Seven Sins System Chapter 721. Calculated Heresy

Seven Sins System Chapter 721. Calculated Heresy

That thought burned in the back of my skull as I stared at the hybrid, this stitched-up monster on the obsidian floor of my father’s throne-office. He was still breathing, if you could call that choked, uneven hiss “breathing.” His skin glowed in parts. Cracked in others.

His eyes twitched.

His mouth opened like he was going to speak. But instead, he laughed.

And I… I’d had enough of the laughing.

I sighed. Shoulders low. My hand lifted lazily and one of my Pride tentacles curled forward, smooth and sharp, the tip split into an injector. A clean, silver needle bloomed from the center and slipped into the hybrid’s neck like a whisper.

He flinched. Gurgled. Then stilled again.

His body twitched every few seconds, jerking from memory echoes and broken instincts, but he stopped talking. Stopped screaming. Stopped laughing.

He slumped into a half-sedated daze. A puppet with too many strings and no hand left to pull them.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Okay…” I muttered. “So… what do we do with him now?”

My eyes shifted to Diablo.

He was watching. Not lazily anymore. His arms were crossed, fingers tapping against his bicep with that tick he always did when he was thinking too fast to sit still.

“I want to say kill him,” he admitted, voice low. “Put him out of his misery. Whatever ‘he’ is. But…”

“But you want more info,” I finished.

He nodded. “Exactly. I’ve seen what mortals can do with ambition. This? This is different. This is science. Calculated heresy. If they got this far, then someone, somewhere, has notes. Schematics. Labs. Experiments. And he,” Diablo gestured at the hybrid, “might be our only firsthand insight into the structure.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No?” he echoed.

I pointed to the bat curled near the corner, still twitching, still not speaking.

“He doesn’t have any more info,” I said flatly. “He’s broken. The core is too messy. He cycles through three different identities every few seconds. His mind is a battlefield. We’re not gonna get clean answers. Just noise.”

Diablo raised a brow. “And the bat?”

The bat flinched when we said that.

I turned toward him.

He wasn’t looking at us. Head bowed. Wings tucked. That wrinkled, trembling form shivered like someone dumped him in a bucket of shame and left him there.

Not because he was afraid of us.

But because even he knew what he was.

Not even a proper demon.

A failure.

He didn’t speak, but his whole posture said it “I know I’m worthless.”

He was still crouched there like prey. His wings were folded so tight they looked fused to his spine. That tiny clawed foot shifted and curled, trying to disappear into the floor.

I crouched beside him. Not close. Just enough.

“Hey,” I said. “Look at me.”

He didn’t.

“Hey,” I repeated, sharper this time. “You’re one of mine, right? One of my soldiers? A Wrath.”

He nodded slowly. Almost afraid to confirm it.

“Then you’re my responsibility,” I said. “And I don’t abandon my soldiers.”

That made him look up. Just slightly. His eyes were wide and old. Older than I remembered. Probably older than he remembered. Full of years spent crawling in silence, holding onto instinct.

I exhaled. “We’ll try to reform you. Get you back to your real body. Your real form.”

His wings twitched.

“But,” I added, “we’ll take it slow. Your core’s been dormant. Rotated. Suppressed. If we push too fast, the change will backlash. Your core might shatter.”

I looked him dead in the eye.

“And you didn’t survive centuries of waiting just to fail now.”

He blinked.

Then nodded.

Diablo spoke behind me, tone quiet for once. “You care about your soldiers more than you pretend.”

I stood. “You raised me better than to leave them behind.”

He scoffed. “I raised you to win.”

“Same thing,” I muttered.

He didn’t argue.

Just paced around the hybrid, his boots echoing across the smooth obsidian like slow thunder.

“Even sedated, the core’s pulsing out feedback,” he muttered. “This isn’t random. Someone tuned this. Spliced two powers together like music and set it loose.”

“Yeah. And it fought like it was born for it,” I said.

Diablo nodded slowly. “You’re sure this was a failed one?”

I gestured at the still-squirming hybrid.

“He fought like hell, but that wasn’t discipline. That was instinct. Panic. He didn't even know what form he was in half the time. I’ve seen berserkers with more stability. He’s strong, but broken.”

“Which means the successful ones,” Diablo said quietly, “might not be broken.”

The silence in the room thickened. The chandelier above us flickered.

I felt it then.

The line that was being drawn. The edge we were standing on.

“Mortals started this,” I said. “But I don’t think they’re the ones finishing it.”

Diablo raised a brow.

I stepped away from the hybrid and walked toward the edge of the room, staring at the swirling black flames in the hearth, the scent of spice and sulfur and faint perfume still lingering from the succubus earlier.

“They cracked a door,” I said. “Opened something. But this? This kind of fusion? This kind of… creation? That doesn’t come from dumb luck. Or just ambition. They were taught. Or someone gave them the tools.”

“You’re saying divine sabotage,” he said.

“Or infernal,” I muttered. “Or both.”

He didn’t argue.

Because yeah, he knew how messy politics could get between realms. He knew the weight of secrets and what old things could crawl out of them.

I turned back to him.

“We’re bringing the evidence to the upper realm, right?”

“We have to,” Diablo said. “We can’t keep this internal. Not if what you said is true.”

“It is.”

He nodded. Looked at the rows of cracked and glowing coffins I’d spilled across his floor like we were staging a cursed museum.

“I want you to lead the presentation,” he said. “Your words. Your fight.”

I blinked. “You’re serious?”

He looked at me with that sharp, amused smile. “You’ve always been good at making people uncomfortable. Make them listen.”