I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities-Chapter 59: Ch 58. Rage!!!

Mireveil had vanished the moment the attack on the Lancaster estate failed.

With security in City X pushed to its highest alert and a full-blown manhunt in motion, she knew staying above ground was a death sentence.

Her teleportation had range limits—it couldn't take her beyond the city's boundaries. She needed to disappear somewhere no one would dare look.

And so, she chose the Umbravine Maw.

It was a reckless decision. The most guarded den under the Hero Association's control, crawling with elite patrollers and surveillance.

But that's what made it perfect. No one would expect a wanted criminal to willingly walk into the lion's den.

After slipping past patrol rotations with practiced precision, she entered the den using her remaining credentials—burning the last vestiges of her past cover.

Once inside, she discarded her cloak and mask, letting them burn in the dark recesses of the Maw.

Without her gear, she was just another deep-ranked freelance hero—faceless and forgettable in a place like this.

Deeper and deeper she traveled, far beneath the lower levels where few dared to tread. She didn't care how long she had to wait.

The meat of dread beasts was enough to keep her alive, and the absence of people kept her sane. Barely.

"Better to rot here," she muttered one night, crouched in the dark beside the carcass of a Greater Dread, "than go back to the Organization and let them flay me for failure."

Twice now she had failed. Twice now she had tasted the humiliation of being bested. And at the center of it all was him.

Ethan.

The mere thought of his name made her fingers curl and her jaw tighten. She hated him. Hated how he ruined her missions. Hated how he made her look weak.

And then—he appeared.

She saw it from the shadows. The carnage. The destruction. The way he tore through Abyss Dreads like they were nothing but insects underfoot.

His aura, savage and overflowing, screamed of a man on the edge of a breakthrough.

"You should have stayed out of here…" she whispered, eyes glowing red as a twisted grin spread across her lips her fury blinded any logical reasoning she had.

Her instincts screamed for caution—but her hatred screamed louder. She didn't hesitate.

In a single pulse, she surged forward—no warning, no monologue, no theatrics.

Her hand crackled with deadly purple void energy, her gaze locked on his heart.

But Ethan—ever the warrior honed by countless battles—moved the instant her presence reached him.

He dodged in a blur, appearing several feet away, locking eyes with her. There was no fear in them. Only focus.

And recognition.

He was the source of her humiliation.

No more words were needed.

With a roar of violet energy and a flash of abyssal light, both Ethan and Mireveil charged at each other, fists drawn and killing intent radiating like fire.

A clash between two forces that refused to fall.

****

As Ethan stared down the figure who had just tried to ambush him, his mind was already running calculations.

"She moves like an assassin… that ability—Void-based. It has to be her."

Mireveil.

He remembered the reports. The attack on the Lancaster estate. The failed ambushes. The trail of bodies she left behind. Striker and the Hero Association had been tracking her for weeks. She was one of their most wanted fugitives.

"If it's really her, I can't let her escape. I'll put her down first—then get answers."

His strategy was simple: overwhelm her with force. Then, when she was too injured or unconscious to flee, bind her and call in extraction. If he hesitated now, she could vanish.

Ethan's eyes narrowed, locking on to her movements. He could sense her confidence—arrogance, even. That would be her downfall.

Mireveil believed she had the upper hand. At Level 3, awakened as a B-rank, she wasn't weak. With only two cultivated abilities—{Return to Ash} and {Quick Escape}—she had earned a reputation for deadly efficiency.

"Instant disintegration on touch," Ethan noted. "And short-range teleportation. Dangerous combo, but not unstoppable."

Still, he didn't underestimate her. That would be fatal.

As they collided, Ethan acted without hesitation.

One punch.

A massive, gauntlet—coated with the blood of dozens of slain dread beasts—smashed into Mireveil's face before she even realized the battle had truly begun.

Time seemed to slow for her. Her pupils dilated. Her instincts screamed. And in that frozen instant, she could've sworn she saw her entire life flicker before her eyes.

But she didn't fly back. Ethan focused the full kinetic force of the blow to keep her in place, anchoring her to the ground—so he could follow up.

And he did.

Blow after blow.

Fist after fist.

Each punch was a crashing wave of raw force, tearing through her defenses.

The air trembled with every impact. Her abilities? Useless. She couldn't concentrate long enough to activate them.

