Seven Sins System Chapter 827. I am Furious
Seven Sins System Chapter 827. I am Furious
Mamon’s gaze sharpened.
“Likely.”
“They’re using missing damned souls to feed the fake Sin projects.”
“I guess.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Because I was verifying.”
I stared at him.
“You fell asleep verifying?”
“I verified aggressively.”
I almost laughed.
But the number on the tablet killed the humor.
Thousands.
My stomach twisted, not with pity for damned souls, exactly. Let’s be honest. Most of them earned their tickets. But those souls belonged somewhere. Punishment, processing, coin conversion, whatever. The system exists for a reason.
When souls disappear, balance gets ugly.
And if mortals were intercepting them?
That means they found a way into the soul flow.
Not just summoning residue.
Not just harvesting mana.
They were touching the structure.
Heaven and Hell.
The bones of it.
The assistant returned with coffee.
Not a cup.
A whole black porcelain vessel the size of a small war drum.
Mamon took it without thanks and drank like a man trying to threaten death itself into submission.
I handed the tablet back.
“So,” I said quietly, “you’re in now.”
He lowered the coffee.
His eyes reflected faint gold.
“I was in when they mimicked me.”
A pause.
“Now I’m invested.”
That was probably the closest Greed got to saying, ‘I am furious’.
I smiled faintly.
Good.
Because if Mamon was invested, then this stopped being “annoying mortal side quest” territory and officially entered ‘Greed takes it personally’ territory.
And Greed?
Greed never let go of stolen assets.
Ever.
“I guess we can go now?” I asked, leaning against the desk. “We need you tracking them. Maybe the lost souls too.”
Mamon lifted one finger without looking at me.
“Yeah. I guess.”
A pause.
“But let me eat my dinner first.”
I blinked.
“…You mean breakfast?”
He paused too.
Actually paused.
Then slowly turned his head toward the giant infernal clock floating behind him.
Mamon stared at it.
“Yeah,” he corrected flatly. “Breakfast.”
He rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“I didn’t eat dinner last night.”
That somehow sounded more tragic than it should.
“Do you want breakfast too?”
I thought about it for a second.
Then my stomach answered for me.
“Yeah. I guess.”
Mamon lifted his hand lazily toward the assistant who had just returned carrying enough coffee to chemically resurrect armies.
“Breakfast,” Mamon ordered.
The assistant nodded immediately.
“The usual?”
“Yes.”
Then Mamon pointed at me.
“And coffee for Wrath.”
I immediately raised a hand.
“Small cup.”
The assistant looked confused.
Probably because demons of Wrath usually drank things capable of stripping paint off war machines.
“Small,” I repeated.
“I understand.”
Then he vanished again with the dead-eyed efficiency of someone spiritually fused with office culture.
I pulled a chair over and sat beside Mamon’s desk while casually scrolling through his tablet.
Charts.
Soul routing.
Debt indexes.
Coin conversion efficiency.
Greed tablets were terrifying.
One wrong click and you accidentally destabilized a regional suffering economy.
Mamon leaned back in his chair and finally looked at me properly.
“Have you watched the mortal news about yesterday?”
I snorted. “Not yet.”
Mamon snapped his fingers.
A massive screen unfolded from the ceiling like a corporate nightmare.
And there it was.
The news.
The footage started immediately.
The district.
Collapsed buildings.
Smoke.
Emergency sirens.
And then… Luci.
Floating above the skyline in full devil form looking like he personally invented narcissism.
I almost choked laughing.
“Oh my hell.”
The camera zoomed harder.
Meanwhile, the news reporter spoke with maximum dramatic fear.
“—the unidentified infernal entities were seen engaging in catastrophic combat—”
Then the footage changed.
Me.
And Algan.
Sitting on the rooftop.
Drinking bubble tea.
The reporter’s voice became horrified.
“—while the other two demonic beings calmly observed the destruction, discussing tactical operations—”
I stared.
Then slowly looked at Mamon.
“Rude.”
Mamon nodded while drinking coffee.
“Very.”
The footage replayed.
Me and Algan sipping bubble tea while helicopters circled around us.
We genuinely looked like two villains on break between boss phases.
Even worse?
Algan looked cool.
Calm posture.
Mask on.
Holding tea like an assassin waiting for extraction.
Traitor.
Then the reporter continued.
“—with one witness describing the third demon as ‘the crazy guy who wanted to destroy everything.’”
I immediately burst out laughing.
“Oh, they mean Luci.”
“Yes,” Mamon said dryly. “Clearly.”
Then the screen showed Puriel and Lumira evacuating civilians.
The narration changed instantly.
Hopeful music.
Gentle tone.
“Fortunately, two unidentified divine women attempted to contain the infernal entities—”
I cringed so hard my soul almost folded if I had one. “Contain?”
Mamon smirked faintly into his coffee. “Apparently, they were trying to tame Pride.”
The footage replayed again.
Luci screaming profanity in the background while dragging half a skyscraper with telekinesis.
Yeah, okay maybe the mortals had a point.
The assistant returned carrying breakfast.
I expected luxury infernal cuisine.
Ancient meats.
Soul-seasoned delicacies.
Something expensive.
Instead… Convenience store sandwiches.
Premade.
Wrapped in plastic.
Hell version.
I stared at mine.
“Really?”
Mamon already unwrapped his.
“What?”
“You’re the Lord of Greed.”
“Yes.”
“And this is your breakfast?”
“It’s efficient.”
“That’s depressing.”
He took a bite without shame.
I sighed and ate mine anyway.
Not bad.
Tasted like sleep deprivation and financial anxiety.
Authentic Greed cuisine.
I leaned back in the chair while chewing.
“So simply,” I muttered, “the mortals painted us as bad guys again.”
“Not new.”
“Exactly.”
Mamon stayed quiet for a second. “No.”
I looked at him.
He tapped the screen.
“Did you see that?”
Immediately, my attention sharpened.
The footage paused.
Then zoomed.
A mortal appeared onscreen.
Police chief.
Middle-aged.
Calm.
Too calm.
Mamon highlighted him.
Then several others.
Firefighters.
First responders.
Emergency crews.
One by one.
At first I didn’t understand.
Then Mamon enhanced the image further.
Tiny residue containers.
Gloves.
Specialized extraction tools hidden inside emergency equipment.
Oh.
OH!
“They aren’t real responders,” I muttered.
“Correct.”
Mamon zoomed further. “They’re pretending.”
The footage replayed again.
This time I saw it.
The way they moved.
Not toward injured civilians.
Toward us.
Toward the battlefield.
Toward the damaged zones where infernal and divine power had exploded.
“They wanted samples,” I whispered.
Mamon nodded slowly. “As much as possible.”