10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 164- Arrival of Queen

It was too late.

She swung her glowing fist.

But it merely passed through empty air, scattering the smoke. The mist had no solid center—no physical form to crush.

And then came the slashes.

Invisible, razor-sharp streaks of force sliced outward from within the swirling smoke. One brutal cut caught her thick thigh, slicing the sleek fabric of her suit to expose a tantalizing strip of smooth, pale skin.

Another deep slash tore her coat wide open at the shoulder, revealing the swell of her cleavage and the tight, sweat-dampened top underneath. She twisted her lithe body to defend herself, her breasts bouncing with the frantic motion, but the red mist was everywhere. It attacked from every blind spot, vanishing like a ghost before she could retaliate.

Her glowing fists blurred in every direction, kinetic energy surging in bright violet arcs—but none of her power found a target.

Another wicked gash opened up. This time, it sliced across her ribs, the fabric parting to show her flushed, heaving midriff.

She gritted her teeth, jumping back on unsteady legs. But the very air around them had turned oppressively heavy. A foul, metallic stench bloomed in her nose, coating her tongue.

Iron. Blood. Pure poison.

She stumbled backward.

Her bare knees buckled weakly under her weight. Her breath hitched, turning into wet, shallow gasps that made her generous chest rise and fall erratically. A sheen of hot sweat coated her flushed skin, trailing down the valley of her cleavage as her toned arms began to tremble.

"I—I can’t breathe right—"

All around her, Cruxius watched the others rapidly crumbling.

Ermond had collapsed hard near the marble fireplace, his frail hands desperately clutching his chest. One of the pretty maids was slumped against a far wall, her uniform sticking to her sweat-drenched body, her eyes blown wide in sheer terror as she choked on the fumes.

Even Raekin, who had stood proud and unmoved just moments before, was now gripping the splintered edge of his desk. Thick veins bulged dangerously in his thick arms as he fought for air.

The red mist wasn’t just a visual parlor trick.

It was a terrifying biological weapon—forcefully filling their lungs, clogging their basic senses, and rapidly leeching the physical strength right out of their muscles.

"Ytrisia!"

Cruxius called out, rushing forward.

He reached Ytrisia just as she collapsed heavily onto one knee.

Her violet eyes were wide, brimming with panic—but not from fear. It was sheer, suffocating frustration. Her voluptuous body was literally brimming with stored kinetic force, the energy making her veins glow beneath her skin—but her muscles absolutely refused to move.

Her gloved hands trembled violently as she desperately tried to punch down to release the dangerous build-up—but her strength simply wouldn’t channel. The red mist had cut the connection.

Alath’s voice slithered through the thick fog like a hungry ghost, cold and incredibly cruel: "Your raw power is completely useless... when you can’t even lift your pretty arms."

Cruxius reached her side and dropped low, his fingers pressing against the side of her neck to check her pulse. It was still pounding strong—but the toxic paralysis was spreading far too fast.

Behind them, the grand chandelier snapped its heavy iron chain. It crashed to the marble floor in a deafening explosion of crystal and glass.

Cruxius stood up, his broad arms flaring out to shield the fallen women and the old butler.

His voice sliced cleanly through the chaos, loud and unnaturally sharp: "Ytrisia! Charge the floor! Dump all the kinetic energy right now!"

Her heavy eyelids fluttered open, her gaze dazed and unfocused. "I—I can’t—"

He grabbed her thick wrist, gripping her tight, his own body already shaking from the residual poison in the air. "You don’t need finesse or precision. Just slam every ounce of force you’ve stored straight into the ground. Do it now!"

The red mist thickened around them—Alath’s physical form rapidly reforming from the smoke just behind them. His wicked claws raised for a lethal strike.

Ytrisia’s plush lips parted. Her teeth clenched audibly.

With a guttural scream, she forced her heavy fist down. It slammed into the floor.

BOOOOM!

A blinding burst of violet light erupted from her strike—but it didn’t shoot upward. It was forced entirely downward.

The entire expanse of the office floor lit up with a deep, pulsing violet glow as the massive reserve of kinetic energy exploded directly into the stone foundation beneath them.

The thick marble tiles cracked outward in a massive, jagged spiderweb, and a brutal concussive blast rolled like an earthquake through the room.

It wasn’t a targeted, surgical strike—it was a massive field burst.

A devastating shockwave of sheer physical force detonated in all directions—erupting violently from below.

The thick red mist immediately wavered. Then came the shrieks.

Alath’s reforming body violently destabilized mid-lunge, his atoms physically scattered by the massive floor-based energy eruption. His half-solid, half-vapor form flew backward, crashing brutally against the far wall.

He screamed in genuine agony as the pure kinetic force slammed against his ancient bones, shattering them before they could fully solidify.

The foul, metallic stench in the air evaporated almost instantly.

The room finally cleared.

Cruxius staggered back, coughing hard. He grabbed Ermond by the collar, dragging the old man closer to the still-conscious, terrified maid.

He finally looked up.

Ytrisia had collapsed completely onto her side—utterly exhausted, a thick stream of blood dripping from her nose—but her heavy chest was still rising and falling. She was breathing.

The others were groaning, slowly stirring as the paralysis lifted.

And the vampire?

Cruxius slowly turned his head.

When he opened his dark eyes, they widened just a fraction. Clearly standing right in front of him was a woman.

A breathtaking woman with cascading silver hair and deep ruby eyes. Her unique identity was far too vivid and terrifying for him to simply ignore.

Cruxius blinked.

The section of the wall where Alath had crashed was severely cracked, the stone crumbled and heavily smeared with dark blood—but the ancient vampire wasn’t there anymore.

Instead—

She stood there.

Tall. Impossibly regal. Effortlessly still.

Her long silver hair cascaded like a river of liquid metal down her back, swaying gently even though there was absolutely no wind in the ruined room.

Her dress was pitch black and clung intimately to her lush torso, draping open behind her like a trailing court of living shadows. Her eyes—deep, endless crimson ringed in pure gold—were locked entirely onto him.

And in her delicate, pale hand...

She casually held a severed head.

Alath’s.

His long dark hair was matted and stained, his fangs still bared aggressively even in death. His pale mouth twitched slightly, a gruesome vestigial nerve spasm—and then his dead eyelids suddenly snapped open. The dead eyes rolled lazily to the side, looking up toward the terrifying woman holding him by the hair.

"Q-Queen?" His severed head rasped, the voice impossibly hoarse and hollow. "What are you doing... here—"

The bloody head trembled in her grip.

Then, it screamed.

A thick, dark red mist burst violently from Alath’s dead eyes, his open mouth, and even the ragged stump of his neck—ripping free like a damned soul being forcefully dragged down to hell.

The potent mist spiraled tightly around the woman’s bare arm, curling like a hungry serpent up toward her pale shoulder, before sinking directly into her chest.

She didn’t even flinch.

She didn’t take a breath.

She simply absorbed him.

His ancient power. His entire essence.

And when the horrific feeding was done...

Only a clean, bleached white skull remained in her delicate grasp. Dry. Entirely empty.

She opened her fingers and let it fall. It hit the marble ground with a light, hollow clink—and instantly turned to fine ash.