Seven Sins System Chapter 742. Cost of War
Seven Sins System Chapter 742. Cost of War
He looked at me directly now.
"They weren’t looters. They were builders. Building something with our bones. They were preparing for something. I don’t know what. But when I realized I wouldn’t make it… when my flesh started rotting and my mind was slipping, I found something. A bat. Small. Close enough to touch.”
He gave a bitter smile.
“Transfer wasn’t clean. I dumped what was left of my core into the creature and prayed its instincts would take it somewhere dark. Somewhere familiar.”
“You bet on instinct?” I asked.
“I bet on survival,” he said. “And rage. Even that little beast had enough of it to guide me back.”
Silence stretched.
The servants stayed still. Not a sound.
Until I finally said, “And now?”
He tilted his head.
“You’re here. Whole. Fed. Alive. What do you want?”
His voice didn’t tremble. Didn’t hesitate.
“To serve,” he said. “And to make them pay.”
I looked at him.
And finally, I smiled.
It was that kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes. The kind that cracked slow across my mouth like fire teasing the edge of a scroll, just before it burned the whole thing down.
Algan sat there, mouth still stained with what looked like the bone marrow of something that definitely wasn’t livestock. His hands were still twitching from the leftover adrenaline and rage. But his eyes… those were focused now. Clear. Fixed on me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this reality.
"You want to make them pay?" I asked, not blinking.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t nod right away. He didn’t need to. It was all in the way his shoulders stiffened and his fingers dug into the wooden edge of the table like he was ready to flip it over and start a war in my dining hall. But then, he gave a small nod. Almost like it hurt to do it.
I leaned back in my chair. Let the weight of my seat settle into my spine.
"Then you can help me," I said.
His eyes flickered. Hungry. Hopeful.
“Me and Luci. We’re in the middle of the investigation.”
Algan looked like he was about to stand. I held up a hand. "But."
He froze.
"I need to remind you," I said slowly, voice just a notch above the growl beneath my throat, "that centuries ago, the war ended."
His brows twitched.
"Demons and celestials signed a peace agreement. Our blood pact was sealed. No more wars. No more wings versus horns. No more slaughter.”
He didn’t say anything. Not yet. But his breathing changed. I saw it. Heard it. That subtle flare of his nostrils. That little huff through clenched teeth. I continued.
"We can’t kill mortals outright. We can’t touch angels unless provoked. The new rules bind us."
He finally spoke, voice sharp enough to crack bone. “Mortals… They don’t deserve peace.”
I arched a brow. “You think I don’t know that?”
His hands balled into fists on the table, knuckles pale against the red‑stained grain.
“They hunted us like animals,” he growled. “Left us for dead. Stripped us of everything. Even our corpses weren’t allowed to rest. That’s not war. That’s desecration.”
He inhaled sharply, then added, voice rougher now, edged with disbelief and old fury.
“And what about the celestials?” he demanded. “We bled and fought for that victory. We paid the price on the front lines. And after all that… we signed a peace agreement?” His lip curled. “We are demons. Wrath demons. Since when do we kneel and call it peace?”
My eyes narrowed.
“I know Wrath was the one who bled the most…”
The words landed heavy, like a blade dropped flat on stone.
He went quiet.
Not defiant. Not angry. Just… still.
Because he knew.
"I was there,” I said. “When we held the gates of the Shadowfront with nothing but smoke and broken steel. When the Celestial Dawn burned our banners and said we were beasts, not warriors.”
Algan's throat moved. Swallowing rage. Swallowing truth.
“I know what it cost us. More than most.”
He looked at me like he wanted to believe that. Maybe he did.
“But my father signed it,” I said. “And his word binds not just the court… but all devils.”
He gritted his teeth. “Then… damn the king.”
I chuckled. “You say that in front of Diablo, and he’ll have your head served with rosemary and roasted eyes. I know him well.” I wasn’t mad. Because I knew my soldiers. I knew wrath demons more than anyone. And I acted the same in the past.
I stood then. Not fast. Just enough to let the power settle in the room again. The flames on the chandelier above flared once. Not by magic. Just tension.
“I get it,” I said quietly. “You want revenge. I want answers. Let’s say we… work together on this.”
Algan nodded once, tight.
“But,” I said, and leaned closer, one hand resting on the back of the chair across from him, “no kills. Not without my permission. Torture?” I smirked. “Well. Torture’s more flexible. We just need them to stay alive long enough to squeal.”
He tilted his head. “So I can’t tear them apart. But I can make them wish I did.”
“Exactly,” I said. “You get it.”
He leaned back slightly. Letting the wine, or whatever it was settle in his gut. “What about the angels?”
I swirled my glass again, watching the crimson slosh like blood on marble. “They’re not our enemies anymore.”
“That Lieutenant, the one I fought… he didn’t die. He was taken. Just like us.”
I paused.
"You saw them take him too?"
He nodded, eyes hard. “They dragged him like meat. Didn’t care if he was a demon or divine. Just that he was powerful. His wings were still twitching. That meant his core was intact. They said something about his line.”
My fingers curled tighter around the goblet. "They mentioned celestial lineage?"
"Yes." Algan’s eyes narrowed as the memory flickered. “One of them called him a ‘priceless heir’. Said something like ‘the king will be pleased’.”