SSS-Rank Evolving Monster: From Pest to Cosmic Devourer-Chapter 69: Leave if you want to

Slowly, Ricky’s perception began to blur and narrow. Everything that didn’t matter—the participants, the pulsating stone pillars, the grand hall soaked in the remnants of ancient power, even Noctyss sitting quietly in meditation—faded into irrelevance.

The only thing that remained in his sight, burning like a beacon, was the Guardian Spirit.

The one who could send him out.

His gaze bore into her with such fierce desperation that it pulled the Guardian Spirit from her musings. Her brow furrowed, her cold eyes narrowing slightly as she turned toward him.

Though Ricky had impressed her greatly with his earlier performance—unreasonably so, in fact—that didn’t grant him the right to stare at her like this. Like a drowning man clutching for air.

Her eyes, like shards of polished crystal, glinted with chilly disapproval. Still, she refrained from snapping at him outright. His accomplishments earned him a sliver of patience.

With a voice that sliced through the silence like ice cracking under pressure, she asked, "Is something wrong, Mr. Pest? Your head hurting or something like that?"

Even a deaf man could feel the subtle sarcasm dancing on her words.

But Ricky didn’t flinch. He didn’t care about tone or titles. His urgency eclipsed everything else.

"Send me out," he said, voice hoarse and edged with strain. "I want to leave this place."

He was trying—truly trying—to keep it together. But the tension rippling beneath his skin was becoming unbearable. Every passing second threatened to snap the leash he had clamped on his emotions.

The longer he remained here, the more the the hook tightened around his heart.

He imagined what awaited outside—an ambush. Dozens, maybe hundreds of Stage 2 beings, all waiting with blades honed and malice sharpened.

And if they couldn’t find him...

If they turned to her for answers...

Dark Shadow...

His thoughts spiraled down a grim, suffocating path. Despite his efforts to calm himself, fear slithered through his mind like a venomous serpent, coiling tighter with every beat of his heart.

This... this must be what it feels like. When the protagonist panics. When the stakes are too real to ignore.

But even knowing that didn’t grant him the luxury of losing control.

"Calm the fuck down," Ricky muttered under his breath, voice barely a whisper. The words weren’t meant for anyone else. They were a desperate chant—a mantra to still the chaos. "Yeah... everything is okay. There’s no need to worry..."

He repeated it until something inside him finally relented. The storm settled—slightly. His breath evened out. His thoughts cleared, if only enough to keep from breaking.

The Guardian Spirit, however, was less moved.

Her expression cooled further. She’d heard his plea, and though she understood his urgency, it reeked of ingratitude. She turned her gaze away slightly, as if his presence offended her.

Noctyss, still seated cross-legged and calm on the outside, suddenly opened her eyes. A shift in the spiritual atmosphere had caught her attention. She glanced toward the Guardian Spirit, then Ricky.

She hadn’t heard their exchange—Ricky had used his spiritual field to communicate, after all—but she could tell something was wrong.

The Guardian Spirit’s voice suddenly rang out, cold and cutting.

"You want to leave the inheritance ground?" she said sharply. "That means you are giving up the legacy of my creator..."

Her voice grew colder, slicing through the quiet like a sword.

"Do you think the life’s work of Divine Researcher Saint Selene Veylor is beneath you?"

"Or do you disdain the technique itself?"

Emotionless as a statue, but brimming with disdain, she stared Ricky down. Her disappointment wasn’t subtle—it was laid bare for all to see.

In her eyes, Ricky was a mere pest. A narrow-minded creature who didn’t understand value even when it was offered freely. Just another frog in a shallow well, blind to the sky above.

She shook her head slightly, then turned away.

He wasn’t worth her attention anymore.

Her voice had been loud enough to echo across the chamber. The other participants now understood the drama unfolding.

Noctyss’s eyes flashed with realization. Ricky wouldn’t leave unless something serious had happened. She understood him well enough to know that much.

And with little information, her sharp mind pieced together a likely conclusion.

An attack... someone must be attacking the forest.

It made perfect sense. Ricky had left behind a trail of corpses—Stage 2 elites slaughtered without mercy. Retaliation was inevitable. She frowned but said nothing.

Meanwhile, others were less sympathetic.

"Hmph. A pest who doesn’t know what’s truly important," sneered Thrixil, the Insect Queen, her wings shimmering as she crossed her arms. The mosquito’s presence had always unsettled her. Something about him screamed threat.

Gorath, the Flaming Giant, rumbled with disappointment and shook his head. To him, Ricky was no longer a contender—just a coward who’d folded halfway through the trial.

But not all shared the same sentiment.

Kael Dorn’s lips curled into a smirk. He observed with keen interest, eyes glinting.

