My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines
Chapter 121 - Let’s Taste Cruxius’s Blood

Chapter 121: Chapter 121 - Let’s Taste Cruxius’s Blood

The silence fractured—not with sound, but with presence. The kind that crawled up the skin, sank into the spine, and said something had shifted.

Evangeline exhaled, slow and unhurried, the corners of her lips lifting—not with affection, but with something far sharper. Knowing. Amused. Dangerous.

"A consort. And a flagbearer..." she murmured again, and this time her voice carried a laced venom, silk-wrapped, slow. "How charmingly stupid."

It was stupid, considering first, he was food, and second, he was participating in a battle where everyone wanted each other’s life.

The bat stirred, unease rippling across its thin form as it spoke.

"My Queen, he is of royal bloodline."

That made her smile drop. Instantly. The mist that had lazily curled around her bare feet receded like breath sucked back into lungs.

The cold deepened—not in temperature, but in weight.

"...Say that again," she said. Not loudly. But every syllable fell like a warning bell.

The bat bowed so low its wings touched the ground, wrapped tight around its fragile body, voice shrinking into reverence—or fear.

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

It faltered. Just for a second. But enough.

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

That did it.

That name wasn’t spoken lightly. Or often. In fact, it was barely spoken at all.

Her eyes didn’t widen in shock—they didn’t need to. Just the faintest flicker, a subtle pause in her breath. That alone betrayed how deep that name cut.

Bloodmoon Lineage.

The oldest of the Thirteen.

She herself belonged to one of those lineages.

So, she understood it more than anyone could.

One of the foundations. A lineage so ancient and potent that the name itself could silence a room.

And the woman—****—whose name was now reduced to whispers and half-lies, had once borne that lineage with unshakable pride.

The vampire whose very existence had been scrubbed from scrolls, erased from portraits—whose story had been wiped so thoroughly that even the Order spoke of her like a cautionary myth.

But Evangeline knew. She had always known.

That woman had brought the Order to its knees.

She was powerful in ways the world wasn’t ready for.

Able to halt time, slow it down, and even go so far as to see the future—with all its possibilities—in a blink.

An ability that allowed someone so strong to know what attack their enemy was about to make, the kind of strength they possessed, every single detail, including their weaknesses. All of it. Naturally, it made such an individual nearly unkillable.

But somehow, she did something no one had dared.

She fell in love. With a human. Married him. Had a child.

When she married, they tried to use it against her by bringing her into the Order, but not even laws or rules could suppress someone possessing such power.

They couldn’t punish her.

Not while she was pregnant.

The Order tried.

They lost three of their highest seats in one night alone—thinking it would be easy to kill a pregnant woman.

So they did what they never did—they waited.

They swallowed their pride, bit down on their wrath, and sat still while the most dangerous woman in their history gave birth.

Because they knew. Once she had something to lose, she’d be vulnerable. And she was. The moment that child cried, she became mortal in a way no power could undo.

But again, when the Order tried to touch the child, they lost two more members from the seats—emptying the royal lineage of vampires, burying a total of five members holding the highest authority. Ancient vampires buried deep in graves—at the hands of a single woman.

However, suddenly, news spread that the Order had finally killed that woman.

It was confusing and even shocking for many who had known the whole story of the strength that woman possessed. It seemed unbelievable—many even considered it an excuse from the Order. So they tried to seek full clarification.

However, the Order never spoke of it again.

That entire event became a shadow wrapped in silence.

Additionally, somehow, a highest-tier curse had been linked to that woman—a punishment that sealed away everything regarding her. As if someone—more like the founder himself—had removed that woman from existence. Her name could not be spoken, her identity vanished, and even all written records had their ink mysteriously scrubbed away.

She took a step back, emerging fully from the mist. Moonlight danced across her skin, tracing the curve of her thighs, the rise and fall of her chest beneath the smooth fabric of her nightdress.

But the softness of the moment was a lie.

Something stirred within her—a diluvion of the image of that human she had thought to kill out of sheer annoyance. But now, it felt like fate—as if her other self, sealed in the locket, was trying to tell her something about that man.

Maybe, her other side was pointing to this particular truth.

"So, you want me to have him? Is this the reason you used clairvoyance?" Evangeline looked down toward her pendant, wondering if her other self, trapped within it, wanted her to take Cruxius.

Zzzzrrrr—

Suddenly, as she thought of it, her pendant began to buzz. It was as if it were retaliating, protesting, screaming its way out—but the buzz was just enough to make her chest vibrate. Looking down at it, she felt confused—was it supporting her thought or warning her?

"It appears even the other side of the Queen is supporting your thoughts, My Queen." The bat, fluttering its wings, arrived near the pendant—which instantly rang even louder, as if protesting, making a vain effort to tell them something. But the more violent the reaction, the more affirmed the bat felt, and with a nod, he said:

"See, My Queen? I am right... even the other half-Queen wants you to have that man."

’Hm.’ Initially, Evangeline suspected the pendant was trying to warn her. But now, after hearing the bat’s words, she began to believe it might be true—that the pendant had always wanted her to connect with that man.

Her voice sharpened, quieter than before but far more cutting.

"Who sponsored him?"

The bat trembled. "None, my Queen. No one dared."

She smirked. A slow, cruel thing.

"Of course not. No one wants the wrath of the Bloodmoon. Even if only one strand of that lineage survives..."

Her tongue pressed against her fang, her gaze distant but calculating.

"...his blood must be divine."

She could almost taste it—raw, unrefined, and wrapped in a delicious aroma, wanting to be claimed by someone like her—a true royalty.

The room’s air shifted. Her hunger wasn’t for his body—but for what he carried. That blood. That truth. That history. To know it. To taste it.

That was temptation in its purest form.

Given the ability of noble vampires to see through the memories of those whose blood they drank, she felt exhilarated. What ancient truth might that bloodline hold? What hidden knowledge or power of the Crimson Matron of Bloodmoon might still dwell within her son?

"Let’s taste him," she whispered, her voice curling around the words like smoke. "And if he’s worthy..."

Her fingers slowly touched her bloodied lips. Blood-like eyes flickered with a smile as she traced her lower lip with a bite, feeling genuinely interested for the first time in decades... especially now that she would sponsor him.

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