Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

Off Malik went, like a comet through the darkening sky, heading toward the nearest piece of civilization that promised walls, water, food, and a bed to collapse on... or so he hoped.

He only vaguely saw something that resembled a light on the horizon.

Thankfully, despite having no time to aim properly, he had angled himself well with the final blast, his body cutting through the air at just the right trajectory to carry him towards that vague and distant light.

He had no way of slowing down his fall, no remaining power to cushion the landing, but air resistance would do the work for him, and the rest he was sure his body could handle.

After all, though his Rune was now locked back up and his peak Soul Glyph had expired, it’d take a little while before all the strength that came with it to fade away and return him to his much older appearance.

He had understood that much after what he went through following the battle against the Demons.

...

"Ugh!"

Malik hit the sand hard, tumbling across the dune in a spray of gray grains before coming to a stop in a shallow depression.

He pushed himself up from the ground, groaning, and patted away all the sand that had buried him, even spitting some from his mouth.

’How the Hell did it get in there while I had my mouth closed?!’

More surprised than annoyed, Malik continued to clean himself, brushing the sand from his torn tunic and shaking it out of his hair. His clothes had lost all their royalty, torn and burned, but he didn’t want to look too much like a homeless man.

He was supposed to be the Sultan of these people, for Hell’s sake!

Once he was clean enough, he began his trek through the dunes.

If he wished to survive, he needed to reach civilization in a few hours; being under the two Suns for much longer would have him completely dehydrated, his body baking in the relentless heat until there was nothing left.

Ding!

Thankfully, he wasn’t alone.

—

╔════════╗

║FEAR GAIN!║

╚════════╝

[You’ve Felled A Class Seven Magi x 12]

[Fear Points: 6.5 → 10.5]

—

His system kept him company, reminding him that despite how awful he was currently feeling, he was victorious.

Twelve Class Seven Magi, however little that meant in the grand scheme of things, had fallen to his fire, and the system had rewarded him accordingly.

After that boost, only trickles came in—one tenth of a point here, one tenth of a point there—but, despite their tiny amounts, they were the only thing that kept his mind off the gray sand that he baked on, literally.

The heat was truly unbearable, pressing down on him from above and radiating up from below. He could feel it draining his strength with every passing minute...

He couldn’t survive this for much longer.

Malik had to do something, and of course, he knew exactly what to do.

—

╔════════╗

║Fear System║

╚════════╝

{Class: Mortal}

{Unlocking Class (12): 10/10}

—

Inputting ten of his Fear Points into unlocking Class Twelve, he suddenly gained a great boost in his strength, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

This was the only viable option.

Buying a single-use Soul Glyph that would sputter out quickly was of no use.

And he simply couldn’t wait until he was dead to buy a peak Soul Glyph.

Ding!

—

╔═════════════╗

║CLASS UNLOCKED!║

╚═════════════╝

[You Have Stepped Closer To Your Truth.]

—

Following that notification, a wave of warmth washed through his body, different from the oppressive heat of the Suns.

This was internal and soothing, much like drinking cool water after days of thirst.

—

╔════════╗

║Fear System║

╚════════╝

{Class: 12 (Bringer of Light)}

{Unlocking Class (11): 0/27}

—

Malik hadn’t gotten any active spell yet.

The Rune he had unlocked was a Root Rune.

Out of the ten Runes he had, it was the only one without a spell, simply providing him with an Element.

Fire.

Hence, its name, ’Root.’

His earlier thoughts were right.

With it, he’d only awakened from mortality, stepping out of the grave of being a simple human and into the Divine Hierachy, becoming a Magi.

But still, there was a difference, and it was even noticeable in his appearance.

His skin looked a fraction younger, the deep wrinkles around his eyes softening slightly.

His hair, though still white, looked a little less dead, a little less like the brittle strands of a dying old man.

No, he wasn’t back to his prime, not even close, but he was no longer on the verge of crumbling into dust.

The noose around his neck had loosened a tad, and for that, he was beyond grateful.

Things went normally after that, Malik trudging through the sand with renewed energy...

Until, all of a sudden, just before the dark of night, the sand beneath him shook.

The shaking was worse further in the distance, the dunes rippling and shifting.

It almost felt like something was moving underneath.

Something was moving underneath.

And it had made itself known.

Rather, a few of them had made themselves known at the same time.

A fair stretch away, utterly massive sandworms erupted from the ground, their bodies so large that they blocked out the setting Suns.

Sand blasted all around them, sending waves of gray through the entire region in concentric circles that grew larger and larger.

It was as incredible a sight as it was dangerous.

Malik realized in that moment that he had made the right decision by not killing the leader of the bastards earlier.

If this had happened while he was back there, in the middle of the desert with no warning, he would be more than dead.

Anyhow, enough realizations.

HE HAD TO MOVE!

Malik ran as hard as he could, his newly Awakened self pushing through the sand with more speed than his old body had any right to possess.

This wasn’t him trying to outrun the sandworms themselves; that would be impossible.

But it was him trying to outrun the consequence of their eruption, the waves of displaced sand that rolled outward.

And so, he put all his focus and power into moving, his legs pumping, his lungs burning.

Since he was now a Class Twelve, he could use a minuscule fraction of the Rukh that sat in his Soul, allowing him to boost his body into much faster movement than any mortal could achieve.

Eventually, thankfully, and finally, Malik saw a small town in the distance, nestled between two rocky outcroppings.

That had to be a safe zone!

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have built it there, right?

The townsfolk wouldn’t have chosen a spot that was regularly trampled by giant sandworms.

He just needed to reach it, and he would be safe!

But when he looked back, he still saw mountains of sand moving toward him, the waves closing in faster than he could run.

Why were the sandworms not slowing down?

Had they targeted him specifically?

Was his thinking wrong?

No, it couldn’t be!

Malik wasn’t about to die by drowning in sand, right?!

He didn’t have enough Fear Points, so he couldn’t even buy a single-use Soul Glyph to save himself.

There was no way out of this!

The waves pulled closer and closer, the shadow of the approaching sand swallowing his own.

’Dammit it all!’

But just as the first wave was about to drown him, a figure appeared at his side and pulled him along with a strong grip.

They flew through the air, strong gusts of wind pushing them from behind as they shot away from the encroaching sand... the slowing sand.

Malik looked at his helper, noticing that it was a lanky man with thin arms and a scarred face.

The man’s expression was neutral, almost bored, as if saving strangers from sandworms was something he did every day.

Instead of feeling thankful for being saved, Malik felt paranoid.

What did this man and his kin want?

What was the price for this rescue?

No one did anything for free, not in his experience.

He wasn’t ’paranoid’ for long, though.

Once he and his savior reached the ground next to the town, away from certain death, the man—still grabbing Malik—roughly pulled him along toward the gates.

"C’mon, old man, you might be weak, but we’ve got a use for you."

Adjusting to his new surroundings, Malik began to look around.

Much like the faction base he was previously in, this town seemed unusual.

There were what appeared to be slaves here, all being used publicly—chained to posts, hauling heavy loads, and being shouted at by men with whips.

The slaves all seemed somewhat confused about what was going on, their faces blank and disoriented, as if they had just been dragged in like he was.

"Judas, we’ve got another one; come inject him!"

’Ah...’

This could only mean one thing.

’Out of the bonfire and into Hell.’

Malik was upon the enemy.