Into the Apocalypse: Saving My Favorite Villain

I will never forget that scene—not for as long as I live.

Never. It will remain lodged within my chest like a dagger, forever reminding me—

of my weakness...

of my helplessness...

of my utter inadequacy.

I wasn’t strong enough. That is why everything happened the way it did.

That is why my treasure was taken from me so easily.

That is why the girl—the only person who truly mattered to me—had to suffer as she did.

When all the teams finally regrouped, we realized—just as expected—that we had been targeted from the very beginning and deliberately separated from each other. It had to be that man with instantaneous teleportation; he was the one who split us apart. Yet it seemed his ability wasn’t powerful enough to send everyone far away... which meant he couldn’t have escaped very far himself.

I didn’t waste time explaining anything. I climbed into Henry’s car and ordered him to drive—fast—while I used my ability to track Rosalia’s location.

I had never prayed to any god before. Since childhood, the gods had done nothing but toy with me—manipulating my fate, my life... even my death.

But now—

Faced with the danger lurking around Rosalia—

I found myself praying.

Ever since we were separated, I had done nothing but pray for her safety...

Pray that she would hold on until I reached her... until I could pull her into my arms.

Pray that no harm would come to her.

It had been a long time since I last lost control.

Perhaps not since the day my mother died—and even then, I had not been this frantic... this terrified.

Yes... I admit it.

I was afraid.

Now that she had become my entire world—

How could I possibly live in one without her?

I forced those dark thoughts away, burying them beneath a cold, steady gaze as I directed Henry down the road.

At last, Rosalia’s presence grew stronger.

She was close.

As we reached the main road, we were met with a massive swarm of zombies, clustered around what appeared to be a group of people.

One glance was enough.

It was them.

"Stop the car."

My voice came out hoarse—low and dangerous, yet trembling at the edges, as though it might shatter at any moment.

I could find her... even among millions.

She stood there—alone—amid the undead, completely at ease, while the surrounding zombies made no move to attack her.

I stepped out of the car, my power surging as every zombie that dared approach me disintegrated into nothingness.

I was about to rush toward her—

When the sight before me struck like a blow, rooting me in place.

From afar, all I had wanted was to reach her... to seize her in my arms, to feel her presence, to lock her safely against my chest.

But now—

Seeing what I saw—

I couldn’t move.

Rosalia was beating someone to death.

No... not quite. He was already dead.

But no one could count how many times she had continued to strike him after that.

It wasn’t that I had never seen someone kill before.

Nor did I feel pity for the dead man.

And I did not think Rosalia cruel... or monstrous.

In this world, those who cannot kill are the ones who end up dead.

It was a golden rule.

And yet—

I couldn’t accept it.

For Rosalia’s sake, I had been willing to be the only one whose hands were stained.

I never wanted this world to stain her.

She shouldn’t have had to learn how to survive here.

I should have protected her better.

I should have kept her from falling into the darkness of this wretched world.

I was supposed to be her shelter—her shield against everything.

I was supposed to be capable of that.

But what had I done?

Nothing.

I let her carry a weapon.

I let her rely on herself.

I let her kill just to survive.

So what use was I?

My veins throbbed violently, to the point I felt they might rupture.

My breathing quickened. My expression fractured.

For a moment, it felt as though I needed to destroy everything—this entire world—

This world had hurt everyone I cared about.

This world that had made her—made us—suffer.

But at the very last moment, I forced those emotions down.

I couldn’t.

I still had to live.

I had to live well—with Rosalia.

So I suppressed my fury and moved swiftly toward her.

It was clear that Rosalia wasn’t in her right mind.

She gripped an iron stake, driving it into the man’s corpse over and over again—relentlessly, mechanically—her face devoid of any expression.

A surge of anger rose within me when I saw the man’s blood staining her hands... her face.

No one had the right to touch her.

To leave their marks on her.

All I wanted was to wipe that blood away.

For a fleeting, maddening moment, I even thought of cutting myself—of covering her in my own blood instead.

When I reached her from behind, she seemed barely conscious.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, prying the stake from her grasp before dissolving it into nothingness.

That cursed thing... the tool she had used to kill.

I didn’t want it to exist.

Her fragile body rested within my arms, completely enveloped by mine.

And at last—

I felt relief.

I felt peace.

I felt... alive.

I buried my face in the curve of her neck and inhaled deeply.

As that soft, comforting scent filled my senses, a profound calm settled over me.

And when I heard her voice call my name... I wanted to respond—

But the moment I opened my mouth, I felt the weight in my arms shift.

I stared blankly at the body lying against me.

She was so delicate... so fragile—yet at the same time, strong. Unyielding.

She could have escaped, I realized. With the zombies surrounding her, she had been given the perfect cover.

But for some reason... she chose to stay.

She chose to kill that man.

As for the corpse—

I cast it a glance, then with a simple motion of my hand, its body began to decay... crumbling into dust that scattered into the air.

Then, holding my treasure—the one I had finally found again—

I returned to the car.