Seven Sins System Chapter 616. Twelve Hours

Seven Sins System Chapter 616. Twelve Hours

Diablo leaned back into his throne, hands steepled, his gaze flicking toward the ceiling like he was already making plans.

“So,” he said slowly, “since we know the source of that ripple is…” His eyes slid sideways. Landed on me. “You.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He tilted his head, clearly thinking. Calculating something I wouldn’t like.

I frowned. “What?”

He said nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you thinking about locking me up?”

He snorted. “No.”

“Good.”

“But,” he added, pausing like he was choosing his next words for dramatic flair, “if you blow up, I prefer you blow up in the mortal realm. Or better yet, the Light Realm. Somewhere scenic.”

I deadpanned. “That’s… not helping at all.”

He gave me the faintest smirk. “I never claimed to be helpful.”

Then he leaned forward again, voice steady. “Seriously. What do you feel now?”

“Huh?”

“Right now. In your core. Do you feel weird? Pulled? Like something’s waking up?”

I stopped. Actually paused to check.

‘Analyze.’

[Status: Core Stabilized]

My core pulsed once. No tremor. No instability. Just a steady hum. It felt full—but not volatile.

I exhaled. “No. Nothing. I feel normal.”

“Great,” he said. “Then we’re not screwed.”

“Yet,” I muttered.

He grinned again—this time with a little more of that familiar devilish glee. “Now we just need to ask Asmo about the scent.”

I blinked. “Ask?”

He nodded. “Interrogate, if we need to.”

Of course.

There it was.

I sighed, leaning on the stair rail beside his throne. “Just don’t hurt him, okay? He’s still one of us.”

Diablo waved a hand lazily. “I don’t hurt my own.”

“Lies,” I muttered. “You literally exploded Mammon’s teeth out two years ago for calling your wine cheap.”

“That was different. Mammon’s teeth grow back.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, Asmo might really not know anything. I told you. The scent isn’t his—it’s from before his reign. His dad’s time.”

“I know,” Diablo said, the grin fading. “But if this scent has reappeared after being gone for that long, someone’s making moves behind his back. He should’ve caught it.”

I nodded. “Maybe. But he’s not the paranoid type.”

“You’re getting soft, huh, Azrael?” he said, looking at me sideways.

I was silent.

Then I shook my head. “I’m not. But hurting Asmo will cause imbalance. Most of the Seven Lords know he’s the most chill among us. He keeps things steady.”

Diablo raised a brow. “Except Beel and Belp.”

“Okay, besides Beelzebub and Belphegor,” I conceded. “They’re too easy to predict.”

Diablo grunted in agreement.

I crossed my arms. “And the Light Realm… well, I don’t even know how they’ll react when they find out I just slept with their princess.”

“You didn’t just sleep with her,” he corrected with a smirk. “You fate-bonded and triggered a realm-wide mana quake.”

“…Thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean, yeah, I should probably get a medal for that. But I’m guessing they’ll prefer to kill me. Or nuke my core.”

He snorted. “That’s the Light Realm. They cry if a demon sneezes near their garden.”

“I’m serious, Father.”

“So am I,” he replied, eyes sharp again. “If they retaliate, we respond. But until then… keep your head low. Don’t provoke them. And for hell’s sake—don’t bang her again before everything settles.”

“No promises,” I muttered, too fast.

He looked at me.

I blinked.

“…I’ll try.”

He exhaled—somewhere between a growl and a sigh—and rubbed his temple like I was giving him wrinkles.

Then his eyes focused back on me. Sharper now.

“Now, since you don’t want me to get mad at your best friend,” he said, voice deepening with that regal edge, “I’ll give you a chance. Interrogate him.” He pointed at me with one clawed finger. “Twelve hours. That’s the time I’m giving you. Get something useful out of Asmo—anything that helps me understand what the hell is going on with that scent.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ll do it my way.”

Right.

Which meant fire, fear, and a decent chance of Asmo getting a hole punched through his body.

I fell silent.

It wasn’t that I doubted Asmo could handle it. But the idea of seeing my father turn full interrogation mode on him? It didn’t sit right. Not because I was afraid for Asmo, but because I was getting too used to the version of my father who wasn’t like this.

This?

This was the real Diablo.

The one people feared. The one who built the Shadow Realm from ash and blood.

The King.

And yeah, he was terrifying like this. Cold. Precise. Immovable.

It reminded me of what it meant to stand next to a throne.

I guess I’d gotten used to the chill version of him. The father who fucked around succubi, drinking shadow wine and making lewd jokes.

But now?

Now I could feel the weight of his crown. The pressure that came with every word. It wasn’t just for show. It meant something.

And I was part of that kingdom.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Twelve hours.”

I was just about to turn around—ready to leave—when I hesitated.

There was something still pressing on my chest.

So I stopped.

Turned my head slightly.

And asked, “Tell me, Dad…”

He looked up again, his expression unreadable.

“…If what happened with Puriel—if all of this somehow triggered the demon inside me… If the ancient thing that sealed in my core finally wakes up and goes on a rampage…”

I swallowed.

“Would you kill me?”

His face didn’t change.

For a full five seconds, nothing moved. No flicker in his eyes. No twitch in his jaw.

Then he asked, “Are you asking me as your father… or as the King?”

I didn’t blink.

“As the King.”

He was quiet again.

Then, without a hint of hesitation.

“Then I’d kick you into the Upper Realm. Fast. Clean. Before the corruption spreads.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe something softer. Maybe not.

But that was his job. His throne. His burden.

He leaned forward, placing one clawed hand over the throne’s arm.

“But as your father?” he said, and now his voice dropped. Lower. Personal. “I’d seal you. Personally. I’d lock you in the deepest crypt of the Underdeep, and I’d find a way to pull it out. Strip it from your core, atom by atom, if I had to. Because I already lost one person I loved, and I’m not burying you next.”

Silence again.

And this time, it was heavy with more than just politics.

I nodded once. My throat was tight, but I forced the words out.

“…Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded back.

And that was enough.

Twelve hours.

One old friend.

And a hell of a truth waiting at the end of it.

Time to move.