SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 80: Death of Saintness

The sudden loss of Elina was too much for Marcus to bear. It struck with the force of divine retribution—swift, merciless, and absolute.

How ironic, really.

Just moments ago, he had watched others die with cold indifference, treating their ends like theater—mere entertainment beneath his gaze.

But now, with his daughter’s flesh scattered like ash in the wind, grief gripped his soul like a vice. His legs quivered. His breath caught in his throat. Reality shattered.

Even the sun above seemed to mourn.

For a fleeting instant, it dimmed—as though turning its celestial gaze away, unwilling to witness the carnage unfurling below. Shadows stretched long across the square, casting a muted hum over the once-vibrant city.

Seraphina stood frozen.

Her eyes remained locked on the spot where Elina had stood only moments before—now a splatter of gore and tattered fabric. She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Then something in the air shifted.

A strange sensation crawled across her skin, like the warning prickle before a lightning strike. Her eyes flicked toward a group of warriors in the distance.

And what she saw made her blood run cold.

Red.

Angry, swollen red patches began appearing across their bodies—just like Elina. Dozens of them.

Her heart dropped.

"No..."

A surge of dread welled up within her, a rising wave she couldn’t contain.

"Stop this, you monster!" she shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

But her words didn’t stop the horror.

They triggered it.

As if the world itself responded to her cry, the entire city seemed to shudder—and then came the eruptions.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of bodies burst open across every district, across rooftops, alleyways, and open streets. Men. Women. Cultivators. Commoners. All became living bombs, reduced to flesh and mist in a symphony of grotesque fireworks.

The skies wept blood.

Thick, warm droplets rained down like a crimson storm, staining robes, armor, and stone alike. The ground turned slick with it. Rivers of blood carved new paths through the city, seeping into drains, filling gutters, painting walls.

For the first time in centuries, it rained death.

Panic erupted like a second plague.

Gone were the laws. Gone was pride, discipline, or dignity. Warriors—many of them respected, feared—screamed like frightened children and ran. Pushing. Shoving. Trampling one another in a mad dash to escape.

The city that once stood proud now crumbled into a frenzy of chaos and despair.

Stampedes broke out in every sector. Cries for help were drowned beneath the stampeding footsteps. Hundreds more perished—not from sleeper cells, but from the hands and feet of those they once called brothers.

It was hell.

And amidst it all, Ricky stood still.

Unmoving. Unshaken.

He slowly lifted his head, the rage that had once burned so brightly in his eyes now cooled into something else—something far more dangerous.

Clarity.

In his gaze, there was no hatred. No thrill. No sorrow. Only a chilling, calculated silence—as if everything that needed to be done... had already been done.

His eyes fell upon the lone two figures still standing at the heart of the square.

A trembling saintess.

A broken father.

Then Ricky began to speak—his voice not carried by sound, but by thought.

A calm, unwavering telepathic whisper.

"Forgive me, Saintess. But today... I cannot stop.

"If I stop now, then one day, another foolish organization like yours will rise again—one that dares to trample upon what should remain sacred."

His voice reverberated in her mind, solemn and final.

"For the greatest good of all... this city must cease to exist. So that the world learns to think—not once, but thrice—before doing things beyond their grasp."

The moment those words reached Seraphina’s mind, a violent shiver shot down her spine. Her breath hitched. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

It was not fear she felt—it was something far more ancient and primal.

Dread.

The kind of dread that clung to the soul when standing face-to-face with death incarnate.

"No!" she screamed inwardly. "I can’t die... I haven’t found him yet—my brother! How can I die before that?!"

Her composure cracked.

Her beautiful features twisted into something unrecognizable—a mixture of desperation and rage, of grief and madness. Her lips curled into a snarl.

This mosquito had to die.

At once, her body flared with blinding, fiery red light. Like a dying star igniting one last time. Waves of spiritual energy exploded outward from her form, distorting the air itself.

A massive phantom sword shimmered into existence above her, burning with a scorching crimson hue. It hovered like divine judgment, casting long shadows on the bloodstained earth.

But Ricky didn’t flinch.

He didn’t even blink.

His gaze, cold and unreadable, locked onto her—and then, with the faintest ripple of power, he moved.

A devastating force swept forth like a silent storm, unseen but undeniable. It slammed into her mid-charge with terrifying precision.

BOOOOM!

