SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 81: Powering in the middle of fight

"Hmm!"

Ricky’s compound eyes deepened, swirling into an abyss of pitch-black starlight, reflecting no mercy, no hesitation—only extinction.

In the very next instant, his aura erupted.

A tidal wave of spiritual pressure exploded from his body, so dense it distorted the air and dimmed the sunlight.

From every pore of his chitinous frame, dark smoke spilled forth, like a shadowy tide flooding outward. It slithered and rolled across the battlefield, devouring light, spreading dread.

Then—something changed.

From deep within him, another spiritual field emerged, fainter and far less refined—but alive. It surged forth in tandem with his main spiritual field, and then, with a soundless quake, the two merged.

The result was cataclysmic.

The united force surged forward, crushing everything in its path like an unstoppable stormfront of spiritual annihilation.

At that moment, Ricky’s spiritual field was no longer just an aura.

It was a force of nature.

Boom!

It collided with Marcus’ spiritual field with devastating force.

For a moment, the two powers wrestled in a blinding clash of will and energy.

Then—it snapped.

Like brittle glass struck by a hammer, Marcus’ spiritual field shattered into splinters of invisible force, the fragments scattering like dying stars.

Swoosh!

Without pause, Ricky vanished—appearing directly before Marcus like a reaper arriving ahead of his scream.

Marcus stood amidst the collapse of his spiritual field, unmoving. Then, in the blink of an eye, his body shimmered—and from his core, a brilliant light pulsed outward.

Divine armour bloomed into existence, forming a radiant shell from head to toe.

Its golden surface glowed with sacred light, etched with ancient runes, and it radiated the unmistakable aura of a miraculous treasure. It was no ordinary defense—it was crafted to defy death itself.

But Ricky didn’t stop.

His cold gaze sharpened like a blade. In Marcus’ stunned stare, his spiritual field began to twist and reshape—morphing into a massive sword, its edges crackling with corrosive darkness and terrifying divine energy.

Then—he struck.

Bang!

The great sword slammed into the divine armour with unrelenting force.

Light exploded from the point of contact—a blinding fusion of crimson and gold, holy and profane, like two heavens clashing.

Ricky raised the sword again.

And struck.

Again.

And again.

Each blow was heavier than the last, a merciless rhythm of destruction.

The battlefield trembled with every impact, and the glowing armour groaned under the pressure.

Crack!

A sharp sound pierced the air.

Across the surface of Marcus’ divine armour, fine cracks appeared—delicate at first, then rapidly spreading like spiderwebs through glass.

Despite its divine origin, forged in heavenly flame and tempered to withstand even Stage 3 assaults, it couldn’t hold.

It broke.

Boom!

The armour shattered—a halo of divine shards erupting in every direction.

And then Ricky grabbed Marcus by the legs.

With monstrous strength, he lifted the man like a ragdoll, and slammed him into the ground.

Once.

Twice.

A dozen times.

CRACK!

The city’s foundation groaned beneath the violence. The earth fractured. Stone split open. Deep pits were gouged into the ground with each impact.

The entire square trembled, torn by violence beyond its time.

Marcus’ body was a hammer, and the ground his anvil.

By the time Ricky paused, dust choked the air and rubble filled the space where an elite once stood.

Across the battlefield, warriors who had once marched in with faith—seeking salvation, seeking justice—watched in horror.

They didn’t fight.

They didn’t even scream.

They ran.

Eyes wide with terror, they turned and fled the square, tripping over one another in their desperate attempt to escape the slaughter they had once thought righteous. frёewebnoѵēl.com

And Ricky—the Venom Fang Overlord—stood amidst it all, quiet and still, like a living god of wrath in the center of a broken world.

Boom!

Ricky drove Marcus’ body into the earth with all his strength.

A shockwave erupted outward, splintering stone, shattering pavement, and leveling the battlefield in a blast that tore apart everything within tens of meters. The crater left behind looked as if a meteor had struck.

But from the swirling storm of dust and debris, a golden light began to shine.

And then—Marcus stood up.

Unscathed.

His armour radiated a divine brilliance, flowing with concentrated spiritual power. The intricate runes on its surface shimmered, weaving into a net of golden light that wrapped his form like a celestial cocoon.

Even as cracks filled his body beneath, the sacred glow pulsed—healing him.

Flesh knit. Bones mended. The divine armour fed his spirit, restoring what had been lost.

Ricky’s eyes darkened to frost.

