SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer

Before Darius could even open his mouth, Gorath exploded in fury, his voice booming like a volcanic eruption:

"Another one of these insects! When will they give up?"

His entire frame ignited, skin turning into living magma as flames cascaded off him. In the blink of an eye, his colossal body shot forward, blazing like a falling star as he hurled himself in the direction of the distant explosion.

The air trembled in his wake.

Darius remained where he was, his expression tightening into a frown. Gorath's words grated on him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't so much the insult itself—it was the underlying truth of it. Even he was growing weary of this endless cycle.

And it had all begun one month ago.

The reigning Eldros Kingdom—his father's dominion—had declared a bounty that shook the continent. A reward of over a million mana stones for the confirmed locations of Stage Three beings. The more, the better.

The bait had been irresistible.

Stage Two opportunists, smelling blood and coin, flocked to the borders of the Emerald Green Kingdom as if dragged by invisible chains. Day after day, they came in droves, chasing riches beyond their station. To them, it was a golden chance. To Darius, it was a daily irritation.

The rumors of powerful figures rising inside the Emerald Green Forest only fanned the flames. They thought themselves clever, brave, daring enough to test their luck.

But luck meant nothing against absolute disparity.

Compared to Stage Three, Stage Two was laughably insignificant. A single step, a single gesture from Darius—or even Gorath—was enough to shatter them. One breath of killing intent could reduce their bones to dust.

At first, it had been amusing, like swatting flies that wandered too close to a feast. But repetition had soured the novelty. Crushing ants every day, dozens at a time, had become little more than tedium.

Darius exhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on the horizon where Gorath had disappeared in a storm of fire. His patience was wearing thin. These pests didn't know when to stop.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the more his unease grew.

This wasn't just greed anymore. It was beginning to feel like pressure—an endless tide of insects sent to probe, to wear them down, to test their strength.

Something, or someone, was pulling the strings.

With the sudden emergence of multiple Stage 3 beings, the competition among the higher-ranked cultivators of the Emerald Green Kingdom had grown vicious. Each clash was no longer just about dominance but about staking one's place in the hierarchy that would shape the future.

If Noctus's words were to be believed, their every performance—every display of strength, every hunt—would weigh heavily in deciding the order to come. None of them could afford to slack off, not even for a moment.

Meanwhile, Gorath's titanic frame hurtled through the sky like a burning meteor. His flaming body tore through the air, the sheer heat leaving faint ripples in his wake. When he descended, the impact sent a devastating shockwave rolling through the Emerald Green Forest. Ancient trees shuddered violently, their roots groaning under the force, and the quiet woodland erupted into chaos.

Birds, who had been dozing peacefully after their daily hunt, exploded into the sky in a storm of flapping wings, shrieking in alarm. Smaller creatures bolted into burrows, their survival instincts screaming at them to flee.

But among all this noise and disorder, not a single human figure stirred.

Gorath's colossal eyes—each the size of a polished boulder—swept across the terrain, glowing faintly like molten orbs. His lip curled in disdain, a cold snort escaping him.

"This place reeks of vermin," he muttered, his deep voice rumbling through the trees like thunder. "A little clean-up is long overdue."

The flames dancing across his body dimmed slightly, and from his flared nostrils poured long, curling tendrils of smoke. They writhed like serpents and then split apart, darting into the woods with uncanny precision, as though each trail carried its own hunting instinct. They slithered through cracks, wrapped around bark, and crawled across the forest floor like living shadows.

Gorath stood motionless, arms folded across his vast chest, the forest reflected in his ember-like eyes. He didn't need to move. The smoke would do the work for him.

Hundreds of meters away, hidden behind the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree, a man pressed his trembling body into the wood, desperate to melt into it. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, fixed on the terrifying silhouette in the distance.

He was no more than a beginner Stage 2 warrior, a man driven not by valor but by desperation. His family was drowning in debt, their livelihood crumbling. He had come here chasing the promise of fortune—hoping to find even the faintest trace of a Stage 3 existence and report it to the Eldros royals. A single report could change his family's fate.

But now…

Now he realized how foolish, how pitifully naïve that hope had been.

