Seven Sins System Chapter 789. Identity Theft
Seven Sins System Chapter 789. Identity Theft
I felt something feral crawl up my spine again.
I didn’t look at the kids.
I looked at Mamon.
“They think suffering fuels us,” I said quietly.
His eyes hardened.
“Amateurs,” he replied.
Behind me, I could feel Puriel’s presence steady and quiet.
Lumira’s warmth.
Algan standing guard.
And me?
I felt rage.
Rage in a way that isn’t physical.
Because this is always the same pattern.
Mortals want power.
They don’t understand it.
So they fake it.
I didn’t realize my wings were trembling until Mamon glanced at them.
“You’re angry,” he observed casually.
“No,” I said automatically.
He raised an eyebrow.
Luci snorted softly.
“Yes,” he corrected.
I exhaled sharply through my nose.
“Fine,” I muttered. “A little.”
Mamon looked at the children again.
His expression shifted slightly.
Subtle.
Not soft.
Just calculating.
“Should I track them?” he said slowly. “There should be transaction trails.”
My eyes lifted.
“Financial ones,” he continued. “Offshore accounts. Shell charities. Anonymous trusts.”
Of course there are.
There’s always paperwork behind evil. Evil loves organization. Loves spreadsheets. Loves clean fonts and polite disclaimers.
But… I prefer the classic way. Wrath style.
I stared at him for half a second, then looked up toward the ceiling.
“They’re up there,” I said flatly.
No drama.
Just fact.
“The culprits are upstairs. We kick their asses. We interrogate. We trace the money. That’s it.”
Luci’s wings shifted lazily.
“Yup,” he said. “I agree with El.”
That nickname again.
I ignored it.
“Algan can take care of the minions,” Luci added smoothly. “Just don’t kill them.”
Algan didn’t even blink.
Rules.
Always rules.
My mouth twitched slightly.
“We can torture them later though.”
Puriel gave me a look.
Not scandalized.
Just… measuring.
Lumira sighed softly but didn’t argue.
We all know the system.
No killing.
Everything else? Flexible.
“And for the kids or whoever the victims are,” I continued, gesturing vaguely and dramatically toward Puriel and Lumira like I was presenting a stage act, “we have two goddesses for post-trauma support and our exclusive medic team.”
Luci grinned.
“Spectacular. So summary: no killing, torture is fine, and we can do whatever we want.”
I nodded slowly.
A devilish smile crept onto my face.
The real one.
The one that doesn’t ask permission.
Mamon huffed.
His tablet dissolved into particles of light.
“Then what are you waiting for?” he said dryly. “Let’s take this out fast. I have money to make.”
Even now.
Even here.
I almost respect the consistency.
And then…
We moved.
Three devils disappeared.
The upstairs air was different.
Perfumed.
Warm.
Expensive.
The laughter hit first.
Soft jazz.
Crystal glasses.
A chandelier the size of a small ego problem.
Men in suits.
Women in gowns.
Smiles too white.
Hands too clean.
They were mid-toast when reality tore open.
Algan went first.
Shadow.
Silent.
He slipped through corners, snapping camera wires, crushing comm devices, severing panic buttons before anyone understood what was happening.
Efficient.
No theatrics.
Just containment.
Luci appeared center stage.
Literally.
He manifested on the small raised platform where some mediocre pianist had been playing.
The music cut off mid-note. Spotlight went to him.
He looked around slowly, wings folding behind him like velvet curtains.
“Oh,” he said lightly. “A party.”
His eyes sparkled.
“I like it.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“But why didn’t I get an invitation?”
Half the room froze.
The other half assumed this was performance art.
Mamon materialized beside a woman dripping in jewels. “Oh, I like this.”
She blinked at him.
Her brain clearly buffering.
“M-me?” she stammered.
He looked at her necklace.
A massive diamond cluster, obnoxiously heavy.
He snatched it off her neck in one smooth motion.
“I mean this,” he said flatly, weighing it in his hand. “Not you.”
She gasped.
The sound broke the illusion.
Screams followed.
And I… I didn’t teleport into center stage.
I erupted from the ceiling.
Five tentacles shot downward like spears of shadow.
They wrapped around five men instantly.
Upside down.
Suspended midair.
Their glasses shattered against marble.
Their expensive shoes kicked helplessly.
I recognized their faces.
From the boy’s memories.
From the smell of their cologne when they leaned too close.
My claws tightened slightly.
“Can we skip the chit chat?” I called lazily. “And get to work?”
There were at least fifty people here.
Fifty.
Not all guilty.
But enough.
One of the upside-down men screamed, “Security!”
Algan appeared behind him. “Security is unavailable,” he said calmly.
One of the women fainted.
Another tried to run.
Luci extended one elegant claw and hooked it under her chin before she got two steps.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked pleasantly.
Her mascara streaked instantly.
I swung one of the suspended men slightly.
Not violently.
Just enough to make him aware of gravity.
“You know what’s funny?” I said conversationally. “You told a seven-year-old that devils wanted this.”
He sobbed instantly.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Of course you don’t.
They never do.
Mamon stepped forward, adjusting his glasses.
“You used my name,” he said mildly. “Very sloppy work, by the way.”
The room felt smaller.
Not physically.
Just psychologically.
Luci looked delighted.
“Oh, I love public embarrassment,” he said.
I dropped down from the ceiling slowly, wings stretching wide, tentacles still holding five men like grotesque party decorations.
My boots hit the marble floor with a heavy crack.
The jazz band had retreated into a corner, shaking.
The chandelier flickered.
I walked forward.
Slow.
Measured.
The crowd parted instinctively.
“Which one of you,” I said quietly, “decided children were acceptable currency?”
Silence.
Mamon tapped his foot lightly.
“I’ll narrow it down,” he said. “Primary transactions came from five of these gentlemen.”
He gestured at the men I was already holding.
Well.
Convenient.
I tilted my head slightly.
“You see how efficient this is?” I said softly. “We skip guessing.”
One of them screamed again.
“I donated! That’s all! I donated!”
“To what?” I asked.
He swallowed.
“Medical research!”
“For what?” I pressed.
Silence.
My tentacle tightened slightly around his ankle.
Not enough to break bone.
Just enough to remind him that bones exist.