My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines
Chapter 48- Imperial Harem

Chapter 48: Chapter 48- Imperial Harem

If he was going to lose everything—his position, his empire—he would at least take this bastard down with him. His mind blanked into raw instinct: kill him.

Cruxius didn’t even blink.

The blade in his hand moved—not with force, but with delicate, almost lazy precision. A subtle flick, a whisper of movement.

Before Alvian’s fist could even land, a thin red line bloomed across his wrist.

Alvian’s eyes went wide as his arm suddenly lost strength, collapsing uselessly. Another flick—and the other hand followed.

The cords and tendons that gave strength to his fingers and wrists were severed with a surgical knife.

He collapsed onto the ground with a choked gasp, his arms falling limp, unable to even support himself properly.

"Guah—!" he tried to yell, tried to command, but Cruxius was already moving.

With smooth, practiced ease, he shrugged his suit off his shoulder, wrapping it tightly around Alvian’s face.

"Mmphhh!!—"

The fabric muffled his screams instantly. Cruxius tied a hard knot at the back, forcing the cloth deep into his mouth, his movements merciless but elegant, like a tailor fitting a suit.

He leaned in close, whispering so low it barely carried.

"Shh, yell, but at least let me open the voice recorder."

Alvian thrashed weakly, the muted "mmphh!!" vibrating against the fabric stuffed into his mouth, his furious glares like daggers.

Cruxius, completely unaffected, calmly reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and opening the voice recorder.

He pressed the button.

Beep

"There we go," Cruxius murmured, almost sweetly, setting the phone neatly on the floor beside Alvian, then crouched down with a calm, almost thoughtful air.

With meticulous care, he bent Alvian’s thrashing body forward, folding him like a puppet with snapped strings.

The fabric of his suit, expertly used, wound tighter—binding Alvian’s blood-slick wrists against his ankles, forcing his mouth deeper into the gag.

A single long loop.

A hard, biting knot.

One suit. One man, fully restrained.

"Struggling suits you," Cruxius commented lightly, almost like an afterthought, as he tightened the final knot, pinning Alvian like a trussed animal on the floor.

Only then, after admiring his own work for a second, did Cruxius untie the gag, letting the suit fall away from Alvian’s mouth.

Instantly, a roar burst out.

"You bastard!! You piece of shit!!—!" Alvian bellowed, blood spraying from the corners of his lips as his voice tore itself raw.

"You fucking rat—I’ll kill you—I’ll—I’ll rip your fucking throat—!!"

The raw fury in his words was broken only by his own body’s betrayal; every howl of rage sent jolts of agony through his arms, his wrists useless, his tendons torn.

"AAARGH—!!"

He screamed again, high and harsh, body twisting, head thrashing, voice ragged and wild.

The pain—the helplessness—the humiliation—

It all twisted inside him until it burst out in an ugly, primal sound.

He wanted the guards.

The secretaries.

Anyone.

But no one came.

And that’s when, mid-scream, a single horrifying memory clicked inside his blood-fogged mind.

—This room.

This fucking room was soundproof.

He himself had ordered it that way.

For privacy. For security.

His screams, his curses, his threats—they would never reach outside these walls.

The thick oak door.

The reinforced panels.

And naturally, Cruxius, while entering the cabin, had already noticed it, recognizing how he didn’t have to hold back within this room.

"Aargh! N-no!?" His voice caught, broken.

Cruxius, meanwhile, simply leaned back against the edge of the desk, tilting his head as if listening to a beautiful symphony.

"Keep going," Cruxius said, his tone almost encouraging, his voice rich with mockery. "I want to remember how you sounded... when you still thought you had hope."

Alvian spat a wad of bloody saliva at him, missing by a foot, before another bolt of agony cut through his chest and he slumped lower.

He could still feel the blood leaking from his severed veins. His wrists, useless. His legs bound. His lungs burning.

This whole screaming went on for ten minutes.

The green vines around his neck were evident, as the blood loss became too much. Slowly, his eyes rolled back as Alvian lost consciousness.

"Let’s see..." Cruxius did the same thing after getting inspiration from Thalia as she had used her voice to mimic like him by using an AI to convert the voice after feeding the sample of his voice derived from the internet.

So using the same method, he first collected a voice sample from Alvian, now before creating a recording of his voice.

> He said something, a smirk tugging at his face as he recorded a voice message for the Hero Association, particularly for one of the factions within it.

And then simply converted the voice to that of Alvian, before letting it rest beside the desk where a landline phone attached to the local network of the hospital was lying, dialing the number.

After all, he needed to use this guy a little more so he should live a little longer

// Hello...//

---

"Master? Is everything alright?" Darithi, who had already guessed that much, realized the chances of her master going after the dean of this hospital had the highest probability.

She directly made her way down after handing over Volta for treatment, arriving in that direction.

As expected, she finally met with her master who stood with his phone to his ear, with his mouth clearly twitching.

"Who?" Cruxius, who had just come out of the Dean’s office, was about to receive a call from the butler of the Blac family.

The butler handed the call to the head of the family—Cruxius’s father.

He still tried to act like he usually did in his younger years to avoid making him suspicious.

After all, his intellectual genes did come from his father.

// You brat, shouldn’t you think it’s time for you to become responsible and settle down with family before handling the Blac family’s business empire? /

"....Um, Dad, our Blac family’s businesses can be considered an empire, right?" Cruxius absentmindedly inquired as he glanced towards Darithi and then directly at the far corner where, a moment ago, Darithi had sent Ytrisia for treatment.

Knowing that he just needed to push this old man of his a bit more, he proceeded.

// Yes and? // The voice from the other side of the call was firm, hoarse, and manly.

"So, being a soon-to-be emperor of that empire, shouldn’t I be collecting my Imperial Harem first?" Cruxius shrugged his shoulder as he stated.

"Cough! Master!?" Darithi nearly stumbled and fell.