Hero Party's Villain: What's the Point If Heroines Are Not Broken?-Chapter 10- Devil’s New Body?

"That was... unexpected," Satteus muttered again, quieter this time, raising an eyebrow as he looked towards the phone’s display, where the call had been cut from the other side.

His voice held slight surprise due to the fact that, in the future, the woman he knows wasn’t this reactive even at the toughest of the mockeries. So most probably, he realized that she still had not become the Hela he wanted her to be.

In Hela’s way of saying, it would be something like: She was still a girl, not a woman at all.

"Mmmgh—hhh... P-pl...ea...s..." A woman’s voice, breaking with each breath, reached his ears, yet he stared at the skyline beyond the hospital window.

His other hand, however, told a far different story.

In his left hand, held aloft with effortless control, was a nurse — her white shoes barely scraping the floor, toes twitching in the air as her throat was gripped mercilessly in his palm.

Her name tag dangled helplessly, forgotten — Nurse Ally — her hands clawing at his forearm, nails dragging pale streaks into his skin without leaving a mark.

"Aug--ugh... he-..lp..." she rasped, voice a thin thread through a crushed windpipe, muffled by the force that held her in suspension.

Her legs kicked once, twice, then just trembled, her skirt fluttering slightly with each dying spasm.

Her eyes, wide with disbelief, weren’t just looking at death — they were looking into it.

Because in those last seconds, she saw his face.

And it wasn’t just handsome. It was terrifying.

Not because it lacked beauty — but because it held no remorse.

The sharp jawline, the relaxed expression, even the slight breath fogging the glass beside his lips — it all looked calm. Beautiful. Godlike.

And that god was watching her die like one might watch petals falling from a flower — not with hate, but with indifference.

Her pupils reflected him perfectly. His eyes. His outline. His idle gaze turned slightly toward her at the final moment. A god, not giving mercy. A man, not even giving attention.

She felt instant despair drenching her bones.

:: Kekeke, now that’s some food to eat— ::

A black energy started to leak out of his body, moving towards the woman, whose eyes rolled back as her struggling hand fell down. Her neck had just been snapped, mouth leaking saliva, and body dangling in his hand like a rag doll.

The black energy coiled down Satteus’s arm like a living shadow and struck the nurse’s chest with surgical hunger.

Tsshhhlkk.

Her uniform didn’t tear — it dissolved. The fabric fizzled away from her torso in seconds, peeling off in strands like wet tissue. Her bra hissed as the straps melted against her shoulders, the cups collapsing and slipping down — exposing bare skin flushed with terror.

Her breasts, soft and rising even in death spasms, blistered violently. Pale pink turned angry red — then black. Flesh bubbled, nipples split open with steaming cracks, then sagged as the fat beneath melted into thick, yellowish drips.

Spluhhhh—crrrtch.

Veins spread like lightning beneath her skin — glowing dark blue for an instant — before rupturing all at once.

Her stomach inflated, then sank in as the black tendrils punched through her navel and dragged her insides out through the smallest hole.

Grrrllrrkk.

Her thighs quivered, skirt fluttering once more before her pelvis snapped sideways with a wet crack, bone splitting out through skin and vanishing into the hungry void.

A thin stream of urine escaped — involuntary, final — and was instantly absorbed.

Plssk.

The blackness crept over her face last. Lips flaked. Nose caved. Eyes stared until the very moment the tendrils bored into the sockets, twisting gently before popping the eyeballs free with obscene care.

Pltk.

Slllup.

By the time her scalp melted off and her skull collapsed inwards, the body had lost all identity — just meat, gristle, and steam.

And soon enough, everything vanished and what remained was that black thing hovering on the floor.

"She might have woken up." Satteus, uncaring about the murder he committed, just turned to look towards the clock. Hands tucked in his pocket as he looked on the other side of the bed, where within that room there were two beds — on the second one lay a middle-aged man, bandaged, but with an oxygen mask and a state which clearly showed his condition was much worse than his.

’Sleep well, Uncle’, Satteus just made his way, arriving near the bed where the man was lying in a coma, clearly unaware of how his memories were about to be rewritten, and in this coma state, everything was going to be soon hijacked.

He just looked at the man before turning back towards that black thing lying on the floor. His mouth parted before a command came out of his throat.

It wasn’t just the words but the vibrations that were happening within his throat when he called the name.

"DrûTamaḥ."

SWOOSH

As his words rang in the air instantly, the black energy rose and took the dark black form of a humanoid shape.

The black mass on the floor twitched once... then swelled.

A sudden puff of air hissed out from its core as it expanded, thick tendrils bubbling and folding inward, shaping themselves. The base stretched, pulling upward — and the legs came first. Long. Smooth. Shiny like oil on skin.

Thighs curved into place, full and plump, tightening into sharp hips with a violent pop of bone locking into socket. Flesh rippled along the surface, trembling like jelly before settling with a slow, obscene jiggle.

Her pelvis snapped forward, hips flaring wide — exaggerated, unnatural — before the center between her thighs sealed with a wet shudder.

Prrrttck.

Her waist drew inward sharply, sculpting into an hourglass that arched with each pulsing breath. Then her chest pushed outward with sudden force — two heavy mounds inflated upward, bouncing as if dropped into form.

PLOFFF.

They settled with a slight upward perk, jiggling gently before the nipples popped into place — small peaks forming atop soft, gleaming curves that still steamed faintly from the transformation.

Her arms unfurled like vines, wrists flicking with grace, fingers crackling into alignment as nails sharpened with a chick-chick-chik.

The neck stretched. Chin rose. A jaw clicked into place. Then the face rolled forward — blank at first — before the skin tightened, lips bloomed red, and two eyes snapped open, gleaming with false warmth.

A long gush followed as slick, tar-black hair poured down her shoulders, bouncing softly against her now-formed chest.

Last came the clothing — not worn, but grown.

A nurse outfit bubbled from beneath her skin, forming in threads and layers. The white fabric hugged too tightly, the skirt barely decent, revealing the inward curves of her hips below. Buttons clicked closed as if stretching due to pressure, pushing cleavage out. Stockings snaked up her legs, stopping at her thick, perfect thighs.

Unlike before, the clothes seemed to be tightened without any shame for the human body.

She took a single, confident step forward, chest giving a soft bounce, one hip cocked lazily.

Then, with a tilt of her head and a sly smile curling her lips, she whispered:

:: So... How much will you rate fan service out of 10, Master? ::

::...::

Ally — more like the devil’s new form — stood waiting for the marks out of ten, looked towards Satteus, who, uncaring, just moved towards the bed, taking his seat as he lay down, adjusted himself, wore the oxygen mask, equipment for the medical heartbeat measure and all, and lay while closing his eyes before giving another command.

"Bring Arvia here... make sure she knows how much I sacrificed for her..."

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