Hero Hack: Reversing Heroes and Raising Harem-Chapter 112: Some Symbols Don’t Fade

Zain stepped through the open gate of the Hero Association building.

Across the hall, Blazren stood with his arms crossed, face grim.

He didn’t move as Zain approached.

Only raising one eyebrow slightly.

"How do you do, Blazren?"

Zain said casually, smirking.

Blazren’s eyes narrowed.

"Bad, Heavenly Demon."

He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, jaw tight.

"We found five more B-Rank hero corpses this morning."

"One had their leg folded backward into their own chest."

He exhaled slowly.

"Velvet Demon’s outdoing herself."

Zain’s expression didn’t change.

But a flicker of amusement curled at the edge of his lips.

"Sounds brutal."

Blazren’s voice dropped.

"It’s precise. She’s sending messages now."

Zain tilted his head, crimson eyes gleaming.

"Blazren... what if I told you I noticed something—?"

"Some traits, maybe a few glimpses."

"Something that might link the Velvet Demon to someone I’ve seen before."

Blazren’s head snapped up.

"What?"

"I didn’t say it out loud earlier," Zain added, lowering his voice.

"Because I wasn’t sure. But I’ve got a decent memory for something."

Blazren took a step closer, eyes locked on Zain’s.

"You’re saying you have leads? On her?"

Zain smirked wider.

"No. I’m saying I’ve danced with the same demon once or twice."

"I just didn’t realize it."

Blazren’s body tensed.

"We talk. Now. In private."

He turned, beckoning with a stiff nod.

Zain followed with unhurried steps.

"Lead the way."

They entered the side corridor.

Blazren locked the door behind them.

"If you’re messing with me, demon..."

"I’ll throw you through the nearest reinforced wall."

Zain chuckled. "You wouldn’t get the chance."

"I will try," Blazren replied flatly.

Zain leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

"Relax, fire tank."

"I’m here because I respect the way you test people."

"Figured you’d want to know what I know."

"Assuming you’re done threatening me."

Blazren didn’t smile, but the tension faded slightly from his shoulders.

"Start talking."

"Good," Zain murmured.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded slip of paper.

He handed it to Blazren.

Blazren took it with one eyebrow raised. As he opened it, his expression shifted.

Drawn in black ink was a V-shaped brand, arcing like a fang.

It was etched with a thin silver outline at the top edge.

Blazren stared at it. "What’s this?"

"A mark," Zain said, leaning against the cold wall behind him.

"I’ve seen it on the necks of some of her followers."

Blazren’s eyes snapped to him.

"Wait—you managed to see their necks?"

"Those freaks wear full suits. Even their faces were covered with masks."

Zain only shrugged.

"Call it luck. One of them moved too fast."

"The fabric slipped. Just a moment... but it was enough."

Blazren’s gaze dropped back to the page.

"I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s not a standard villain tag."

"And it’s too specific to be random symbols."

He tapped the paper with one scarred finger.

"Could be a faction symbol."

Zain’s voice remained light.

"Exactly. I don’t know the origin either."

"Could be a remnant cult. Maybe a forgotten bloodline."

Blazren’s eyes darkened.

"You think this is the real identity behind the Velvet Demon?"

"A group, not a person?"

Zain tilted his head.

"Could be both. A single name hiding a structure beneath."

"If the symbol’s legit, you’re not just chasing a lone psycho."

"You’re tracing a chain."

Blazren folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his suit pouch.

"You’re sure it was real? Not just body art?"

Zain’s smile sharpened.

"That mark wasn’t for flair. It was branded."

Blazren’s jaw clenched.

"So, we start with this."

"Look through old villain registries, cult reports, and private guild archives."

"Anything with that symbol."

"Or," Zain added, "start watching the A-Rank trial registrants more closely."

"Some of them may not be playing for our side."

Blazren smirked for the first time that day.

"Good. This is solid. Finally more than blood and rubble." He met Zain’s eyes.

"If you keep digging like this, you might actually earn that reputation."

Zain’s expression didn’t change.

"You’d be surprised how much I already know."

Blazren chuckled once.

"Then surprise me. Next time, bring a name."

Zain pushed off the wall, heading for the exit.

"Names come after flames. I prefer starting with fire."

Blazren shook his head.

"You’re a damn headache, Demon."

Zain called back over his shoulder.

"And you’re still standing. That means I’m going easy."

Meanwhile, on his mind, Zain smirked.

So... the Vantess remnants want to crawl back out.

Good. That saves me time.

He didn’t need to hunt them himself. Not yet.

Not when he could feed the flames and let others burn the path for him.

Let the Hero Association chase ghosts.

Let Blazren do the heavy lifting.

If they find something, I clean it up.

If they die chasing it, less noise for me.

He turned a corner, hands still tucked in his pockets.

"Now that Velra’s former family wants to rise..."

"Let’s just use the heroes to take them down."

He glanced back once toward the meeting room.

"Easier for me that way. Faster."

He didn’t need to lie. He didn’t even need to hide anything.

The symbol was real. The threat was real.

He was just careful about what he didn’t say.

Like who drew the tattoo.

Like who wore it on her neck just days ago.

And who was now killing for him.

Velra was his blade. The Vantess legacy would fall by her hand.

And everyone else would think it was justice.

---

The hidden chamber pulsed with cold white lights.

Chains lined the walls, but none moved.

The pink-haired woman—one of the branded—walked in, her steps silent.

She knelt on one knee before the throne-like seat at the center.

A man sat there, sharp-eyed, pale, with long black gloves.

Valcair Vantess, the last surviving blood of the house.

She lowered her head. "Master Valcair... I have returned."

His eyes didn’t blink. "Report."

She clenched her fist. "We found her. The Velvet Demon. She’s—"

"She rejected us," she said, almost spitting the words.

"She looked right at us... and walked away."