SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer
Chapter 78: All of you deserve to die

Chapter 78: All of you deserve to die

"Yes..."

Seraphina solemnly nodded, her expression filled with tension. In the next breath, her presence vanished—swift and silent, like a shadow consumed by the wind.

Within the grand square, Ricky’s compound eyes glimmered with a dangerous light, like lightning building before a storm. The air around him crackled faintly, charged with unspoken fury. Vice Leader Marcus stood at a short distance, entirely unbothered, his serene demeanor making it feel as though Ricky didn’t even exist—an insect buzzing pointlessly before a mountain.

He didn’t even look at him. That was what stung the most.

Ricky’s voice, low and sharp, broke the tension.

"Why did you do this...?"

His tone wasn’t just accusatory—it held something deeper. Confusion. Pain. Fury buried beneath layers of restraint.

To burn the entire forest to ashes... to massacre the lives within... it was overkill. Illogical. If revenge was the motive, they could have come straight for him. There was no need for senseless destruction. The question tormented him—not just as a warrior, but as someone whose roots had been reduced to cinders.

Vice Leader Marcus let out a light chuckle, his expression as relaxed as if he were discussing the weather.

"You sure are very curious for a mosquito about to face death."

A flicker of murderous intent flashed in Ricky’s gaze, but he didn’t lash out. Not yet.

His focus locked on Marcus. The Vice Leader’s calm, almost gentle air was a mask—but the bait had already been cast. Dark Shadow... She was the lure, the key piece they’d used to draw him here. Now, Marcus had revealed himself openly, as though daring Ricky to make the first move.

It was clear what the man wanted—to provoke him into striking first.

And what would that mean? Within the headquarters of the Radiant Knight Order—an institution intertwined with the Eldros Kingdom’s imperial court—making the first move would be suicide. The square was likely surrounded, hidden Stage 2 warriors lurking behind the columns, the balconies, the open sky.

But if Marcus believed that was enough to stop him...

He was gravely mistaken.

Ricky didn’t care about consequences. Not anymore. Not when they had burned down his home and taken his people.

A strange stillness fell over him. Like the eye of a storm. Silent, calm—but brimming with uncontainable madness just beneath the surface.

And so, he waited.

Waited for her to appear.

The square, despite the crowd, seemed distant to him now, muffled by the pounding of blood in his ears. His mind turned inward. Focused. Cold. The madness began to bubble quietly in his chest, spreading through his veins like fire.

Across from him, Marcus stood unflinching. The man’s calm gaze met Ricky’s with equal weight—neither backing down, neither blinking. It was a silent clash of wills, a battle fought not with blades, but with intent alone.

"Do you think you will stop me from taking my friend from here?"

Ricky’s voice was low, yet it resonated like thunder through the square. His mandibles extended, gleaming in the sun with a sharp, threatening edge. The air grew heavy.

Within his spiritual space, his spiritual seed stirred—its slow rotation gaining speed, as if answering his will. Power began to rise, subtly at first, like ripples on a pond... then stronger, darker, more resolute.

The moment of eruption drew near.

For a moment, complete silence descended upon the square.

No one spoke. No one moved.

Yet beneath that stillness, undercurrents of power surged—raw, oppressive, and volatile. The very air seemed to tighten around every living being, as if the world itself were holding its breath. A terrifying battle loomed on the edge of eruption.

Ricky’s earlier words still echoed faintly through the stone pillars, yet Vice Leader Marcus only responded with a smile—serene, detached, as if Ricky’s fury were no more than a passing breeze.

Ricky said nothing in return. His eyes remained fixed ahead, his entire being trembling with restrained violence. He could strike. He wanted to strike. But he didn’t.

He was waiting—for her.

He couldn’t afford to act recklessly. If he did anything before seeing Dark Shadow, he might bring her more harm. That thought alone kept his madness on a tight leash.

But then—

Ricky’s expression changed.

His compound eyes flicked to the side, drawn by a disturbance at the edge of the square. His antennae twitched. His instincts screamed.

From the distance, a group of knights approached. Seraphina led them, walking calmly, almost mockingly, as if what followed was a parade rather than a public horror. Smiles played across their lips—unrestrained, cruel.

And then Ricky saw it.

His eyes turned blood red in an instant. "How dare you..."

The words were barely a whisper, yet the entire atmosphere of the square changed with them. The very temperature plummeted. The air itself seemed to freeze, as though time had stopped beneath the weight of his fury.

At the front of the group stood a tall warrior, a massive iron rod resting across his broad shoulders.

And hanging from that rod—like slabs of meat in a butcher’s market—were two figures.

Dark Shadow.

Alexandria.

