SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 136: Not even close

After absorbing everything within a radius of hundreds of meters, the Darkness Pulse exploded outward.

BOOM!

The sound wasn’t merely loud—it was cataclysmic, echoing like thunder from the throat of an ancient god. The earth itself shivered under its weight, and the blast could be felt from thousands of miles away. Birds fell from the sky. Trees cracked at the trunk and collapsed like brittle twigs. The air seemed to split.

For a breathless moment, the battlefield transformed.

The land where Ricky stood had turned eerily silent. An unnatural vacuum swallowed all presence of the undead—like a black tide receding, leaving nothing but scorched earth and ash in its wake. It looked like the aftermath of a divine judgment—a circle of oblivion stretching out from Ricky’s core like a dark sun.

Not even a corpse remained.

Thankfully, Darius, Felicia, and the others had reacted swiftly. Their instincts sharpened by blood and survival, they had retreated just in time—narrowly avoiding the crushing radius of annihilation. Their forms stood high above the battlefield, tense, breath held, watching.

But Ricky wasn’t satisfied.

Not even close.

He hovered in the air, compound eyes gleaming with cold calculation. His gaze swept the ruined terrain, scanning for any telltale flicker of spiritual energy.

Nothing.

Not even a trace of the undead princesses.

His mandibles twitched. His patience frayed.

With a sharp snap of his wings, he roared—

"Darkness Pulse!"

Again.

The command cracked like a whip, and the heavens seemed to recoil.

As if reality itself was offended by the repetition of this forbidden skill, the wind shrieked. Air and mana rushed toward the growing vortex like it was begging for mercy—yet nothing was spared. The sphere grew deeper, darker, more bottomless than before, sucking in light itself.

Then—

BOOM!

A second detonation, more violent than the first, tore through the land.

The blast rippled outward with devastating force, carving a new crater several hundred meters wide into the forested plains. Trees became dust. Rocks melted into glowing slag. The impact force punched upward, disturbing the clouds and blackening the sky.

The land quaked.

The heavens screamed.

And Ricky, calm within the eye of the storm, stood untouched—protected by his spiritual field, as if the world itself parted for him.

His eyes, now cold and emotionless, flickered across the battlefield.

Still no reaction...

Still no sign...

He exhaled softly, his mandibles twitching with disdain.

"Quite stubborn... Let’s see how long you can hide."

Each word dripped with menace, with a quiet promise of escalation.

---

Not far away, hidden behind a veil of scorched forest and floating ash, Felicia and Darius stood watching.

Their clothing was singed, armor cracked in places, but their attention was wholly fixed on the figure in the center of the crater.

Felicia’s chest rose and fell rapidly. A thin stream of sweat traced down her temple despite the cold wind that followed the shockwave.

Darius, jaw clenched, couldn’t hold back the awe in his voice.

"Is this... his true strength?"

His voice was low, almost reverent.

But in his heart, a seed of fear stirred.

Because if this was Ricky’s real strength—then what exactly was he?

And what did it mean for the rest of them.

The raw power Ricky had just unleashed was nothing short of overwhelming.

Darius stood frozen, his heartbeat thudding like war drums in his chest. The aftermath of the twin Darkness Pulses still echoed through the land like a lingering nightmare. As the dust settled and the scorched winds died down, he felt a cold sweat trickling down his back.

A bitter realization tightened in his chest—if he had been the target, there was no certainty he could’ve defended himself. Not even with his royal heritage. Only if I used my bloodline... and even then, it would’ve been a gamble.

This wasn’t just spiritual power. It was authority.

Darius clenched his fists tightly, but his expression remained composed—barely.

Beside him, Felicia trembled faintly. Her fingers pressed against her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart. The oppressive aura from Ricky’s attacks had triggered a long-buried memory—a single time she had witnessed her lord father go all out in battle.

That same inescapable pressure, that sense of absolute judgment, that inevitable death—she felt it again now, radiating from a man who wasn’t her father.

No... a creature, she corrected herself with growing awe. A monster in the skin of a man.

Against a force like this, what could one do but kneel and wait for death?

Meanwhile, several hundred meters away, Boar stood as still as stone. His thick arms were crossed, his eyes locked onto the towering insectoid silhouette of Ricky floating in the air like a god of darkness.

Behind him stood Ramon, trying—and failing—to control the rising tide of emotion inside him.

This... This was why I came here.

