Seven Sins System Chapter 828. Obsession
Seven Sins System Chapter 828. Obsession
The screen froze on a frame showing one responder discreetly scraping residue from shattered concrete glowing with leftover demonic energy.
“Our residue,” Mamon said quietly.
Another frame.
Puriel’s holy light crystallized into fragments near a collapsed wall.
“The goddesses’ residue.”
I leaned back slowly.
Now it made sense.
Yesterday, they swarmed us constantly.
The reporters.
The emergency teams.
The fake officials.
At first, I thought it was mortal panic.
Curiosity.
Fear.
No.
They were harvesting.
Again.
Every battle.
Every clash.
Every manifestation.
Every divine explosion.
We left traces.
And the mortals learned how to collect them.
I rubbed my face slowly. “So that’s why they neglected the injured.”
Mamon nodded. “They prioritized collection.”
I remembered the way some responders kept staring at us instead of helping civilians.
The way they hovered near impact zones.
The way they kept trying to get closer to Puriel and Lumira.
Not worship.
Not fear.
Greed.
Research.
Extraction.
Replication.
Mamon drank more coffee.
“Each fight in the mortal realm leaves residue.”
I looked at the screen again.
Fragments.
Samples.
Energy traces.
DNA.
Soul signatures.
Everything.
“This will never stop,” I muttered.
“No.”
He looked genuinely irritated now. “We’re feeding them.”
The room fell quiet.
I stared at the screen.
At the responders.
At the hidden extraction kits.
At the evidence.
Then slowly looked at Mamon. “So what?”
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
“We move the battlefield.”
I leaned back slightly in the chair, sandwich halfway to my mouth.
“…So trap them inside our dimension?”
“Yes.”
I huffed quietly.
Yeah.
That was the most logical option.
No residue left in the mortal realm.
No fake emergency teams collecting samples like infernal collictable cards.
Mamon already moved again before I could continue thinking. Fingers swiping across the tablet rapidly, charts shifting around him in floating layers of gold data. Soul routes. Residue traces. Financial transfers. Summoning patterns. Black market anomalies.
And through all that?
The bastard kept eating his sandwich.
I watched him for a second.
Actually watched him.
He looked exhausted.
But focused.
Like a predator too stubborn to sleep.
That was Greed’s real scary side.
Obsession.
When Mamon cared about something?
He dug into it until reality itself regretted hiding information.
I didn’t interrupt him.
Just sat there silently eating my own sandwich while the news replayed in front of us.
Mamon suddenly muttered, “Found it.”
Immediately, my attention snapped toward him.
“Location?”
He turned the screen toward me.
Dots appeared across the map.
Not one.
Not ten.
Hundreds.
No.
More.
Dots flickered all over the mortal world like infection points.
North.
South.
Hidden cities.
Research centers.
Religious sites.
Underground facilities.
Some inside hospitals.
Some beneath corporate buildings.
Some under churches.
My eye twitched. “There’s no way we can investigate all of them.”
Mamon nodded immediately. “Correct.”
“That’s too much work.”
“Also correct.”
I groaned and rubbed my face.
“I need my soldiers to—”
“To destroy them?” Mamon interrupted dryly.
I pointed at him.
“Yes.”
“You can’t.”
“I know.”
That stupid agreement.
That cursed celestial-infernal peace treaty.
No mass slaughter of mortals.
No infernal invasions.
No “accidental” extermination events.
Ruined everything.
I leaned back in irritation.
“But we need more manpower.”
Mamon stayed quiet for a second.
Then slowly, very slowly…
A grin appeared on his face.
Not a warm grin.
A Greed grin.
The kind that meant someone somewhere was about to sign a contract they absolutely shouldn’t.
“Soldiers…” he murmured thoughtfully.
I looked at him.
“Demons…”
His fingers tapped the desk lightly.
“Or…”
Then his eyes lifted toward me.
“Puppets.”
My own grin spread immediately.
“Slaves.”
We both grinned at each other like the worst people alive.
We probably were.
“I guess,” I muttered lazily, “it’s finally time to enjoy the results of centuries answering mortal summons.”
Mamon leaned back slightly. “Not only you and me.”
Right.
All seven sins.
Every lord.
Every contract.
Every mortal branded.
Every cultist.
Every desperate summoner who begged for power and willingly chained themselves to Hell.
Thousands.
Maybe more.
All hidden throughout the mortal world.
Sleeping assets.
Oh, this was getting fun.
“We use them,” Mamon said calmly. “Gather information. Observe movement. Track residue collection.”
“And respond to suitable ones,” I added.
Mamon nodded.
Suitable meant useful.
Desperate.
Greedy.
Angry.
Corrupt officials.
Criminals.
Broken priests.
Rich bastards.
People already halfway ruined anyway.
Wrath loved those.
Greed too.
Hell basically ran on “give unstable mortals opportunities and see what happens.”
I leaned forward slightly. “We can spread rumors too.”
Mamon glanced at me.
I grinned wider.
“Fake sightings.”
“Fake rituals.”
“Fake residue.”
His own grin sharpened.
“Lead them into traps.”
“Inside our dimensions.”
“No witnesses.”
I laughed softly. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Mamon looked genuinely pleased for the first time since I arrived.
Which was horrifying.
Because a happy Lord of Greed usually meant economies collapsed somewhere.
He tapped the map again. “However.”
One location glowed brighter than the others.
A single point.
Red.
Pulsing slowly.
“This one,” Mamon said quietly, “is the most suspicious.”
I narrowed my eyes.
The location sat isolated compared to the others.
Remote.
Hidden.
Heavy residue activity.
Multiple soul disappearances.
And…
A repeating pattern.
My tentacles twitched slightly behind me.
“Oh, that’s ugly.”
“Yes.”
I smirked slowly.
“Got it.”
I stood from the chair, stretching slightly while shadows shifted around my feet.
The assistant reappeared immediately like he sensed meeting energy changing.
Terrifying efficiency.
I pointed at the sandwich wrappers.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
The assistant bowed.
Mamon waved him off while already diving back into data streams.
“You’re going now?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll need me. Summon me if necessary.”
I snorted. “You just don’t want to leave your office.”
“Correct.”
At least he was honest.
He adjusted his glasses again while dozens of projections reflected in his eyes. “I can track them remotely. I’ll monitor soul movement too.”
“Better.”
“And Azrael.”
I paused.
“What?”
Mamon looked up from the tablet.
Actually serious now.
“If something there starts pulling souls toward itself…” he continued, voice lower now, “like a living vortex… don’t stay and test it.”
The projections around him flickered gold against his glasses.
“It means the thing consuming those souls isn’t just harvesting them anymore.”
A pause.
“It’s evolving.”
My tentacles twitched slightly behind me.
Like us.
Not mortal.
Not hybrid.
Something worse.
Something becoming a Sin-level existence through stolen souls.
That wasn’t a suggestion.
That was Greed instincts talking.
Danger.
Real danger.
I smiled faintly anyway. “Got it. Good day, Greed.”
He already looked back at the tablet. “Don’t die, Wrath.”
I laughed softly.
Then shadows swallowed me whole.
Teleportation cracked through the room.
And I vanished from Greed’s domain already thinking ahead.
Suspicious facility.
Missing souls.
Fake gods.
Hidden collectors.
And now?
Now we finally had something better than brute force.
Information.