The giant's presence alone was enough to squeeze the air out of his lungs. It pressed down on him like a mountain, suffocating, unrelenting. His entire body screamed at him to run, yet his legs were paralyzed, pinned in place by the primal terror of prey facing a predator.

"No… I don't want to die!"

The words tore out of his throat unbidden, strangled, almost childlike in their desperation. His face had gone deathly pale, darker than charcoal in the shadows, while rivers of sweat poured down his temples, dripping off his chin in streams. Each drop carried the raw scent of fear.

He could feel it—death itself tightening its grip around him, unseen claws digging into his flesh, refusing to let go.

Just then, he heard a loud popping sound—sharp, violent—created by the air itself as it was scorched to an unprecedented degree.

Horrified, the man instinctively jumped to the side, but it was already too late.

The fire missile slammed into his body and exploded.

BOOM!

A blazing eruption engulfed the clearing, swallowing the trees into cinders and sending a wave of smoke spiraling through the forest canopy.

But Gorath didn't so much as blink. For him, this was beneath notice. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, continued weaving through the foliage, searching for the next insect foolish enough to hide in this ancient forest.

At that moment, a flash of white split the sky.

Darius appeared, descending in calm grace, his spotless clan robe fluttering as though untouched by the forest's chaos. A frown creased his face as his eyes swept over the scene below.

There, scattered across the dirt, lay what remained of the poor Stage 2 warrior—charred limbs, broken flesh, the twisted remnants of a dream that had reached too far.

Darius's jaw tightened. He didn't need to guess. Gorath hadn't simply killed the man. He had gone out of his way to make the death cruel, ugly, humiliating.

For the Flaming Giant, this was no battle. It was extermination.

And though Darius felt the wrongness of it coil in his chest, he said nothing. He couldn't.

While his thoughts churned, three more figures tore through the forest canopy, descending in succession. With just a glance, Darius recognized them—three Stage 2 human warriors, each tasked like him to seek out traces of Stage 3 beings.

His expression darkened.

If this continued… Stage 2 beings would be snuffed out altogether, erased before Stage 3 warriors like him had even reached their prime.

That thought was still weighing on his mind when everything froze.

A familiar voice cut straight into his head—cold, commanding, carrying a venom that rooted him in place.

"Come back here."

Darius's pupils shrank violently.

That voice.

It belonged to none other than—

Ricky.

The Venomous Fang Overlord had returned.

Darius wasn't the only one who heard Ricky's voice.

Far above the canopy, Gorath, who had been arrogantly circling the forest skies, also caught Ricky's command loud and clear.

The instant the words entered his mind, his monstrous face turned darker than the charred corpses scattered on the ground below. Rage surged inside him, but alongside it came something even more terrifying—an uncontrollable compulsion.

Although every bone in his body wanted to continue weaving through the forest, hunting down more "rats" to crush, his bloodline screamed otherwise. His limbs trembled, and his chest heaved as though invisible chains had wrapped around him, dragging him toward the wooden castle.

The order wasn't a suggestion. It was a law carved into his veins.

No matter how much he resisted, his body betrayed him. Grinding his teeth in humiliation, Gorath let out a guttural snarl before shooting into the skies, his massive frame splitting the air as he unwillingly obeyed Ricky's summons.

...…..

Meanwhile, within the spiritual grove of ancient trees, a small gathering had already begun.

The grove was unnaturally still, the spiritual fruit trees swaying softly as though eavesdropping on the mortals below. Within that silence, two figures stood waiting like shadows anchored to the earth.

Noctyss and Dark Shadow.gfdg

They had arrived first, naturally, for when Ricky's will touched their minds, hesitation was not something they were capable of.

By the time Ricky stepped into the grove, his aura cloaked in a subtle menace, the two women's gazes instinctively fell upon him. His eyes, sharp and avian, swept across them with quiet intensity.

Noctyss, with her elegant but eerie presence, appeared composed, though the faint curl of her lips suggested she had already anticipated this meeting. Dark Shadow, on the other hand, stood utterly still, her sharp senses drinking in every fluctuation around Ricky like a predator analyzing its prey.

They were the first to join him. The first to place themselves beneath his shadow.

And because of that, Ricky's trust toward the two was naturally deeper than the others.