Seven Sins System Chapter 791. How Bad is Humanity Getting?

Seven Sins System Chapter 791. How Bad is Humanity Getting?

I exhaled slowly.

One tentacle slid out from behind my shoulder.

Dark.

Sleek.

I muttered softly.

“Envy.”

It slid toward his ear.

He tried to jerk away.

Algan held him still with one hand on his skull.

The tentacle entered.

And I saw…

A room.

Not this one.

Smaller.

Private.

Luxurious in a colder way.

The man kneeling.

And in front of him…

A figure.

Wings.

But too bright.

Too polished.

Suit immaculate.

Aura thick with greed but… synthetic.

Manufactured.

It spoke smoothly.

“Wealth requires sacrifice.”

The man offered money.

The figure declined.

“Not money,” it said. “Proof.”

The man hesitated.

Then nodded.

The children downstairs were part of that proof.

The fake Greed demanded suffering as validation.

Because that’s how mortals imagine devils work.

They think we need pain to function.

That we are fueled by it.

The memory shifted.

More meetings.

More donors.

The fake Greed appearing selectively.

Never touching money directly.

Always instructing.

Always emphasizing legacy.

Expansion.

Dominance.

And one line…

“The real Greed is complacent. I am evolution.”

I snapped back.

Tentacle retracting instantly.

The man collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

The room felt colder.

Mamon was staring at me.

“What did you see?” he asked evenly.

I looked at him.

“There’s someone,” I said slowly. “Claiming to be you.”

Luci blinked once.

“Bold,” he muttered.

Mamon’s expression didn’t change.

But the air around him did.

Sharper.

“Describe,” he said.

“Golden wings,” I replied. “Polished. Too polished. Suit perfect. Talks about sacrifice like it’s branding.”

Mamon’s glasses reflected red and green lines briefly.

“That’s not me,” he said flatly.

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”

Luci leaned back slightly.

“They even want to fake a devil,” he said quietly. “How bad is humanity getting?”

I didn’t answer.

Because that wasn’t the part that bothered me.

What bothered me was the line.

‘The real Greed is complacent. I am evolution.’

That wasn’t just impersonation.

That was replacement.

I felt something shift in my chest.

Not rage this time.

Something more strategic.

Because fake devils are annoying.

But fake devils trying to upgrade the system?

That’s dangerous.

Mamon stepped forward.

His wings spread slightly.

The investor flinched.

“He declined money?” Mamon asked.

“Yes.”

“Interesting.” He looked almost offended. “Who refuses direct capital?”

“Someone building something else,” Luci said softly.

Algan glanced at me.

“This isn’t just cult theatrics,” he said.

“No,” I replied.

It’s structured.

Calculated.

The fake Greed didn’t want money immediately.

He wanted influence.

Control.

Narrative.

The investor whimpered. “He said he was the true embodiment of greed,” he babbled. “That the old lords were outdated—”

Outdated.

Luci laughed once.

Sharp.

“I would like to meet him,” he said lightly.

Mamon’s jaw tightened. “Impersonation is one thing,” he said coolly. “Rebranding me is another.”

I stood there for a moment.

My wings half open.

My claws relaxed.

This wasn’t random cruelty anymore.

It was a rival.

I looked at the kneeling man.

“Where does he appear?” I asked.

The man shook his head.

“He chooses.”

“Of course he does,” Luci muttered.

Mamon tapped his finger against invisible data. “I’ll trace the ritual frequency,” he said. “He leaves a pattern. Everyone does.”

I nodded slowly.

Good.

Finally.

Something concrete.

I looked down at the investor.

“You’re going to testify,” I said flatly.

He nodded frantically.

“I’ll say anything!”

I leaned closer.

“You’re going to say the truth.”

His sobbing intensified.

Behind me, the party had dissolved into shaking, restrained bodies and shattered luxury.

Algan had everyone pinned or unconscious.

I felt a slow smile tug at my mouth.

“Alright,” I muttered under my breath.

If someone wants to replace a lord of sin?

Then they better be ready to meet all of us.

The thought settled in my chest like a blade sliding into place. Not dramatic. Just… aligned.

The ballroom was a wreck now. Marble cracked. Glass glittering across the floor like cheap stars. Fifty terrified mortals tied up in varying states of humiliation. The fake philanthropy banners drooping awkwardly behind us.

And in the center of it, one shaking investor who had just accidentally revealed the existence of a counterfeit Greed.

I looked down at him.

“You’re going to summon him,” I said.

He blinked up at me, pale and sweating.

“T-that requires… conditions.”

“Such as,” I said flatly.

He swallowed hard.

“It needs… an innocent.”

The word lingered in the air like a bad smell.

Luci tilted his head slightly.

“Should we borrow one from the basement?” he asked casually.

I didn’t even look at him.

“Puriel won’t let it,” I said.

Behind my eyes, I could already picture her expression. The silent disappointment. The way she wouldn’t even argue, just step between us and the kids.

Mamon adjusted his glasses.

“So?” he said. “Should we kidnap another one?”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

It was almost impressive how consistently immoral he could sound without technically violating any rules.

I huffed.

This is what happens when you surround yourself with devils. Everything becomes logistical.

“Innocent,” I muttered.

The investor nodded rapidly. “He won’t appear without it. He says purity stabilizes the manifestation.”

Of course he does.

Purity stabilizes manifestation.

What kind of bargain-bin theology is that?

I ran a hand down my face slowly.

This is stupid.

This is very stupid.

And yet…

It tracks.

Fake Greed demanding innocent suffering to anchor himself.

It’s symbolic. It’s theatrical. It’s manipulative.

And it’s lazy.

I exhaled sharply.

“Fine,” I muttered.

I let my demonic form dissolve.

Wings retracting.

Armor cracking away into smoke.

Tentacles sliding back into my spine.

I activated Camouflage.

My body shrank.

Bones adjusting.

Height dropping.

Claws softening into fingers.

Horns vanishing.

Hair slightly messier.

Face rounder.

Human.

Kid.

I stood there, looking like a younger version of myself. Maybe eight or nine. Clean shirt. Big eyes. No aura flare.

Just… small.

The silence was immediate.

Luci blinked.

Then physically cringed.

“Oh no,” he said.

Mamon stared.

Algan didn’t react outwardly, but his jaw tightened slightly.

“What,” Luci said slowly, “are you doing.”

I looked up at him with the most neutral child expression I could manage.

“This should be fine,” I said.

He recoiled slightly.

“You don’t like innocent,” he muttered.

“I don’t like idiots,” I shot back. “Innocence is situational.”

Mamon squinted at me.

“You still look like Wrath,” he said bluntly.

I huffed and exaggerated the expression, softened my eyes, tilted my head slightly, relaxed my shoulders.

I looked at the trembling investor and put on the sweetest tone I could muster.

“Now,” I said gently, “can you summon the devil, please?”

The words tasted like sugar and acid at the same time.

Behind me…

I could feel it.

The silent laughter.

Luci’s shoulders shaking.

Mamon trying not to smirk.

Algan definitely judging me internally.

They’re enjoying this.

Bastards.