Seven Sins System Chapter 845. Uncultured
Seven Sins System Chapter 845. Uncultured
I huffed. “That uncultured guy suits your taste more. He made a wedding room.”
“At least my followers understand presentation.”
“He trapped a bride and wore a stolen body.”
“He also made a dramatic entrance.”
“You’re defending him?”
“I am insulting you.”
“Ah.”
The necromancer looked confused by our conversation.
He thought devils would descend like holy patrons of sin and bless his creepy wedding. Instead, he got two ancient monsters arguing over whose fanbase produced worse psychopaths.
Honestly, embarrassing for everyone. But bro, I needed a better follower. This guy was a big nope.
He tightened his grip on the bride. “You do not understand,” he hissed.
I looked at him again.
“No, I do.”
Then I stepped forward.
Necromantic strings snapped toward me from the floor.
A dozen.
Fast.
I didn’t move.
My tentacles did.
They cut through them before they touched me.
[Incoming Control Threads: Severed]
[Authority Difference: Overwhelming]
[Hostile Binding Attempt: Failed]
The necromancer’s eyes widened.
I smiled. “You stole scraps of Wrath.”
Another step.
“You stole scraps of Envy.”
Another.
“You mixed them with dead souls and mortal rot and thought that made you powerful.”
The chamber trembled.
The bride’s bound soul stared at me.
The trapped lover in the crystal slowly lifted his head.
Even the displaced host soul stopped clawing for a second and looked at me with desperate hope.
I tilted my head. “But you don’t understand sin.”
His face twisted. “I loved her.” His voice raised by every words. ”I preserved her. I gave her forever.”
“No.” My voice dropped lower. “You hoarded what rejected you. You copied grief and called it devotion. You murdered out of pride but had no pride. You coveted a woman’s soul but had no greed worth respecting. You tortured because you were small, not because judgment demanded it.”
Luci hummed. “That was almost poetic.”
“Shut up.”
The necromancer screamed.
The corpses lunged again.
Not just puppets now.
The old bodies in the coffins jerked upright, mouths opening with dry cracks. The stolen host bodies, his previous vessels, crawled from their coffins, their displaced souls crying out beside them. Necromantic energy surged through the floor, all feeding back to the bride’s altar.
[Necromantic Anchor Intensifying]
[Soul Prison Network: Active]
[Estimated Bound Souls: 24]
[Warning: Destroying Anchor Incorrectly May Damage Souls]
[Recommended Action: Sever Controller First]
“Fine,” I muttered.
I looked at Luci. “Let’s settle this.”
Luci rolled his shoulders, wings spreading wider. “Finally.”
The necromancer raised both hands, eyes burning green-black. “You will bless my vow!”
“No,” I said.
My tentacles shot forward.
He moved the stolen body backward with surprising speed, threads pulling him like a marionette. The bride chair slid away from me, dragged by the altar itself. Corpse guests threw themselves between us.
I cut the first wave apart without killing the trapped souls attached to them. That was the hard part. Usually, I would crush everything. Simple. Clean. Efficient.
But here?
Every puppet was tied to someone.
Every corpse had a thread connected to a soul.
Every wrong strike could tear what was already damaged.
So I had to be precise.
I hated precision when angry.
Luci, unfortunately, was better at this part.
Pride blades formed in the air, thin violet arcs slicing only the necromantic strings. Bodies collapsed harmlessly without soul damage. He moved like an artist dismantling an ugly sculpture piece by piece.
“Careful,” he said smugly.
“I am careful.”
“You almost cut that one in half.”
“It deserved it.”
“It was already dead.”
“Still.”
The necromancer chanted in the old tongue, the crystal prison on the wall glowing brighter.
The trapped lover convulsed.
The bride’s soul screamed silently.
My eyes snapped to the crystal.
Oh.
That was the anchor.
Not just the bride.
The lover too.
He was using her love as chain and his suffering as fuel.
That…
That really pissed me off.
I lifted one hand. “Envy.”
A thin black tentacle slipped from my shadow, different from the others. Smaller. Quieter. It pierced through the air toward the crystal, not to break it, but to read.
[Envy Trace Activated]
[Memory Thread Detected]
[Emotional Anchor Identified]
[Anchor Pair: Bride Soul / Lover Soul]
[Controller Access Point: Possessed Host Heart]
I smiled slowly.
The necromancer froze.
Because he felt me find it.
I turned toward him. “You hid the lock in the stolen body.”
Luci glanced at me. “So we remove him?”
“Yes.”
The host soul beside the necromancer nodded frantically.
The necromancer backed away. “No.”
I walked forward.
He raised corpses.
Luci cut strings.
He raised soul walls.
My tentacles tore holes through them.
He dragged the bride farther back.
I smiled wider. “You’re scared now.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!”
The chamber shook violently.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
The gramophone screamed music again, warped wedding notes crashing around us like madness.
The necromancer pointed at me. “You are Wrath! You understand! You punish those who steal what belongs to you!”
I stopped.
For one tiny second.
Then laughed.
Low.
Cold.
“You poor idiot.”
My tentacles spread behind me like a crown. “Wrath does not punish rejection.”
The room darkened.
“Wrath punishes harm.”
The necromancer’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I pointed at the crystal prison. “You harmed him.”
Then to the bride.
“You harmed her.”
Then to the corpses.
“You harmed them.”
Then to the displaced host soul.
“And you stole from the living.”
My smile vanished.
“So yeah.”
I stepped forward, shadow boiling under my feet.
“You finally summoned the right devil.”
Luci’s violet blade flashed beside me. “Try not to make a mess.”
I looked at him.
He was still wearing the sheet mask.
I smiled. “No promises.”
Luci sighed like he already knew I would ignore him.
Smart man.
But my eyes stayed on the necromancer.
The stolen body.
The old rotten soul inside it.
The thing wearing a young man’s skin like an expensive coat and standing beside a bride he had murdered, revived, chained, preserved, and decorated with grief.
I pointed one tentacle blade at him.
“This guy…”
My voice lowered.
“…is mine.”
Then I lunged.