SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 108: In same situation

Next morning.

The dawn had given way to a serene, almost dreamlike day. The sun, perched high in the sky, bathed the world below in golden warmth. Shafts of light spilled through the swaying canopy of tall trees, each ray soft as silk, each shadow dancing to the rhythm of the wind.

Above, mountain dewbirds glided across the sky in elegant arcs. Their crystalline wings caught the sunlight just right—prisms in motion, refracting the rays into shimmering rainbows. From a distance, it looked as if the birds were riding strands of living light, leaping from one treetop to the next on arched trails of color.

"Fascinating," Darius muttered, his voice low and flat. He turned his head away from the picturesque sight, unable to appreciate its beauty for long.

His body had recovered overnight—muscles no longer screamed, bones no longer throbbed. On the surface, he looked whole.

But inside... he was anything but healed.

His mind had been clawing at itself since the previous evening, gnawing on the same realization again and again.

The words. The moment. The terrifying possibility.

They haunted him.

Even now, standing beneath the sun, surrounded by beauty and peace, Darius couldn’t look Ricky in the eye.

He dared not look.

A mosquito.

A creature he once would’ve swatted without a thought—now, a shadow that loomed over his very soul.

No warrior, no general, no monstrous beast had ever filled Darius with such quiet, relentless dread. Not even his royal father, a man whose mere presence bent seasoned warriors to their knees, had ever terrorized him this deeply.

And that thought alone filled Darius with shame.

He shook his head roughly, as if trying to cast out the emotion by force. The tips of his fingers twitched.

Crown Prince of the Eldros... afraid of a mosquito.

The very idea was laughable. Disgraceful.

And yet—he could not laugh.

Because the fear was real.

He tried to reason through it. Tried to make sense of what had happened, what it meant. But the more he thought, the darker the conclusion became.

If Ricky truly possessed the ability to enslave anyone... then those other twenty-nine participants, each one a Stage 3 powerhouse, were no safer than he had been.

They would all fall. One by one.

A legion of the enslaved—bound by some unfathomable will. Controlled utterly.

Thirty beings, each standing at the pinnacle of mortal power... reduced to puppets.

He could barely imagine the scale of such a force. It was absurd.

It was terrifying.

And it was real.

His jaw tightened as the weight of the thought settled into his bones. A force like that—loyal, obedient, utterly without resistance—was not unlike his royal family’s army.

It was the only comparison that made sense.

His eyes narrowed.

That mosquito... he’s building an empire.

The notion twisted his expression with revulsion. Anger mixed with fear. Fear clashed with pride. Pride gave way to dread.

A pest—that was what he’d thought. A minor threat. An oddity.

But now?

Now, that pest had turned the world on its head.

The undead invasion had already shaken the balance.

And now this?

This mosquito...

This monster...

This was the beginning of the dark ages.

Just then, Darius’ expression shifted.

His brows rose slightly—sharply, instinctively.

Somewhere between one breath and the next, a presence had appeared beside him. He hadn’t sensed it. Not a breeze, not a fluctuation in spiritual energy. She was simply... there.

A woman.

Her snow-white hair fluttered in the morning wind like strands of moonlight, cascading over her shoulders in silken waves. Her eyes gleamed with a playful luster, holding the mischief of someone moments away from stealing something valuable—perhaps a secret, perhaps a soul.

Darius stiffened.

A faint shiver ran down his spine—sharp, cold, involuntary. The kind of primal alertness only reserved for apex predators.

It was instinct. Survival instinct.

And it shocked him.

He could understand such a reaction if he were standing before the Venom Fang Overlord himself—or another monster of equal caliber—but this woman didn’t even seem to be Stage 3.

Was she using some sort of trick?

Darius’ expression soured, his confusion curdling into annoyance. He was not a man easily rattled, and certainly not by someone putting on a facade.

His tone turned frosty. "Introduce yourself, woman."

The woman’s lips curled into a faint pout. A sound of mock offense escaped her mouth.

"Tch! Woman?" she clicked her tongue, her voice smooth and laced with subtle charm. "Is that how little boys speak to their elders?"

