Seven Sins System Chapter 790. Very Gauche
Seven Sins System Chapter 790. Very Gauche
Luci strolled down from the stage, hands behind his back like he was inspecting artwork.
“This is very gauche,” he commented. “If you’re going to exploit mortals, at least have aesthetic standards.”
Puriel and Lumira weren’t here.
They didn’t need to see this part.
Algan reappeared beside me.
“All exits sealed,” he said. “No civilian casualties so far.”
Good.
Rules intact.
For now.
Mamon flicked his wrist.
A holographic projection of transaction data appeared midair.
Green lines.
Red lines.
Connections like veins.
“Here,” he said. “See how they moved funds under the narrative of ‘spiritual purification?’”
My jaw tightened.
Spiritual purification.
By beating children.
I felt the feral edge press against my ribs again.
I leaned in close to one of the suspended men.
He smelled like expensive cologne and fear.
“You branded this as worship,” I whispered.
He shook his head violently.
“It was marketing! Investors like mysticism!”
Marketing.
Investors.
Mysticism.
My laugh came out sharp.
“Next time,” I said softly, “don’t borrow a devil’s name without permission.”
I snapped my fingers.
Algan moved instantly.
He disarmed a man reaching for something metallic.
Broke three ribs in one controlled motion.
Didn’t kill him.
Luci grabbed another by the collar and dragged him across the marble floor like he was rearranging furniture.
“Confession time,” he sang lightly.
Mamon looked irritated.
“This is cutting into trading hours.”
“Relax,” I muttered. “We’ll wrap up soon.”
I turned back to the suspended five.
“You’re going to tell me everything,” I said calmly. “Who funds you. Who supplies you. Who else attends.”
One of them sobbed.
One cursed.
One passed out.
One tried to spit at me.
My tentacle smacked him midair.
“Rude,” Luci commented.
I felt my wings twitch.
Inside?
I wasn’t calm.
I was balancing on a wire.
Because it would be so easy to just…
Crush.
Break.
End.
But that’s not the objective.
The objective is dismantling.
And dismantling requires patience.
I didn’t have that.
I inhaled slowly.
Let the rage cool just enough to be useful.
Mamon stepped closer to me.
Quietly.
“You’re trembling again,” he said.
“I know. I just want to slaughter so bad.”
He adjusted his glasses. “And you want to destroy the building.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Do it after I extract the ledgers.”
I almost smiled.
There it is.
Teamwork.
“Fine,” I muttered.
If mortals want to fake devils.
If they want to sell suffering as sacred.
Then they deserve a live demonstration.
I looked up at the chandelier.
It sparkled.
Ridiculous.
Fragile.
I flicked one claw lightly.
It cracked down the center.
Glass rained softly over marble.
The room gasped.
I smiled faintly.
“Alright,” I said casually. “Now we begin properly.”
The chandelier finished its dramatic descent in a rain of glass. Nobody moved.
That’s the funny thing about rich people. They freeze beautifully.
Their posture collapses first. Then the arrogance. Then the volume.
I walked forward slowly. Wings tucked halfway. Not aggressive. Just present.
“Let’s keep this simple,” I said. “Names. Roles. Who’s in charge.”
Silence.
One of them blurted, “We don’t know anything!”
I didn’t even look at him.
I flicked my wrist.
He slammed into the marble floor hard enough to crack it. Not fatal. Just educational.
He wheezed, spitting blood.
Algan stepped on his wrist to stop him from crawling away.
No killing.
Rules.
“Next,” I muttered.
Another one sobbed. “We worship the Lord of Greed! We thought—”
“You thought what?” Luci cut in smoothly, dragging a chair across the marble with deliberate noise.
“That he demanded offerings!”
Mamon actually laughed.
Short.
Cold.
“I demand interest rates,” he said dryly. “Not children.”
The room flinched again.
I walked up to the sobbing one and grabbed his collar, lifting him eye-level.
“You said worship,” I said quietly. “Describe him.”
The man swallowed.
“He— he appeared once.”
Mamon’s gaze sharpened.
“Describe,” I repeated.
“He wore a suit,” the man whispered. “Like you.”
Mamon’s jaw tightened.
“Look like devil,” he added quickly. “Wings. Dark aura. He said… he said wealth requires sacrifice.”
That phrase sat wrong.
Wealth requires sacrifice.
It sounds like something Greed would say.
But not like that.
Not like this.
I let the man drop.
He hit the floor with a pathetic thud.
Luci tilted his head slightly.
“Sounds like someone’s doing cosplay,” he muttered.
I kicked another one lightly toward Algan.
“Sort that,” I said.
Algan caught him by the throat and slammed him against a pillar. Not lethal. Just loud.
I didn’t use Envy for most of them.
Didn’t want to.
Getting into a mortal’s head is like wading through cheap perfume and sticky lies. It lingers.
And tonight?
I already smelled enough rot.
We kept going.
Punch.
Question.
Threat.
Smash against table.
Mamon siphoning digital ledgers in the background like a bored accountant in hell.
Luci alternating between mockery and intimidation.
It was almost… routine.
Some claimed ignorance.
Some insisted it was all symbolic.
Some begged loudly enough to wake whatever conscience they thought we might have.
I wasn’t moved.
Not outwardly.
None of this was surprising.
Humans invent gods in their own image.
And sometimes that image is just themselves with better branding.
One by one, I tossed the useless ones toward Algan.
“Useless,” I said flatly.
He nodded.
Non-lethal neutralization.
Efficient.
Eventually…
We were down to one.
He hadn’t screamed.
Hadn’t begged.
Hadn’t tried to run.
He just stood there shaking slightly, eyes darting between all of us.
He knew something.
Luci noticed it too.
“You,” he said, pointing lazily. “You look expensive and informed.”
The man swallowed.
“I— I’m just an investor—”
I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close.
“You’re going to skip the script,” I said quietly.
His breath smelled like fear and champagne.
Luci stepped closer to me.
“Read his mind,” he said casually.
I huffed.
Of course.
“I don’t want to,” I muttered.
“You think I want to listen to him talk?” Luci replied. “He’ll waste time.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I hate when Pride is right.
I looked at the man.
He looked back.
There was something in his eyes that the others didn’t have.
Recognition.
Not of me.
Of something else.
Fine.