Hero Hack: Reversing Heroes and Raising Harem-Chapter 51: Zelia Faces Her Toughest Test

The trench reeked of rot and smoke. Half the sandbags were already burned.

Shells rained somewhere in the distance, but Zelia didn’t flinch.

Her chest still stung where the spear had pierced her heart in the last loop—but she was alive again.

She stood. Gritted her teeth.

One hand clutched a broken rifle.

The other dragged a bloodied combat knife through the mud.

Around her, the screaming began again—new soldiers, same war.

Zelia didn’t scream back. She charged in silence.

Her body knew the rhythm now. Parry. Step. Slash. Duck. Stab.

This was her 90th death. She had lost count of pain.

Now, she counted kills instead.

---

When she opened her eyes, she was already walking.

She knew where she was. The third time meeting the virtual Zain.

Zain stood by the window this time, back turned.

"You lasted longer this time," he said without turning.

Zelia dropped into the nearby chair.

"Don’t flatter me," she muttered.

"I died again."

Zain smirked faintly. "But not for nothing."

She glanced up. "Give me more loops. I’ll break their front line."

He finally looked at her, a flicker of pride in his eyes.

"Now that’s my sister."

---

On her 120th loop, the bunker collapsed around her.

Fire spilled in like a demon’s tongue. She didn’t scream.

She crawled toward the edge, one leg dragging behind her, and gripped her blade like a lifeline.

A figure loomed in the flames. She lunged.

Drove the knife through their throat—just as the inferno took her.

She didn’t even blink.

---

The fourth meeting with Zain.

He waited at the table. He was sipping tea this time.

Zelia sat across from him, steam curling between them.

She exhaled, tired but calm. "Guess what?"

Zain raised a brow.

She smirked. "Burned alive. Again."

He chuckled. "Still making it back to me, though."

"Course I am," she said, grinning now.

"You’re the annoying little brother I can’t ditch."

Zain leaned back. "Love you too, sis."

---

On the 150th loop.

A bullet. Clean. Precise.

Back of the neck.

She dropped without sound—but her final thought was sharp.

"Next time... I shoot first."

---

Zelia burst through the door like she owned the place.

Zain barely had time to stand before she flung herself into the chair, crossed her legs, and grabbed his tea.

"You missed me?"

Zain blinked. "...You got shot in the head."

She sipped. "Minor inconvenience."

He stared at her. Then started laughing.She laughed too.

---

Zelia stood atop a hill of corpses.

Her blade was soaked. Her coat tattered. But her stance?

Unshakable.

She had killed ten in a row that loop.

She barely broke a sweat.

Soldiers began to retreat at the mere sight of her now.

She grinned to herself.

"Almost time to see him again..."

---

When she reappeared, Zain was seated as always.

But this time, she walked in with calm steps, hands in her coat pockets.

He didn’t greet her.

She didn’t speak.

They just exchanged a long, quiet look.

Then Zain grinned.

"You’re different now."

Zelia nodded once. "So are you."

He approached slowly. "Loop 180. You didn’t even cry when you died this time."

"I haven’t cried since 120," she said flatly.

"...How do you feel?"

Zelia cracked her neck. "Ready for a real war."

Zain leaned in. "Then let’s start preparing."

Zelia didn’t smile this time.

But her eyes blazed with purpose.

---

Zelia fought relentlessly through battlefield after battlefield.

Her will sharpened with every death.

By the 330th loop, she had become a hardened warrior.

And with each cycle of thirty brutal simulations.

She returned to that quiet room once again.

The soft lamplight cast shadows across the walls.

The tea table was there as always. The quiet calm.

The strange peace before the next storm.

But Zain wasn’t sitting this time.

He stood by the window, arms crossed, frowning.

Zelia narrowed her eyes. "What’s with the face?"

He didn’t answer.

Zelia’s tone dropped. "Zain. What happened?"

He turned to her, expression unreadable.

"...This is farewell."

Zelia blinked. "Wait... what?"

Zain nodded slowly. "This is the last time you’ll see me like this."

Her breath caught. "No. What are you talking about? I still have more loops—"

"There are no more loops," he interrupted gently.

She took a step forward. "What do you mean?! I—"

Her voice cracked. "You said we’d meet again."

Zain smiled, faint and quiet.

"You’ll keep going... but I won’t be there anymore."

Zelia’s fists clenched. "That’s not fair."

"I’m not your brother, Zelia. I’m just an illusion."

She froze.

He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I was never the real Zain. Just a construct. A part of your ability... guiding you between death after death."

Zelia’s voice was barely a whisper. "But... you felt real."

"I was meant to."

She looked away, jaw trembling.

Zain’s illusion softened his voice.

"Listen to me. This next phase... it’s going to be the hardest."

Zelia looked up slowly.

"No loops. No soft resets. Just one continuous war. Thirty days. Constant."

"If you die... you’ll respawn somewhere else."

"But there won’t be time to recover. No breaks. No talks with me. You’ll be alone."

Zelia’s face paled. "...How many deaths?"

"Maybe more than all your loops combined," he said quietly.

She swallowed hard.

Beastmen. Mutated creatures. Mercenaries. Assassins. Endless waves of enemies.

Zain’s voice cut through her thoughts. "But you’re ready."

She met his eyes.

"You’re not that crying girl anymore. You’re Zelia, Zain’s older sister."

"You’ve survived pain, fire, blades, bullets. And you’re still standing."

Zelia felt the burn in her chest, that old ache.

But now it was hardened. Sharpened. Focused.

"I don’t want to forget you," she said.

"You won’t," Zain smiled.

"You’ll carry me in every strike. Every step. That’s enough."

The light in the room began to flicker. The dream was ending.

Zelia gritted her teeth. "Then say it."

Zain raised his eyebrow.

She stepped forward, gripping his coat.

"Say you’re proud of me. One last time."

Zain smirked.

"I’m proud of you, big sister."

And then—

Light shattered around her.

The floor cracked.

And Zelia was falling into the final phase of war.

No illusions.

No mercy.

No Zain.

Just the battlefield.

And a soldier forged from 330 deaths.