Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

The assassin froze up, his shadowy form becoming solid as his concentration broke.

Malik didn’t know just what exactly, but the assassin had clearly expected something other than this casual indifference.

In any case, his hesitation was all the opening Malik needed, and he pressed forward:

"Do you truly think you can kill me? An Angel? With your measly strength? Or were you hoping to catch me off guard while I was circulating my Rukh?"

He tilted his head slightly.

"Really? Are you that much of a coward?"

Every word out of his mouth seemed to push the assassin back a little more, literally. His feet shuffling, showing his confusion.

"I wonder... What faction do you belong to?"

Malik watched the assassin’s eyes carefully.

"Or are you independent?"

He noticed a reaction, very subtle, yes, almost imperceptible, but there.

’Independent. Hired by someone who didn’t want to leave a trace.’

The Sultan coldly smiled, finding that interesting.

"Oh, so you were hired by a bigger fish? Anyone out there who wants to take revenge on me has already died by my hands... even beyond the Suns. So that leaves one of the lords in my domain."

That got another reaction, an aggressive one.

The assassin’s hands had clenched into fists, making it obvious that he thought himself to be cornered.

His mission was compromised.

His life was undoubtedly lost.

And so...

"Just shut up and die!"

The assassin lashed out.

Melding into the shadows, he became one with the darkness that pooled in the corners of the hall and stepped right next to the Golden Throne in the span of a heartbeat.

’I might have pushed too hard.’

Malik calmly watched the assassin’s approach.

He wasn’t worried.

And no, it wasn’t a part of the bluff.

His bluff alone wasn’t intended to send the man away.

Whoever this assassin was, he had likely come here after writing his will, knowing that he would not return, whether or not he succeeded in the assassination.

He was on a suicide mission without an exit strategy.

Or, well, perhaps he saw death as the only possible ’exit.’

So Malik only wanted to delay, to buy time, and that, he had done perfectly.

The moment the assassin sprang out of the shadows, still covered and perhaps even enhanced by them, a powerful gust of wind slammed into him from the side.

It flung him into the wall with enough force to nearly squash him into paste.

"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK MY ELDER BROTHER?!"

Sinbad had come to the rescue, his crimson feathers fluffed with rage.

Amal was surprisingly in tow, her hands raised as if she had been about to cast a spell herself.

One of Death.

’Were they playing together?’

Malik watched the scene unfold with interest.

’Cute.’

His thoughts were far from the assassin, but Sinbad did not share his temperament, not even close.

The owl’s pink eyes blazed with fury, and his wings beat against the air with enough force to shake the Holy Palace.

"You will pay for this insolence!"

Sinbad carried the unconscious assassin with his wind, then, without another word, flew onto Malik’s shoulder, his talons becoming much gentler.

"Are you harmed in any way?!"

Before Malik could respond, the owl went on:

"I cannot believe they have reached such a low! These bastards don’t deserve your mercy!"

On and on:

"Forgive me, Elder Brother, truly. It seems one of the assassins had a Holy Relic that successfully avoided our detection spells."

Malik calmly patted the owl’s head, smoothing down his ruffled feathers.

"Do not worry. This attempt on my life was to be expected."

He glanced at the soon-to-be corpse floating in the air.

"And do you truly believe a nobody would be able to injure your ’Elder Brother’?"

Sinbad’s pink eyes widened, and his beak opened slightly in surprise.

He stared at Malik for a long moment, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Are you... teasing me?"

Yes, he was.

And he was dismissing Sinbad’s worry.

The owl was not offended by this dismissal.

He could never be, not when Malik was involved.

Now, he was only confused that Malik had the capability of teasing him.

After years of cold stoicism and a goal-focused mindset, such a thing seemed impossible.

"Yes, now go do your thing with the boy. I’d like to have a moment with my daughter."

Rubbing his head against Malik’s cheek, the owl hooted softly and flew off, the unconscious assassin being made to follow behind in quite a funny, dangling form.

Once they were gone and the hall fell silent again, Malik turned to his daughter.

"Amal, come here."

He gestured for the stunned young lady to get closer.

Still staring up at him, she hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded and hesitantly stepped forward.

Once she was right next to the throne, Malik gave her his hand.

She softly clasped it, and he pulled her even closer, gently sitting her on the edge of the throne beside him.

"Did you ever sit here while I was not around?"

Amal stiffened immediately, her back going rigid, perhaps thinking that he was admonishing her for some transgression.

"O-Of course not! I would never!"

Malik softly smiled at her.

"Oh, really? Why not?"

"It’s too... divine."

Her voice came out in a whisper as she looked down at her lap.

"I am not worthy."

’...’

’...’

’...ah.’

It twisted.