"Damn, she’s sharp..." Ricky mused inwardly, his mind sharpening like a blade as he prepared to face the descending crimson teorite hurtling toward him.
From the mont the crimson-eyed princess had first revealed herself until now, only a few heartbeats had passed—yet in those fleeting seconds, she’d crossed a vast distance, her speed near-incomprehensible. When Ricky blinked again, she was already upon him.
A crimson blur ripped through the air, the sky dimming beneath her presence. Her spiritual field unfurled like the descent of a blood moon, suffocating, absolute, and deathly silent. The sheer pressure in the atmosphere twisted space around her—a dominion of decay and domination.
This was no bluff. This was the spiritual field of a true Stage 3 Undead Princess, a pressure that would have reduced most to trembling corpses in an instant.
But Ricky was not most.
He wasn’t so fragile creature barely stepping into the path of spiritual cultivation—he was a predator born of death, raised by blood, forged in chaos.
Even as his insectoid exoskeleton groaned under the overwhelming force, his mandibles quivered not in fear, but excitent.
All three of his spiritual seeds surged to life in response. His body radiated a vortex of will—dark, primal, and defiant.
Boom!
His spiritual field erupted outward with explosive force, like a volcano awakening from slumber. Crimson collided with black, and the world trembled at the confrontation. The shockwave carved deep gashes into the earth, uprooting ancient trees as if they were re weeds. A howling wind of spiritual force scattered birds, beasts, and clouds alike.
In that instant, the pressure was reversed.
The undead princess’s field was pushed back—not by raw power alone, but by Ricky’s sheer, refined montum. His spiritual field wasn’t just strength; it was honed precision, condensed like a blade drawn for a single, lethal cut.
And then—two streaks of light tore through the battlefield sky like twin cots.
Felicia and Darius appeared behind Ricky, their bodies tensed and expressions frozen in disbelief.
The radiant wind rustled Felicia’s long white gown, her golden eyes wide with astonishnt as she took in the overwhelming spiritual clash before her.
Darius, fists clenched, eyes narrowed, didn’t speak. His usually composed expression was grim, taut with disbelief and calculation.
"He’s gotten stronger again..."
That one bitter thought echoed like a curse in Darius’s head. His jaw tightened, and he felt his pride twist deep inside.
How?
How is he still growing at this rate?
Darius’s gaze wasn’t even on the crimson-eyed princess. She was dangerous, no doubt—but to him, the real enigma, the real threat, stood before her, wings spread, mandibles twitching, spiritual field roaring like a beast from another world.
Ricky.
The Venom Fang Overlord—once rely a wild card—was now standing tall against a Stage 3 Undead Princess.
And holding his ground.
After all, he was now the servant of the mosquito.
Darius’s expression didn’t betray the storm churning inside. But deep within, a cold dread coiled tighter with every passing second.
If this monster continued evolving at this pace, freedom would remain a distant, unreachable dream.
The once-proud prince clenched his fists behind his back. No twitch of resentnt, no flicker of fear was allowed to surface. On the outside, his gaze was locked onto the crimson-eyed princess, sharp and unwavering—as though she were the primary threat in the field.
Only he knew otherwise.
anwhile, Felicia’s expression made no effort to mask her loathing. Her radiant eyes narrowed into icy blades of contempt, lips curling ever so slightly.
She didn’t care for strategy or subtlety. That abomination in a woman’s skin—that undead witch—shouldn’t exist. The longer she breathed in Ricky’s territory, the more Felicia’s hands itched to rip her apart.
But before either of them could move, the world shifted.
A lazy chuckle echoed across the battlefield, as if carried by the wind itself.
"Aye! Redhead, barging so rudely into my territory without any introduction—that’s not sothing to be proud of."
The voice was mocking, unfazed, and yet filled with a sovereignty that made space itself tremble.
A suffocating silence followed. Even the trees seed to hold their breath. No birds chirped. No insects moved. Ti itself slowed as reality waited.
But the crimson-eyed princess wasn’t listening.
Her gaze remained fixed on Ricky, unblinking, intense, burning—not with hatred, but sothing... closer to hunger.
Ricky’s mandibles twitched as unease crept in. She wasn’t here for a random fight, that much he could tell. Her eyes didn’t speak of vengeance. They spoke of intent. Purpose.
"What do I have that she wants?"
He dug through his mories at lightning speed. It wasn’t his strength—at least not alone. The system? Maybe. The divine entities watching him? Perhaps. But none of those explained the raw fixation in her eyes.
