CHAPTER 37: THE RAGE OF THE VILLAIN WHEN YOU DESIRE WHAT’S HIS I

Rosalia — POV

Barney stood opposite us, a group of tough, stick-wielding men behind him — at a glance, it was clear they were no good.

As a person with the simplest mind among us, Frederick was the first to speak, asking sharply, "Barney, where the hell have you gone, and what’s going on with these men? Do you know them?"

"Tsk." Barney ground his teeth.

"You fool. I’ve always hated everyone’s cleverness, but I hate your stupidity more."

At the twisted anger on Frederick’s face, Barney beamed and grew bolder.

"Don’t you get it with that empty head of yours?"

"I’ve always hated people like you-hated working for people like you." Barney jabbed a finger at Cassel with exaggerated disgust.

"What I hate most in this life is rich people like you, ordering me around everywhere, telling me to do whatever you want."

"Isn’t that the job you’re paid for, you idiot?" Henry sounded incredulous at Barney’s logic.

To them, and despite how dangerous Cassel’s work was and how often Barney and the other men had been put under pressure guarding Cassel from assassins, the job had been their choice.

Their monthly pay was in the millions—far more than any other bodyguards in the country—so what right did this scoundrel have to speak like this now?

He acted as if Cassel had been taking advantage of him his whole life.

"If you didn’t like working under my command, you should have quit," Cassel said, his voice cold as always. He showed no sign of feeling threatened by being surrounded, nor of any obvious anger at the betrayal.

At that calmness, Barney’s anger flared because he had always felt beneath Cassel.

I knew this because the story said Barney had been a former mercenary.

To them, there was no such thing as loyalty, only money; and if you pay more, they will serve you better.

Not only that, they were without dignity, exposed to contempt. But Cassel was not the kind to despise his guards. He treated Barney and those like him the same as any other guards—veterans or men with military backgrounds.

I didn’t know how to describe Barney... Could a man who hadn’t felt hatred or resentment when his former bosses treated him with contempt suddenly feel it when Cassel scorned him?

What in tarnation was this twisted malice?

Would he really feel comfortable being publicly humiliated by Cassel?

I really wanted to grab Barney and ask him seriously, "Man, are you a masochist

"You see, this-this attitude is what annoys me. You act all noble and mighty, like you’re better than everyone else. And even now, when you’re surrounded by my men, you still act as if you’re brave."

Said Barney, his voice dripping with disdain.

This time Barney was furious; the blue veins in his face throbbed.

Henry sighed and looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

Cassel replied characteristically: "So tell me, in the end, what do you want? What’s your goal?"

Barney ceased his ranting, then grinned wildly and laughed.

"Of course I want your life. Before the end of the world, I didn’t have this power, but now..."

Barney planted himself in a broad stance, like a wrestler just before a match, and suddenly—

Barney took one breath—deep, deliberate—like a beast preparing to shed its skin.

Then his body began to change.

At first, it was subtle.

A ripple beneath his skin, as though something alive and hostile writhed inside him. The veins along his arms darkened, bulging beneath the surface like coiled wires straining to break free. His breathing grew heavier, louder, each exhale vibrating with a metallic undertone, as if steel scraped against steel inside his chest.

Then the real transformation started.

Barney’s skin sharpened into a strange, reflective sheen.

The human warmth now drained away and was replaced by an uncanny cold glint that crawled up his neck and down his torso.

The bronze of his complexion faded, swallowed by a spreading silver— smooth, flawless, and brutally unnatural.

Cracks formed along the fabric of his shirt before it finally surrendered.

Seams burst with violent snaps, flying apart as Barney’s frame expanded.

Muscles swelled grotesquely, piling on top of each other with the grinding sound of metal bending under pressure. His silhouette distorted—shoulders widening, chest broadening, spine stretching until he towered with monstrous presence.

Where once human skin existed, there was now something entirely different.

A body sculpted in living metal.

A chest that reflected the faint light like polished iron, every contour sharp and unforgiving, as if forged in a furnace rather than born of flesh.

