SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 83: Healing Dark Shadow

Akroa, the proud Stage 3 leader of the Radiant Knight Order, was traversing a nearby forbidden ground when a tremor ran through the emergency talisman bound to his soul.

It pulsed with frantic urgency—an ancient artifact that only activated when the Radiant Knight Order was on the edge of extinction.

His heart skipped a beat.

Without hesitation, he abandoned his exploration, tearing through the sky like a streak of blinding silver light. Wind howled in his wake as mountains and forests blurred past him.

But nothing could prepare him for what awaited.

The moment he returned, Akroa froze mid-air.

His pupils constricted.

His city—his legacy—was in ruins.

The proud bastion of his Order had been reduced to charred rubble. Spires lay shattered, flames licked at broken walls, and bodies were strewn across the blood-soaked streets. His elite warriors—slaughtered like animals. Survivors ran in chaos, their eyes hollow with despair.

Akroa’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. A firestorm brewed within his chest, barely restrained.

Who the fuck did this?

And then he saw it.

A pest with a gleaming steel exoskeleton flitted across the battlefield, piercing the remaining warriors one by one with a monstrous, twitching proboscis. The creature moved like a phantom of death, draining Lifespan with a mere touch.

The instant Akroa laid eyes on him, the pieces clicked into place.

So it’s him...

And with that realization, the chase began.

---

"Guardian Spirit! Do it now!"

Ricky’s voice rang out, high-pitched and sharp with desperation as he tore across the broken terrain. Dust rose behind him, buildings blurred past.

The air behind him quaked with unnatural pressure.

The old man was fast—too fast. Ricky’s wings buzzed furiously as his body zipped around debris, desperately trying to keep out of reach.

His mandibles twitched in fury.

"Just you wait, old man," he muttered, glancing back. "Your end will be no different than theirs..."

There was no fear in Ricky’s eyes—just frustration and burning intent.

This wasn’t over.

He would make this old relic crawl one day, just like he’d made the others beg.

But Akroa had sensed his prey slipping away. His eyes glowed like molten gold, and his killing intent flooded the entire area.

"FLAMING PRISON!"

His hands clapped together with explosive force, and the world responded.

The very air ignited—six towering pillars of searing flame descended from the sky like divine punishment. Each was over twenty feet tall, glowing white-hot at the core, and they crashed into the earth around Ricky and Boar, sealing them in a blazing ring.

The heat wave blasted outward, distorting the ground and sending molten sparks flying. frёewebηovel.cѳm

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Akroa’s voice thundered through the scorched winds. "How dare you even think about escaping?"

His eyes narrowed into slits of burning rage.

"There is no escaping death."

The flaming prison tightened its grip. The pillars roared, rising in temperature, the heat becoming unbearable—even to Stage 1 beings. The ground began to melt beneath Ricky’s feet.

Then, with a flick of his finger, Akroa commanded the flames.

Wrrrinnng!

The pillars began to move inward, slowly crushing the space within, like a noose tightening around a condemned soul.

Ricky stood tall, eyes calm. His shadow danced beneath the flickering inferno.

His gaze flicked to Boar, still trapped within the circle, panic beginning to set into the beast’s usually calm eyes.

"Damn it..." Ricky hissed. "Guardian Spirit, how long do you want me to wait? I don’t have much time..."

And just then, a voice like an echo from the void whispered in his mind:

"Teleportation will begin now..."

Without warning, a familiar but ancient force wrapped around Ricky’s body. It was cold and weightless, like being submerged in the void.

The very next heartbeat, his senses twisted.

Colors blurred, the searing heat vanished, and the sky disappeared.

When his vision returned, he stood in a vast white hall—a palace of light and ancient grandeur. Every corner of the space pulsed with majesty, its smooth jade floors polished like mirrors, glowing softly under an ethereal radiance.

A moment later, a grunt sounded behind him.

"Where... where is this place?"

Boar had materialized beside him, blinking in confusion. His body was still tense, fur matted with dust and soot, his eyes sharp and wary.

Just moments ago, he had been bracing for death. Now, he found himself standing in a sanctuary that didn’t belong to any world he knew.

But Ricky wasn’t looking at him.

His eyes were locked on two figures ahead.

Dark Shadow and Alexandria lay atop a platform of luminous jade, their bodies bathed in soft electric-blue light. The jade hummed with power, and threads of azure current coiled gently around their limbs, seeping into their wounds, healing—restoring.

