Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

Malik remembering changed everything.

Or at least, it should have.

He tried to use it.

Really tried.

The knowledge sat ready in his mind, and he reached for it again and again, searching for the right angle, the right approach, the right series of actions that would break the cycle.

Tried.

Yes, he really, really, did.

What followed was nothing short of pure insanity.

Gag them, chain them, bind them, maybe just knock them out at the start.

Malik couldn’t manage any of it.

Huda was against everything, convinced he was hallucinating, and Safira kept trying to reason with him, her patience wearing thinner with each passing moment.

As soon as the pressure hit its tipping point, rage snapped out.

One moment they were walking, talking, almost normal. The next, Huda’s wind was cutting through the air, and Safira’s fists were flying.

Malik, much like the previous time, was the last to be infected.

But that didn’t matter.

He’d reached the same conclusion.

”Reset.”

Blink.

They all died.

He tried again.

Using the small facts he’d learned about them, Malik pushed against their irritation.

He made them remember what made them laugh. He brought up the petty hates they held, the tiny grudges that made them human, the little anchors that might keep them grounded.

It didn’t work.

They lasted longer than any previous attempt, walking further, talking more, arguing less.

For a moment, Malik thought he’d found something.

Then Safira’s fist went through Huda’s chest.

Then Huda’s wind took off Safira’s head.

Then Malik burned them both.

”Reset.”

It seemed inevitable.

No amount of talking could change it.

A fact Malik knew very well by now.

His strategy became surgical.

He stopped trying to argue feelings or appeal to their humanity.

That approach had failed too many times and had certainly run its course.

Instead, he went hyper-practical, forcing them through the corridor as fast as possible, barely explaining what had happened, trying to give them no time to dwell and no space for the rage to build.

The two at least allowed that.

They played along, even though Huda complained the whole time.

Safira asked questions, but Malik shut her down. Just move. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just move.

And yet, that was the fastest they’d gotten corrupted.

Even with barely any time spent in the corridor, Corruption came for them like a wave.

It was sudden, overwhelming, and well... inescapable.

That gave Malik another piece of the puzzle.

It wasn’t only time in here that mattered.

Space did too.

Space and time... of course.

The closer they got to the other side, the faster the infection took hold.

The corridor itself was the trigger; distance traveled the catalyst.

Thus, when he had them move faster, the rage came without warning.

There was no buildup of frustration or slow simmer of hatred.

Just sudden, complete, irreversible violence.

A worse version of the grim script, playing out all over again.

”Reset.”

Every attempt taught him more about them.

Safira’s fighting style was simply unorthodox.

He’d never seen anything like it, not in all his battles.

Her moves weren’t anything he would have made.

Malik could barely predict her, and every time he thought he’d caught her pattern, she shifted.

Unpredictable in a set way.

Different processes, always leading to the same result.

Death.

Every time that happened, Malik reset again.

Worse, his attacks were never enough. Her recovery was too quick, her healing too fast.

He could burn her, cut her, crush her, and she’d just heal and keep coming.

Meanwhile, Huda was...

Somehow, worse.

Her wind was too fast even through its hesitation.

She didn’t need to get close or even aim.

A simple thought was enough.

The air always answered, and whatever stood in her path came away cut in half.

Corruption made both of their attacks simple.

It stripped away technique, strategy, restraint.

Yet it didn’t touch their strength.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Even after everything...

After every ’after...’

Tens and tens of times later...

Malik still hadn’t stopped them from killing each other.

No matter what strategy he built or what crazy plan he cooked up, it always ended the same way.

He’d walk into that corridor with Huda and Safira, and he’d walk out alone.

Or not at all.

Their bodies scattered across the wooden floor, both of them burned by his own hands, and then the reset would come.

Everything would change in a flash.

And so, he failed.

Again. And again. And again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Yet he didn’t give up.

Every time they died, they woke again before the same entrance to the same corridor.

He learned more each time, even if it was barely anything. A tell in Safira’s stance before she threw a punch. A flicker in Huda’s eyes before her wind gathered. A pattern, a rhythm, a crack somewhere in the wall of impossibility.

And it wasn’t just about the two of them anymore.

It was about himself too.

Whoever he’d been before this, he’d fail to recognize now.

The man who’d first walked into this corridor, confident, controlled, and certain, was gone.

In his place was someone... sharper and far more desperate.

Malik was learning a very hard lesson.

Some things couldn’t be won with strength.

Some things couldn’t be won at all.

He had to accept his weakness.

With the best plan he’d ever managed to build, he began their next attempt.

The world blinked, folding back, sending them to the beginning.

Safira and Huda stood with their backs turned, facing the entrance, unaware.

Again, they stood before the Tree of Life.

This ”they” didn’t include him.

Malik always woke behind them, on the ground.

It was the most opportune moment to strike, not just for surprise, but for timing.

In that first breath after the reset, before they fully oriented themselves, before the Corruption could take hold, he could move.

Surprise would be on his side.

And their confusion would buy him precious seconds.

Thanks to those two things, they wouldn’t kill him the instant he stood up.

He’d survive long enough to actually strike first.

And so...

Malik opened his eyes.

The black roots loomed above him.

The dull light pulsed in the cracks.

He pushed himself up.

His hands came together.

’Ember’s Touch. Goliath’s Fall.’

Thus began the loop once more.