Seven Sins System Chapter 775. Career Identity Crisis

Seven Sins System Chapter 775. Career Identity Crisis

Algan mirrored the gesture instinctively, dipping his head just enough to acknowledge rank without lowering his guard. His amber eyes flicked across her stance, analyzing, cataloging, respecting.

“You stand like frontline command,” Katrina said casually.

Algan blinked once, surprised by the observation. “I was.”

“I can tell,” she replied, folding her arms loosely. “Your weight distribution favors impact recovery instead of agility. That usually means you fought in formation breaches.”

Algan hesitated, clearly recalculating his opinion of her. “You studied warfare?”

“I studied survival,” she answered simply.

He nodded once, accepting that as a sufficient credential.

Red stepped forward then, smoothing her blazer sleeves as she approached Luci with professional composure that barely hid the playful spark in her eyes.

“You must be the Lord of Pride,” she said smoothly.

Luci placed a hand dramatically over his chest and bowed with theatrical elegance. “And you must be the one with executive aura and silent authority. I approve.”

Red’s eyebrow twitched slightly in amusement. “Red. The owner of the academy.”

Penelope pushed herself off the bookshelf and sauntered closer, offering Luci a lazy half wave. “Penelope. Administrative oversight and chaos management.”

Katrina nodded once toward Algan. “Katrina. I’m the academy principal.”

Algan inclined his head respectfully. “Lieutenant Algan. Former Wrath Legion forward assault and currently assigned to His Highness.”

Luci tilted his head, studying the three women with open curiosity.

“You are Azrael’s women,” he said bluntly.

Red smirked.

Penelope grinned openly.

Katrina didn’t react outwardly, but her eyes flicked toward me briefly.

“I can feel it,” Luci continued, circling them slowly like a critic evaluating rare art. “That infernal resonance. That scent of possession and mutual destruction. Very distinct.”

He stopped and raised both hands casually.

“I will not touch you,” he declared. “I know this crazy devil is a possessive bastard.”

I sighed.

“You mean normal?” I said.

Luci shot me a flat look. “Your definition of normal involves making your women only have sex with you.”

“That is called commitment.”

Red coughed to hide a laugh.

Penelope leaned closer to Luci slightly, inspecting him with obvious amusement. “You talk a lot for someone who just agreed to follow our rules.”

“I do not follow rules,” Luci corrected smoothly. “I negotiate with them.”

Katrina crossed her arms. “You will follow academy protocol.”

Algan nodded immediately beside her. “Yes. Academy protocol.”

Luci stared at him like he had just betrayed demon nobility.

“…You folded faster than I expected, Lieutenant.”

Algan answered calmly, “I follow orders.”

“That explains so much,” Luci muttered.

“Living arrangements are prepared,” Red continued, seamlessly steering the conversation back into structure before it spiraled into infernal ego debates. “You two will stay in the room next to Azrael’s.”

Algan nodded immediately. “Understood.”

“Algan will be assisting me in the infirmary,” I added.

Algan straightened slightly, posture shifting into full professional readiness. “I will perform duties efficiently.”

Penelope tilted her head at him, smirking. “Try not to terrify the patients.”

“…I will try,” he said seriously.

Luci raised his hand lazily. “And I assume my quarters include adequate ventilation, temperature control, aesthetic lighting, and space for cultural refinement.”

“You have a bed,” Red said flatly.

Luci stared at her.

Then at me.

“…I miss Hell already.”

“I also miss Hell,” I said dryly.

Red snapped her folder shut with a crisp, authoritative motion that instantly dragged the room back into structure. She stepped closer, heels clicking against the polished floor like a metronome counting down our patience.

“Then you are both going to suffer professionally,” she said smoothly. “Because while you are here, there are rules.”

Luci groaned like someone had just suggested he downgrade his throne to a folding chair.

Algan, meanwhile, straightened slightly, clearly ready to receive operational instructions like they were battlefield briefings.

Red began pacing slowly in front of us, hands clasped behind her back.

“No demonic form in front of mortals,” she said first, sharp and clear.

I felt Luci glance at me. I didn’t react.

“Especially students,” Red continued. “No glowing eyes. No wings. No horns for dramatic effect.”

Luci looked offended. “That is not dramatic. That is atmospheric.”

Penelope coughed to hide a laugh.

Red ignored him.

“No fights between yourselves,” she went on. “No power displays. No sparring in public areas. And absolutely no fighting with angels.”

Luci raised a hand slightly. “Define fighting.”

“Unless,” Red continued, louder, “you are inside your own pocket dimension.”

Algan nodded immediately. “Understood.”

Luci sighed like someone reading tax law.

“And no crazy maneuvers,” Red added.

“What qualifies as crazy?” Luci asked.

Katrina spoke up from the window, arms still crossed. “If it would terrify, kill, traumatize, or permanently alter the sanity of a normal human teenager… it qualifies as crazy.”

“…That feels restrictive,” Luci muttered.

“Act like normal humans,” Red finished.

The silence that followed was thick.

Luci blinked slowly.

Algan blinked slower, clearly processing the phrase like it was written in an ancient cursed dialect.

Penelope clapped once, smiling brightly. “Basic things.”

Red nodded. “Exactly.”

Then she gestured toward me.

“You can start by making yourselves human. Like Lord Azrael. Look at him. He is a normal doctor.”

Luci turned toward me slowly.

His eyes dragged from my shoes… to my slacks… to my coat… to my carefully suppressed aura… to my very deliberately human posture.

Then he shook his head in disbelief.

“I have never seen something this ironic,” he said.

I sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“You are a Wrath. You were killing mortals centuries ago,” Luci continued, pointing dramatically at me. “Leading wars. Burning cities. Shattering empires. And now you are… a doctor?”

“I am a combat doctor,” I corrected.

He squinted at me.

“That is still worse.”

Penelope snorted.

Algan frowned slightly, clearly conflicted about whether combat medicine was honorable or deeply confusing.

“It is called adaptation,” I said flatly.

“It is called career identity crisis,” Luci countered.

“It is called survival,” Katrina added quietly.

Luci glanced toward her, surprised.

She shrugged slightly. “War ends. You either evolve or become a relic.”