Ricky’s breath hitched.

He rushed forward, mandibles twitching in urgency.

And then, two more figures materialized—the Guardian Spirit, her expression unreadable, and Noctyss, whose veil of darkness fluttered as she stepped into the light.

The Guardian Spirit’s eyes fell on Dark Shadow.

And for the briefest moment—just a flicker—a strange, mysterious emotion shimmered in her gaze.

---

Meanwhile, Outside.

Akroa stood like a statue amidst the ruin, unmoving and dazed. The towering pillars of flame behind him roared with fury, licking the darkened sky, casting dancing shadows across the scorched battlefield. Smoke curled through the air, and the heat shimmered off the charred ground.

The scent of burning earth and blood lingered like a curse.

His pupils reflected the raging inferno, but his mind was elsewhere—trying to process the impossible.

The pest—the insect responsible for all this destruction—had vanished. One moment he was within the prison of fire, the next... gone, as if the void itself had claimed him.

How could he suddenly disappear, how dare he go..

Akroa’s lips barely moved as he muttered under his breath, "Where did he go..."

His voice faded into the crackling of flames. There was no one left to answer.

No explanation. No trail. Nothing but silence.

---

Within the Inheritance Grounds.

In a realm untouched by the chaos outside, the air pulsed with serene energy. Grand jade pillars reached up toward a ceiling lost in pale mist, and ancient sigils pulsed faintly on the white marble floor. The very walls of the hall seemed alive—humming with dormant power, waiting for a worthy hand to awaken them.

Ricky floated just above the two unconscious girls. His wings buzzed faintly, but his voice came out in a near whisper, filled with hope.

"Can they be healed?"

He stared at Dark Shadow and Alexandria lying on the altar of glowing jade, their faces pale, their chests rising and falling with faint breaths. Thin threads of blue light coiled around them like streams of silk, slowly entering their broken bodies, attempting repair.

This was no ordinary place—it was the legacy of a Stage 7 being. There had to be something here capable of restoring them.

The Guardian Spirit emerged behind him, silent and graceful, her gaze lingering on the two girls. A flicker of emotion passed through her eyes—calm on the surface, but deep with something else. Memory, perhaps. Or sorrow.

She nodded slowly.

"There are countless treasures within the Divine Researcher Saint’s treasury," she said, her voice smooth, resonating with ancient wisdom. "Many of them could heal wounds like these in the blink of an eye."

Ricky’s wings stopped. His head snapped toward her.

"But?" he asked, already sensing the catch.

The Guardian Spirit folded her arms and sighed, a wry smile ghosting her lips.

"But the Saint did not want her successor to become complacent. She feared that handing over too much too soon would breed arrogance, not strength. So, she locked most treasures behind layered formations."

Her tone turned thoughtful, almost amused. "You wouldn’t give a child a pouch of gold and send him wandering through a den of thieves, would you?"

Ricky grunted in agreement. It made sense. Strength without struggle was fragile. Unworthy.

But logic didn’t ease the knot in his gut.

"They need help now," he said firmly. "There has to be a way."

The Spirit nodded again, more slowly this time.

"There is," she said. "But their injuries are deep. Their mana cores, veins, and even their spiritual foundations are damaged beyond what ordinary healing can mend."

Her gaze turned serious.

"To truly recover... their entire bodies must be reconstructed from the ground up."

Ricky’s mandibles twitched. His jaw clenched. That wasn’t healing—that was resurrection in all but name.

And yet, there was no hesitation in his next words.

"Then do it," he said. "Whatever it takes—just make sure they live."

The Guardian Spirit studied him quietly, then offered a solemn nod.

"As you command, Master."

Then, without another word, the Guardian Spirit flicked her wrist.

A glowing formation circle surged into existence before her, its edges inscribed with ancient runes that pulsed with otherworldly power. The air rippled as the circle spun slowly in place, resonating with a deep, arcane hum.

In the next instant, a bottle materialized from within the formation—small, elegant, and filled with a scarlet liquid that shimmered like molten rubies.

Ricky’s gaze locked onto it immediately, his curiosity piqued. The moment the bottle appeared, he felt a subtle tremor in the surrounding manna—as if the energy in the hall had acknowledged the artifact’s presence. Even the ambient spiritual force seemed to rise slightly, responding to the treasure’s aura.

There was no doubt.

This bottle was no ordinary item.

It was a true treasure—one worthy of a Saint’s inheritance.

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