And then it clicked.
Like a puzzle piece dropping into place with a tallic clang.
"She’s searching for Forty-Two."
The mont the thought crossed his mind, it felt right—dangerously right.
His spiritual seeds flickered in warning as he watched her eyes burn brighter. From crimson to an unnatural pink glow, they pulsed like embers ready to ignite. The air around her warped as her undead mana surged, threatening to spill beyond control.
Her gaze sharpened like a knife poised for dissection—she wasn’t looking at Ricky.
She was trying to look through him.
A soul scan.
Ricky’s instincts scread. His spiritual seeds shivered, twisting uneasily in their spaces.
He frowned, his compound eyes narrowing with rare severity. This wasn’t just pressure anymore—this was intrusion, this was violation.
He could feel her energy like a whisper clawing at the edges of his soul.
A single mistake, a mont of weakness... and she would find what she wanted.
"Lady, you don’t look at a man like this—others might misunderstand sothing."
Ricky’s voice was dry, tinged with mockery. But before the sarcasm had even left his mandibles, the crimson-eyed princess closed the distance in a blur, materializing re inches from his face.
A sword—twice her own size—rested casually in her grip, its surface pulsing with a dark crimson sheen that rippled like blood under moonlight.
Ricky didn’t even flinch.
What the hell is wrong with this woman?
He’d been trying to communicate with patience, offer a chance for mutual understanding—even dropped a few jokes to lighten the mood. But no, all he got in return was blade-first hostility.
A tick of annoyance crept up his spine.
Did she really think his hands were tied?
The very next instant, the space between them humd—and with a sharp vibration that sliced through the air, Ricky’s spiritual field condensed violently.
It transford—not into an aura, but into a blade. A silver sword. Sleek. Elegant. Radiating the intent to kill.
Although it wasn’t as massive as the undead princess’s grotesque weapon, its aura was sothing else entirely. A divine sharpness, a lethal purity that made the very air shriek as it cut through it.
Darius, who stood only a few ters away, instinctively tensed.
It feels like... like a blade pressed right against the back of my neck...
A single drop of sweat ran down his temple. If soone like him—a peak Stage 2 with noble blood and royal training—felt this much pressure from a swing in the air, what would a direct hit do?
Felicia stood rooted as well, though her hands had clenched into fists. Her feline eyes narrowed as the unnatural edge in Ricky’s aura slashed against her senses like an icy whip.
Just how much stronger has he beco...
And yet, the crimson-eyed princess... did not blink.
Not even once.
Her expression remained unchanged, blank, as though she wasn’t even aware of the threat in front of her.
Her dead, soulless eyes stayed locked onto the sword floating before Ricky, examining it with unreadable calculation.
Ricky, anwhile, wasn’t particularly impressed by her stoicism.
He gave the sword a casual spin, letting it hum threateningly through the air like a predator pacing before a strike.
His voice was cold, but still carried that infuriating lightness.
"Right. I’ll hack you to death with this..."
Each word hit like a hamr blow, but still—no reaction from her.
Which only made Ricky more alert.
She’s either confident... or completely insane.
Or maybe both.
But for Ricky, this was it—he had no intention of dragging things out any longer.
Without hesitation, he issued a ntal command, sharp and absolute.
"Darius. Felicia. Surround her."
The words carried no doubt, only command.
Darius and Felicia, both already braced for battle, blinked in mild surprise. They had been expecting a brutal one-on-one clash between Ricky and the crimson-eyed princess—but this?
Even so, they didn’t hesitate.
Darius moved like a lightning bolt. His body surged with radiant blue energy, and the weight of his spiritual field crashed down from the heavens, spreading like a crushing tide.
Felicia, on the other hand, danced with eerie elegance. Her gown shimred as she shot to the right flank, her hands glinting with condensed spiritual essence. She didn’t speak, but her presence sharpened the tension in the air to the point of suffocation.
Together, the three hemd in the undead princess in a perfect triangle of pressure, each apex radiating killing intent.
Ricky didn’t feel the slightest sha for ganging up on her.
Being fair to your enemies... is being unfair to yourself.
The crimson-eyed princess, finally sensing the shift, tilted her head.
Her dead eyes flicked to Darius. Then to Felicia. Then back to Ricky, who now radiated the aura of a creature that didn’t intend to let her leave alive.
The stillness held for a breath.
Two breaths.
Then Ricky’s sword flickered in his hand—and the killing began.
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