'!'
Darithi was taken aback. Her gaze shifted from the young master to her watch. Despite the advanced sensors installed across several miles, the radar detected nothing within its range. She hesitated before speaking, "Young Master, it's hardly—"
"Just follow my orders, woman."
Cruxius tilted his head toward her, one brow raised. Without further protest, Darithi gave a swift nod and exited the room, leaving him alone.
He began buttoning his shirt, eyes drifting to the mirror.
'Show me her status.'
As Darithi walked away, Cruxius's gaze trailed down her curvy figure. His focus soon shifted to the flickering blue window that popped up before his eyes.
[Status Window: Darithi Vale]
Rank: C
Role: Bodyguard
Ability: [Resonant Edge] – Rank: B
Imbues her sword with harmonic vibrations that adapt to her opponent's rhythm
After three clashes with a target, her blade syncs with their attack pattern
Increases critical hit chance and parry effectiveness
Sync resets if target changes or after 30 seconds without engagement
Passive: Sword hums with energy, slightly disrupting nearby magical constructs
Moderate energy drain; requires rest after prolonged use
Core Stats:
Strength: C+
Agility: A
Endurance: C
Intellect: B
Charisma: A+
Libido: NULL (Insensitive to physical touch)
'As expected.'
His eyes narrowed on her ability section. In his last life, that very sword had become her death sentence. The blade couldn't keep pace with her evolving resonance, making it a wasted potential—and the reason she died multiple times. Including tonight.
That same night, in the tangled web of fate, a bizarre event unfolded.
A superhero crashed straight into the servants' quarters, dragging a low-tier mutated beast behind him. It looked like an accident—an unfortunate mishap. But Cruxius knew better. It was a hit, masked by chaos.
Coincidentally, the Blac family's butler had arrived to deliver a message from the family head.
He died in the wreckage.
Back then, Cruxius didn't know. But now, he understood—the hero's real target had always been the butler.
Rising from the rubble with a grin, the hero muttered a half-assed "sorry" even as guards surrounded him. The smirk on his face, the arrogance—it was pure mockery.
He dusted off his shoulder and sneered at the stunned Cruxius.
"Guess it would've been you next time, delicate dildo master."
Cruxius's jaw tightened. He gave a single command: "Darithi."
She lunged to attack.
The mansion's guards unleashed a storm of bullets—but to an A-rank hero, it was like throwing pebbles at a hurricane.
One by one, the guards were cut down. Even Darithi, despite her skill, fell after a drawn-out battle. And when the hero finally lost his temper, he snapped—unleashing carnage.
Yet, strangely, he spared Cruxius.
Maybe it was fear of crossing the Blac family. Or maybe, Cruxius was just that insignificant in his eyes.
But Cruxius, ever the arrogant fool, charged anyway—with the weak, pampered body he had at the time.
It ended in a single punch.
His body was flung across the garden, slammed into a rock—and died, just like that.
'What a pathetic memory. Show me my status.'
Cruxius couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. Back then, he didn't even hate heroes.
He treated them like disposable celebrities—entertainers who could be bought with enough Blac family wealth.
[Status Window: Cruxius Blac]
Rank: A (Potential)
Role: Playboy Young Master
Ability: [Black Loop] – Rank: Unknown
Upon death, user can rewind to a chosen point within the last 24 hours
Currently sealed; activation conditions unknown
User is unaware of this ability
Passive memory echoes occur during dreams
Cannot influence the world until awakened
Core Stats:
Strength: E
Agility: E
Endurance: E
Intellect: SS
Charisma: B+
Libido: S
'Hm.'
His eyes drifted from his own status to Darithi's. The contrast was glaring—she outclassed him in everything except intellect and… libido.
He paused.
His gaze shifted toward the floor, something wet catching the corner of his eye. His boots had nearly stepped in it.
A puddle.
Clear, glistening, obscene—spread wide across the polished floorboards like someone had spilled an entire glass of water.
His gaze lifted, slowly following the trail—thin rivulets streaked back across the floor, climbing the side of the bed, soaking the sheets where they hung limp and heavy.
Then he saw it.
On the bed, a single sight of a bare woman.
Her ruined cunt lay split wide open, red and trembling, a swollen mess that no longer even looked human.
His cum had painted every fold, thick and heavy, stuffed so deep it still trickled out with every twitch.
It looked like the mouth of some broken fountain—no, a ruptured spring—where pleasure had been beaten, no, pounded into pressure until it exploded out of her.
The sheets beneath her hips were drenched, sagging with the sheer volume she'd sprayed like her body had forgotten how to hold anything in.
She lay there wrecked—popped wide like a champagne bottle after a brutal shake, her cunt leaking, thighs glazed with dried blood, every inch of her screaming she'd been fucked to oblivion.
Cruxius stared, jaw tightening with a half-smirk.
'So that's what an S-rank libido meant.'
Sexual prowess—not just stamina or size, but the capacity to overwhelm someone purely through physical sensation.
Of course, what caught his attention most was his ability.
It was still sealed. Dormant.
The hidden condition was simply his dying.
The system seemed to show his live status—updating in real time. Which meant, until today, he truly had no clue what he was capable of.
But now?
Now, things would change.
Even though he possessed the ability to return to the past, there were several moments in his life that remained unchanged no matter what alternative he chose—today's incident being one of them.
Despite traveling back, he had attempted two different approaches to alter what seemed inevitable.
In his first attempt, he informed the main family, preventing the event from ever occurring in the first place.
But since he craved revenge, he killed himself again—using death as a trigger to return once more.
In the second attempt, he orchestrated the hero's arrest for trespassing on his estate simply because no other superheroes stronger than A rank could be hired due to strict prohibitions from the hero association, nor could a supervillain be trusted to kill an A-rank hero, as they might turn against the Blac family.
This left no option but to go with the route of ethics and execute the plan through a calculated and discreet setup.
Yet, a year later, he encountered that same hero again—released from prison early due to a shortage of A-rank heroes.
At the time, unaware of his ability's deeper limitations, he didn't consider repeatedly killing himself to go back a full year.
Not only would the process have shattered him mentally, but there was no guarantee it would even work.
By then, he had come to a painful truth: wealth could rent power, but it could never truly own it.
"Hm, hello? Front desk?" he said, reaching for the nearby cell phone—the device immediately connecting him to the palace's front desk, designed for communication or emergency use.
"Call the media agencies," he added coldly, "and tell them to be at the mansion within two hours, as there is an idiot being killed."