Into the Apocalypse: Saving My Favorite Villain-Chapter 106: Mathew’s POV II

Mathew — POV

After all, I had been the one to attack first.

That much could not be denied, no matter how I tried to twist the memory in my favor.

I had been driven by the greed of that family—those people who wrapped their cruelty in noble words and called it survival. They had whispered promises of salvation and power while hiding trembling hands behind their backs.

They wanted the impossible.

They wanted to kill the first—and strongest—god.

A being rumored to possess power so vast that even death could not contain it.

A god whose corpse alone was said to be enough to overturn the balance of the world, to grant miracles, to reshape fate itself.

That single rumor had been enough for them to push me forward.

Enough to turn me into a weapon.

Because they were weak.

Ordinary.

Pathetic.

Without me, they would have died within the first year after the world ended.

They wouldn’t have survived a single day among monsters and zombies—they wouldn’t have lasted a single night without screaming in terror.

Especially in a world where humans were often far crueler than beasts.

So no matter how sharp his killing intent felt now, no matter how murderous his eyes were as they bored into me, I understood him.

I understood why he had defended himself.

But understanding did not mean acceptance.

And it certainly did not mean I would lower my gaze and endure those looks—as if my life were nothing more than an inconvenience.

"What?" I asked.

My own voice startled me.

It sounded... normal.

Calm. Steady... Human.

"So," I continued quietly, lifting my head, "do you want to kill me?"

The moment the words fell, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Cassel’s jaw tightened, the sharp line of it hardening as if carved from stone. His eyes darkened, something feral flickering behind them.

He stepped toward me, one heavy footfall after another, each step echoing with restrained fury.

I could feel it then—power gathering around his raised hand, thick and oppressive, like invisible chains tightening around my chest.

Death.

It hovered close enough to taste.

Honestly, even now, I still didn’t know whether this was a dream or reality.

Everything felt too vivid—the pain in my body, the weight of the air, the heat of his murderous intent pressing against my skin.

But one thing was certain.

I wasn’t afraid of death.

I had already died once. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

So I met his gaze without flinching, without stepping back, without begging.

If he wanted my life, he could take it.

Just as his killing intent reached its peak—just as the air seemed ready to tear itself apart—

Someone moved.

Arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind.

Tightly.

Intimately.

The contact was so abrupt, so unexpected, that even I froze in disbelief.

Cassel froze too.

Instantly.

Completely.

His raised hand halted midair, power dispersing as if it had never existed.

His body went rigid, every muscle locking in place—not in hesitation, but in fear.

Fear of hurting her.

Slowly, carefully, he turned around.

The change in him was... unnatural.

The man who had looked ready to slaughter me without remorse softened in an instant. His sharp edges dulled.

The darkness in his eyes faded, replaced by something dangerously gentle.

He pulled the girl into his arms, holding her close—possessively, protectively—as though the world itself were a threat to her existence.

Only then did he glance back at me.

That looked clearly said—

I win.

I felt my lips twitch.

This guy is completely insane.

"Cassel," the girl complained softly, her voice warm and gentle, like sunlight breaking through winter clouds.

It made something in my chest ache in a way I couldn’t name.

"What’s wrong with you? Get a hold of yourself. You can’t just go around killing people every time you get angry."

He exhaled slowly, his hand lifting to stroke her hair with reverent care.

"Alright," he said at last, his tone low and indulgent. "I’ll listen to my wife."

Wife.

The word landed heavily.

"I won’t hurt the man you saved."

I stared at them.

The way she fit against him so naturally, as if she belonged there. At how easily he bent around her presence, how she alone seemed capable of anchoring him.

And an utterly insane thought crossed my mind.

I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through that soft hair.

The realization startled me.

Then his words finally registered.

She...

She was the one who saved me.

And she knew my name.

Which meant—

She knew me.

But how?

Who was she?

Before I could stop myself, the question slipped out.

"Were you the one who saved me?" I asked quietly. "What’s your name?"

The instant my question left my lips, Cassel stiffened again.

But this time, he didn’t step toward me.

Nor did he gather power in his hand.

Instead, he reached down and tightly interlaced his fingers with those of the small, delicate girl beside him, holding her hand as if afraid she might vanish.

He stood there, unmoving, his face devoid of any clear expression.

Silence descended.

It pierced the space, draped itself over every breath, every movement, until even the air felt heavy.

The atmosphere was awkward—thick with tension—for the others.

But not for me.

I wasn’t watching Cassel.

I was waiting.

Waiting for an answer from the girl who continued to stare at me in silence, her gaze unreadable.

Around us, the others shifted uneasily. I could feel their eyes on me, their bodies tense, hands ready to react at the slightest wrong move.

Finally, someone spoke.

It wasn’t Cassel.

And it wasn’t the girl.

It was the man who had tied me up earlier—a large man with a light beard and a foolish grin plastered across his face, as if he didn’t understand the gravity of the moment.

"Our boss and his Miss Rosalia, are the ones who saved you."

Cassel slowly turned his gaze toward the man.

Strangely enough, he looked... pleased.

I didn’t know why. But that didn’t forbid me from using sharp sarcasm.

And I didn’t care.

A scoff escaped my lips before I could stop it.

My attention shifted to the quiet girl beside him.

Rosalia.

I repeated the name silently in my heart.

Rosalia...

Rosalia...

The name of my savior was beautiful—just like its owner.

For a brief moment, I almost smiled.

But reality quickly reasserted itself.

I needed answers.

I needed to understand my situation—where I was, what had happened, what kind of world I had awakened into.

Because everything felt real.

Painfully real.

I wasn’t dead.

And I wasn’t a monster anymore.

I was me.

And somehow, impossibly, I had been given another chance—to live properly this time.

"Thank you for saving me," I said sincerely, my gaze fixed on Rosalia.

"May I know who you are? Where am I right now? And... how—how did you save me?"

The questions poured out, tangled and desperate, the weight of them pressing against my chest.

Cassel looked at me with no intention of answering.

And that was fine.

I hadn’t been asking him.

My eyes remained on Rosalia, waiting for her response.

As expected, Rosalia parted her lips, ready to speak—

When that disgusting man suddenly reached out and covered her mouth with his hand.

My vision darkened.

That bastard.

Sparks flew between us, raw and violent.

If not for my weakness—

If not for the ropes, and the men surrounding me—

I would have punched him hard in that proud face and wiped that arrogant grin right off it.