SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 110: Gold

"Who are these people?" Ricky narrowed his compound eyes, his expression hard to read, yet a faint tension flickered beneath his calm exterior.

The aura drifting from the northern edge of the forest was unlike anything he had encountered recently. It was pure, almost painfully so—radiating a holy light that clashed with every fiber of his being. It wasn’t just foreign; it was hostile to his very nature.

A frown crept across his face.

"That aura... it feels like it was crafted to destroy me."

He clicked his mandibles slowly, thinking.

"Hmm. I should send Darius to investigate."

But just as the thought crossed his mind, the unfamiliar aura shifted.

Ricky’s antennae twitched violently.

His body instinctively turned east, toward the ancient grove that concealed the Undead Princess Zygote.

His eyes darkened.

"Not good."

Those mysterious intruders were heading in the direction he feared most.

No matter their purpose, they could not be allowed near the zygote.

Without wasting another breath, he sprang from the castle roof like a bolt of lightning.

A sharp gust of wind howled behind him as his wings unfurled and his figure blurred, vanishing into the air.

At the same time, a mental ripple spread outward—his command slicing through the spiritual connection like a blade.

"Darius, follow me."

——

Under the shade of a gnarled spirit-tree, Darius sat cross-legged in silence. His silver-white robe fluttered in the soft breeze, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

He was trying to still the storm within.

The past two days had turned his world upside down—enslaved, humiliated, and forced to serve a mosquito that should never have even qualified as a threat.

"Calm... breathe... do not let chaos win," he whispered in his heart.

Then, like a thunderclap, Ricky’s voice echoed in his mind—sharp and commanding.

In the same instant, his body responded before his mind could catch up.

His spiritual energy flared violently, and in the blink of an eye, he shot forward like a streak of silver lightning, vanishing into the horizon.

"Follow me..."

Elsewhere, perched atop a low rise overlooking the alchemy quarters, Noctyss observed Valemont, who was deeply engrossed in refining a pill.

Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were narrowed with faint amusement as thin trails of medicinal smoke curled upward from the cauldron.

Suddenly, her expression shifted.

The wind stirred unnaturally.

The earth beneath her feet trembled.

Her senses flared.

She turned sharply toward the east, pupils dilating slightly.

"That direction..." she muttered.

Her gaze locked on the distant veil of mist that marked the location of the Undead Princess Zygote.

She didn’t have the sharp instincts of Ricky or the overwhelming force of Darius, but she felt it nonetheless—a tremor that ran through the air, like a storm warning before a downpour.

The atmosphere had changed.

Something ancient had stirred...

And something holy was approaching.

---

Meanwhile, beside the Zygote...

The land surrounding the cursed embryo had become a wasteland.

Once vibrant with emerald grass and whispering leaves, it was now ashen and dead, as though all life had been wrung dry by an unseen force. The air shimmered faintly, twisted by dark mana and filled with the sickly scent of rot. A faint hum echoed in the silence—low, constant, like a heartbeat from the depths of the underworld.

The Zygote pulsed faintly at the center of it all, lying still yet exuding a terrible pressure, as if asleep—and dreaming of destruction.

Then, without warning, a blinding white light split the gloom, bathing the land in an unnatural radiance.

From that light, two figures emerged—dressed in flowing white robes etched with runes of sanctity and ancient divine law. One was an elderly man with deep-set eyes that glowed like molten gold, the other a serene young woman whose presence alone felt like the blessing of a goddess.

Their arrival was like the descent of angels into a fallen realm—yet even their purity could not mask the grimness on their faces.

"Sigh... the fate of this region is already sealed,"

the old man muttered, his voice heavy, eyes scanning the twisted soil and wilting air.

A hollow wind blew past them, carrying flecks of ash.

"We were too late,"

the woman said, her brow creasing, clear eyes narrowing as they settled on the monstrous form of the Zygote.

"The transformation has already begun."

The sacred light surrounding their bodies flickered faintly in resistance—as if the land itself rejected their existence.

Others might have been ignorant of the horror before them, but these two were not ordinary observers.

They were well-versed in the evolution of the Undead Princess Zygote, and what they saw chilled them more than they let on.

