Seven Sins System Chapter 849. Soul Laundering
Seven Sins System Chapter 849. Soul Laundering
The necromancer snarled and raised the soul barrier higher.
Golden light flashed across Mamon’s glasses.
“Unauthorized soul possession,” he murmured. “Illegal vessel occupation. Fraudulent claim of ownership. Unregistered emotional collateral. Misuse of infernal residue. Soul laundering.”
Luci snorted.
“Soul laundering?”
Mamon gave him a brief look.
“It is exactly what it sounds like.”
I tightened my grip around the necromancer’s neck. “Just take this shit off, Mamon.”
Mamon sighed like I had asked him to clean a dirty sink.
“Fine.”
He lifted one finger.
Gold chains appeared.
Not from the floor.
Not from the ceiling.
From the concept of ownership itself.
They wrapped around the stolen body gently at first, like measuring tape around a purchase. Then they tightened. Not on flesh. On claims.
The necromancer screamed.
The host soul gasped.
The gold chains sank into the body, hooking into black-green possession threads one by one.
Mamon clicked his tongue. “Messy.”
The necromancer thrashed. “You cannot take what is mine!”
Mamon looked genuinely offended. “Yours?”
His voice dropped.
“Do not misuse that word in front of me.”
The gold chains snapped tight.
The stolen body arched backward.
Something black began peeling out from its spine.
Not physical.
Soul matter.
The necromancer’s true essence, stretched thin and ugly from decades of body theft, clung to the host like tar. It screamed as Mamon’s chains dragged it loose.
The original host soul cried out soundlessly, reaching toward his body.
The necromancer screamed harder.
The body rejected him.
Beautiful.
The host soul slammed forward, finally entering its own chest like someone diving through a locked door that had just been kicked open by a tax collector.
The stolen body convulsed.
Mamon pulled.
I cursed.
Luci cracked the lover’s crystal at the same time.
The bride’s soul flared.
The mansion screamed.
Every corpse in the chamber jerked upright and collapsed again as the network lost command. Soul threads snapped one after another, bursting into pale sparks. The coffins rattled. The gramophone exploded into splinters.
Then Mamon yanked.
The necromancer tore free from the young man’s body.
A black, shriveled soul-form hit the floor, wrapped in golden chains and red-black curse marks. He no longer looked like a charming groom. No stolen youth. No handsome face. Just an old, ugly spirit with hollow eyes, twisted mouth, and a rotten core pulsing in his chest.
The young host body collapsed.
I caught him with one tentacle before he hit the stone.
His soul settled inside him properly, flickering but present.
Alive.
Barely.
Good enough.
The necromancer’s soul crawled on the floor, chained, pathetic.
“No,” he rasped. “My bride…”
The bride’s soul stared at him.
For the first time, she didn’t look scared.
Only tired.
Luci placed one clawed hand against the crystal prison and finally broke the last layer.
The trapped lover’s soul fell forward, free, trembling. The bride’s soul reached for him.
The chamber’s dead flowers crumbled.
Mamon looked down at the chained necromancer and took another sip of coffee. “This one,” he said calmly, “has debt.”
I smiled. “Clearly.”
The necromancer looked up at me. “You… you answered my prayer…”
I crouched in front of him.
“Yeah.”
My smile widened.
“Not the way you hoped.”
His rotten soul shook.
I reached out and tapped his forehead with one finger.
“Don’t worry.”
My voice softened.
Dangerously.
“You wanted forever, right?”
Mamon’s gold chains tightened.
Luci’s violet light freed the last strands around the bride.
The trapped souls around us began to glow, one by one, finally unhooked from the mansion.
I looked at the necromancer and let my Wrath show just enough for him to understand exactly where his path was going.
“You’re going to get something close.”
The necromancer froze.
For one beautiful second, his rotten soul seemed to understand.
Not fully.
Arrogant bastards never understood fully until the door closed behind them.
But enough.
Enough for his hollow eyes to widen. Enough for his mouth to tremble. Enough for that old, ugly spirit wrapped in Greed’s chains.
The floor beneath him darkened.
Not cracked.
Darkened.
Like ink spilled upward from below reality.
Then hands appeared.
Shadow hands.
Thin at first, then longer, sharper, more numerous. They rose from beneath the stone floor and wrapped around his ankles, wrists, throat, ribs. Not physical hands. Domain hands. The kind that didn’t need flesh to grip because they were holding the sin itself.
The necromancer screamed.
“Wait—no—no, my lords, please—”
I tilted my head.
“My lord?” I repeated.
He clawed at the stone, trying to drag himself away from the hole opening beneath him.
The chains around him rattled.
Mamon watched with mild interest, coffee in hand.
Luci stood beside the freed crystal prison, wings half-open, sheet mask still damp and majestic in the worst possible way.
The shadow hands pulled harder.
The necromancer shrieked.
For a second, I felt the destination.
Not fully mine.
Not exactly Wrath.
There was Wrath in it, yes. My anger had judged him. But the pull beneath him had something colder. Sharper. A thousand mirrors reflecting every stolen thing, every false face, every borrowed body, every jealous desire rotting behind his smiles.
Envy.
Yeah.
That made sense.
He had stolen lives because he envied youth.
Stolen bodies because he envied vitality.
Stolen love because he envied being chosen.
Stolen souls because he envied ownership.
The necromancer screamed louder as the hands dragged him into the widening dark.
“No! No! I loved her! I only loved her!”
The bride’s soul didn’t look at him.
The shadow swallowed him to the chest.
He reached toward her with one trembling hand.
“My bride!”
The lover’s soul stepped between them.
Too late to be useful in life maybe, but at least now he had a dramatic pose.
The necromancer’s face twisted.
Then the hands yanked.
He vanished beneath the floor with one final scream, swallowed whole by the dark. The crack sealed immediately afterward, leaving only cold stone and a faint stain of green-black ash.
Silence fell.
Actual silence this time.
Just the soft trembling of freed souls.