Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

"We will first target the smaller slave outposts and bases, heart farms or otherwise."

The map was slightly faded, but the geography was clear.

"We must hit them hard and fast, making the rest panic."

Malik raised his hand and pressed his finger against the map.

"Crushed from both directions, they’ll congregate into one place."

A city carved into the eastern mountains.

"Khaybar."

Kabir’s and Azeem’s breaths caught.

"It’ll take a while, but with this, we can take them all out in one go."

Malik dropped his hand and turned back to face them.

"The rest of the plan is on you, my Right Hand, my Shadow. Figure out the details, logistics, and how to make it happen with the fewest amount of casualties. We’ve had enough tragedy."

Azeem and Kabir bowed their heads.

"Yes, my Sultan."

With that, Malik walked towards the stairs, leaving the dungeon.

Behind him, Azeem and Kabir remained still with their heads bowed.

The Sultan had given his order.

Now they would carry it out.

...

Climbing the stairs from the dungeon, Malik emerged onto the ground floor of the Holy Palace.

The corridors were surprisingly quiet, with no servant or guard walking about.

Passing a window looking over the Holy Palace’s eastern gate, he noticed a gathering crowd:

Guards in black, servants in grey, and a cluster of figures in white that stood out against the rest.

A commotion, no doubt.

Someone was arguing with the gate guards.

Malik stopped at the window and watched.

’Will there ever be a quiet day?’

A moment later, a flash of crimson streaked through the air, answering him no.

It was Sinbad.

He landed on the windowsill beside him, his claws scraping against the stone.

"Elder Brother, there are visitors at the gate. They request entry."

Malik turned his head.

"Who?"

"An emissary from a "strong faction.""

Sinbad’s beak clicked.

"That’s all he introduced himself and his subordinates as."

Yes, an emissary, alongside a few subordinates, was demanding a meeting with the Sultan.

Not the leader of said faction, only an ’emissary.’

’...just how arrogant can they be?’

They were truly testing his patience.

But Malik knew better than to lash out.

Calmly, he looked back at the window.

The figures in white had not moved.

They stood in a tight formation with their heads high. Even from this distance, he could see the quality of their armor.

"Bring everyone who can come to my hall. I’ll meet these lowlives there."

Sinbad dipped his head.

"As you command, Elder Brother."

He launched from the windowsill and flew towards the gate.

***

Landing on the gatehouse parapet, Sinbad hooted.

Below him, the guards had formed a semicircle around the visitors, their hands on their weapons.

The visitors revealed uncaring faces, as if there were no one here who could actually threaten them.

They carried great swords strapped to their backs, the blades wider than a man’s chest.

Tower shields hung from their arms, each one emblazoned with a symbol Sinbad didn’t recognize.

’Pretentious.’

He hopped down from the parapet and landed on the ground in front of the gate.

His small form—no larger than a house cat—seemed almost comical next to the armored giants.

"The Sultan has granted you entry."

Yet no one dared to laugh.

"You should be grateful he’s willing to meet with nobodies."

The emissary, a tall man with a shaved head and a scar across his left cheek, said nothing.

His face remained neutral, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance.

His subordinates, however, were not so controlled.

The youngest of them opened his mouth to speak.

"Yo—!"

His lips were made shut.

The emissary had raised his hand.

Sinbad watched the exchange with cold amusement.

’I should kill them where they stand, but...’

He scoffed and turned away.

"Follow me. Try to keep up."

He launched into the air and flew towards the Sultan’s Hall, not waiting to see if they followed.

***

Speaking of, the hall had been prepared to... welcome them.

Malik’s family had gathered in a loose semicircle around him.

Layla stood closest to the throne while Amal stood beside her, holding her hand.

The young girl’s face was curious, her head tilted, her golden eyes fixed on the gates.

Dunya stood to the left with her usual serene smile.

Huda stood alongside her, her hands hiding her mouth.

Safira stood next to Huda, her face beyond cold despite her usual warmth.

Noor stood at the edge of the group, looking bored, or perhaps simply too arrogant to show interest.

