My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines
Chapter 119- Lira’s Anger

Chapter 119: Chapter 119- Lira’s Anger

And yet—he let them go. No threats. No demands. Just returned them as if they were guests being dropped off from a ride.

It made no sense.

Unless...

Her lips trembled slightly, but her expression stayed frozen. The guards still hadn’t moved. And that made her blood boil even more.

She couldn’t get to him.

Not yet.

But she needed to understand.

Her eyes dropped slightly, her thoughts darkening.

"Why... her?" she wondered, the thought turning bitter. "Why Neuril? What does he want with her? Does he..."

She swallowed.

"...Does he remember everything too?"

A chill ran down her spine.

"It’s nice seeing you adjusting to my mansion, Lira."

The moment Cruxius stepped through the archway, the atmosphere shifted.

The air thickened. The guards at the door stiffened but didn’t move.

Lira’s head snapped up from the sofa, her posture rigid. Her eyes locked on him instantly.

That face—those eyes, casual smile, the way he walked like he owned not just the room, but the air everyone breathed.

Her anger flared.

She stood abruptly, her voice sharp and thunderous.

"You kidnapper, you finally showed yourself!?"

Neuril, seated at the dining table just a few feet away, flinched at her tone. The blonde girl turned her head with a slight frown, then narrowed her eyes coldly at her older sister.

"Don’t disturb me, sister," Neuril said, her tone oddly distant for a child as she gave a cold glare towards her big sister, given she was hearing important things and her big sister was disturbing her again and again.

Lira froze for a second.

Just a second.

She noticed how that woman also took a glance towards her, though the eyes were cold, but enough to make Lira feel that she should not attract her gaze.

Lira’s eyes returned to Cruxius.

Still smiling.

Amused.

Watching.

Mocking.

Her rage boiled over. Without another word, she marched toward him, reached out, and grabbed his hand—fingers digging into his wrist hard enough to bruise. His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t resist.

She yanked him, dragging him across the gleaming floor with her heels clicking sharply, past the stiffened guards, past the stunned silence, until they reached the far corner of the hall.

There, beneath the tall stone pillar bathed in shadow, she spun around and shoved him roughly against it.

His back hit the marble with a soft thud, but he didn’t flinch.

Still smiling.

Still silent.

Lira’s breath hitched.

Her voice, now low and trembling, cut through the stillness.

"What do you want from my sister?"

There was no hesitation in her eyes now. Only fury. Fear. The sheer exhaustion of holding herself together when everything inside her was screaming.

Cruxius tilted his head, lips parting faintly, eyes glittering like rubies in moonlight. He leaned forward before in a hushed voice offered, "Not her, but you.... become my maid, Lira, and accompany me for a honeymoon."

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The grand hall of the Blac Corporation’s main estate reeked of iron and ash. Smoke curled lazily through broken chandeliers and splintered marble, the gleam of once-pristine tiles drowned beneath streaks of blood and soot.

Gunfire had long stopped.

The echoes remained.

Bodies—some in uniform, others in capes—lay scattered like discarded dolls. Heroes with shattered visors. Guards with scorched chests. A child’s stuffed toy lay half-burnt in a corner, soaked in red.

And in the center of it all stood a man.

No—something else.

Pale as the moon and drenched in blood, the vampire’s figure loomed tall and regal, crimson energy writhing around him like living mist.

His black coat flowed behind him as if the wind bowed to his presence alone. In one hand, still twitching slightly, was a human heart.

His eyes—glowing red like molten rubies—pierced through the haze and locked onto the broken man at his feet.

The head of the Blac family, once proud and unshakable, now knelt in his own blood. His fine coat was torn at the collar, gasping like a dying fish.

Veins bulged at his temple. His breath came in ragged, desperate gulps—each one harder than the last.

Just beside him, the most loyal servant of the Blac household lay crumpled.

Ermond, the butler.

Chest torn open.

Eyes wide. Hollow.

Mouth slightly agape as if his final breath had been a scream.

The heart in the vampire’s palm pulsed once more—then squelched, crushed like a fruit beneath his pale fingers.

A wet snap. A splash.

The patriarch flinched, instinctively reaching toward Ermond, but his arms barely moved.

"No... Ermond—!" he rasped, throat choking on grief and fear, his words strangled by invisible pressure coiling around his lungs.

The vampire stepped forward—graceful, unhurried.

"He was loyal," the creature mused, voice low, almost melancholy. "But your loyalty means nothing if it forgets its place."

The elder trembled.

"W-Why...? Why this... slaughter...?" he gasped, spit and blood trailing from his lips. "W-We never... wronged the Lord..."

The vampire raised a single bloodstained finger.

"You ignored His invitation."

The room stilled.

Even the wind seemed to pause.

"The Lord of Crimson Vale extended an invitation to your son," the vampire continued, his voice now colder, distant, as if reciting a decree. "A chance to join the Flagbearer Battle. An honor. A privilege. And yet... your house dared to decline."

He took another step, and the pressure around the head’s throat tightened.

"Now, I will ask only once more," the vampire hissed, kneeling slightly so his glowing eyes met the man’s wide, terror-soaked ones.

"Will you send your son?"

The patriarch clenched his teeth, blood dribbling down his chin, trying to summon courage. "He... he won’t go to fight for monsters..."

The pressure snapped.

The man’s body fell forward, gagging, coughing violently into the crimson-streaked floor.

The vampire straightened slowly, gaze narrowing. His voice fell into a whisper, colder than death.

"Then next time, it won’t just be your butler." He turned, boots trailing blood as he walked through the destruction, cape dragging bodies aside like leaves.

"Next time, I’ll burn this entire house of that old traitor."

He paused at the threshold.

"Send your son. And if you ever disrespect the Lord again..." He didn’t turn back. "...I won’t stop with these small, pitiful humans. I will come for you."