SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 113: Father of Undead Princess

"What have you done?!"

Darius roared, his voice thunderous, shaking the treetops. Fury surged through his veins like wildfire. Even though he’d been wary of the newcomers from the Divine Sun Empire, this—this blatant recklessness—was something he refused to tolerate.

His instincts screamed for blood. For a moment, he genuinely wanted to slap the old man into oblivion, to erase his existence with one strike.

Ricky’s reaction was no different.

But unlike Darius, who simmered with barely contained rage, Ricky’s mind had already moved ahead—calculating. Reading the danger. And the conclusion he reached was simple.

Now was not the time to fight.

Now was the time to run.

"Escape!" he bellowed, his voice sharp and commanding, echoing across the trembling forest.

Without wasting another breath, his form burst into a howling surge of black current, streaking through the air like a shadowy comet.

Darius clenched his fists, swallowing his fury like molten iron. Then—with a final glare at the collapsing zygote—he followed. A prince of Eldros, a warrior of Stage 3, he blurred into motion, catching up to Ricky with ease.

Meanwhile—

Back at ground zero, Felicia and Robert exchanged a silent glance.

No words were needed. Their gazes were calm, almost reverent—like priests before the altar of sacrifice.

Then, quietly, they clasped their hands together, and in unison, they prayed.

A golden shimmer lit the space between them. Without hesitation, Felicia activated a hidden treasure—a radiant talisman etched with ancient sigils. In an instant, both their bodies broke apart into thousands of glowing particles of light.

And just like that—they vanished.

Leaving behind nothing...

Except the Undead Princess Zygote.

Now, the Zygote pulsed.

Its body—once still and dormant—began to writhe, twisting violently like something possessed. A terrible wail echoed from within, sharp and desperate, more terror than rage.

The Zygote didn’t want to die.

Not now.

Not when it was so close to being born.

Black veins throbbed across its glossy surface as it expanded unnaturally, like a sealed coffin trying to contain a screaming soul. Each pulse sent ripples of corrupted Amma outward, blackening the ground and distorting the surrounding air.

The cries grew louder. Sharper. The kind that clawed into the mind, the kind that made birds fall from the sky.

Then—

It reached its limit.

Like a tin can crushed under divine pressure, the Zygote imploded, folding in on itself. A blinding blast of white light erupted from the collapse, intense enough to scorch the very air. Trees nearby disintegrated. Leaves curled into ash. The temperature surged in an instant, then fell deathly cold.

Everything was swallowed in brilliance.

And then—

Silence.

When Ricky materialized once more, he found himself standing dozens of kilometers away from the site where the Undead Princess Zygote had imploded.

His heart pounded violently, each thump echoing like a war drum inside his chest.

The ground beneath his feet felt solid.

The air was quiet.

But the sense of dread had not faded.

Without wasting another breath, he issued a mental command to the Guardian Spirit, his voice sharp with urgency.

"Send Noctyss and the others to the inheritance space—now."

Within moments, a soft hum vibrated through the air as a faint ripple marked the activation of the spatial array. His most trusted subordinates—those too precious to lose—would be safe. That much, at least, brought him a sliver of peace.

Just then, the air twisted beside him, and Darius appeared in a blur of white and silver. The crown prince looked shaken, his regal composure replaced by something far more human—fear.

His face was ashen, beads of sweat still clinging to his brow. The radiant glow that usually followed him was dulled, eclipsed by the weight of what they’d just escaped.

Before Darius could even catch his breath, Ricky asked, "How much time do we have?"

His voice was cold, flat—but beneath that calm tone lurked an unmistakable edge of anxiety.

Darius frowned and shook his head slowly, disbelief clouding his usually sharp gaze.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "It should’ve already exploded. We should have been swallowed by the blast."

His words hung in the air like a curse.

As if summoned by the very mention of the moment, the space around them shimmered again. Golden light burst into existence, and Felicia and Robert reappeared.

Their forms were cloaked in ornate garments that shimmered like molten gold, the robes looking more like ceremonial armor than actual clothing. They glowed faintly with divine energy—perhaps a special uniform, designed specifically to protect them from the repercussions of what they had set into motion.

Ricky’s eyes narrowed.

