SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 72: Absolute Destruction

"So you mean now I am the rightful owner of this place..."

Ricky spoke calmly, his tone thoughtful, as his compound eyes swept across the trembling crowd of participants. A detached, almost amused indifference lingered in his gaze, as if their fates no longer mattered.

The atmosphere was deathly still. The other participants stood frozen in place, their faces pale, bodies rigid, as though the weight of the entire world had suddenly settled on their shoulders. Sweat ran in beads down their brows, and not one among them dared to take even a half-step forward.

After what had just happened to Kael Dorn, no one wanted to test the Guardian Spirit’s patience again. The sight of Kael being reduced to a barely breathing pulp by a single, unseen force was more than enough.

Some distance away, the once-proud Stage 3 warrior now lay in a pit of cracked stone and blood-stained earth. His body was bent at unnatural angles, limbs twisted, and armor shattered like paper under the weight of that invisible wrath. Though his condition was beyond miserable, twitching fingers and ragged breath proved that he still clung to life—barely.

Ricky spared him only a single glance before turning back toward the translucent figure of the Guardian Spirit. Her presence pulsed with ethereal energy, mist-like strands of light trailing from her form as if she were carved from moonlight itself.

Sensing his gaze, the Guardian Spirit immediately lowered her head in reverence.

"Yes, Master," she said, her voice carrying an unnatural clarity, like a divine decree echoing across a still lake.

"According to the creator’s instructions, anyone who succeeds in forming a second spiritual space is deemed the rightful owner of this inheritance ground."

"From now on, I am your eternal servant. Use me as you deem fit, Master."

Those words were like music woven from gold, resonating deep within Ricky’s mind. He felt a spark of satisfaction rise in his chest, and an involuntary grin curled across his mandibles. The edges lifted slightly, a twisted mirror of amusement and triumph.

He had gambled—ignored the pressure, defied the participants, and thrown himself headfirst into forging the second spiritual space.

Now, it had all paid off.

"Good...!" Ricky muttered with a slow nod, the metal sheen of his evolved form glinting under the soft glow of the inheritance chamber.

He had many questions, but instinct told him this was not the time. The Emerald Green Forest was in chaos, and the situation outside was rapidly spiraling. Almost half of his sleeper cells had gone dark. Disconnected. Dead.

The thought darkened his mood, and his compound eyes turned toward a familiar figure in the distance.

"Noctyss," he called out.

She turned toward him, silent and still.

"You stay here and explore this place while I head out..."

Noctyss immediately nodded, not even hesitating. Inside, a flicker of relief danced across her thoughts—things were going better than she could have ever expected. She didn’t need to lift a finger, yet she stood amidst a treasure trove guarded by an ancient spirit.

She hadn’t exactly feared the Stage 3 contenders, but the idea of clashing with them head-on had always left a bitter taste. Now? Let Ricky deal with the chaos while she enjoyed the benefits.

Ricky’s gaze swept past her and landed on the gathered participants once more.

"Imprison every single one of them," he ordered flatly.

"None of them is allowed to leave without my permission."

The weight behind his words was unmistakable.

The moment his command echoed, invisible threads of power rippled through the air—emanating from the Guardian Spirit. The trembling participants flinched, some trying to speak, others silently cursing their fate.

Among them, Gorath, who had stood still this entire time, felt a shiver run down his spine. Ricky’s gaze landed on him like a knife at his throat, and suddenly his confidence crumbled.

Out of nowhere, everything had turned upside down.

He, a proud warrior, now felt like livestock awaiting judgment.

Ricky, on the other hand, didn’t spare any of them a second glance. His mind was already racing with plans, every step calculated, every expression controlled.

These people were no longer enemies. They were assets.

He had no intention of killing them. Death was final, and too clean.

But alive? Alive they could serve him, empower him, and become pawns in the game he was slowly mastering.

Sixteen participants. Sixteen lives. Sixteen opportunities.

His heart surged with anticipation, a wicked thrill coursing through his veins. One by one, they would all become his.

Not now, but soon.

After all, once he used his Mother and Son ability...

Hehehe.

But that could wait.

That part of the fun would come later.

"Yes, master..."