A teasing glint danced in her eyes. The very air around her seemed to grow warmer—no, heavier, soaked with a dark, seductive aura that coiled through the atmosphere like incense smoke. Demonic charm seeped from her presence without effort.

Darius’ frown deepened.

What nonsense was this?

’Elder’? ’Senior’?

This woman, barely more than a stranger, dared to call herself his elder?

Was it because she arrived in the inheritance ground before me?

His face darkened as the thought struck. A cold flicker passed through his eyes, his pride bristling at the idea.

But then—

Everything changed.

The woman tilted her head ever so slightly.

And there it was.

A radiant, slowly spinning white lotus bloomed on her forehead, glowing softly with a pale, ominous light. It floated just above her skin, revolving gently, emitting an aura that made the very air tremble.

Time slowed for Darius.

His pupils constricted to thin slits. His breath hitched.

For a brief moment, it felt as though the world around him had gone silent—held hostage by the blooming of that single, ethereal symbol.

It wasn’t just a mark—it was a memory.

Where have I seen that before? he thought, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

It was familiar. Not recent, not clear, but etched somewhere deep—within the archives of the royal Eldros, within forbidden scrolls or whispered warnings from elders.

The lotus didn’t belong to someone ordinary.

It was a mark of something ancient.

Something dangerous.

His hostility melted into suspicion. The iron edge in his gaze dulled, his instincts whispering that he had just stepped into something far greater than he understood.

And then—calm, calculated—he asked:

"Could it be... you also?"

Darius didn’t need to elaborate on what he meant by his words. The moment the words left his lips, Noctyss heard them loud and clear. She exhaled a soft, resigned sigh and, with a subtle tilt of her head, nodded.

Her response was all Darius needed. He didn’t even bother to glance back at her. The weight of the moment lifted off his shoulders.

With a swift turn, he began to walk away, his interest in her evaporating in an instant. The woman wasn’t worth his time—she was not only a slave, but weak to boot.

If she really wanted to speak with me, Darius thought with a dismissive edge, she’ll have to prove herself—at least reach Stage 3 before I entertain such nonsense.

As he continued his stride, he felt no urge to even acknowledge her presence. Her existence, in his mind, was irrelevant for now.

---

"This guy..."

Noctyss was stunned, her sharp gaze fixed on Darius as he walked away without a second glance. The audacity of it. The utter disregard for her presence.

She had heard whispers about a fearsome new warrior joining the camp, and her curiosity had piqued. When she finally laid eyes on him, however, it didn’t take long for her to put the pieces together. The same figure—Darius, the one from the inheritance space.

Her lips parted slightly, a sudden realization blossoming in her mind.

"He is in the same situation as me."

The words were almost too absurd to fully grasp, yet they rang true.

A strange warmth flickered in her chest—something she hadn’t expected. A sense of kinship.

It wasn’t often she felt a connection to anyone, let alone to someone like him. But as she stood there, watching his retreating back, she couldn’t deny the subtle lift in her spirit. It was like finding a long-lost relative after years of silence. Someone who knew the weight of the struggle, someone who could understand.

She wasn’t alone.

The thought lingered in her mind for only a brief moment, but it was enough to soothe a part of her that had been aching for far too long. But that didn’t mean she was about to let him walk all over her. Not now, not ever.

Noctyss’s expression hardened as quickly as it softened. The warmth in her chest was replaced with ice, her features sharpening into a cold, unyielding mask. She was not some fragile, hopeful soul waiting to be saved. She was a Demon Queen. A ruthless one.

With a sharp, commanding voice, she called out, "Stop."

The single word, spoken with an aura of authority, hung heavy in the air between them, as though the very earth paused to listen.

Darius wasn’t sure why, but the moment he heard her voice—just one word—his body wanted to stop on its own.

It was subtle. A flicker in the nerves, a sudden stiffness in the limbs. His stride faltered, just for a heartbeat. It was as if some primal instinct inside him recognized the authority in her tone and obeyed before his mind could even react.

He scowled.

What was that?

There was no spiritual pressure, no oppressive aura—nothing that should’ve compelled him to pause. Yet, something in the way she spoke burrowed beneath his skin.

He forced his legs to keep moving, taking another step.

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