Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

Ding!

The sound pulled Malik out of unconsciousness. Or maybe he had been drifting for a while, and the notification just happened to be the first thing his brain registered.

Either way, the system chimed, and his eyes opened a crack.

—

╔════════╗

║OVERFLOW!║

╚════════╝

[Fear Points: 204]

[You’ve felled a Class Five Invader.]

[You’ve felled an Invader x 54,352.]

—

’Ah... hm.’ 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

He stared at the numbers floating in his vision. Two hundred and four Fear Points.

Indeed, he truly had more than enough Fear Points for a mere single-use.

That was more than he expected. Much more. The battle had been a slaughter, but he hadn’t realized just how much the system had been feeding him while he fought.

—

╔════════════════╗

║YOUR FEAR SPREADS...║

╚════════════════╝

[White Bear Faction (Class Eight) — 90 → 95 %]

[Owls Faction (Class Five) — 32 → 36 % Increasing!]

[Maharajah Faction (Class Seven) — 43 → 47 % Increasing!]

[Walkers Faction (Class Six) — 38 → 42 % Increasing!]

[Order (Class One) — 11 → 15 % Increasing!]

—

’All of them heard of the battle, it seems... Some might’ve even been a part of it.’

The percentages were climbing across the board. The White Bear Faction was almost maxed out—ninety-five percent meant they were on the verge of breaking.

One more push, and they would flee.

The others were creeping up more slowly, but the trend was clear. Fear was spreading through the factions.

’When the White Bears run, there will probably be a reward waiting.’

He had set up the system himself, so he understood that much. The mechanics were designed to incentivize conquest. Crush your enemies, spread your name, collect your prize.

It was efficient, if ruthless.

’Perhaps it’d be a Holy Relic, or something of equivalent value.’

Ding!

—

╔═════════════╗

║TRAIT UNLOCKED!║

╚═════════════╝

[Trait — "Stranger"]

[Description: A title belonging only to Malik.]

—

’Hm? Is it because of my... acceptance?’

He had acknowledged that despite the loss of memories, he was the Sultan and would remain so until the final hour. Maybe his system was recording that shift with this.

Ding!

—

╔═════════════╗

║TRAIT UNLOCKED!║

╚═════════════╝

[Trait — Second Sun]

[Description: A title belonging only to Malik.]

—

’Another one?’

He didn’t remember doing anything to earn that.

’...Second Sun.’

It was what his people called him on the battlefield. Perhaps it was now confirmed after the fire he had unleashed, the white blasts that had turned thousands to ash.

His system was just catching up.

Ding!

—

╔═════════════╗

║TRAIT UNLOCKED!║

╚═════════════╝

[Trait — Sultan of Blood and Fire]

[Description: A title belonging only to Malik.]

—

’A third one.’

Yet this one felt heavier.

The other Titles were observations, Stranger, and Second Sun. This one was a statement.

It was who he had become in that ravine, surrounded by corpses, covered in blood, burning through his enemies until there was nothing left.

But even then, he couldn’t help but wonder...

’Hm, what’s the use of these Traits even? Are they just Titles?’

Nothing followed that question, ending the streak of system notifications.

’One thing to note about these Traits is, like my Runes, I unlock them, not acquire them. That’s obvious once I recognize them as my own Titles, but still... That means that there is an end to them. And if there’s an end, perhaps there’s a reward waiting for me once I unlock them all.’

Sighing at the thought of another milestone to chase when he was already exhausted down to his bones, Malik opened his eyes and finally pushed himself up from the bed he found himself in.

The room spun for a moment, and his head pounded.

His right arm no longer ended in a stump but in an actual hand once more.

Safira seemed to have reattached it while he was asleep, bandaging him up while she was at it, healing the rest of his body as well.

Done observing his changes, he looked around.

This wasn’t a medical hub; instead, he found himself in a grand room.

One with high ceilings, polished wood, and shelves lined with books.

