Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death

By the time their star's light no longer pushed through the darkness above...

"Houuuff..."

Malik had reached the top of the hill, Sinbad's body cradled against him.

He didn't know how his legs still functioned—how his arms still pulled—but he certainly wasn't thinking about it. 

He wasn't thinking about anything at all.

Malik just kept crawling, even when every pull was heavier than the last.

Stopping wasn't an option.

Not until Sinbad had a place to rest.

When he reached the crest, he gently laid Sinbad next to him, as if the boy might suddenly stir and grumble about being handled too roughly.

"Sorry, kid... I'm not too good at this. Only did it once before."

Then, he began to dig, clawing away at the dirt.

It felt stubborn, almost alive, resisting his efforts,

But there was no alternative, no tool he could use. 

And so, Malik did the only thing he could.

He fought harder, even as the ground bit into his palms, scraping his skin raw.

Blood mixed with dirt, his fingers trembling with the strain.

Each handful of dirt came at a cost.

The pain he felt simply must've been otherworldly.

"You deserve more than this..."

Yet he seemed unbothered like he could no longer feel anything.

"A real grave. Not just... this."

There was only one thing on his mind at that moment.

Sinbad deserved better.

He really did.

Time blurred as he dug, his mind lost in a haze.

Malik wasn't sure how long it took—minutes, hours. It didn't matter.

Eventually, the hole was deep enough, at least six feet.

He sat back, panting, his arms shaking uncontrollably.

His vision swam, but he forced himself to move, to lift Sinbad one last time.

The boy's body felt so light. Impossibly light. Even lighter than Huda.

It was wrong.

Everything about this moment was wrong.

Malik lowered Sinbad into the grave with infinite care, constantly adjusting his position.

When he finally let go, when his hands left Sinbad's still form, what little remained of his heart shattered.

The weight of everything came crashing down like a landslide, crushing him completely.

"Guess this is it, huh?..."

The words tasted bitter in his mouth, like poison.

"You're really gone."

Malik reached for the dirt, scooping and pushing it back into the hole.

His tears started slow, silent, falling into the dirt like tiny raindrops.

Then they came harder, faster, until he was sobbing openly.

His body was wracked with the kind of grief he'd been holding back for what felt like years.

He looked pathetic—lost—but again, he didn't care, allowing himself this moment.

Malik let himself feel it all, the sorrow, the anger, the guilt, the love.

All of it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry I wasn't enough."

His voice broke repeatedly, his chest heaving as sobs tore through him.

'...Now I'm the one wasting water, huh?'

The thought came out of nowhere, uninvited, and it made him laugh—a small, bitter sound that quickly dissolved into another wave of tears.

"You'd be pissed if you saw me like this, wouldn't you?" 

He wiped at his face with his dirty palm, smearing dirt and tears across his skin.

"S-Stuttering root-loving bastard."

When the grave was finally covered, he dragged himself over to a nearby stone, gripping it tightly with what little strength he had left.

With a grunt, he placed it at the head of the mound.

It wasn't much, but it was something—something to mark the place where Sinbad would rest.

"I'll remember you..." 

Malik leaned down, pressing a quivering kiss to the cold stone.

"I'll always remember you, Sinbad."

He didn't really know how to say it, didn't have the right words.

A man's love was validation, and it certainly wasn't easy to express.

Especially between guys—it wasn't the kind of thing one just threw around.

But, though he was a child, Malik knew that it mattered.

Even now... even when it was too late.

"I'm proud of you." 

It felt like the words ripped him in half on the way out.

It was true, though. It had always been true.

And it crushed him that Sinbad never got to hear it when it counted.

Their last words to each other were so normal, so damn ordinary. As if it were any other day.

"I won't take long."

"Be careful."

"I will."

That was it. That was all they got. 

Malik just... he just...

He sat there for hours, the cold night air biting at his skin, the darkness above like a distant, indifferent witness to his grief.

Eventually, he forced himself to stand, his legs still wobbling beneath him.

He stared at the grave for a long moment, his heart heavy.

Then, he turned away, his face a mask of stone.

"Goodby—"

"Thank you, big brother!"

The voice was faint, barely a whisper, but it froze him in his tracks.

Malik's eyes widened, and he whipped around so fast his foot caught on the uneven ground, causing him to stumble. 

"Sinbad?!"

"..."

The hilltop was empty, silent save for the wind.

He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

"...Losing it."

When he made it back to the cave, he noticed an obvious change to how he had last left it. 

Rafiq's body was gone.

Not just gone but likely devoured.

His clothes were strewn across the floor, a dark bloodstain marking the base of a nearby rock.

His shamshir lay discarded beside a torn piece of paper, its runes faded to near illegibility.

But it was the book that caught Malik's attention.

Small, battered, and unassuming, it sat where Rafiq had been, its cover as worn as the rest of it.

Malik slowly picked it up, flipping it open.

The first page was blank.

No, not blank—faded.

He squinted at the faint lettering, his lips moving as he tried to sound out the title.

"M-Magi for..." 

The words vanished.

Before he could react, three clear, unmistakable words burned themselves into his mind.

{Magi For Dummies.}

His hands shook, the book suddenly feeling heavier in his grasp.

Malik didn't understand anything that was happening.

He could barely read, yet those words had been as clear as day, etched into his thoughts.

"What the Hell..." 

The book suddenly pulsed, like it was alive.

"What the fuck is this?!"

He slammed it shut and threw it away. Hard.

It hit the cave wall with a dull thud, falling to the ground.

"Ugh!"

And that was when the pain hit.

It wasn't physical, not exactly, but it still hurt. A lot. 

A torrent of something—memories, thoughts, knowledge—poured into his mind all at once, like someone had taken a bucket of ice water and dumped it over his brain.

He clutched his head, falling to his knees, clamping his mouth against the onslaught.

It lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Malik stayed there, hunched over, breathing hard.

His heart was racing, but his mind…

His mind felt different.

Calmer. Clearer.

He looked up, his eyes darting to the book lying on the ground where he'd thrown it.

"…I see." 

His body lit up in a golden fire that shot out in every direction.

"Because of you... because of you, Devil's Maw will know my name."

But before all the licks of flame could devour him, time froze, this time for real.

***

Or rather, it wasn't that time itself had paused but the projection did.

Slowly, it faded to black, and a text obvious to all on the outside was displayed.

{Will Resume Shortly...}

{End Of Volume One: Remember Me.}