Beside him, Darius murmured under his breath, "The timing isn’t right... there’s still a month before the inevitable attack."

He recalled whispers—rumors drifting like smoke among the branches. But perhaps... perhaps the enemy had moved early. To catch them off guard.

His gaze darkened as he considered the possibility. With the Venom Overlord inside the inheritance ground, the forest outside had no protector.

Now would be the perfect time to strike.

As the tension in the hall simmered, the others turned away. If Ricky wanted to quit, let him. One less competitor.

Fewer pests.

....

"Why are you still standing here? Didn’t you want to leave before? Why haven’t you left yet?"

The Guardian Spirit’s voice rang out suddenly, laced with sarcasm and amusement, her eyes narrowing with mocking disdain.

Ricky blinked, caught off guard by her sudden provocation. He turned to face her, his expression etched with disbelief.

"If I could leave myself, what would I even ask you for?" he shot back, voice low and tense.

Did she really think he was joking?

"Guardian Spirit, I’m not playing games. This is an emergency—I need to leave. Or else—"

His words were abruptly cut off as the Guardian Spirit raised her hand, clearly uninterested in hearing his plea.

"If you want to leave, then leave. No one’s chaining you here," she replied with a cold shrug, voice carrying a detached indifference. "But if you expect me to send you out, you should stop being delusional."

Her tone sharpened as she added, "When the trial was constructed, the creator never even considered that someone might try to abandon it halfway through."

She turned her head away, her voice now dismissive. "The only way out is when the trial is over. Until then, you’re stuck—whether you like it or not."

Ricky stood frozen, her words echoing in his mind like a sentence passed down by a silent judge.

"No way to leave..." he muttered, the weight of her declaration sinking into his chest like a stone. A chill crept down his spine, the crushing pressure of helplessness beginning to form a knot in his stomach.

He didn’t want to believe it—couldn’t believe it.

She had to be lying. Maybe she was messing with him, enjoying the torment. But no—his reason, as much as he hated it, told him there was no reason for her to lie. Not about this.

And that bitter truth was far more suffocating than any false hope.

"Okay... there’s no point in arguing anymore. I need to think."

Ricky clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm despite the chaos plaguing at the edges of his mind. He tried to suppress the dread, but the constant fading of his sleeper cells nibble at his focus like termites on wood.

He inhaled deeply, steadying his breath. His voice came out measured, yet strained:

"Alright then. Tell me—what do I need to do to leave this place as fast as possible?"

His words might have seemed calm, but the desperation clinging to them was unmistakable.

The Guardian Spirit, still turned away, hid the wicked glint that surfaced in her eyes. She could feel his fear, taste the mounting pressure in his voice—and it delighted her.

His suffering was an offering, and she drank it in.

A cruel smile tugged at the corners of her lips as an idea formed. Why not give him a sliver of hope... a spark to chase, only to watch it flicker and die?

She turned back slowly, her smile faint but chilling.

"Well... you could leave," she said, voice dripping with insincere sweetness, "if you can create your second spiritual space—right here, right now."

Her words fell like thunderclaps.

No preparation. No treasure. No transition between stages. Just sheer force of will and raw power.

When the second stage of the trial began, cultivators would typically receive both the technique and a treasure to assist with the creation of the spiritual space. Even then, most were bound to fail.

And yet she wanted him to attempt it now, unaided, alone, and likely to die trying.

But it wasn’t coercion. Oh no. She had merely suggested it—it was his decision now.

A test of desperation. A gamble.

Far away in the the corner Noctyss thoughts turned—her consciousness bound by the chains of control he’d forced upon her. Though unaware of the exact conversation, unease prickled at her senses.

Something was wrong.

"Don’t do anything rash," she warned, her voice grim, laced with tension.

Ricky didn’t answer her. His gaze remained fixed ahead, expression carved from stone.

He was caught between choices, his thoughts spiraling in a storm of what-ifs and maybes. He could wait. Logic told him, Let Dark shadow die. Take revenge later.

But then—his mind flickered back to that night. To the cold moonlight and the blade that had nearly ended his life. To the Radiant Knight’s savage expression... and the hand that had pulled him from death’s edge.

Dark Shadow.

She had saved him when no one else had.

And this—this was how he repaid her?

Even dogs don’t bite the hand that feeds them.

His jaw clenched. A new light gleamed in his eyes—steely, unwavering.

Yes, it was insane. Yes, it was suicide for an ordinary cultivator. But he wasn’t ordinary. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

He had the system.

He had something more.

"Fine," he said quietly, each syllable dripping with resolve. "I accept this suggestion. I’ll create the second spiritual space—right here, right now."

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