The entire square trembled as Seraphina’s body was hurled into the sky like a ragdoll. The phantom sword above her let out a soundless cry and disintegrated into embers, vanishing without a trace.

Wind howled past her ears. Pain flared through her ribs. Her vision blurred.

As she tumbled through the air, her thoughts fractured, spiraling into panic.

How...?

How am I supposed to survive this?

That was when she felt it.

A strange pull in her abdomen—a sharp, unnatural sensation that sent shockwaves of pain up her spine.

Her eyes snapped wide.

Somehow, impossibly, Ricky had appeared above her. Silent as a ghost. His wings didn’t even stir the air. And extending from his face was that long, hideous proboscis.

It had pierced cleanly through her stomach.

Slick with blood.

Her limbs twitched. Her power scattered like ash in a storm. And in that moment, suspended between sky and earth, she understood one terrible truth.

She was prey.

And death was already inside her.

---

[93 Days of Lifespan absorbed].

[56 Days of Lifespan absorbed].

[34 Days of Lifespan absorbed].

One after another, the system notifications chimed within Ricky’s mind—dull echoes, devoid of importance in his ears.

He didn’t react.

Not even a flicker of emotion passed through his eyes.

His sole focus remained fixed on one goal—to end Seraphina’s life completely.

Moments passed. Then, silently and mercilessly, Ricky’s venom spread like wildfire through her veins. Her body convulsed violently. Crimson leaked from the corners of her mouth.

And then...

Stillness.

Her breath ceased.

Unlike last time, there was no miracle escape.

No last-minute salvation.

Only silence—and death.

Ricky calmly withdrew his face, his proboscis slick with blood. His eyes slowly turned, cold and lifeless, toward Marcus.

The once-mighty vice leader was now crouched on the broken stone, cradling the disfigured remains of his daughter.

Bloody tears streamed down his face, carving trails through the dust and gore on his cheeks.

Around him, an almost imperceptible force began to stir.

Like a storm, silent and still at first, but growing with terrifying intent.

The air warped. The very atmosphere grew heavy.

It was the gathering of a monstrous spiritual aura.

But just as it began to take form—it vanished.

Like a dream. Like a lie.

As if it had never existed in the first place.

Marcus slowly rose to his feet.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t curse. He didn’t sob.

He simply stood and looked.

At Ricky in the distance.

At the crimson-soaked cityscape.

At the rivers of blood winding through broken streets.

His eyes were hollow.

Like glass.

Like a puppet whose strings had been severed.

Then, with the voice of a man stripped of soul and sanity, he spoke:

"Venom Fang Overlord... you will pay a terrible price for this..."

There was no inflection. No rage. No sorrow.

Only a chilling monotone—as if reciting a prophecy etched into his bones.

"Pest. You can die now."

As the words left his mouth, his hair began to float upward.

The air screamed.

Then—

BOOOOM!

Marcus’s spiritual field erupted outward, the full might of a Peak Stage 2 cultivator unleashed in a blinding instant. It tore through the atmosphere, pressure descending like the wrath of heaven itself.

It moved with speed beyond imagination—unstoppable.

Like a divine hammer, it rushed toward Ricky, ready to reduce him into a smear of meat and bone.

But just before impact—

Another spiritual field surged into existence.

It met Marcus’s force head-on, locking against it with a thunderous crash.

This new field... was no weaker.

In fact—it was slightly stronger.

A clash of titans.

As their fields collided, the world around them twisted violently.

Wind howled like banshees. The temperature dropped. Cracks shot through the earth.

Two opposing phenomena ripped through the air, tearing it apart with soundless violence. Yet despite the chaos, the sacred square—center of the conflict—remained eerily intact.

Until Ricky moved.

"Just die..." he roared, his voice filled with venom.

Iron Veil—Activated.

His spiritual field underwent a rapid transformation, turning into an impenetrable fortress, layered with dense, metallic force.

BANG!!

The power sealed within the square could no longer be contained.

With a deafening explosion, the ancient square—unchanged for a thousand years—was obliterated.

Stone turned to dust.

Light bent inwards.

Shockwaves screamed through the streets, flattening buildings in the distance.

And from the heart of the carnage, a cold voice echoed through the smoke and blood.

"No demonic creature can defeat my Radiant Knight Order!"

This chapt𝒆r is updated by free(w)ebnovel(.)com