SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 153: Resentment

It was, in Ricky’s eyes, an undeniable win—something deceptively simple, yet strategically massive. It turned every encounter, every proximity, into a potential harvest. No more lunging. No more grappling. His very presence could now wear down opponents without them even realizing it.

That wasn’t all.

There were subtler shifts as well—things the system hadn’t highlighted, but Ricky could feel pulsing beneath his skin, deep within the architecture of his new form.

His control over the sleeper cells he had planted—scattered like seeds across distant hosts—was now sharper. The connection between him and them felt strengthened, less like invisible threads and more like living nerves. With a single thought, he could influence them more precisely, more aggressively. They no longer felt like passive tools.

They felt like extensions of his will.

Weapons.

With that in mind, Ricky moved.

There was no time to waste. Familiarizing himself with this new body wasn’t just important—it was vital. Once he left this inheritance space and returned to the outside world, it would be a battlefield again. A realm where death could come from any direction, at any moment.

If he faltered because he didn’t understand his own form—if his own body betrayed him—then he’d have no one to blame but himself.

So he began to move.

At first, a simple sidestep. Then a pivot. Then a dash across the chamber.

Within seconds, his figure blurred.

Ricky glided from one end of the space to the other, a phantom cloaked in armor and lightning. Every motion flowed like water wrapped in shadows, elegant and predatory. His cloak billowed behind him, flickering with tendrils of darkness as if stitched from voidstuff. His segmented armor shifted with perfect synchronization—no stiffness, no delay.

It was as if the air itself bent to let him pass, offering no resistance. Gravity, friction, even sound... all seemed to struggle to keep up.

He wasn’t just fast. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

He was untouchable.

A shadow serpent, slipping between dimensions—neither beast nor man, but something in between. Something greater.

And though he didn’t smile, didn’t speak, there was something in the way he moved—measured, refined, coiled with control—that hinted at satisfaction.

No—certainty.

He was beginning to understand this new form.

And once he mastered it...

The world outside wouldn’t know what hit it.

...

Meanwhile, during the past month, the world outside had changed—drastically.

Each passing day brought a growing sense of unease, thickening like storm clouds gathering over a fragile land. Rumors whispered in hushed tones, speculation spiraled into paranoia, and the shadow of fear stretched long across the Emerald Green Kingdom.

At the heart of it all was a single terrifying possibility:

The return of the Eldros King.

There was no formal declaration. No grand battle. No sign of conquest.

Just a haunting uncertainty.

The apex powerhouses—the titans who once stood proud above all others—were now riddled with dread. They hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Eyes bloodshot, minds frayed. Conversations were clipped and cautious. Retreats were considered. Escape routes plotted.

They lived each hour bracing for the moment he would reappear—an ancient nightmare cloaked in blood and fire—and begin his silent purge. One by one, every Stage 3 cultivator would be hunted. Slain. Erased from the kingdom.

It was a terror that struck deep into the bones of the powerful.

And yet, beyond their halls and hidden chambers, the rest of the kingdom was bathed in a false peace.

The common people were celebrating.

To them, the worst was over.

They had survived the disaster—whatever it was. Monsters no longer ravaged their cities. Strange black-clad cultists had disappeared. The skies, once thick with death, were now clear again. The festivals resumed, laughter returned to the streets, and taverns spilled over with wine and tales of bravery.

Ignorant. Blissful. Blind.

None of them knew what had truly happened in the shadows—how close their world had come to annihilation.

And none of them knew what was still coming.

To the average citizen, the disappearance of Stage 3 beings didn’t seem important. At most, it was gossip—high-level drama among cultivators that had no bearing on ordinary life.

"They’ll come back," they said.

"It’s none of our business," they said.

"We’re safe now," they believed.

But that sense of safety was nothing more than an illusion draped over a cliff’s edge.

In truth, they had no idea how dire the situation was.

If all the Stage 3 beings vanished—if the kingdom truly lost its apex guardians—then this peaceful land would collapse overnight.

What came next wouldn’t be war or rebellion.

It would be slaughter.

