Seven Sins System Chapter 844. New Body
Seven Sins System Chapter 844. New Body
The worst part?
He looked proud of it.
Like every corpse, every crying soul, every preserved body and broken promise in this chamber was somehow proof of devotion instead of evidence for why some people needed to be punched directly into the afterlife.
I stood at the foot of the altar, five tentacles slowly moving behind me like shadows with patience. Luci kept the puppet swarm busy behind us, slicing through strings, limbs, and necromantic threads with annoyed elegance. Every movement he made screamed, I am above this, while still being very good at it.
The groom, if I could even call him that, clutched the bride’s shoulder harder.
Her soul flinched.
My eyes narrowed.
“That body,” I said, nodding toward him, “is not yours, right?”
His expression shifted.
Not guilt.
More like irritation that I noticed an inconvenient stain on his perfect story.
Then he smiled again.
“No.”
At least he admitted it quickly.
“I received this new body about a month ago.”
Received.
Not stole.
Mortals and their vocabulary gymnastics.
He stroked the sleeve of his vintage suit like admiring the body beneath it.
“An urban explorer trespassed into this place. Careless young man. Curious. Handsome enough. Quite healthy.” His smile widened. “I saw him and thought… ah, yes. This one will do.”
Beside him, the displaced soul, the true owner of that body, shuddered and slammed both transparent fists against the necromancer’s back again.
Nothing.
The possessed body didn’t even twitch.
The necromancer continued lightly, “So I stole it.”
Luci turned his masked face toward him.
Even through the ridiculous sheet mask, I could feel the disgust.
The necromancer sighed, sounding almost wistful.
“My previous body had grown old anyway. Wrinkled. Weak. Unpleasant.” He gestured toward the side of the chamber. “I do not like decay when it touches me.”
My gaze followed his gesture.
Coffins.
Several of them lined the wall beside the altar, arranged neatly like trophies. Their lids were open. Inside lay old men in formal clothes. Dead. Preserved. Each face wrinkled, dry, hollow-eyed. Several bodies. Several lifetimes.
But the weird part?
Their souls stood nearby.
Younger versions of those bodies.
Each one looked confused, trapped, and furious. Young men in old-style clothes. Some in more recent fashion. One from maybe the seventies. One from the nineties. One from a decade ago.
The only body without a soul beside it was the oldest one.
The first coffin.
A thin, ancient corpse in groom attire, hands folded over his chest, mouth slightly open like his last breath had been an argument.
Ah.
So that was his real body.
I winced. “Uh…”
Luci glanced toward me. “What?”
“That explains the missing souls.”
His eyes sharpened immediately.
The necromancer had not only stolen bodies. He had displaced the original souls and kept them from moving on. Not just one. Several. Maybe every time his stolen flesh aged or became inconvenient, he hunted another victim, kicked out the owner, and wore the body like a suit.
Yeah.
That was not normal necromancy.
That was a whole new subscription plan of disgusting.
Luci’s gaze moved across the room, then stopped.
“And that must be the one she loved.”
I turned around toward where he pointed.
At first, I didn’t see it.
Then I did.
A decoration.
That was what made it worse.
On the far wall, framed between dead flowers and yellowed lace ribbons, stood a crystalline torture chamber. A clear, coffin-shaped prison hanging upright like a fancy display case. Inside, a soul was trapped.
A man’s soul.
Young.
Torn.
Faded around the edges.
His clothes were old, maybe from the same era as the bride’s original life. His face was twisted in exhaustion. Not dead exhaustion. Worse. The kind that came from being tormented over and over until even screaming became routine.
Necromantic needles of light pierced through him in loops. The crystal pulsed every few seconds, forcing his soul to relive something.
Pain.
Memory.
Murder.
Again and again.
The bride’s soul looked at him and broke down silently.
The servant boy.
The man she loved.
And that bastard had turned him into decoration.
Something inside me went colder.
Because torture?
Fine.
Hell did torture.
I did torture.
My domain did punishment with excellent standards and proper categorization.
But this?
This wasn’t punishment.
This wasn’t judgment.
This wasn’t based on sin, crime, severity, or cosmic balance.
This was personal interest.
Petty jealousy.
Some undead mortal, or whatever rancid thing he had become, had taken my job and performed it badly.
Unlicensed.
Unethical.
That pissed me off.
Not just morally.
Professionally.
I looked back at the necromancer. “You can trap souls.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes.”
“You aren’t a normal necromancer.”
His smile twitched.
I stepped closer. “Necromancers play with dead bodies. Corpses. Bones. Flesh. Rot. Some speak to stray souls. Some bargain with demons. Some summon things like us if they’re stupid enough.”
My tentacles spread wider. “But trapping souls like this?” I shook my head. “Not normal.”
His eyes gleamed.
“No.”
The chamber pulsed again.
Green-black threads slithered under the floor.
“I have achieved something greater.”
Luci scoffed. “You achieved bad taste.”
The necromancer ignored him.
“I listened. I prayed. I searched every forbidden text this vulgar age tried to bury. I collected fragments. Samples. Traces left behind by beings who walked above men.”
His gaze fixed on me with reverence so filthy I wanted to wash my soul. “I obtained some of your essence.”
My smile vanished.
Luci slowly turned his head toward me.
For one second, silence.
Then my system flared.
[Analyzing Necromantic Network…]
[Foreign Sin Residue Confirmed]
[Primary Trace: Wrath Essence ]
[Secondary Trace: Envy Essence]
[Additional Components: Human Soul Matter, Obedience Catalyst, Preservative Mana]
[Warning: Soul Binding Technique Enhanced By Sin Residue]
[Classification: Unauthorized Infernal Adaptation]
That did it.
Luci laughed.
Like really laughed.
Not elegant chuckle.
Actual laughter. The kind that bounced off the corpse chamber walls while undead puppets continued twitching around us.
I glared at him.
He pointed at the necromancer like this was the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “See? I knew he was your follower.”
“He used Envy too.”
“But this whole thing?” Luci gestured around dramatically. “Uncultured. Violent. Smelly. Obsessive. Soul torture. Ugly basement. Clearly your side.”