The only ones missing were Zafar, Kabir, and the other generals, too busy to entertain mere visitors.

Hakim—Malik’s father—was resting... somewhere in the palace.

Malik hadn’t heard much from him since their duel in the barracks.

Not that he had the time to check in; there was always something going on.

Bang!

The gates at the far end of the hall swung open.

Sinbad flew through first, landing on the Golden Throne’s armrest.

Behind him, the visitors entered.

They walked in formation, the emissary at the front, his subordinates fanning out behind him.

The hall fell silent the moment they stopped in the center of the room, twenty feet from the base of the throne.

With a raised chin, the emissary looked at the Sultan.

Malik had his head resting on his fist, his golden eyes half-lidded.

The emissary held his gaze for a long moment, then bowed.

A shallow bow, neither servile nor domineering.

"Cassius pays respect to the Sultan and his family."

***

Cassius always had a talent for gauging a person’s life aura.

He could look at a man and know his strength, temperament, and potential.

It was a gift, one that had served him well in his years as an emissary.

Yet when he looked at Malik, he saw...

’Nothing.’

The Sultan’s aura was a void.

A hole in the world where power should have been.

Cassius could not gauge his Class in the Divine Hierarchy or even sense his Rukh.

’I’d better play it safe here. If I forcefully try to probe his Class, it would be a blatant provocation. That would not be the most rational course of action.’

So he did nothing and simply waited.

No one greeted him back.

He was met with a collective disregard.

Undeterred, Cassius continued:

"As it seems you have no interest in pleasantries, let me cut to the chase."

He straightened his back.

"The Order has a message for you."

That name drop received no reward.

"’Please take back your claim of war. It is not in your interest nor ours to fight such a war when the Demons are upon us.’"

Finally, his words seemed to have an effect.

"’We will not hold you or your family accountable for your various villainous deeds. We might even consider removing your names from the Universal Bounty Board.’"

An ’effect’ that greatly hinted at his demise.

"They went on further, Lord Sultan, but to make a long message short, the Order is willing to let bygones be bygones and simply return to the previous status quo."

Worsening with each word out of his mouth.

"We of the Southern Cross do not wish to be enemies with you in such a capacity."

Cassius placed his hand over his heart.

"I’ve come here to say this on their behalf, but I truly hope that you can grant us all this wish, Sultan."

"..."

"..."

"..."

With that, the hall returned to its silence.

Though this time it was a lot more suffocating.

Malik, however, was not involved in such a change.

One might expect anger and fury to emanate from him. Explosive violence fitting the Title Sultan of Blood and Fire.

But no.

Despite it all...

"Are you..."

There was only calm.

"Are you truly asking me to sit back and watch you pillage my home?"

Utter, complete calm.

"Are you telling me that I should just accept your invasion? Let you steal my Holy Relics and Runes. Let you enslave my people. Work them in heart farms till their deaths. That I shouldn’t defend my home and my honor?"

Regardless of how humble Cassius’s tone was, regardless of how seemingly respectful his manner was, anyone with half a brain could hear the meaning behind his words.

"Accept your place."

"Know your betters."

"Do not resist—"

"No, Sultan."

Cassius immediately lowered his head.

"I am only passing along the Order’s message, and they are asking you not to escalate things unnecessarily. You’ve only just returned. You need not burden yourself with such a war."

Giving no reply, Malik looked at them for a long moment.

’Escalating... So if I begin defending myself, they’ll blame my people and me for this war? Yes. Yes. Even though they are the attacking force, I’ll be blamed for it all, no matter what.’

A moment that felt endless.

’I don’t think the Entity’s influence is the only thing making them so hateful of us.’

He was no longer calm.

’Perhaps this is their way of justifying themselves. Branding us as villains to keep their conscience clean.’

Rather, he was beyond enraged.

’After all, wouldn’t they be doing the world a favor by getting rid of us?’

His Will now dominated them all.

’Damned hypocrites.’

Malik let out a low chuckle.

"Kill them."