"Interesting," Ricky muttered, his compound eyes narrowing as he observed the pair.
His gaze shifted between the serene woman and Darius, a hint of amusent flickering in his voice. The Stage 3 crown prince was proving more resourceful than expected.
At that mont, the older man’s brows relaxed. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he let out a soft chuckle.
"It appears not everyone in this place is ignorant," the man said, his tone neither mocking nor arrogant—rely amused. "How rude of . Allow to introduce myself first."
He placed a hand over his chest with polite grace. "This young miss here is the daughter of my esteed master, Lady Felicia Etternbourgh. I am her humble servant, Robert."
Before he could say more, the young woman beside him furrowed her graceful brows. With an edge of displeasure, she cut him off.
"Uncle, how many tis do I have to tell you?" she said, her voice soft but commanding. "You are not our servant—you are my elder."
Felicia’s expression was composed, yet the tightly drawn lines between her brows revealed her frustration. Her presence radiated the quiet pride of nobility, one that refused to diminish those she respected.
Robert sighed—an old, familiar sigh that only those who had endured decades of stubbornness could make—and gave her a gentle nod.
"Yes, yes... as Miss says."
Ricky stood motionless, wings folded, his aura subtly rising with every passing second. No words escaped his lips, yet the tension in the air grew thick and oppressive.
Darius, standing beside him, was taken aback. He had half-expected Ricky to show deference—or at least caution—before a figure from the Divine Sun Empire. Instead, his master didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
That realization struck Darius like thunder.
His breathing quickened, a strange restlessness blooming in his chest. For a fleeting mont, he had the urge to shout, to warn them that sothing was about to go terribly wrong. His instincts scread at him.
But before he could move or speak, a cold voice rang inside his head—icy and indifferent.
"So it is Mr. Robert... and Lady Felicia."
Ricky’s tone was polite, yet devoid of any warmth. His spiritual voice echoed as if whispered by a storm cloud preparing to burst.
"I wonder... what would invite a person of your stature to my humble forest?"
The forest around them seed to grow quieter, as if the very trees held their breath.
Ricky’s killing intent didn’t explode outward—but it simred beneath the surface, controlled yet deadly. Like venom waiting to drip.
And everyone present felt it.
Ricky’s voice carried a strange, corporate-like detachnt—toneless, cold, as if he was rely fulfilling a bureaucratic obligation. Each word felt hollow, lacking depth or aning, like a lifeless script being read for the sake of formality.
"Hm?"
Robert’s eyes narrowed slightly, genuine surprise flashing across his aged face.
Ricky’s reaction had caught him off guard.
It didn’t matter whether the ones before him were humans or spiritual beasts—once they heard his na and realized his affiliation, their postures would shift, their pride would vanish, and they’d begin wagging their taphorical tails like obedient dogs, desperate to curry favor.
But this mosquito... he didn’t kneel, didn’t tremble, didn’t even flinch.
He simply stared at them.
Unbothered. Distant. Dangerous.
Even Felicia, angelic in appearance and revered in status, felt an uncharacteristic sense of dissonance. She had traveled far and wide with Uncle Robert. Every ti his identity was revealed, nobles, kings, even high-ranking cultivators would scramble to win their favor. Fear, awe, reverence—always the sa story.
But now?
This strange creature—this so-called master of the forest—looked at them like they were irrelevant.
For a fleeting mont, she furrowed her brows.
Since when did I start caring about how others reacted?
Her mission... Her true purpose... They were far more important than entertaining a delusional monster’s pride. If even a small part of her mission failed, the consequences would be catastrophic—possibly threatening the survival of humanity itself.
So what if this monster knew who she was?
If he had any sense, he’d start running. Now.
With that thought, her golden eyes flickered with a chill. She no longer looked at Ricky and, without a word, began walking toward the Undead Princess Zygote. The hem of her long white robe drifted across the dusty, lifeless ground—yet it remained untouched by filth, as if the dirt itself dared not stain her.
The mont she approached, a bloodcurdling shriek rang out from the Zygote. The grotesque sound echoed through the forest like a warning—a cry of rejection. A primal screech that urged her not to co closer.
But Felicia didn’t stop.
