My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines
Chapter 94 - Ytrisia and Darithi vs. Sugar and Eventide

Chapter 94: Chapter 94 - Ytrisia and Darithi vs. Sugar and Eventide

The wind rustled high above the rushing train, cutting against the speed of its motion like a blade slipping across stretched nerves.

Afternoon sunlight washed the surface of the train in gold, the steel body humming beneath its own weight.

Above it, space opened—not with violence, but with cold precision.

A sharp, flat-edged portal sliced into existence. Two figures stepped out onto the roof, their silhouettes stark against the sunlit sky.

The first woman’s boots landed with a thud, her short skirt fluttering against her thighs. Her outfit clung to her like skin—tight, dark, intentionally provocative.

Her crop top strained across her chest, her legs bare, long, and confident. Her red hair curled like fire in the wind, her expression unreadable under the arrogance of youth.

Eventide.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulder with a shrug. "Still in motion."

Behind her came another.

She didn’t leap.

She stepped—controlled, poised. Her heels clicked once against the steel, and silence followed. A tailored white coat billowed softly behind her. Black gloves covered her hands. Her eyes, cold and unreadable, scanned the length of the train roof.

Sugar.

Her presence carried weight. Not from strength—but from restraint. Like a storm that hadn’t been permitted to break.

Her voice came clean and quiet. "You shouldn’t have attacked Cruxius."

Eventide didn’t look at her. She just smirked. "Don’t start this again."

Sugar remained still.

The moment she heard that Eventide had attacked Cruxius, a slight anger began to form in her mind, which she managed to control, given that she had decided to sever all ties and not think of that man in this life that had been given to her to start anew. Still, she felt irritated.

"Really," Eventide went on, brushing wind-tangled strands of hair from her face, "It doesn’t matter. He’s alive."

That was when Sugar moved.

Not her body. Her eyes.

A flash—sharp, precise, nearly imperceptible.

A breath of killing intent, not flared... but focused. Like a blade placed against the skin but never pressed.

The wind seemed to bend around it.

Eventide paused mid-step, blinking.

The moment passed.

’No, I shouldn’t care about him...he betrayed me’, At that moment, Sugar consoled herself, her mind calming down as she felt there was no reason for her to act repulsively regarding Cruxius. She turned her head away.

She lifted her gloved hand, and with a flex of her fingers, a tall rectangle of light carved into the air—a portal so clean it looked like glass on nothingness.

"Let’s go," she said. Her voice was cold now. "We have a mess to clean. One you made."

Eventide said nothing. She stepped through the portal first.

Sugar followed.

It was like passing through a door as they entered within the train car above which they had been a moment ago.

A soft displacement of air, then the sudden press of sound—groaning metal, the deep rumble of tracks beneath. The cabin was dim, lit only by half-dead ceiling lights that flickered overhead like failing stars.

Torn leather seats lined both sides.

And there, at the far end—two figures.

They stood still beneath the flickering light, as if painted there. No reaction. No motion. As if they had been waiting.

Black cloaks wrapped their bodies, long and thick and rippling slightly with the train’s motion. The taller one drew the eye first. Her silhouette was impossible to miss.

A thick, powerful body outlined by her cloak—the weight of her curves obvious even beneath the fabric. Her hips flared wide, legs planted apart in a silent challenge. Her chest rose beneath the dark hood like a threat wrapped in flesh.

The other was smaller. Taut. Slim. More like a blade than a woman. Her gloved fingers rested against two short swords, one at each side, unmoving.

They didn’t speak. Didn’t twitch.

Sugar’s heels clicked forward once on the steel floor. She raised her chin, her voice cool and firm.

"You are not registered for presence on this line. State your identity."

Silence.

No gesture. No shift.

Just... cold stillness.

Eventide narrowed her eyes. Her voice was looser, rougher. "Villains?"

Sugar’s tone was clipped. "No insignia. No insignia usually means freelance or blacklisted."

Still, the figures didn’t answer.

Not even a twitch of the eye.

The two were a distinct feature. Sugar could see that one of them had purple eyes—not common, but neither unique too.

The lights above stuttered.

And Eventide exhaled as though she was done with guessing.

"Forget it," she said. "They’re probably just some backwater lunatics from Zone 7."

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Her body blurred—atoms shimmering as she dissolved into a ghost-like blur of particles, vanishing forward with a hiss.

That was when the fight began.

The taller one moved.

Fast.

No preamble. No warning.

A foot slammed into the steel floor—and the metal bent. Groaned. Warped under the weight of her momentum. She shot forward like a truck, not a person, cloak peeling behind her as her body crashed into Eventide’s path.

Eventide’s form reappeared just in time—eyes widening as a solid arm arced toward her head like a battering ram.

She ducked.

The air cracked as the woman’s fist passed overhead and obliterated a seat behind her—metal scattering like shredded foil.

"What the—!?" Eventide cursed, flipping backward, atoms buzzing along her skin.

The lean one came next: the one who held two small swords.

She didn’t run—she flowed. A sharp, low movement like a snake, both swords flashing out. Her form was fluid, almost too graceful to track. She launched herself straight toward Sugar with cold precision.

Sugar stepped sideways—not panicked, just calculating—and raised one hand.

A panel of space peeled open behind her, folding like origami.

She slipped through it.

Shkrrk—!

One of the blades scraped the edge of her coat, sizzling a gash into the white fabric. Too close.

She landed three meters away—body angled, expression unreadable.

"Hostile intent confirmed," Sugar murmured.

The big one slammed her fist into the floor, sending a burst of pressure outward. A shockwave that cracked the base of the cabin and sent debris flying. Eventide tried to phase, but caught part of the blast—her shoulder slammed into a window.

"Son of a—!"

The glass spiderwebbed behind her.

She flipped up, growling.

"No introductions, no trash talk, just violence? Boring."

The lean attacker pressed again, this time spinning in a low arc with both blades—one high, one sweeping for Sugar’s knees.

Sugar dipped low, her heel gliding across the floor in a clean arc, avoiding both. She launched another portal beneath her and vanished again.

She reappeared at the far end, breath even, eyes narrow.

She finally spoke—more to herself than anyone.

"...Fluid coordination. Power-oriented frontal. The smaller one calculates space... the larger one absorbs damage."

She paused.

Her gaze locked on the thick woman who had sent Eventide flying.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

"...No. Not random."

The big woman turned toward her.

And for a moment—just a flicker—there was something familiar in the posture. The weight. The stance. Sugar’s gloved fingers tensed at her side.

Eventide floated down from her flip, planting her boots again.

"These bitches don’t talk, don’t flinch, and apparently don’t bleed," she spat. "You want to explain what the hell this is, Sugar?"

Sugar’s voice was low as she stopped in her way. Until now, her mind calm, observed everything, the battle style and everything, and instantly recognized whom they were fighting right now. "I’ve seen her before."

A beat.

Then, quiet.

"Ytrisia, why are you attacking us?"

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