SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer
Chapter 124: Crown of green

Chapter 124: Crown of green

"What did she mean by that?"

The question lingered in Ricky’s mind like a flickering ember that refused to die.

Far off in the distance, the gentle chirping of birds echoed—soft, melodic, oddly grounding.

It didn’t register at first. The sound was too familiar, too mundane.

Then it struck him like a thunderbolt.

"Wait a minute... birds chattering?"

His eyes snapped open.

He jerked his head around, pupils narrowing into slits as he scanned the world around him.

He was no longer in the sealed inheritance chamber.

He was floating high above the Emerald Green Forest, right in the open sky above the wooden castle.

Below him stretched an endless carpet of lush trees, their canopies dancing gently in the wind. The sunlight filtered through scattered clouds, dousing the land in golden warmth, but beneath that warmth Ricky felt... something else.

The wind carried more than just chill—it carried a warning.

It wasn’t the biting frost of winter or the oppressive heat of a furnace.

No—it was a weight. A quiet, looming pressure.

Like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Like the world was waiting for something.

Ricky’s wings buzzed lightly as he hovered in place, mandibles twitching.

His senses—sharpened through countless battles and tempered by the evolution of his spiritual spaces—flared like awakened blades. Even though no direct threat presented itself, his instincts whispered otherwise.

Something was coming.

And it wasn’t going to be small.

---

He shook his head, dispelling the tension from his limbs.

No immediate danger, at least not yet.

But his thoughts remained heavy as they drifted back to her—the so-called One True Eternal Above.

Part of him wanted to laugh it all off. To write it off as an illusion, a vision brought on by spiritual breakthrough, or even a side effect of using 100,000 years of lifespan.

But he couldn’t.

It felt too real.

The clarity of her voice. The immense pressure of her gaze. The way space and time twisted around her presence as if the universe itself bent to her whims.

He hadn’t just imagined her.

And she wasn’t just some omnipotent entity observing from afar—she’d reached into his dream, changed his surroundings at will, changed herself at will. A baby, a woman, a dragon, a bug—everything and nothing.

And worst of all?

She knew him.

Knew things about him that not even he understood.

He wasn’t sure what scared him more—the idea that she existed... or that she had plans for him.

---

Ricky’s compound eyes narrowed as a cold glint shimmered within them.

"A time bomb..."

That was what it felt like.

As if he had been handed something far beyond his understanding, something dangerous and ancient that had already begun to tick down.

Whether it was fate, conspiracy, or some divine cosmic joke—he was caught in the middle of it.

And if he didn’t act, didn’t grow, didn’t prepare—he’d be crushed the moment it detonated.

He would become cannon fodder in someone else’s war.

And Ricky had never been one to die in other people’s stories.

He clenched his mandibles.

His third spiritual seed pulsed faintly inside his body, newly formed and blazing with vitality. The inheritance space had done its job—now it was his turn to use that power.

There was no more room for hesitation.

He had walked a path of blood, venom, and evolution to get this far.

And if godlike entities thought they could toy with him?

Then he’d grow to a level where even gods would tremble at the mention of his name.

With that, Ricky turned toward the horizon—his shadow stretching long over the trees below as he vanished into the wind, a silent resolve burning at his core.

Suddenly, the deadline given to him by Damien and David felt far too optimistic.

"One hundred thousand years..."

Ricky clicked his mandibles together with a dry, mirthless rhythm.

Somehow, that number—which once felt like a stretch of eternity—now felt like a joke.

A cruel one.

He wasn’t even sure if he had a hundred years left.

That thought lingered at the edge of his mind, cold and persistent, as he turned his focus inward.

A soft hum reverberated through his spiritual body.

There it was—his third spiritual space, newly formed, pulsing faintly like a candle in the dark.

But unlike the first two, this one was tiny.

Minuscule.

Not even a sliver compared to the vast space his first two spaces had grown into.

Less than one percent of their size.

Still, it existed.

And that meant the foundation was set.

---

Ricky exhaled slowly, his wings fluttering once as he considered his next move.

"Looks like I’ll need to ask Valemont to ramp up his production again."

The thought was casual, but he understood the cost behind it.

Valemont wasn’t just any pill refiner—he was also the only one studying the mysterious darkness poison that had infected Ricky, and he was trying to advance his own cultivation too.

The poor boy was probably juggling ten impossible tasks already.

Still... priorities were priorities.

Ricky’s compound eyes narrowed.

His growth came first. Everything else was secondary.

So without further hesitation, he sent a silent command through the bond between them—subtle, firm, and clear.

Focus on refining.

Even if it meant Valemont’s own cultivation would slow, even if it meant his schedule would collapse... it didn’t matter.

Ricky couldn’t afford to delay.

---

Moments later, the dark figure of the mosquito overlord glided through the emerald treetops, his wings barely making a sound as he soared.