In a flash, his proboscis sharpened, transforming into a black, gleaming lance of steel. Every inch of it glowed with sickly green venom and death.

"Let’s see how you can heal when I drain the lifespan out of you."

His voice was cold, nearly whispering—but it echoed like thunder through the ruined square.

Even as he lunged forward, Marcus suddenly raised his hands and pressed them together, his movements fluid and purposeful.

BOOM!

An invisible wave burst out from his body.

Pressure. Heat. Fire.

A surge of fiery red mana exploded from within him, forming rings of heat that radiated outward. The ground at his feet began to melt, bubbling like molten iron. Air shimmered around him as the temperature skyrocketed.

Then came the transformation.

His hair turned a brilliant crimson-gold, flowing upward like solar flames. His skin glowed with a luster that was neither mortal nor divine—but something in between.

His spiritual presence intensified, rising beyond normal boundaries—

Inch by inch, breath by breath, approaching Stage 3.

Ricky felt it. The change.

The weight of it.

"Damn... he’s powering up in the middle of the battle..."

That was insane. Risky.

But it also meant one thing—Ricky couldn’t let this bastard finish the process.

His eyes narrowed, and the air around him began to twist, as if the world itself couldn’t handle the venom boiling from his body.

---

"You have some ability, Venom Fang Overlord... but not enough."

Marcus’s voice was low, calm, yet it reverberated through the air like the toll of a divine bell.

Then—whoosh!

A fiery sword materialized in his hand, drawn from a rift in his spirit. It wasn’t as massive as Ricky’s divine blade, but its presence was undeniable. It burned with the intensity of a miniature sun, its surface etched with radiant sigils pulsing in rhythmic heatwaves.

The blade ignored Ricky’s spiritual field completely—passing through it as if it didn’t exist.

The very air ignited around it.

"Die!" Marcus roared, a sudden contrast to his earlier composure.

Ricky moved without hesitation.

His own weapon tore through the air, its black edge wrapped in swirling spiritual flame and venomous mist.

A blade forged to kill, sharpened by fury.

And then—

Clash!

Two ultimate forces met.

One blade was holy, drenched in divine radiance, as if it had once rested in the heavens.

The other—feral, born of shadows, rage, and ruin, its strike more akin to a collapsing star than a sword slash.

The moment they collided, the world trembled.

Thunder roared.

The square fractured into deep chasms.

Shockwaves spiraled outward, reducing stone, banners, and distant towers to rubble.

Marcus was sent crashing into the earth again, his body smashing through layers of stone and soil before disappearing into the depths.

The ground cratered beneath the force.

Ricky too was blasted back, skidding across the ruined battlefield. Dust trailed in his wake like smoke from a falling comet. He stopped just before another cliff of rubble—eyes locked skyward.

And then—

Marcus rose.

He shot upward like a blazing meteor, armour torn and cracked, golden light pouring from the wounds. But even as Ricky watched, the divine metal mended itself, guided by the spiritual energy pulsing within. The cracks sealed. The glow returned.

Marcus floated high, hair fluttering like threads of fire. His face was serene—but behind that calm, fury simmered.

"It seems..." he said slowly, "my daughter didn’t die in vain."

His voice, though quiet, echoed like judgment passed down from the heavens.

"You do have some ability. But your sins are grave. You’ve slaughtered far too many. Creatures like you—evil things that devour the innocent—don’t live long."

Ricky didn’t reply.

But his aura kept rising, unfurling like a storm brewing in the heart of the world.

The ground beneath him sank from the pressure. His proboscis gleamed, glowing with a wicked dark-gold luster. The spiritual flames around him were growing darker, more violent—something was changing.

More power.

Even more.

He was already prepared for a drawn-out war. After all, Marcus wasn’t some wandering Stage 2—he was the Vice Leader of the Radiant Knight Order, a man who had prepared for death and rebirth a thousand times. But even so, the depth of his hidden strength... was monstrous.

Still—

Ricky’s will didn’t waver.

Not even for a second.

The killing intent around him became almost corporeal, like a dark fog, thick and suffocating.

There was no need for words now. Only death would speak.

Marcus, watching Ricky’s spiraling ascent in power, let his own expression shift. The earlier arrogance had vanished.

Now, he looked solemn.

Respectful, even.

And perhaps... just slightly wary.

"I’ve ruled the Radiant Knight Order for centuries..." Marcus muttered under his breath, voice barely audible over the still-crackling flames.

"And to think... a mere pest could force me to such a state."

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