A desk sat in the corner, covered in papers.

There were medical contraptions scattered around—bottles of salve, rolls of bandages, instruments for stitching flesh—but they looked out of place against the rich carpets and the heavy curtains.

’Did I imagine Safira being there?’

He remembered her voice and her hands on his face, but the memory was hazy, blurred by blood loss and exhaustion.

Clack.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the door to his right opened.

A beautiful woman stepped inside.

Ginger hair fell past her shoulders, neatly framing her warm eyes and kind face.

It was Safira.

She carried a tray with a steaming cup and a bowl of something that smelled like a good soup.

"Ah, you’re awake."

She smiled and crossed the room, setting the tray on a small table beside the bed.

"I really don’t know how you survived for so long next to that ravine. I dare say it’s a miracle."

Malik smiled back at her, relief washing through him, and no, not only because she was the one who healed him but also because she didn’t seem to recognize him.

Her eyes held no awe for the Sultan she was dying to meet.

Safira only saw an injured soldier, nothing more.

"You finding me in time was the miracle. Thank you for saving me."

She waved a hand, dismissing his gratitude.

"There’s no need; it’s my duty."

Truly, his disciple.

"It is all of ours... but I must ask."

Malik continued with a question:

"Why bring me here and not the medical hub?"

Safira pulled a nearby chair and sat next to the bed with her hands in her lap.

"I must admit, while I do personally take care of the occasional nearly dead soldier, you’re right. I’ve never actually brought one to my personal office before."

She paused, studying his face.

"Your appearance... though much too old, it’s similar to Teacher, you see."

Malik barely held back a sigh.

’I’ve finally been caught... dammit.’

Safira went on, unaware of his thoughts:

"I heard of his return, which is why I came to the battlefield so fast... But he disappeared. No one knows where he went. Many are already in despair."

She leaned forward slightly.

"I’m not, however, do you know why?"

Malik said nothing.

"Because it’s... interesting how someone similar to him in appearance showed up the moment he was gone!"

Okay, that confirmed it; his disciple was just teasing him now.

She had to be. The alternative was that she genuinely hadn’t connected the dots, and, at this point, that seemed impossible.

He was sitting in her office, covered in scars from a battle that the Sultan had disappeared in, wearing once-similar dark royal clothes.

The connection wasn’t too subtle!

"It’s also interesting how that ’someone’ is a man I’ve met once before."

She tilted her head, studying him.

"Yes, of course I’ve remembered. You’re the man from the East, are you not?"

Malik slowly nodded.

That much he could admit.

He had met her before everything fell apart.

"I knew it!"

Safira clapped her hands together.

"Yes, this is why! Fate takes much, but it also gives. It took Teacher from us for so long—it won’t take him away so soon!"

Malik almost tilted his head to match hers.

He felt like his brain had been shot.

’Huh.’

The Sultan stared at her smiling face, her bright eyes, and her complete lack of suspicion.

’She really didn’t figure me out.’

’How?’

’Isn’t it obvious?’

Malik quickly ran through the possibilities.

Maybe she thought too highly of him—of the Sultan—to even entertain the thought of him becoming like this. Weakened and aged, needing his hand to be reattached.

The Sultan of Blood and Fire was a legend, an untouchable figure of fear and power.

The man lying in her bed was none of those things.

’She can’t reconcile the two, so her mind invented another explanation.’

Either way, he knew one thing.

’I have to be even more careful from now on.’

This was too close a call.

If Safira—his own disciple—couldn’t recognize him, that was an advantage. But it was also a warning. His disguise was thinner than he thought.

One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and the truth would come crashing down, his Fear Points along with it.

Safira reached out and patted his relatively good hand.

"Rest now; you’re safe here. When you’re stronger, you can tell me more about the East."

Malik nodded again.

"I will..."

He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes, listening to her footsteps retreat across the room.

’...not.’

The door clicked shut.

’I need to get out of here now.’