Hero Hack: Reversing Heroes and Raising Harem-Chapter 129: When Your Love Language Is Mutual Murder

The tunnel was dark and quiet.

Zain and Velra walked side by side, saying nothing.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt. Dust clung to the walls.

The sound of their boots echoed through the narrow stone corridor.

"This is it," Velra said softly, checking the map from the file again.

"Valcair’s real base. Hidden deeper than the others."

Zain nodded.

"No fake cages this time. No training floor. Just him."

They reached a thick, rusted door with strange markings carved across the surface.

Zain stepped back. "Can you open it?"

Velra didn’t answer with words.

She kicked the seal hard. It cracked just enough.

Zain helped pry it open.

A low hiss escaped from behind it.

Inside, the hallway split in two.

Faint orange lights blinked on the ceiling, and the floor had metal grates with steam leaking through.

Velra looked left.

Zain looked right.

They both felt it.

"We’re being watched," Zain muttered.

Velra smirked. "Good."

From ahead, footsteps came. Slow, steady, in sync.

Five figures stepped out of the hallway.

Women—all wearing black suits marked with red V symbols.

Each had blank stares and tight grips on their weapons.

"Vantess slaves," Velra said calmly.

"Probably branded. Not thinking. Just following."

Zain was about to move, but Velra stepped forward first.

"No need," she said.

She spun once, leaving behind glowing pink trails in the air.

As she moved, she pointed her fingers along the floor, along the walls, and even in the space between.

Trace Imprint: Paralyze Effect.

The glowing lines shimmered, then vanished.

The Vantess slaves kept walking forward.

Until—

The first one’s leg twitched.

The second froze mid-step.

The third collapsed to one knee.

Zain raised an eyebrow. "Already?"

Velra smiled. "They walked into my path."

One by one, the women dropped. Their bodies seized up.

Their arms fell limp. They could still breathe. Still blink. But they couldn’t move.

Paralyzed.

Zain walked past them slowly.

"Any of them awake enough to talk?"

Velra crouched next to one.

The woman stared at her, fear showing through the blank stare now.

"No. Too far gone," Velra said.

"Even if we asked, they wouldn’t have answers. Just commands."

Zain turned toward the hallway ahead.

"Then we keep going."

They left the frozen guards behind, walking deeper into the base.

Velra checked her blade and cracked her knuckles.

"Do you think he knows we’re coming?"

Zain smirked. "If he doesn’t yet, he will in about ten seconds."

At the end of the next hall, a large steel door stood closed.

Two more guards stood in front.

Bigger, faster and seemed to be elites.

Velra turned to Zain. "Want me to soften them?"

Zain shook his head. "Let me try this time."

He stepped forward.

The two guards raised their weapons—long scythes glowing red.

Zain smiled darkly.

"I’m in a bad mood," he said softly.

And vanished.

In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind one of them.

His foot came down like a hammer. The ground cracked.

The guard blocked just in time, but the impact sent her sliding backward.

The second guard spun, slashing low.

Zain didn’t dodge.

The blade tore across his side—cutting deep.

Blood sprayed. Zain didn’t even blink.

Velra, standing near the tunnel entrance, narrowed her eyes.

Zain moved forward, faster now.

He slammed his elbow into the scythe wielder’s throat.

The woman dropped, gasping, stunned.

The second lunged again, stabbing toward his ribs.

Zain didn’t block.

He took it.

The blade drove through his shoulder—metal clanging against bone.

Zain hissed—but grinned wider.

His Heavenly Demon Body needed more pain to go further.

Every nerve screamed—but his core drank it in.

His skin hardened slightly.

His blood pulsed faster. His body was learning.

The first guard recovered, slashing high.

Zain ducked, twisted, and punched upward with both fists.

Her jaw cracked. She flew into the air and landed hard.

The second pulled her weapon free.

Zain staggered slightly, blood pouring from his shoulder.

Velra’s hand twitched at her side—but she didn’t move.

He didn’t want help.

Zain turned slowly toward the last standing guard.

More blood ran down his arm.

"You’re not enough," he muttered. "Hurt me more."

The guard hesitated. It was subtle—but Velra saw it.

A flicker of doubt.

Zain exploded forward.

Quick Step.

He appeared in front of her and let her stab him again—this time in the thigh.

He grabbed her face.

"You’re strong. But I want pain."

Then he slammed her headfirst into the wall—over and over.

The wall cracked.

So did the mask.

The guard dropped, unconscious, her scythe sliding from her fingers.

Zain stood there, blood dripping from his body, chest heaving—but smiling.

Velra finally stepped forward, slowly, carefully.

"You’re bleeding too much."

Zain exhaled and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don’t worry," he said calmly. "It’s what my ability needs."

Velra raised an eyebrow, not convinced.

"You took two deep cuts. That shoulder should be useless."

Zain didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he pointed at the wound where the scythe had stabbed through earlier.

"Look."

The skin had already begun to close.

Muscles twitched beneath, shifting and knitting back into place.

The bleeding slowed, then stopped.

The flesh looked stronger than before—darker, tougher.

Velra’s eyes narrowed. "Self-healing?"

Zain nodded once. "Not just healing. Cultivating."

He rolled his shoulder slowly, stretching it.

"The more pain I feel... the more damage I take... the stronger this body grows."

He paused, then pointed at a slash across his ribs that was also sealing up.

"You see it, right?"

Velra crossed her arms. "I see it. Doesn’t mean I like it."

Zain gave a faint smirk. "You don’t have to."

His tone shifted—calm, but deeper now.

"This is why they call me the Heavenly Demon."

Velra tilted her head. "A name given... or one you made for yourself?"

Zain looked ahead toward the final chamber.

"Both," he said.

"It’s a title. A path."

"Like the ones in those old novels people used to read."

"The demon who walks through suffering and turns pain into power."

He looked back at her, his red eyes steady.

"I’m not the hero of the story. I never wanted to be."

Velra’s lips curled into a small smile. "Good. Heroes die first."

Zain smirked. "Exactly."

She looked over his wounds again, then gave a slight nod.

"Fine. Just don’t drop dead before I finish Valcair."

Zain cracked his knuckles, blood still dripping down his fingertips.

"If I fall, it’ll be on his corpse."

Velra stepped beside him.

"Then let’s write the ending together."

They walked forward. Together.