His fists trembled at his side, not in fear, but in utter awe. His eyes shone with fanatic admiration, his lips pressing tightly together to keep from screaming in reverence. His body wanted to roar, to cheer, to worship—but one look at Boar’s calm, unflinching posture made him stay his voice.

This was his idol.

The one he wanted to follow, serve, and someday... maybe, become like.

---

But far from this display of reverence, hidden amidst the blackened remnants of trees and smoldering ash, a pair of obsidian eyes narrowed with frigid clarity. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Their gaze pierced through the swirling shadows, locked firmly on Ricky.

A chill ran through the scorched air.

Then, from somewhere deep in the shadows—twisted by space, layered by some undead domain—a voice echoed, low and disdainful. It carried neither fear nor urgency. Only contempt.

"Tch. You do what you want to do. I’m going to kill this pest."

The voice reverberated like a whisper from a frozen tomb, the speaker’s presence heavy with arrogance.

"Look at him... acting so arrogantly. Does he not know who he’s facing?"

The obsidian gaze flared with pale fire as the voice rose in derision.

"We are the royalty of the Undead Plain... and he? A no-name pest crawling in filth."

A cruel snort followed, as if disgusted even by Ricky’s existence.

"Let’s see how long that arrogance lasts when I descend."

After those chilling words echoed across the battlefield, the fabric of reality itself rippled—like a stone dropped into still water.

Then, she stepped through the void.

A woman dressed in a flowing gown of deep violet, her presence so striking that even the flames of war seemed to flicker in hesitation. Her two large, almond-shaped eyes glowed with the same eerie shade of amethyst—not glowing with light, but depth, like twin vortices capable of pulling in a man’s soul, stripping it bare.

In that instant, the world held its breath.

The howls of the undead faded. The air, choked with smoke and fire, suddenly grew still. Even the boiling rage in Ricky’s chest paused, as though some ancient, primal part of his spirit recognized a predator.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Her mere presence was a declaration of dominance.

Ricky, who had already sensed her arrival moments before her appearance, had prepared himself—or so he thought. But when his eyes finally fell on her, something ignited within him.

Badum. Badum.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, an unnatural rhythm for a creature like him. For the first time in a long while, his instincts screamed—not with fear, but with something more dangerous: the thrill of battle.

His breathing became uneven. His compound eyes shimmered faintly as an illusionary haze washed over him. A strange warmth flooded his chest, dulling his edges, clouding his thoughts.

What is this... mesmerism?

No... it’s worse.

With effort that made his mandibles twitch, he pulled himself from the mental snare and narrowed his gaze, now cold and focused.

"Such strong spiritual force..."

Even with his three spiritual seeds, he had almost been swept into her illusion. If he had been human, his face would be drenched in sweat.

"I can’t afford to be careless," Ricky muttered, his tone grim.

"Each of these undead princesses... they are the strongest enemies I’ll ever face."

Behind him, even the mighty Boar stiffened. His sharp, battle-hardened instincts howled like cornered beasts. He didn’t know who the woman was—but every nerve in his body whispered the same truth:

This is not someone you fight. This is someone you survive.

"Her presence... is monstrous," Boar murmured, fists clenched, sweat glistening on his brow despite the cool wind of battle.

Felicia’s breath caught. Even from this distance, the purple-gown princess’s aura oppressed her spirit, pressing on her lungs like a mountain.

Then, Darius stepped forward.

His face was grim. Cold clarity filled his eyes as he looked over his comrades and the battlefield, then quietly declared, "Everyone... we’re leaving."

There was no hesitation.

"Staying here any longer is dangerous. We’ll only hinder the sovereign."

The word "sovereign" rang loud in the hearts of the warriors—not a title, but a recognition. An instinctive one.

They began to move, orderly and swift, each step filled with reluctant respect for the monster they were leaving behind—and the monster they were entrusting the battle to.

Watching them retreat, Ricky exhaled slowly, his chest loosening. With them gone, he could fully embrace what was coming.

Now, he could fight without holding back.

Meanwhile, the undead princess in violet stood silently, her expression as vacant as a frozen statue.

Her gaze flickered toward the fleeing allies—not with curiosity, not even disdain—but complete dismissal.

To her, they weren’t even threats. They were footnotes.

Her obsidian gaze returned to Ricky, as if studying the insect beneath her heel.

The air between them thickened like tar. The battlefield itself held still, the tension rising like storm clouds ready to crack the heavens.

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