Seven Sins System Chapter 653. Trash Can II

Seven Sins System Chapter 653. Trash Can II

I spat over the balcony, my hand gripping the rail till it bended.

I couldn’t tell if I admired her or hated her more.

Probably both.

And what now?

What the hell was I supposed to do with this knowledge?

Just nod and move on?

Puriel… she didn’t know.

But when she finds out I already knew, when she learns I heard everything… how would she look at me?

Would she think I didn’t trust her?

Would she leave?

No.

No, not after everything.

I closed my eyes.

She didn’t do this.

Her mother did.

And if I’m being honest… if I was in Lysathiel’s position?

I might’ve made the same move.

That’s the part that hurts more than the rest.

Because maybe, deep down… I get it.

And maybe that’s what makes this unforgivable.

I stood.

Straightened my coat. The wind caught the edge of it and made the fabric whip like wings.

My eyes burned.

Not from dust. Not from exhaustion. But from rage.

And bitterness. The bitterness was worse. It stuck under my tongue, crawled into my chest, and made everything feel like it was scraping bone.

I knew she’d come here.

Soon.

Probably already stepping through the gate.

And I didn’t want to see her right now. Couldn’t.

Because if I did…

If I looked at her…

I might break.

Or worse.

I might throw all this rage at her. Not fists. Not spells. Cause I couldn’t hurt her.

Just words.

And I know how sharp mine can be.

I know how to twist the knife without touching flesh. That’s the thing people never really understood about Wrath. It’s not just screaming or smashing. It’s knowing exactly where to cut to make someone bleed forever.

I could hurt her.

With truth. With jealousy.

With desperation.

And I knew exactly how to weaponize all of it.

“I guess they were right…” I muttered, voice like gravel under a steel boot. “She is my leash.”

I hated admitting it. Hated that it felt true. But facts don’t care about your ego, and this one latched onto mine with barbed teeth.

She’s the only one who can drag me back from the edge.

And that… is terrifying.

Because if she says the wrong thing…

Or worse, says nothing…

I might snap.

And that bond between us, the one tied with something old and stupid and divine… might not be strong enough to stop me from doing something irreversible.

No. I needed space.

I flicked my fingers, tore a hole in the air, and stepped through it without looking back.

Darkness folded over me.

Then sunlight.

Blinding, brutal sunlight. Heat smacked my face like an insult.

I stepped into the middle of nowhere.

A desert. Vast. Endless. Wild.

Sand burned beneath my boots. The wind reeked of scorched metal and dry salt. The horizon shimmered with illusion, and in the distance… shapes moved. Low. Four-legged. Horned. Crawling. Watching.

Good.

I needed something to punch.

Tear.

Destroy.

I would’ve preferred going somewhere in my realm. The Wastes. The Broken Dunes. Even the Obsidian Forest. But if I went there now?

They’d know.

Every creature, every cursed warlord under my dominion would feel it. Because I only go there when I’m truly unhinged. The last time I visited the Wastes in a rage, a bloodstorm followed me home. For three days.

Can’t afford that attention right now.

So this—this scrap of desert in the mortal realm—would have to do.

The creatures moved closer.

Lanky desert monsters, reeking of weak blood and cheap aggression. I saw their levels flickering in the air above them. Names too. Some in red, some in gold. But I didn’t care enough to read them.

They were mortal realm monsters.

They were… small.

They were weak.

And I needed a distraction.

“Wrath,” I growled.

The word wasn’t a call. It was a command.

Something inside me snapped open.

The ground around me cracked.

Tentacles burst from my back with a wet, violent hiss, etched with blades unfurling at the tips like blooming flowers made for murder.

My blood sang.

The monsters paused for a second. Maybe instinct. Maybe they realized they just picked a fight with something they weren’t built to understand.

I gave them no time.

“I’m in a bad mood today,” I said quietly, as my shadow stretched unnaturally wide across the sand.

“If your species ends tonight…”

I smiled. Thin. Cruel.

“…don’t blame me for it.”

Then I moved.

I tore into the first beast without a second thought. My blade-tentacle sliced clean through its skull. Bone crunched. Black blood sprayed across my coat.

The others tried to scatter.

Too slow.

I lashed out with another tentacle—hooked one by the leg, dragged it screaming across the sand before slamming it into a jagged rock hard enough to split its ribcage open like a fruit.

It didn’t satisfy me.

Not yet.

My core throbbed. My wrath wasn’t done. Not even close.

More came. A pack. Feral. Fangs dripping.

They saw the blood. Thought maybe I was out of breath. Maybe I could be eaten.

They were wrong.

I shifted mid-air, dodged the pounce, landed on one’s back and drove my elbow into its spine. It convulsed, shrieked, then went limp.

Another lunged at my side.

I twisted my torso—crack—and a tentacle shot up, impaling it clean through the throat. It gurgled, limbs twitching in the air.

I roared.

Not a sound for them.

For me.

It echoed across the canyon like thunder dipped in agony.

But still—no satisfaction.

No peace.

Because every blow reminded me of her.

How I couldn’t face her without wanting to rip the world in half.

I ripped the last monster apart with my hands. Just hands. No magic. Just flesh and fury.

The sand turned dark beneath me.

Steam rose off my body. My coat hung tattered.

The battlefield was silent.

No growls. No wind.

Just the creak of muscle and the scream of restraint.