Seven Sins System Chapter 837. They’ll Call You Demon Daddy on Social Media

Seven Sins System Chapter 837. They’ll Call You Demon Daddy on Social Media

He gave me a look.

I ignored it.

“And,” I continued, “I cannot kill mortals.”

Luci visibly cringed.

“You still hate saying that.”

“Oh yeah. Clearly.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees now.

“So since I can’t do this, and can’t do that, and can’t solve things the proper Wrath way, my options are limited.”

He tilted his head.

“The proper Wrath way is mass execution.”

“Efficient mass execution.”

“Right. My mistake.”

I sighed hard through my nose.

“Even doing something like we just did? Nearly impossible. The resonance alone could make the angels detect us.”

Luci’s face shifted slightly.

Understanding.

Because now he understood the real cage.

I had been playing this entire mission with my claws filed down and my mouth taped shut, and everyone kept asking why I hadn’t bitten harder.

Luci was quiet for once.

Rare event.

Document it.

Then he said, softer but still annoying, “So you really were nerfed.”

I pointed at him.

“Exactly.”

A pause.

Then he smirked.

“And still made a mess.”

I stared.

He shrugged elegantly. “Impressive, in a barbaric way.”

I picked up the tomato juice again. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Sure.”

My system buzzed.

Reports already.

[New Incoming Reports: 27]

[Priority Alert: 2 Nearby Locations Active]

I looked at the screen.

Then at Luci.

His smirk faded into something sharper.

Work mode.

“Looks like your slaves are useful for more than worship,” I said.

He tched. “Don’t call them that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They are literally your slaves.”

“They are devotees.”

“Fancy slaves.”

“Shut up.”

I smiled faintly and stood.

Finally.

Movement.

Direction.

Not enough to solve everything, but enough to stop sitting around feeling underpowered and annoyed.

Luci stood, smoothing his sleeves.

“So,” he said. “Which location first?”

I glanced at the two alerts.

Then smiled slowly.

“The closer one.”

He sighed. “Of course.”

“What?”

“You always pick the nearest thing to punch.”

“Efficient.”

He looked toward the door.

“And if mortals are there?”

I paused.

My jaw tightened slightly.

“Then I improvise.”

Luci looked at me.

Not mocking this time.

“Try not to get yourself detected.”

I smirked. “Try not to scratch your face again.”

He turned his head toward me, eyes narrowing with the kind of refined hatred that usually preceded property damage.

“Azrael.”

“Yes?”

“If you mention my face one more time…”

“You’ll what?” I asked, sipping the last of my tomato juice like I had no survival instincts. “Flatten another district?”

His jaw tightened.

I smiled wider.

But before he could start another Pride-induced architectural correction, I lifted one hand and muttered, “Greed.”

A tentacle slid from behind me, smooth and dark, coiling once in the air before splitting from my body completely. The detached shadow mass stretched, expanded, reshaped, bones, skin, coat, tired expression, human posture. Within seconds, my double stood beside the desk as Dr. Allen, expression neutral, clipboard in hand, already looking more responsible than me.

Luci lifted his hand lazily. Dark power pooled from his palm, not shadow like mine but something smoother, cleaner, more obnoxiously elegant. It folded itself into a duplicate of him, handsome, composed, and already looking like it judged the curtains.

“Your double looks smug,” I said.

“It is accurate.”

“Fair.”

The two doubles settled into place. Mine behind the desk, Luci’s near the window, pretending to inspect nonexistent dust. Anyone walking in would see two professionals doing professional things.

I clapped my hands once. “Let’s go.”

We teleported at the same time.

Fast.

First jump, academy perimeter.

Second jump, somewhere far. Near the outside of the city.

The world snapped into place around us with the crisp cold of morning air and damp earth.

And then we stopped.

First location.

I expected another shiny corporate facility.

Maybe a secret underground lab under a finance building.

Maybe a luxury tower with glass walls and evil minimalist interior design.

But no.

This one?

A mansion.

A huge mansion.

The kind of mansion that looked less like a rich family lived there and more like a mortal horror director screamed “make it depressed” at the architecture team.

It sat beyond a massive iron gate, surrounded by an overgrown yard that could qualify as a botanical crime scene. Dead vines crawled over the walls. The front fountain was dry, cracked, and filled with leaves. The windows were dark, many broken, some boarded from inside.

Even though it was morning, the place looked like sunset had personally abandoned it.

I stared.

The wind moved through the dead trees with a low, unhappy whisper.

A crow cried somewhere.

Mortals really loved obvious atmosphere.

[Location Confirmed]

[Ambient Mana: Low-Visible]

[Residue Signature: Unknown Trace]

[Warning: Detection Interference Present]

I tilted my head slightly. “This isn’t bad for demon aesthetic,” I admitted.

Luci stared at the mansion like it offended interior design itself. “I disagree.”

“I mean, it has presence.”

“It has mildew.”

“I prefer fortress, but this works.”

“This is not fortress. This is emotional rot with roofing.”

I snorted. “Too gloomy?”

“Clearly not my style.” Luci’s eyes narrowed at the cracked entrance. “Who is the housekeeper chief? They need to be fired.”

“It’s abandoned.”

“Then fire the abandonment.”

I almost laughed.

The yard sprawled between us and the mansion, fog clinging low over the grass despite the morning sun. The air smelled like wet soil, old wood, and something faintly metallic underneath.

Not blood.

More like residue preserved too long.

I rolled my shoulders. “Since this place already looks like it belongs to us,” I said, “we might as well go demonic.”

Luci glanced at me. “Finally.”

“But wear a mask.”

He froze.

Slowly, his gaze sharpened.

“You want me to cover this handsome face? Absolutely not.”

“You want crazy mortals invading your personal space?”

He paused.

I watched that argument land.

Because yeah.

Nothing terrifies Pride more than unwanted, low-quality attention.

“If yes,” I added sweetly, “go ahead. Show your face. Maybe they’ll call you Demon Daddy on social media.”

He tched. “Fine.”

Gold light gathered in his palm immediately, rich and elegant, forming something ornate.

Too ornate.

I watched the forming mask become sleek, metallic, sculpted like a divine artifact. It had sharp cheekbones. Elegant eye slits. Decorative filigree. And it was made of gold and diamonds.