voice sounded almost reverent... almost.

Cruxius didn’t even blink.

He just observed the older man, instantly confirming his identity as a vampire simply by noting the fresh bloodstains speckled across his fine clothes.

There was no visible rank mark on the creature’s hand. The vampire had likely absorbed it, utilizing their unique property and blood manipulation arts to hide their status without needing a system interface.

"I’d like to say the same for you," Cruxius replied. His voice carried his signature, lazy indifference. It was sharp, yet heavily laced with a veiled, mocking poison. "But I don’t think any mother would want to claim a son with a face like yours."

A sharp twitch.

The vampire’s upper lip curled, exposing a brief, ugly moment of cracked vanity.

He slowly raised a pale hand, brushing the side of his neck with fingers that had spilled centuries of blood. He muttered, "You should be on your knees, grateful that I was sent here merely as a messenger. If not for my orders... those words would have earned you a scattered, bloody grave."

Cruxius gave a small, deliberate tilt of his head. That ever-so-faint smirk finally curved on his lips. His tone was deeply mocking, like a child highly amused by a cheap ghost story.

"Funny how, in today’s time, even walking corpses are starting to throw threats."

The air in the hallway instantly turned cold. It wasn’t a drop in temperature, but a suffocating spike in tension—the kind that coils tightly in the lungs like thick smoke.

The vampire’s crimson eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Watch your tongue, boy," he warned, a sharp edge bleeding into his tone. The civil veil was rapidly thinning, the starving predator beneath beginning to stir. "You are in absolutely no place to—"

Cruxius lazily raised a hand, cutting the vampire off mid-sentence. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

He was fully aware that openly offending the ancient creature in front of him usually ended in a messy death. But amusingly enough... the main issue here was the simple fact that Cruxius could not permanently die.

"Shouldn’t you be the one with no place in this world? Especially given that it currently belongs to humans?" Cruxius stated flatly.

He finally halted, stopping just five measured steps away from the creature. He stood with his head tilted, delivering a cold, smirking gaze that clearly undermined the vampire’s overwhelming presence.

It was vividly clear this encounter was not going to end well for either of them.

The vampire let out a slow, raspy laugh. "Is that truly what you think? That we have simply been forgotten?"

"No," Cruxius replied, his dark gaze unblinking. "I think you’re just trying a bit too hard to remind us."

The silence stretched—unforgiving, heavy, and pregnant with something thick and violently unspoken.

Then, the vampire’s entire demeanor shifted. The arrogant smirk returned to his pale face, but this time, it was much deeper... much darker.

"I see," the vampire murmured smoothly. "So the little shadow has finally grown a spine. Your dear mother would’ve been so proud."

A rapid flicker crossed Cruxius’s expression—brief, sharp, and unreadable.

"Careful," Cruxius said, dropping his voice to a quiet threat. "You’re starting to sound like you actually knew her."