With no one strong enough to uphold the balance, the Emerald Green Kingdom would become a lawless, shattered region. A playground for monsters. A feeding ground for beasts that lurked within the Ten Thousand Beast Forest—creatures that only feared Stage 3 pressure, and now, would sense opportunity.

They wouldn’t raid the borders.

They would walk straight in.

Villages would fall before they could scream. Cities would crumble without resistance. There would be no organized defense, no heroes to hold the line.

Only the sound of bones breaking, screams rising, and hope dying.

Despair wouldn’t even have time to settle in.

By then, it would already be too late.

.....

At the border of the Emerald Green Kingdom—

The air here was foul, suffocating, thick with a putrid stench that clung to the throat like ash and bile. A haze of dark smoke drifted over the broken landscape, curling like restless phantoms in the wind. The smell alone was enough to make the stomach churn, yet it was not the worst part.

From the corners of the mist, shapes began to emerge—monsters born of smoke and resentment, their forms constantly shifting, writhing as though in pain. Their bodies were half-formed, grotesque amalgamations of fleshless arms, twisted maws, and hollow chests that echoed with endless howls. Their eyes glowed dimly, filled not with hatred, but with agony—an eternal scream etched into their very existence.

And the deeper one traveled into this blighted territory, the more these creatures appeared. Some slithered across the charred earth, others floated above it like dying shadows caught in an endless loop. Big or small, grotesque or humanoid—all of them bore the same aura of grief and overwhelming resentment.

Then—

Three flashes tore through the air.

Boom!

A violent tremor rocked the already devastated ground as three streaks of light collided with the earth, forming a fresh crater amidst the corrupted terrain. Smoke and dust billowed out violently, but slowly began to settle.

And out of the swirling haze, three figures stepped forward, their presence like anchors in a crumbling world.

—Darius, the inheritor of an ancient bloodline, his presence sharp and noble like a blade unsheathed.

—Felicia, the Heir of the Sun God, glowing faintly with sacred radiance, her face stoic and unreadable.

—And Rosary, the last surviving representative of the once-mighty Federation—now reduced to a memory buried beneath ruin.

Rosary’s gaze trembled as it landed on the nightmare unfolding before her. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her fists, tightly clenched by her sides, were trembling uncontrollably.

These... weren’t monsters.

They were people.

Once.

Flesh-and-blood civilians, soldiers, dreamers—now twisted beyond recognition. Rosary could see the faint outlines of faces she might have known. Eyes once filled with life now flickered with unbearable torment. They hadn’t simply died.

They had been violated.

Crushed, mutated, and reborn as something less than human. An end worse than death.

The realization struck her like a blade to the chest. She staggered forward, breath catching in her throat as dozens of smoke-born monsters turned to face her—eyes hollow, yet somehow still filled with anguish. And in that moment, she could feel it:

They remembered.

They remembered her.

They remembered who they had been.

And they resented her for failing to save them.

Rosary’s composure broke. Her voice came out as a whisper, barely audible over the moaning winds.

"How... how could this happen?"

Darius, who had been scanning the surroundings with alert eyes, narrowed his gaze at her. His jaw tightened slightly.

How could this happen?

He wanted to scoff.

How could she not know?

It was obvious—this was the Venom Fang Overlord’s doing.

And still, despite his frustration, he held his tongue. He could understand her reaction. After all, no amount of reasoning could prepare someone to witness the twisted aftermath of this place. Even he, hardened by countless battles, felt something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

Yes, they had defeated the Undead Princess. But what was the cost?

These broken souls, once under Rosary’s protection—now hollow specters of suffering.

Even the heir of the Sun God remained silent, her eyes dim as she surveyed the field of spiritual ruin.

Darius exhaled, long and slow. For a fleeting moment, his thoughts wandered to a terrible question—one that clawed at the back of his mind.

If the Venom Fang Overlord wanted it... could he do the same to me?

Would he, too, one day erupt into blood and gore, his existence erased without resistance?

The thought made his spine stiffen. A chill crawled down his back despite the smoldering heat of the corrupted land.