Robert, too, no longer paid attention to the so-called "monster and human" duo. Their divine purpose had priority. They had no ti to waste on overgrown pests and their inflated egos.
They were envoys of sothing greater.
But Ricky—watching them with unwavering intensity—did not take their disregard lightly.
As he watched both the girl and the old man turn their backs on him, sothing inside him shifted.
His expression didn’t change, but a dark, biting coldness surfaced in his eyes.
A slow, quiet wrath, like venom pooling beneath still waters.
They had ignored him.
They would regret it.
Even Darius was slightly taken aback. A ripple of confusion passed through him as he watched the unfolding scene with wary eyes.
It was then that Robert moved.
His aged hands slowly ca together, fingers interlocking as he began to pray. The movents were precise, reverent—like a ritual honed over centuries. One by one, divine syllables flowed from his mouth. Though spoken in a language unknown to most, each word struck with weight, as if echoing from the heavens themselves.
With every utterance, a beam of golden light burst from his body.
Radiant. Pure. Blinding.
It was like watching the first rays of dawn pierce through the damp chill of a lifeless winter morning—sacred warmth crashing against a cold, cursed land.
Then—
"The Sun God is rciful!" Robert shouted in a solemn voice, his tone booming like divine judgnt echoing from the firmant.
"Even though the fate of this place is already sealed, I shall offer a chance... a chance for all who dwell here to escape their doom."
For a single, haunting instant, every living being in the entire Erald Green Forest felt it.
A heartbeat.
A pause.
As if ti itself skipped forward.
Everyone—beast, human, spirit, and monster—turned their heads in unison, drawn by so primal force, eyes locking toward the center of the forest where the Undead Princess Zygote rested.
Even Valemont, who had been refining pills with burning focus, froze mid-motion. The pill in his hand slipped and cracked apart as he slowly turned, a solemn, unreadable expression settling on his face.
Boar was in the middle of shouting orders, his loud voice echoing through the training field. But he suddenly stopped. He stood up from his wooden platform and squinted toward the distant source of that terrifying pressure. A confused frown crossed his weathered face.
"...Had it finally begun?" he muttered under his breath.
His tone was uncertain. The tilines he’d studied suggested there was still ti before the true undead outbreak. Yet his instincts scread otherwise.
Nearby, Ramon was practicing a breathing technique that Boar had painstakingly taught him. But when he noticed the abrupt change in his master’s deanor, he, too, paused. Sweat clung to his brow as his pulse quickened.
Had it finally started?
The mont they had been preparing for—fearing and training toward—seed to be arriving far sooner than expected.
But instead of fear, excitent surged through Ramon’s chest like wildfire.
His fists clenched.
His mana flared outwards in a dangerous fashion.
It was ti. Finally ti—to test the strength he had earned.
....
"Stop right where you are—or don’t bla for being ruthless."
Ricky’s voice rang out like a blade unsheathed in silence—calm, sharp, and cold.
The air around him seed to freeze instantly. A stillness descended over the forest clearing, as if nature itself had paused to listen.
Leaves no longer rustled. Even the ever-present hum of spiritual energy faltered.
There was no trace of hesitation in Ricky’s tone. Only solemn warning.
His gaze swept across the intruders like a winter storm.
This was his land now.
His territory. His backyard.
If they thought they could do as they pleased here, they were gravely mistaken.
He would show them what happened to trespassers who crossed the line.
Noctyss’s words echoed in his mind—a grim reminder.
There was no way to neutralize the zygote safely. The structure was too unstable. Any interference would trigger a chain reaction... a massive explosion.
One powerful enough to incinerate the entire forest.
To reduce all life within it—man, beast, or insect—to ash.
And from the look in the duo’s eyes, their intent was unmistakable. Ricky could read it in their stance, in the subtle shift of their aura.
They were planning to destroy it.
Even if it ant annihilation. Even if it ant mutual death.
Their goal wasn’t control—it was erasure.
They’d rather see the zygote wiped from existence than risk letting it fall into the hands of soone like Ricky.
He clenched his fists.
He would not let that happen.
He refused to stand idle while everything he’d built, everything that called this forest ho, was turned to cinders.
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