Seven Sins System Chapter 734. Better Than Prophecy
Seven Sins System Chapter 734. Better Than Prophecy
The shadow realm wrapped around my shoulders like a familiar cloak. Heavy, silent, and colder than reason. The scent of my father’s office hit me first.
No choir here. No hymns. Just soft breathing. Echoes. The scratching of pen on paper.
And the bat.
Still in the corner. He looked up the moment I entered, those wide yellow eyes blinking at me like I’d walked in wearing a crown made of teeth. His wings fluttered once, nervously.
Beside him stood Rathor and Veras, two of Diablo’s personal aides.
The bat twitched as I approached.
“Relax,” I muttered. “We’ll be home soon.”
He nodded. Swallowed. The bat was important. A direct line to the twisted mortals playing god. But still…
Still.
I didn’t trust him.
Call it trauma. Call it experience. Call it the fifty-seven times mortals stabbed us in the back after smiling like saints.
So yeah. Better paranoid than gutted.
I was about to grab him and shadow-step straight to my office. But then I felt it.
The shift.
They arrived.
All of them.
One by one.
Asmo was first, hips swaying, aura dripping sex and sweat like he’d just stepped out of someone else’s bed rather than a meeting.
“Shiiieeeet,” he said, dragging it out as he approached me, arms spread like he wanted to hug me or slap my ass. “Here I am, the Lord of Lust, and I thought… truly, in my big throbbing heart, I’d be the first one to bang a goddess.”
He paused. Then punched my shoulder.
“But it’s you, El. You! I’m so proud of you, man. Look at you go.”
I didn’t answer.
Mostly because Luci appeared right behind him, sipping a glass of red wine.
“And of all the divine chicks in Heaven,” Luci said, “he bangs Puriel.”
He chuckled.
Then full-blown laughed.
“Puriel, man. Pfft… Bwahahaha! This is art. This is comedy! I can’t…. this is better than prophecy!”
I rolled my eyes. My claws twitched, already regretting not throwing them both into a pit.
Belph showed up next, slower than anyone alive or dead, dragging his favorite pillow behind him. He blinked at me once.
“You know,” he said, voice gravelly with sleep. “I almost thought this was a dream.”
He reached up and patted my shoulder, soft. Slow. But steady.
“Good job, El.”
He yawned. “Really. Proud of you.”
...That actually hit harder than the others.
Belph never said shit like that.
Then came Mamon, tapping on his tablet screen like always, surrounded by charts and revenue graphs made of soul numbers and demonic currencies.
“I have an idea,” he said casually. “Business opportunity. You and Asmo. Collaboration.”
My eyebrow lifted. “Don’t.”
He smiled anyway. “Picture this… a tasteful p*rn video with Puriel. Doesn’t even have to be explicit. Just the implied tension. Maybe some glowing fate threads. Long eye contact. Bet it’d sell like spicy snacks at a mortal riot.”
Asmo gasped. “That’s genius!” He turned to me. “We’ll be filthy rich. You wear the crown. She wears the guilt. I market it. Mamon handles distribution. Bam! More revenue for us!”
I glared.
Sharp. Cold.
The look that meant ‘do I look that degenerate to you?’
They all paused.
Mamon adjusted his sleeve, coughed lightly. “Okay. Just a small idea. A micro-pitch.”
“You’re lucky I don’t burn your entire stock portfolio,” I muttered.
He raised a brow, smug as ever. “Hey now, if my stocks burn, the entire Hell economy collapses. You want another Recession of the Damned?” He tapped his glowing pad like it was holy scripture. “I am the CFO of this realm, after all.”
Cocky bastard.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t wrong.
I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to slap the smirk off his face. Instead, I just muttered, “Still feels worth it.”
The bat in the corner squeaked.
Luci sipped. “To be fair, it is the stuff of legend. The Wrath Lord and the Goddess of Chastity? Bound by fate. Kissing in front of the High Council like horny teens after curfew?” He grinned. “Immortal gossip for centuries.”
I exhaled. Rough.
Because yeah, part of me was proud. That I’d done something impossible. That I broke her walls. That she kissed me like she meant it.
But another part?
The part buried beneath rage and fire and logic?
That part still wanted her.
Wanted her now.
Not later. Not after this war. Not after paperwork.
Now.
My claws flexed. My control cracked for a breath.
But then I felt it.
That shift again.
The air around us thickened. Dimmed. The scent of brimstone and command cut through the teasing.
Diablo.
He appeared in silence, crown glinting like a wound in the dark. He looked at all of us like we were children with knives.
Then his gaze cut through the laughter.
“We need to concentrate,” he said simply.
The whole room stilled.
His voice wasn’t loud. Wasn’t angry.
But it ended everything.
“Okay?” he added.
“The hybrid,” he said. “Now.”
His eyes landed on me.
“Let’s examine him.”
And just like that, everything else faded.
No more teasing. No more gossip. Just silence in the room. Not dead silence… Hell never gave us that luxury, but close. The kind of silence that felt like the air itself was waiting to see what we’d do next.
My tentacles twitched behind me, restless but focused, and I let one rise slowly, the tip coiling like a serpent. The mouth opened, soft and wet and glowing with low infernal light. A moment later, with a slow wet chhhhlup, the hybrid came out again, body limp, skin pale. Still warm. Still alive. But barely.
We examined him again.
Final time.
In Diablo’s office, surrounded by the core of the Sin Lords and sealed within the deepest threshold of the shadow realm, it felt more like a ritual than a dissection. No hymns. No false light. No purification masks. Just the raw truth of what this thing was.
He was still breathing, but it was shallow now. Like his body was already halfway gone, only waiting for the rest to catch up. His pulse flickered through the cursed veins across his chest. His wings, mismatched and barely formed, trembled faintly. One demonic. One angelic. One… something else.