Seven Sins System Chapter 793. The Fake Greed II
Seven Sins System Chapter 793. The Fake Greed II
Infernal-grade toxin.
The kind that takes down lava giants.
The kind that makes even ancient beasts rethink their life choices.
The blades pressed gently, so gently… against the side of his neck.
The injection tip rested right under his jaw.
Close enough that he could feel it.
Not piercing.
Just… there.
I leaned in.
“My, my,” I murmured softly near his ear. “A fake lord trying to be a real lord.” I let the poison glint under the ballroom lights. “What a joke.”
Mamon didn’t move.
But his eyes?
Cold.
Measuring.
The fake Greed stiffened.
He hadn’t expected that.
He hadn’t expected the shift in pressure.
Because up until now?
He thought he was dominating a reckless kid.
He still didn’t know.
Still didn’t register it.
His golden aura flared instinctively, but my tentacle blades dug a fraction deeper.
Not enough to cut.
Just enough to make him understand proximity.
“Careful,” I said quietly. “Your paint might chip.”
Luci lost it. A short, sharp laugh escaped him before he covered it with a cough.
The fake Greed snarled.
“You think blades intimidate me?” he snapped.
No.
I don’t.
That’s not the point.
What intimidates him is the control.
The fact that I’m not yelling.
Not raging.
Not frothing at the mouth.
Just… calm.
Poised.
Interested.
Internally?
I was having the weirdest emotional cocktail.
Half annoyed.
Half entertained.
Half insulted.
And yes, that’s three halves. Shut up.
Because there’s something about rivalries.
Not in the gross way.
In the tension way.
In the “you dared to exist in my domain” way.
And this one?
He wasn’t even a proper rival.
He was a knockoff trying to seduce power by overdoing the aesthetic.
“You built your identity on borrowed branding,” I said softly. “Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?”
He tried to twist out of my hold.
Big mistake.
My blades pressed slightly harder.
A thin line of gold-tinged blood formed.
Ah.
So he does bleed.
Good to know.
His breathing changed.
Not fear.
But recalibration.
“You’re not one of them,” he said slowly.
Oh?
Interesting.
I tilted my head slightly behind him.
“And what,” I asked, “do you think I am?”
He didn’t answer.
His aura pulsed again, but weaker.
Because he’s not self-sustained.
He’s connected.
Fed.
Somewhere.
Mamon’s fingers flicked subtly in the air.
Still tracing.
Still mapping the origin of this counterfeit frequency.
Take your time.
I’ll keep him occupied.
“You talk like you own the underworld,” the fake sneered.
I leaned closer. “I don’t talk,” I whispered. “I enforce. And I own the underworld. Well, my dad is the owner.”
Behind me, Luci stepped forward lazily, wings dragging slightly over shattered glass. “Honestly,” he said conversationally, “if you wanted to impress anyone, you could’ve at least adjusted the color palette.”
Mamon added flatly, “The gold is excessive.”
The fake Greed growled, trying to reassert dominance.
“Silence!”
My tentacle injection tip tapped lightly against his skin.
Infernal poison shimmered.
He felt it.
Even if he didn’t know what it was.
And for a split second…
I felt it.
That familiar urge.
The punch.
The break.
The simple, satisfying end.
Wrath likes simplicity.
But this?
This is more fun.
“You roared twice,” I said casually. “Very dramatic. Did you rehearse?”
His shoulders tensed.
His claws flexed uselessly.
“Release me,” he demanded.
“No,” I replied.
Flat.
Simple.
He tried to flare his aura again.
My blades pressed deeper.
A drop of gold blood slid down his neck.
“You don’t even know who you’re talking to,” he hissed.
Oh, sweet irony.
I grinned him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
And let a fraction of my real aura slip out.
Just a fraction.
Enough to make the air distort.
Enough to make the chandelier remnants vibrate faintly.
Enough to make Algan’s lips twitch slightly.
The fake Greed stiffened.
Recognition flickered in his eyes.
Too late.
“You wanted tremble,” I murmured softly. “Now try.”
And for the first time…
He did.
Not visibly.
Not dramatically.
But his mana rhythm skipped.
Just a beat.
And that’s all Wrath needs.
Because this wasn’t about overpowering him.
It was about reminding him.
You don’t fake a lord.
You don’t counterfeit sin.
And you definitely don’t threaten me in my own hunt.
My tentacle blade traced slowly along his jawline.
Not cutting.
Just promising.
“Now,” I said quietly, almost sweetly, “let’s talk about where you came from.”
He didn’t answer.
Of course he didn’t.
Fake kings always choose dramatics over dialogue.
His golden aura flickered violently, and instead of speaking, he tried to tear himself forward, twist out of my grip, burst upward, anything but answer.
Ah.
So we’re doing the escape attempt.
Cute.
I didn’t sigh.
I didn’t roll my eyes.
I just pressed the injection tip in.
-Click!
The infernal toxin slid under his skin like liquid night.
[Infernal Venom Injection]
[Target: Unknown Greed Entity]
[Status: Counterfeit Sin Signature]
[Effect: Neuromuscular Lockdown Initiated]
[Infernal Toxin Potency: 98%]
[Warning: Target Mana Circulation Disrupted]
There was no explosion.
No dramatic scream.
Just a sharp inhale… and then his entire body stiffened.
Rigid.
Golden wings locked mid-flare.
Coins clinking against each other in a pathetic metallic chorus.
His eyes widened.
Then…
He tipped.
Like a badly balanced statue.
No one caught him.
Not Luci.
Not Algan.
Not Mamon.
Definitely not me.
He hit the marble face-first with a deeply unflattering clank.
The sound echoed across the destroyed ballroom like a slapstick punchline.
For a second… Silence.
Then fifty restrained mortals gasped in unison.
Luci blinked.
“…Did you kill him?” he asked slowly. “Seriously?”
I tilted my head slightly, watching the fake Greed twitch faintly on the floor like an expensive lawn ornament.
Mamon didn’t even look up. “Relax,” he muttered. “He’s alive. Barely.” His fingers flickered in the air again, invisible data threads dancing around the unconscious counterfeit. “I can still track the origin frequency.”
I crossed my arms. “And?” I asked.
Mamon adjusted his glasses.
“It’s… From the mortal realm.”
Luci and I turned our heads toward him at the same time.
Deadpan.
“Wow,” Luci said flatly. “No way. The mortal realm? You don’t say. You are so genius!”