"You picked the wrong day," Ethan thought, his face grim and composed. "I'm one step from a breakthrough. And I'm not stopping now."

With a final, devastating uppercut, he sent Mireveil hurtling backward, her body slamming into the wall behind her with a thunderous crack, the impact sending dust and rock cascading.

She didn't move.

Unconscious.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Ethan stood over her limp form, fists clenched, his breathing calm—controlled.

It was no surprise that he won after all power scaling was on his side.

At Level 1, he had taken down Level 3s with ease. Now, as a Level 2, his power was far beyond what Mireveil could handle.

"If she's really Mireveil," he thought, "Striker will want her alive."

He reached for his comm unit, ready to report in.

But deep inside, something surged—a pulsing pressure in his core.

His Meta Essence was overflowing.

The breakthrough was close.

****

Darkness wrapped around Mireveil's unconscious body, but within her mind, memories surged—painful, burning and unforgettable.

---

She was back in District 9 of City S—nicknamed "Gutterreach" by the locals. A place where hope died young, and the Hero Association rarely bothered to show up.

Slums stacked atop slums. Smoke-choked alleys. Dread beasts prowled just outside the barricades, and villains ran unchecked inside.

She never knew her father. And as for her mother...

"A whore," Mireveil had always thought bitterly. "One who brought a new man home every night like it was routine."

There were no lullabies in Gutterreach. Only the sounds of fists, screams, and broken bottles.

Mireveil had stopped caring long ago. Love was a fantasy. Trust was a mistake. Family? A lie.

But then came the day of the rampage.

A Greater Dread Beast broke through the city's weakened perimeter. Fire rained and walls collapsed.

Mireveil, barely ten at that time, huddled under a table, she was too numb to scream.

She didn't care what happened to her as the roof came down.

But suddenly a warm body wrapped around her it was a familiar scent one she could hardly forget it was her mother.

She Shielded her from the debries. Blood dripping down her face and arms trembling.

Yet she smiled.

That smile was a smile Mireveil had not seen before on her mother's face whenever she brought a man to the house.

It was not seductive.

But… relieved.

"You're alive,"

was the last word her mother had whispered, just before she died.

---

She never forgot that smile. freёwebnoѵel.com

Even when the heroes finally came—too late—and killed the dread beast.

Even when they cleared the wreckage and pulled her out.

Even when she was tossed into S-District Orphanage, just another lost child in a forgotten zone.

She didn't cry. She never would again.

But she raged.

She didn't know why or at who—

Until the villains came.

---

The raid happened in the dead of night.

They weren't sloppy. They didn't make noise. They just slipped in, tranquilized the staff, and took ten children—including Mireveil.

They were taken to an underground facility, far beyond the city's reach. There, the truth became clear:

They were recruited.

The organization had a goal: to build a new kind of soldier. Merciless, Adaptable and Disposable. They trained them like animals—combat, tactics, mental warfare.

But everything changed at 15.

The "test."

They were placed in a circular arena. Only one rule: Kill.

Only one could leave.

What followed was a massacre of childhoods. Screams. Blood. Bodies. Mireveil didn't hesitate. She didn't feel guilt. She didn't flinch.

She survived.

And the organization rewarded her.

At 16, they injected her with a prototype serum, one that could forcefully awaken an Aether Mark—if it didn't destroy you first.

She screamed for days. Weeks. Her bones cracked. Her blood boiled. She hallucinated entire lifetimes of torment.

But she lived.

At 18, the Aether Mark finally etched itself onto her body—a deep violet glyph pulsing with Void Energy.

And Mireveil was born.

Not the child from Gutterreach.

Not the girl from the orphanage.

But the killer.

The assassin.

The weapon.

---

Present time.

Her eyes flickered open.

Cold metal wrapped around her wrists.

Anti-ability bracelets. Cutting her off from her Aether Mark.

She tried to move—only to feel pain ripple through her weakened body.

And then she saw him.

Ethan.

Towering, Calm and Focused.

Everything she despised.

He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"You don't have to glare," he said flatly. "You couldn't beat me when I was Level 2. I doubt you'll manage it now that I'm Level 3."

Her jaw clenched. Rage burned in her chest.

She had survived hell.

And yet… here she was.

Defeated and Captured.

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A/N I will release 3 extra chapters if I get 200 power stones or 100 Golden tickets.

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