10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 163- You Filthy Insects

"What?"

The vampire’s voice cracked, a rare, humiliating tremble betraying his mounting fury.

He stared at Cruxius with wild, glowing eyes. That name—the full name, his titles, his darkest secrets—all spoken aloud by a mere human. And worse, by a boy barely past twenty, casually standing with his hands in his pockets, speaking down to him with the insufferable arrogance of a monarch.

Alath’s pale lips peeled back, baring elongated fangs. His aura flared like a scorching crimson wind.

"You—wretched brat. You dare insult the Blood Throne—!"

He lunged before a single breath could be drawn.

A deadly blur of black and red, his cape tearing through the stale air, clawed fingers aimed straight for Cruxius’s throat.

But Cruxius didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look surprised.

Something had already caught him firmly by the back of his coat.

A hand. Slender, clad in tight leather, undeniably feminine.

Ytrisia.

Her hair shimmered in the dim light, her beautiful face a mask of calm, though her eyes gleamed with a razor-sharp focus.

Without a single word, she yanked Cruxius backward. He slid across the polished floor with a quiet grunt as she smoothly stepped into his place, the sleek material of her outfit hugging the lush curve of her hips.

Then, she moved.

"Run, Cruxius."

Her husky voice remained steady. Her fist, however, was a different story. It launched forward with blistering speed, aimed right for the vampire’s pale face.

Alath’s eyes widened. He twisted his lean frame midair to block—

CRACK!

The heavy punch landed flush on his forearm. A massive shockwave burst from the point of impact, cleanly shattering one of the tall office windows behind him. Splinters of expensive wood flew from the desk as heavy books rained from the shelves.

Alath skidded back, his leather boots grinding harsh lines into the marble.

Ytrisia didn’t pause for a second.

She leapt forward, her booted foot kicking the ground with brutal force. The tile shattered beneath her heel. She rocketed toward him like a fired bullet, the tight fabric of her suit straining against her full thighs.

Her voluptuous body surged with glowing threads of violet-blue energy—the stored kinetic force from his attack now feeding her explosive movements.

Alath roared, slashing his sharp, clawed hands forward in a desperate counter.

She ducked low, her chest brushing near her knees as she slid under his guard. Twisting her supple torso mid-slide, she channeled the raw momentum into a devastating upward punch to his ribs.

THUD!

A wet grunt left his mouth as the sheer impact lifted him slightly off the floor.

Ermond rushed forward to shield the other women in the room.

Raekin stood by the ruined desk, stoic and unmoved, his dark eyes locked on the brutal exchange.

Alath landed hard on his feet, his velvet coat billowing around him, boots dragging across the floor as he forced himself to a halt.

"You dare strike me?! Filthy human wench!"

Ytrisia just tilted her head, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. "You’re slower than I expected."

Alath’s dark aura erupted, fangs fully bared. Thick shadows burst from his back like a pair of ragged wings.

He vanished into thin air. A mere blur.

Reappearing right behind her lush curves, his wicked claws slashed straight for her spine.

But her elbow was already in motion.

She didn’t bother turning around. She didn’t need to.

Transferring the momentum of his own reckless approach, she fed it directly into her strike. Her elbow cracked backward into his jaw, hitting him as though he had just sprinted into a solid steel wall.

SMASH!

Alath crashed through the office wall, obliterating a vintage wooden cabinet. Books exploded in every direction, filling the air with a thick cloud of dust and splinters.

But the ancient creature didn’t stay down.

He rose with a feral snarl, his pale face already bruising, a thick trail of dark blood leaking from his nose.

"I’ll drain your pretty neck first."

Ytrisia exhaled a slow, hot breath. She rhythmically opened and closed her gloved fists.

Her entire body was practically humming with trapped energy now—the kinetic charge visibly building, making the tight material of her top stretch taut over her heaving breasts with every attack she absorbed or delivered.

"Try it."

This time, they met in the middle.

Wicked vampire claws and enhanced, heavy fists clashed brutally in the narrow office space. Desks splintered into kindling. The grand chandelier shook above them, raining crystal. Loose papers flew around them like panicked birds in a storm.

Every single time Alath managed to land a glancing hit—she drank in the raw force.

Every slap, every heavy kick, every harsh slam against the furniture—she turned his own malice into raw power, enhancing her strikes, moving with terrifying grace, and hitting much harder.

Using a shattered chair as a springboard, she launched herself up. Her thick thighs flexed as she spun midair, delivering a flawless roundhouse kick square to his temple.

Boom!

He flew backward, crashing into a corner bookshelf. A massive cloud of dust exploded from the sheer impact.

But then—

CRACK!

Alath vanished into the shadows again. He reappeared right behind her—a long, pitch-black dagger in his grip, forged in cold vampire fire.

He drove the blade forward—aiming straight for her beating heart.

But a heavy wooden chair flew into the trajectory. It crashed hard into the dagger, deflecting the lethal blow.

Thrown by Cruxius.

He stood casually across the ruined room. His arms were still relaxed at his sides, one polished boot lightly nudging the wreckage of the chair he had just kicked. A faint, arrogant grin played on his lips.

"Don’t stab her, Alath. She’s the only woman in the room who can actually give you a good time."

Alath growled like a cornered beast, his sharp teeth stained red with his own blood.

Ytrisia took a confident step forward, casually brushing some debris off her shoulder. "I told you to leave the room, Cruxius."

And then—

She surged forward, unleashing all the pent-up kinetic force vibrating through her core.

Her fist burned with blinding violet light. Raw energy whirled around her knuckles like a miniature storm.

She threw the punch. Straight into his sternum.

BOOM!

The vampire was launched backward, crashing entirely through the broken wall and out into the main corridor.

The empty hallway echoed with the sickening sound of the heavy impact.

A tense silence followed.

For one breathless moment, there was nothing but the sound of crumbling drywall and the faint flutter of dislodged papers settling onto the floor.

Then—

He stood up.

Through the haze of the ruined doorway, Alath’s dark figure rose from the debris. His broad shoulders were trembling—not from physical pain, but from a blinding, all-consuming rage.

His jaw twitched erratically. A fresh stream of blood trickled down his pale temple. He spat to the side, the thick red splatter hissing like corrosive acid against the polished floor tiles.

His voice was devoid of its former regal calm. It was a guttural, demonic rasp.

"You filthy insects..."

His physical body began to dissolve.

One moment he was solid flesh and bone—the next, the air rippled around him.

Then, he became mist.

It was dark, suffocatingly thick, and pulsed with a sickening red malice. It flooded through the broken doorway, curling seductively around the floorboards like living smoke. It slithered up the walls, greedy and cold, swallowing every source of light as it crept into the office.

"Shit—" Cruxius took a quick step back, his dark eyes narrowing at the unnatural fog. "Ytrisia—!"