Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

After taking a few seconds to get over that revelation, Malik quickly decided to roll with the soldiers for a while.

He truly had no other option here.

Stranded in a gray desert with no supplies, no map, and no idea where anything was.

Besides, it wasn’t going to be all that dangerous, at least not to him.

Though the second wave was upon them, he still had one more Soul Glyph left.

Something that, he now realized, had no cooldown.

He could activate one Soul Glyph, let it expire, and then immediately activate another without any waiting period.

That had changed everything!

As long as he had Fear Points to spend, he could keep pulling out minutes or at least many single attacks of absolute power.

Malik wasn’t in any danger, even in the middle of this warzone.

So, after dusting himself off and fixing his tunic, he looked at the nice soldier—the one who had wanted to help him when the others backed away.

”I can still fight. Let me come with you.”

The soldier nodded without question, knowing that they needed all the help they could get.

He reached into what appeared to be a cart and took out an extra sword.

The steel blade was well-used, with a leather-wrapped grip.

Malik took the sword and placed it in his belt.

”Hm...”

He unsheathed the blade and held it up, testing the weight.

The balance felt right, and the edge was sharp enough to cut.

Eventually, he nodded, finding it adequate.

It seemed that despite being a transmigrator from Earth, he knew his way around a sword.

Furthermore, knowledge lived in his muscles, buried deep in the body he now inhabited.

Whatever training this body had gone through and however many battles it had fought, while greatly lessened, all had remained as instincts.

With that settled, they turned their attention to the distance. Because yes, darkness was upon them once more, and the sounds of war had resumed.

Even when so far away, they heard the clash of metal and the terrible shrieking of Demons.

They waited and watched as the main horde, comprising no more than three million Demons, was utterly destroyed.

But not every Demon had been caught in the army’s might.

What relatively small number survived the Last Stronghold trickled down to nearby platoons. And what trickled from those platoons finally reached the outermost edges of the army.

Their area was one such ’edge.’

The weakest soldiers faced the weakest Demons.

Ones that Malik believed he could handle without using his remaining Soul Glyph.

”Follow me.”

He went forth.

The first Demon came at him with a clawed arm, its oily black skin covered in thumping purple veins.

Malik sidestepped and swung the sword in a wide arc, using his body weight and momentum instead of sheer strength.

The blade bit into the creature’s neck, and the Demon crumpled.

’That was much easier than I thought.’

Despite his current weakness—this aged, shrunken body—Malik moved like someone who had done this more than a million times. Which he likely did, the Sultan’s muscle memory guiding him.

Earth was relatively peaceful compared to this, but he, outside the Sultan’s help, seemed to be a very experienced fighter as well. Enough that the soldiers followed his lead without complaint, cutting down Demons left and right.

With Malik at the front, they tore through the remnants of the horde.

Though he was easily the weakest of them in terms of raw strength, his experience more than made up for it, enabling him to read the Demons’ jerky movements before they happened and strike where they were going to be, not where they were.

And now that Malik fought them in melee range, he saw them up close for the first time.

Calling them Demons was a disservice; these creatures were utterly disgusting.

But they died just like anything else.

The soldiers kept pushing forward, tearing through the remnants, going far into the desert. Unnecessary so.

Their adrenaline ran high, and their blood sang with the thrill of battle.

Malik understood the feeling very well, but he also understood the danger.

They couldn’t let the Demons near any of the villages. That was their mission. That was why they pushed so hard. But there was a line between pushing hard and pushing stupid.

”We have to stop! We’re going too far out!”

The soldiers didn’t listen.

In their excitement, they surged ahead of him, reveling in the fight.

Their adrenaline seemed to have entirely drowned out their caution.

It was typical of soldiers, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any less annoying.

’What should I do?’

Malik, while fighting as hard as before, was lost in thought.

He knew that he would be better off stopping them by force. Maybe a quick grab, something rough and sudden to snap them out of it. But he didn’t know how they’d react in this state.

Fight or flight? Perhaps even turn on him?

He really didn’t want to waste a Soul Glyph on a bunch of overexcited soldiers.

So he let them go.

Perhaps he was being too paranoi—

”Kkkkkieeeeeeeeeeee!”

But of course he wasn’t.

They indeed bit off more than they could chew, their intensity blinding them to the threat.

The Demons had moved like a tide, flowing around the soldiers, cutting off their retreat.

Before the soldiers realized what was happening, they were surrounded on all sides.

They had gone too deep.

’Ha. Just my luck.’