The Guardian Spirit bowed her head without hesitation. A moment later—wring!—an eerie sound echoed across the vast hall as thick, black chains surged from the ground like serpents rising from the abyss. Formed from some shadowy, semi-ethereal material, they wrapped tightly around every participant, slithering around limbs and torsos with sinister precision.

They bound the contenders like spider silk, delicate yet unbreakable. No one resisted—not a whisper of protest, not a twitch of rebellion. Even their voices were sealed, snuffed out by the invisible authority the Guardian Spirit wielded. The air hung thick with unspoken terror and suffocating submission.

Ricky observed them with faint amusement, his expression calm and detached. Inside, though, a quiet satisfaction bubbled up. One problem down.

"Close every entrance leading to this place," he commanded with ease, as though ordering a door shut at a roadside inn. "And tell me how I’m supposed to return here once I leave..."

That last part was crucial. The situation in the Emerald Green Forest was spiraling out of control. If things truly went to hell, Ricky needed a place to disappear—a sanctuary no one else could breach.

The Guardian Spirit didn’t hesitate. "Don’t worry about the return, master. Just think of the Inheritance Hall, and you will be automatically teleported back. You are now bound to this place. The inheritance ground has acknowledged you as its rightful successor."

Her voice was soft and reverent, like a priestess offering prayers to a god.

Ricky paused. No matter how many times he heard her call him master or watched her obey without question, it still felt...strange. This was the same entity that once towered over them like a divine judge, yet now she stood meek and loyal, utterly subservient.

"Wait, what am I even thinking..." He gave a slight shake of his head, clearing the stray thoughts. There was no time to waste on such nonsense.

Taking a figurative breath, he focused on the memory of the stony ridge where the crevice to this place had first appeared. In his mind’s eye, he painted every jagged rock, every flicker of wind-swept grass.

A warmth suddenly enveloped him—gentle and maternal, like being wrapped in a soft, silken blanket. It spread from his core outward.

"Hmmm... it’s working..."

The world around him distorted—folding in on itself. Light vanished. Sound dimmed. The air twisted like liquid glass. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation ended.

When Ricky opened his eyes, he was floating in mid-air.

His antennae immediately twitched. A pungent, acrid stench hit his senses like a slap—burnt trees, scorched earth, the sharp tang of death.

"Huh...!"

He had prepared himself mentally for disaster, but the scale of devastation that unfolded before him still managed to stagger his heart.

The once-vibrant Emerald Green Forest had been transformed into a living hell. From horizon to horizon, the only things he could see were curling towers of smoke and relentless flames devouring the land like starving beasts. No greens, no birdsong, no rustle of beasts—only the crackling fury of nature undone.

His heart sank. His stomach twisted with dread.

Dark Shadow... please be safe!

With only that thought screaming in his mind, Ricky shot forward like a bolt of black lightning.

His spiritual field flared around him in a protective cocoon, parting the smoke and pushing back the flames. The burning winds howled around him, licking at the edge of his shield, but he didn’t slow—not even for a second.

Kilometer after kilometer blurred past, but what he saw as he flew filled him with a rage deeper than any he had ever known.

Charred remains. Splintered bones. Twisted corpses—scattered like forgotten dolls.

The land was dead. Truly dead. Even spiritual beasts, who would normally endure the harshest trials, were gone.

The sheer lifelessness gnawed at him.

He clenched his mandibles tightly. His spiritual field pulsed with volatile energy, thrumming with the desire to lash out, to destroy.

And then—finally—he reached the place he once called home.

The Stone Courtyard.

Or rather... what remained of it.

If not for the faint, barely perceptible breath of the spiritual trees that once grew here, Ricky wouldn’t have even recognized the area. The grove, once full of rare, precious trees that glowed with life and mana, was now a sea of glowing embers. The air above shimmered with residual heat. Ashes fell like gray snowflakes.

The walls, which once stood sturdy and proud, were now shattered rubble. Burnt fragments of carved stone lay buried under layers of soot and blood.

Ricky hovered there, staring at the ruin below him. His eyes, once calm and amused, had turned into icy orbs of killing intent.

There was no longer any room for restraint or games.

Only one word echoed in his heart—pure and absolute:

Revenge.

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