Whatever humanity remained in them flickered, then died.

The whites around the iris turned cold, metallic gray, and the pupils shrank into narrow points, gleaming like molten mercury.

This was not the silent movement of eyelids when he blinked, but rather the faint clink of hardened plates sliding together.

Power radiated off him in waves, heavy and suffocating, unmistakably lethal.

The air around him seemed to shudder and vibrate like the low, distorted hum of an engine roaring to life. The very ground seemed to shudder as if recoiling under his shifting weight.

His men watched in awe and fear, as if beholding the ascension to greatness of something to which they had pledged their loyalty, yet never truly comprehended.

When Barney finally straightened to his full monstrous height, the silver plating along his arms caught the light and shimmered with ruthless brilliance. He flexed his fingers; the cold, ringing echoes of the movements slithered through the silence.

And then he grinned.

Wide, feral, triumphant.

A grin that had ceased belonging to a man.

But to a creature reborn in steel.

Henry looked surprised for a second then went back to his strict, straight posture. Cassel said nothing more and continued staring at Barney.

Barnaby’s men acted like he was some kind of god they were following.

I did not know who they were because, in the book, Barney’s betrayal happened later in the story, even though he formed his own team; the author never named the extra characters, giving them only a few lines, so they didn’t have much presence.

"Are you scared now? Aren’t you? Hahaha. Look at me while I crush you under my feet." He sounded as if remembering something. "Ah, and don’t try using your thunder power on me; as you know, it won’t affect me at all, hahahahahaha."

"Today I will kill you. I will kill you and become the boss, I’ll be the king."

Henry whispered to Cassel, sounding unsure, "Boss...this man...has gone absolutely out of his mind."

Barney seemed to have finally spat out every rotten word he’d held inside. He was just about to leap at Cassel when, suddenly, his gaze slid past him and locked onto mine.

Something inside me snapped taut the moment our eyes met in the air.

My womanly instincts screamed loud, primal, unmistakable.

A cold whisper ran along my spine, telling me with brutal certainty:

This is bad... this is very, very bad.

And as if fate itself wanted to prove me right, Barney’s lips curled.

He smiled.

A twisted, hungry smile has straightened to full metallic height and dragged his tongue slowly across his lips in ecstasy of anticipation.

"Well, hello there, little beauty," he said in a voice dripping with unhinged delight.

"The first moment I saw you, I could not stop thinking about taking you. Wait right there while I deal with this man—then I’ll make you mine. I will make you feel good.

A wave of nausea slammed into me, while his men reacted like hyenas that had just picked up the scent of fresh meat.

One of them lurched forward with excitement.

"Boss, what about us? That girl’s too tempting-my mouth’s watering. Ain’t any of us getting a chance?"

Another chimed in, voice thick with slime.

"Yeah, yeah! It’s rare to find such innocent, breathtaking beauty after the world ended. Boss, you really gonna make us sit at the feast and not give us even a bite?"

"I want to—"

Every sentence crawled over my skin like crawling worms.

I could hardly bear to listen to them.

These bottom-feeding scum, grinning at me like they wanna strip me with their eyes. Their eyes were like hungry monsters.

Then Barney spoke again; his words were so vile they punched straight into my gut.

"Alright, alright" he laughed harshly.

The world tilted.

I almost vomited.

Henry, his anger boiling over, shifted to move, but froze as something stirred at his side.

A pulse.

A vibration.

The low, dark rumble of energy that slid along the ground like thunder.

Henry and I turned simultaneously—helplessly drawn toward the source of that thick, suffocating charge.

And there he stood.

Cassel.

No expression.

No words.

Just a rising, black storm of power wrapping around him like shadows waking from a long sleep.

At that moment, even I, the worshiper of the villain, the one who admired him in all respects...

The one who always rooted for my favorite villain in every second...

... For the first time in my life, I felt my knees weaken.

Felt the fear.

Felt the urge to...

Run away.