Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

Malik sat alone with the diary on his lap.

Outside, he could hear Azeem and his shadows screaming about something or another.

He ignored them.

The diary lay open to the new pages.

Same as last time, nearly all of them were blank, but a few more now had writing.

The second part of Cyrus’s ramblings, unlocked by his Wheel Of Fortune.

Malik read.

—

[I must admit, my children are utterly useless. Have I been neglecting them that much? I told Rania to stop crying about her allowance once again, but of course, she did the same. Such a spoiled brat. She’ll get what she’s given when I damn well feel like it.]

—

Malik could almost hear the man’s tired voice.

—

[And to make things worse, I caught Hamid trying to steal from the treasury again. Idiot. How does someone get that stupid? If I point at the Twelve Moons, this one will look at my finger.]

—

Cyrus’s contempt for his own blood dripped from every word.

—

[No matter. I’ll have him flogged later. I’d send him to the North if I didn’t know he’d die in two days.]

—

They weren’t children in his eyes but utter disappointments. Tools that had been forged incorrectly and couldn’t be fixed.

—

[It’s not all bad, thankfully. I’ve been sent word that Hanan is pregnant with a boy. Maybe I’ll finally have an heir that isn’t so useless.]

—

Malik didn’t react much to these names.

Most of Cyrus’s children had already died, whether through infighting or the simple passing of time.

Hanan’s daughter, however, was likely someone he had met a little while ago, when he called upon all his lords, nobles, ministers, and so on to come to his hall.

—

[I can’t help but wonder if the True Sultan cursed me with fools just to amuse ’Himself.’]

—

The True Sultan.

Malik had heard the name twice before.

Once from his very daughter, or rather, the Entity that took over her, and another from his system.

’He’ was Devil’s Maw’s God.

The first-ever Sultan.

Hence, ’His’ name, the True Sultan.

The very God Malik was to replace.

—

[Spoiled, whiny, useless. Good for nothing but bedding men and women for alliances. Nothing they do has purpose. Huda... she might not be my daughter, but at this point, I don’t care. If all else fails, at least I can have her take the crown.]

—

Malik paused for a moment.

His little sister could’ve been the Sultan?

Did that mean he took that role from her when he killed the Former Sultan?

Was that one of the reasons why she joined the coalition to kill him? Aside from the fact that he killed her uncle?

—

[Huda. It’s funny she still wants to be called that, even after all that happened with him.]

—

’Him.’

Malik’s eyes lingered on the word.

Was this ’him’ referring to Malik himself?

Did something else happen between him and Huda?

Something that created further animosity between them?

And well, was he the one who named her Huda?

If yes, then he must have met her when she was young.

Many things now made sense.

Huda’s tears and guilt.

Her desperate need for forgiveness.

She had been caught between two Sultans—one who claimed her but didn’t love her, and one who loved her but couldn’t keep her.

—

[Sometimes I think... maybe it would’ve been easier if I’d just burned this whole world down a hundred years ago and started fresh.]

—

Cyrus’s handwriting grew... angrier here, pressed deeper into the paper.

—

[But, unfortunately, it’s too late. I don’t have enough time... my Soul doesn’t have enough time. I’m soon to Fall into Depravity’s embrace.

Perhaps this is Fate.

Fate of all we Sultans.]

—

Malik’s eyes widened.

His breath caught in his throat.

The words hit him like a physical blow.

He read them again, then again, then again.

’I’m soon to Fall into Depravity’s embrace.’

’Fate of all we Sultans.’

Many more things clicked into place.

Malik clearly remembered the words of his Soul’s memory once he returned from the East.

He had spoken of the breaking of his Soul, of how he needed another to join him so he could survive.

This ’breaking’ wasn’t only a result of all the tragedy, wars, and heartbreak that he had endured.

It was also a result of Corruption.

Malik was poisoned by IT as well.

Every Sultan was.

Yes, he had killed the Former Sultan.

He had cut off Cyrus’s head and taken the throne for himself.

But he only did so to hide the truth.

The truth of Cyrus’s Corruption.

