Seven Sins System Chapter 713. Lesser Host
Seven Sins System Chapter 713. Lesser Host
“I thought they were studying us,” she went on, eyes unfocused. “So they could… I don’t know. Get closer to the celestial realm. Ascend. Become more. I thought it was faith.”
I stared. “Faith?”
She nodded slowly. “Some of them were our followers. Not just researchers. Not soldiers. People who trusted us. Who prayed to us. Who said they wanted to walk beside us.”
A breath.
“And I believed them.”
That…
That hurt.
Because she wasn’t just admitting she saw the signs.
She was admitting she excused them.
Rationalized them.
She believed in something that betrayed her.
I stepped forward, slow. Reached out and rested my hand on her shoulder. Light touch. Solid anchor.
“You were too naive.”
“… Yes,” she whispered. “I even didn’t stop them.”
I leaned closer. My voice didn’t rise. It dropped.
“Then stop them now.”
She looked up at me. And for a second, I saw it.
That flicker.
That battle-forged light.
Dim. Dusty. But still there.
The fire.
And we walked again.
Room by room.
Ward by ward.
History peeled back like burnt pages in a cursed book.
And we were the ones turning the pages.
I didn’t want to, but here we were—walking through the gut of a forgotten cruelty, and every breath felt like chewing glass.
The mana got weirder the deeper we went. Not stronger. Just… wrong. Twisted. Like someone tried to mix holy and unholy and got sin instead.
I paused at the edge of another burned-out chamber, the scent of ash and rust and old incense curling in my nose. Puriel stepped beside me, pale but steady now, holding herself together like a stitched-up prayer.
And then—
A sound.
Not loud. Not clear.
Just enough.
A scrape.
A whisper of claw or wing or clawed wing.
A tremor in the stale air.
I activated Analyze.
Puriel whispered hers—different command, same intent.
We both turned at the same time.
Both our eyes flicked to the corner, to the dark alcove past the cracked pillar.
Movement.
Fast. Too fast for a regular animal.
I didn’t hesitate.
All six of my tentacles slipped out of the shadows—long, sinuous, blacker than the dim light allowed. They slithered low, silent, hungry for orders. My mana shifted with a pulse.
“Trap it,” I whispered.
They obeyed instantly.
One surged to block the left path. Two others coiled from above. A fourth came up under the rubble. Fifth and sixth curved back to pin the escape line. We moved fast—corralled whatever it was in seconds. It squeaked. Fluttered. Slammed against a wall and tried to fly through the gap—but no chance.
I stepped forward.
Puriel stayed a pace behind, light magic humming faintly around her. Her wings weren’t out, but I felt them. The ghost of them. Like judgment watching from the past.
The creature hit the ward-line and rebounded.
It fell.
Flopped.
Panicked.
Tiny wings. Little claws.
A… bat?
What?
I frowned and crouched.
One of my tentacles tilted the creature up gently.
I focused again.
“Analyze.”
Data filtered through.
[Demonic Core Detected.]
[Current Host Form: Bat (Small Mammal).]
[Core Quality: Low-Class, Residual. Owner Status: Unknown.]
[Host Integration Level: 97%. Cognitive Regression: Severe.]
I blinked.
It was… a demon.
Or had been.
Now? It was something else. A demon-core crammed inside a bat’s body. Probably to escape something. Or survive something worse.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a soul-force migrate to a lesser host.
But this?
This was desperate.
“Damn,” I muttered. “You poor little bastard…”
It wasn’t just hiding. It had become the bat.
Like it forgot what it was.
Too much time in this flesh. Too many cycles.
Puriel stepped beside me, brow furrowed. “Is it… dangerous?”
“No,” I said softly. “Not anymore.”
The bat twitched. Tried to flap again, but one wing was crooked. Maybe broken. It let out a shrill, echo-like cry.
“Its core’s still demonic,” I said, watching the faint black shimmer around its chest, “but it’s... flickering. Dim. Like a candle choked by time.”
She crouched beside me, gazed at it. “Can it speak?”
I reached out slowly. The bat recoiled, baring its tiny fangs in a hiss, but didn’t bite.
I didn’t blame it.
[Attempting Communication: Failed.]
[Cognitive Regression Exceeds 80%. Speech Functions: Unavailable.]
“No,” I sighed. “It’s too far gone. Instinct only.”
It stared at me. Not like an enemy.
More like a… lost child.
Eyes round and hollow, but still clinging to something.
Fear?
Hope?
Or just the memory of being hunted?
“Hey…” I said softly. “Easy. It’s okay.”
The bat twitched. Wavered.
I extended one tentacle slowly. Let the tip curl around it like a nest, holding it up gently. The weight was nothing. But the presence? That was familiar. That was home.
Demonic.
Old.
Faint, but real.
I looked into its trembling little eyes.
“You miss it, don’t you?” I whispered. “The dark power. The mana. The heat. The hunger.”
The bat blinked slowly.
“I can feel it,” I murmured. “You’re waiting. That’s why you’re still here. You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You don’t even remember why you came. But something inside you said: wait. Endure. Crawl through the dust and wait for something to change.”
The tentacle shifted slightly. It let itself be cradled now.
I smiled faintly.
“You’re a stubborn little shit,” I said. “I like that.”
Puriel looked at me sideways. “You’re talking to it like it understands.”
“It does,” I said. “Not with words. With instinct.”
I tilted my head and let a whisper of demonic aura roll from my hand—pure, unfiltered Wrath.
Not violent.
Just present.
Heavy. Warm. Hungry.
The bat shivered. Its core flickered once—like a dying fire reacting to air.
“There it is,” I said. “You remember.”
I looked it in the eyes.
“I will give you power,” I whispered. “Now remember who you are…”
The little bat trembled, wings twitching against the faint pulse of my aura. Its core fluttered like a heartbeat that didn’t know if it should stop or start. I could feel the hunger beneath its tiny ribs — not for blood, not for food — for darkness. For mana. For home.