The process had already entered its next phase.

The evolution followed three terrifying stages.

First, the Zygote greedily absorbed all ambient mana, draining the life essence of every blade of grass, every spirit beast, every soul it could find.

Second, it began its corruption—warping the very fabric of reality, bleeding the borders between the material plane and the abyssal realm of the undead.

Third, and final—the descent. The seal shattered, and with it came a tide of deathless soldiers, clawing into the world like a flood of nightmares.

In the first stage, the Zygote could be destroyed with enough force and purity.

But after the second...

There was no longer a "safe" way.

The woman’s lips tightened.

She raised her hand, light gathering at her fingertips like threads of silver fire.

"Uncle," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade,

"Initiate the protocol."

Her tone was resolute, untouched by hesitation.

"For the greater good of all living beings... we must destroy this Zygote."

The elder beside her slowly closed his eyes.

And nodded.

With a single word, she had decided the fate of an entire forest.

Though the young woman never stated it directly, the implications of her command were unmistakable.

Interfering with the Zygote at this stage meant destabilizing its corrupted energy. And once that fragile balance shattered, the resulting explosion would be catastrophic—powerful enough to obliterate the entire Emerald Green Forest and all surrounding regions in a wave of unholy devastation.

The old man said nothing, but his silence was acceptance.

His eyes dimmed as he stepped forward, raising both hands toward the sky. In slow, deliberate motion, he began tracing intricate arcane sigils in the air. One after another, golden glyphs formed and rotated, assembling into a grand magical formation beneath his feet.

The sky darkened slightly. The earth rumbled.

"Map of the Divine Pity,"

he muttered solemnly.

At his words, the formation flared to life. A soft white radiance burst forth, expanding outward in concentric rings of light, slowly wrapping itself around the grotesque form of the Zygote like a net of judgment.

The woman stood still, her gaze unmoved, a living portrait of serenity and resolution. Her white robe fluttered in the cursed wind, untouched by doubt.

Then—a streak of black light tore across the sky like a crack in the heavens.

It was silent at first, but what followed was not.

"What do you think you are doing?"

A voice—cold, oppressive, and sharp as razors—echoed not from the mouth but directly into their minds. It was as if the very world itself had spoken.

The spell halted.

Both the woman and the old man turned, startled. Their expressions sharpened as their eyes rose to meet the source of the voice.

Floating mid-air was a monstrous figure, shrouded in shadows and pulsing with thick, suffocating killing intent. It was like a predator that had devoured a thousand lives, exuding a bloodthirst so deep that even the very wind seemed to recoil in fear.

A moment of stunned silence.

"Such a thick killing intent..."

the old man finally muttered, brows furrowing deeply.

"Just how many creatures did you have to slaughter... to achieve such a presence?"

His voice trembled—not with fear, but with wariness.

Before he could analyze further, another flash of light split the sky.

A white blur crashed down beside Ricky.

It was Darius.

Still tense from his sprint across the forest, he landed with his usual air of arrogant grace. His cold gaze flicked toward the two white-robed figures. But the moment his eyes locked onto the woman’s golden belt and the sacred runes etched into their robes, his pupils constricted.

Recognition struck.

"Holy Sun Empire,"

he whispered, his voice like flint striking steel.

The words came louder than intended.

The old man’s expression twitched. The woman, too, raised an eyebrow in faint surprise.

Their eyes met Darius’s with subtle caution.

They hadn’t expected anyone in this remote, forgotten corner of the world to recognize them.

Let alone speak the name of their empire aloud.

Darius’s eyes remained locked on the duo, his expression gradually turning serious.

He wasn’t ignorant.

As a crown prince, he had been taught the geography and politics of the continent from a young age. And among the many tales that reached his ears, one empire had always stood out—a prosperous and enigmatic realm in the distant North.

The Holy Sun Empire.

According to the rumors, their wealth was so vast that even commoners bathed in gold, and their streets shimmered beneath sunlight-reflecting tiles imported from sacred mountains. It was said that their temples stretched so high they touched the clouds, and divine hymns echoed in the air like whispers from heaven itself...

This chapter is updat𝓮d by fre(e)webnov(l).com