Malik had taken the blame and united Devil’s Maw against a common enemy.

For what purpose did he wish to unite Devil’s Maw?

He didn’t know exactly.

But it definitely had to do with his fight against the Origin of Corruption.

No doubt he was trying to give the world a chance before his disappearance.

Even in death, he was trying to help his people.

’Just how selfless was h... am I?’

Malik looked up from the diary.

The ceiling of the Sultan’s Hall stretched high above him. The light of the morning Suns streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor.

”Hm.”

He began to laugh.

It started as a low chuckle, then it grew loud.

The sound echoed off the walls, bouncing back at him from every direction.

’A king always dies poisoned.’

That was the truth, was it not?

While literal in their circumstance, the ruler would sit on the throne, and the throne would poison them slowly, year by year, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell wearing a crown.

Cyrus had been poisoned by Corruption.

And Malik had been poisoned by the same.

Yet Malik had tried to save the world anyway.

Even as his Soul cracked, got devoured by the Void, and his mind frayed, he had kept fighting.

’How selfless.’

Malik stopped laughing.

’...how stupid.’

He closed the diary and called it back into the system, watching the pages dissolve into golden light between his fingers.

Knock, knock...

Just then, his gates rumbled.

”Apologies, my Sultan—!”

The gates swung open, and Azeem stumbled through.

He caught himself on the edge of the frame, his breathing ragged.

Azeem had not meant to push through as he did; his body had simply given out, and the gates had given way.

”My Sultan.”

He forced himself to straighten.

”Our enemies have sent their response.”

’...’

Malik rose from the throne.

***

The dungeon was cold despite the torches burning in iron sconces along the walls.

Indeed, Malik was underground, in a place carved into the bedrock beneath the Holy Palace.

It served as a prison and a morgue.

The air smelled of old blood and sweet rot.

A metal table stood in the center of the room.

On it lay a man’s body.

His face was bruised beyond recognition.

His mouth was still open, frozen in a scream that would never come out.

His hands were broken while his chest had been carved open, the ribs pulled apart like the petals of a flower.

Malik stood at the foot of the table, with Azeem to his right and Kabir to his left, his large hands clenched into fists.

”They have no intention to back down, my Sultan.”

Malik didn’t hear him.

He was only staring at the body.

Reaching out, he pressed his hand on the man’s face.

His crying eyes were pulled close.

”Look at how they massacred him.”

There was no anger in Malik’s voice.

They were a simple statement of fact.

A ’fact’ that thundered their hearts.

”His name is Samir, my Sultan.”

Kabir bowed his head.

”One of my own. I had temporarily sent him to work under General Ayyub.”

Malik’s eyes widened a fraction.

’...Ayyub.’

The general from Cyrus’s diary, whose wife had been cheating on him.

’Ah. Indeed. Everything has purpose.’

He pulled his hand away from Samir’s face.

”We shall respond in kind. Operation Our Promise begins immediately.”

Azeem and Kabir straightened.

Their trembling eyes met.

Whatever they saw in each other’s faces made them nod.

”Yes, my Sultan.”

Ding!

—

╔════════════╗

║INITIATING QUEST║

╚════════════╝

[First Main Quest: End Corruption’s Reign — 0% Complete]

[Second Main Quest: Drive Out The Invaders — 4% Complete]

[Sub-Quest: Annihilate Khaybar — 0% Complete]

[System Fully Initialized!]

—

Malik stared at the notifications.

’Hm... the last piece of the puzzle.’

The system had been feeding him power, tracking his progress, recording his losses and victories.

But something had been missing.

A direction.

Now he had it spelled out for him.

End Corruption’s Reign.

Drive out the invaders.

Annihilate Khaybar.

Three quests.

Three impossible goals.

Three steps on a path that would likely kill him.

”We’ll need a small operating unit outside the army fighting the Demons.”

And a much colder Malik, without any semblance of pause, began to act.

”Led by two fronts. Me from the Center, and Scheherazade is from the North.”

Turning away from the body, he walked towards the far wall, where a map of Devil’s Maw was hung.

”That’s how Our Promise will begin.”