"Sun God’s blessing..." he muttered under his breath.

Given who they were and who they served, it made sense.

But in the next instant, Ricky shook his head, brushing the thought aside.

No. Focus.

Robert and Felicia exchanged glances of their own, and for the first time, confusion flickered in their eyes.

It was clear—they too were expecting an explosion. A cataclysm. A collapse. Anything.

But the world remained still.

No eruption.

No tremor.

No light devouring the horizon.

Only silence.

Time trickled forward like cold molasses. Tense. Unforgiving.

And yet, the moment never came.

The Zygote had imploded... but where was the aftermath?

Realization dawned in Felicia’s eyes, and her expression sharpened instantly. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by a growing sense of dread.

"Not good," she muttered, her voice low and tight.

Her golden eyes narrowed, and a cold gleam danced within them as she spoke the words none of them wanted to hear.

"The Undead Princess... has successfully manifested in this world. We have to return. We have to kill her—immediately."

She hadn’t even finished the last syllable when Robert vanished in a flicker of radiant light, moving so fast he didn’t even leave an afterimage.

But if Robert was fast—

Ricky was faster.

His form blurred into a streak of black lightning, crackling with sinister energy as it split the wind apart.

He had to see it with his own compound eyes.

In less than a heartbeat, Ricky arrived at the site of the zygote’s collapse.

But the zygote was gone.

No shattered remnants. No crater. No lingering residue of undead energy.

Only silence.

And then—

A few meters away, she stood.

A small girl.

She couldn’t have been older than ten by appearance. Her hair was glossy black, cascading like ink down to her waist. Two obsidian-like eyes glimmered in the ambient light, reflecting the surrounding devastation like twin voids. Her skin was unnaturally smooth, tinged with a faint reddish hue that almost seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

She looked lost.

Her tiny feet hovered just above the ground, toes brushing the grass as she slowly turned her head, eyes scanning the world around her.

There was no malice in her expression. No fury. No thirst for blood.

Just confusion.

Just fear.

The way she moved, the way her delicate hands clutched each other nervously—it was almost too human.

As Ricky focused on her, a status window bloomed to life in front of his eyes.

[Target Locked – Unnamed Undead Princess]

[Lifespan – 999,999]

His pupils contracted.

That lifespan... it was obscene.

A child born from the very bowels of death, standing in front of him like a fragile blossom, carrying a lifespan no mortal being should possess.

And yet, despite everything he had read, heard, or fought against in the past...

She looked scared.

Her black, glassy eyes shimmered as if on the verge of tears. She turned her head slowly in every direction, as if searching for someone. Something.

A familiar hand. A voice. A home.

For a moment, Ricky froze.

Not out of fear.

Not out of shock.

But out of something far more alien to his current state of being—

Pity.

In her eyes, there was no grand evil. No throne of corpses. No desire to burn the world.

Only the quiet, trembling innocence of a lost child.

How was this possible?

Ricky stood frozen in place, his mind racing. He had read about them—heard stories whispered by trembling survivors and recorded in forbidden texts. The undead princesses were supposed to be monstrous tyrants, cold-blooded demons who commanded legions of the dead to tear through cities, nations, even entire continents.

They were the stuff of apocalyptic prophecy, each one a herald of death and despair.

Yet here she stood.

A delicate little girl with obsidian eyes and hair like liquid midnight. No aura of dread. No unnatural pressure. Just a strange stillness, and a soft sadness lingering on her young face.

Ricky’s thoughts tangled themselves into knots.

She shouldn’t look like this...

Just as he was trying to make sense of it, the girl’s gaze landed on him.

Her eyes widened.

And then—joy bloomed within those bottomless black orbs.

Her pale lips curved into a smile that was so pure, so full of unfiltered emotion, that Ricky’s mind blanked.

And then—

In a soft, trembling, childlike voice, she called out:

"Father!"

Ricky’s body tensed like he’d been struck by lightning.

His antenna twitched violently. His compound eyes blinked in disbelief.

What...?

His heart skipped a beat.

Did I just hear that right?

For a moment, time stood still.

A suffocating silence fell over the clearing.

Then, like a slow, creeping shadow, a terrible premonition began to wrap itself around Ricky’s heart.

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

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