He had arrived at the outer fringes of the Emerald Green Forest.

Unlike the heart of the forest—wild, unclaimed, and teeming with ancient energy—this outer ring had transformed.

Over the past few months, civilization had crept in like ivy on old ruins.

Towns had turned into cities. Camps into strongholds.

From his perch in the air, Ricky swept his gaze across the land. Thousands of stone dwellings. Smoke trails from blacksmith forges. Caravans. Training fields. Merchants. Children. Soldiers.

By his estimation, over a million humans now lived in this expanding zone—most of them barely stronger than ants. Stage 1 cannon fodder.

Ricky wasn’t threatened. Not even slightly.

Not when most of them were already his.

Deep within their bodies, sleeping like a hibernating curse, flowed a special toxin: the Sleeper Cell Poison.

They didn’t even know it.

But if Ricky willed it, he could paralyze or kill them all with a single thought.

He didn’t, of course.

He had no interest in mass slaughter—for now.

Instead, he watched as false confidence bloomed among them like weeds in spring.

The cities that had once trembled before the name Venom Fang Sovereign now strutted and boasted under a new title:

"The Federation."

It was a bold name, especially for something stitched together by mutual desperation.

A union of three forces:

The humans, arrogant and proud.

The beasts, seeking shelter and alliance.

And the spirits, elusive but driven by survival.

Together, they marched under one banner.

And their advance brought them dangerously close to the wooden castle, the heart of Ricky’s domain—the capital of the Emerald Green Kingdom.

Their walls grew taller. Their voices louder. Their dreams bigger.

But to Ricky?

It was all a slow, beautiful suicide.

A parade of lambs proudly marching toward a den of wolves, unaware that the largest predator of them all was already living inside their bloodstream.

---

Ricky’s wings vibrated softly in amusement.

Let them come.

Let them build.

Let them believe they were safe.

When the time came, he would remind them who their true king was.

But for now?

He had more seeds to grow.

More space to expand.

And a storm to prepare for.

Thinking of their self-righteous attitudes, Ricky’s mandibles curled upwards in faint amusement. His wings fluttered slightly in anticipation.

At this point, he almost wanted them to attack.

He wasn’t someone who went looking for conflict... but if they brought the fight to him?

Then he’d welcome them with open wings.

"Now that I think about it," Ricky mused aloud, his voice a faint hum on the wind, "their so-called representative should be arriving any moment now."

A few days ago, the grand coalition of the three kingdoms had taken a bold step: they sent a diplomatic envoy to negotiate.

Negotiate?

Ricky had scoffed.

He hadn’t even bothered to entertain it.

He didn’t care who they sent—a respected elder, a king’s son, or a saintly monk.

He wasn’t going to sit and make deals with any Tom, Dick, or Harry claiming authority they didn’t have.

And yet... he knew the representative wouldn’t give up so easily.

With that thought, Ricky suddenly came to a silent halt in the air, his wings ceasing their gentle vibration.

Hundreds of meters above the forest canopy, his body hovered like a dark star in the sky.

He narrowed his compound eyes, gaze piercing through the veil of clouds and distance like a sniper zeroing in on prey.

And then he saw it.

Far—hundreds of kilometers away—a black tide moved across the horizon.

Slow. Relentless. Vast.

A living darkness, it slithered and devoured everything in its path. Trees withered. Animals fled. The very earth beneath it seemed to decay.

It looked like a void given form—a black hole inching forward, ready to swallow the world whole.

But Ricky’s enhanced vision pierced deeper. And what he saw made his eyes glint with an eerie light.

Within that endless tide were dozens of women, each exuding an aura that made the air tremble.

Undead princesses—commanders of death—leading legions of nightmares.

Under their command moved rank upon rank of undead commanders, organized and disciplined like an imperial war machine.

The sheer coordination of it all was chilling.

But the reason was obvious.

The unprecedented gathering of life in the Emerald Green Forest had drawn them like flies to fresh blood.

Too many beating hearts. Too many hopes. Too many souls.

Hope, as it turned out, was delicious bait.

The undead weren’t going to ignore it anymore.

They had collectively chosen to strike.

And the storm was coming.

At this pace, Ricky calculated, the undead horde would reach the borders of the Emerald Green Kingdom in no more than seven days.

The air around him grew heavier, the wind more silent—as if the world itself was holding its breath.

But Ricky?

He simply smirked.

Mandibles curling into a grin, he stared at the distant tide of death with anticipation.

Let them come.

Let them test the fortress of his making.

He wanted to see.

He wanted to see how his brave little human friends would deal with hundreds of thousands of undead clawing at their walls.

And when they started breaking?

When their banners burned and their blades dulled?

That’s when they’d remember.

Not all monsters march under banners of black.

Some... wear the crown of green.