Their bodies were broken, mangled beyond recognition.

Dark Shadow, that proud arachnid guardian, had lost all eight of her legs. Her once-sharp eyes were now glassy, dull, lifeless. No twitch, no tremble... only a silent stillness that screamed of suffering.

Alexandria, the snow-white beast who had fought beside them, looked as though she had been flayed alive. Her thick, proud coat was gone. Stripped. Her exposed skin was torn and bloodied, a grotesque canvas of pain.

Ricky’s body trembled, not with fear, but with wrath so deep it threatened to consume him entirely. His mandibles clenched with a sharp click as he growled through gritted teeth:

"All of you deserve death."

BOOM!

The ground shook beneath his feet. With that single utterance, a storm of darkness exploded from his body. Mana flooded the square like a tidal wave, swallowing sunlight, plunging the open space into a sinister gloom.

A dark mist coiled around him like a living beast, growling and whispering, craving carnage.

Vice Leader Marcus watched it all unfold, still smiling faintly. "Venom Fang Overlord, why are you getting angry now that you’ve finally seen your friends?"

There was no sincerity in the words. Only mockery.

Around the square, warriors and knights turned their heads toward the suspended forms of Dark Shadow and Alexandria.

Disdain filled their gazes.

"These monsters deserved it. How dare they harm the members of the Radiant Knight Order."

"Vice Leader Marcus has shown such mercy. If it were me, I’d have killed them on the spot."

Bang!

A head exploded mid-sentence.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The chaos was instant.

In a chain reaction, dozens of heads burst open like overripe fruit. Blood sprayed into the air like fountains. Screams died before they were born. In mere seconds, the proud warriors who had been laughing now lay scattered across the square in a rain of gore—red mist and shredded meat covering the sacred stone floor.

The crowd froze in horror.

Seraphina, having just stepped forward, halted. Her eyes widened in shock, watching the carnage unfold like a nightmare made real.

The mosquito... he really dared to kill them. Even now? Even here?

Her breath caught in her throat.

His heart... is far too evil.

In that moment, standing amidst the blood mist and the reek of death, Seraphina silently clenched her fists.

A resolve crystalized in her heart.

This monster must die.

So long as he existed... there would be no peace.

Not for the Radiant Knight Order.

Not for Eldros.

Not for anyone.

Her eyes flicked toward the battlefield now drenched in crimson, yet she didn’t tremble. Instead, her spiritual seed began to stir—slowly but surely.

Across the square, only a handful of figures remained—Vice Leader Marcus, Elina, and several silent members of the Truth Seekers. The once crowded arena now lay littered with fragments of flesh and shattered armor, painted in blood and scattered gore. The eerie quiet was suffocating, pierced only by the occasional moan of a dying man or the soft crackle of spiritual energy still hanging in the air.

Elina stood frozen.

Her usually proud demeanor was shattered, disbelief written plainly across her pale face. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

He’s... gone completely mad...

The blood, the violence, the overwhelming aura that darkened the very sky—it defied all reason. Even monsters shouldn’t act like this. Even demons would hesitate. But Ricky, that Venom Fang Overlord, had executed dozens without blinking, as if their lives were less than ants beneath his feet.

And yet—

Vice Leader Marcus remained unaffected.

Not a wrinkle in his robes, not a hair out of place. The same faint smile still played at the corners of his lips, calm and composed, as if the massacre around him were no more than a play unfolding on a distant stage.

His hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed. In his eyes, the fallen knights held no value. Their deaths were of no consequence. If anything, there was amusement glittering in those cold pupils—an entertained glint, as though this performance had exceeded his expectations.

"Rage all you want," Marcus murmured, the words like a knife cloaked in silk. "But in the end... you won’t escape your fate."

A sadistic grin tugged at his mouth as that thought settled into his heart.

The trap was already set. The blades already drawn. He just needed Ricky to take one step too far.

But before he could savor the moment any longer—

WHUMPF!

Ricky moved.

His body trembled, then exploded into motion as he shot forward like a bolt of black lightning. His wings beat the air with an unearthly rhythm—each flap a thunderclap of shadow mana, sending concussive storms tearing through the square.

A violent gust surged out with every motion, sweeping through the battlefield like a hurricane. Stone tiles cracked, trees bent and snapped, and warriors—even Stage 1 elites—were hurled backward like ragdolls, their formations shattered in an instant.

All of them were nothing more than obstacles.

Ricky didn’t even spare them a glance.

His gaze—blood red and sharp as blades—was locked on two broken figures still hanging like trophies in the wind.

Dark Shadow.

Alexandria.

His companions.

His friends.

His family.

And he was going to save them. No matter what.