Seven Sins System Chapter 868. Insanity III
Seven Sins System Chapter 868. Insanity III
The eyes on my tentacles opened.
All of them.
Red.
They snapped open like a board of directors discovering someone embezzled from the violence budget. Crimson pupils rolled, locked, focused. Mouths split along the length of my tentacles, jagged teeth sliding out one by one, wet and sharp and hungry.
My grin widened until it stopped being a grin and became madness with teeth.
I wanted blood.
I wanted flesh opened.
I wanted pain.
I wanted screams. Not clean screams. Not heroic screams. The ugly ones. The honest ones.
I pulled harder.
My tentacles wrapped around the fake angel’s ribs, shoulders, throat, wings, every leverage point I could find. One mouth bit into the holy bone plating and tore. Another hooked inside the demonic nerve web and yanked. My hand stayed inside the core lattice, fingers burning, palm splitting, poison drilling into my flesh like a loan shark with divine paperwork.
The fake angel screamed louder.
“More,” I muttered.
The voice in my head laughed with me.
‘Kill it.’
My fingers tightened.
‘Don’t let it slip away.’
The core flared.
Radiant holy light burst outward from inside my palm.
Concentrated.
Aggressive.
A liquidation event for devil flesh.
The burn went through my hand first. Skin split. Armor melted. Nerves screamed. Then it ran into my wrist, my forearm, my tentacles holding the lattice. The mouths on my tentacles hissed and shrieked, teeth smoking as silver-gold light flooded over them.
[Critical Alert]
[Enemy Core Defensive Reaction Activated]
[High Holy Meltdown Detected]
[Target: Wrath Vessel]
[Effect: Demonic Tissue Dissolution / Core Channel Incineration]
[Projected Damage: Critical]
[Immediate Recommendation: Release Target]
[Failure To Retreat May Result In Vessel Collapse]
I tched.
I hated that.
I really hated that.
Not the pain.
Pain was fine.
I could endure pain.
I couldn’t endure dying like an idiot because I refused to stop touching a radioactive angelic core.
So I let go.
“Teleportation.”
Space folded violently.
I disappeared from the fake angel’s chest and reappeared twenty meters back, boots scraping across cracked pavement. My hand smoked. My palm was burned black and silver, flesh split deep enough I could see demonic energy pulsing underneath like molten wire.
Severe.
Ugly.
The kind of wound regeneration would not close quickly.
Even my tentacles trembled. Two of them had burn marks running along their sides, eyes blinking erratically, mouths snarling like they wanted to sue the enemy for damages.
Puriel started toward me. “Azrael—”
“Don’t.” My voice came out rough.
She stopped, but her eyes went straight to my hand.
I hated that too.
The fake angel’s flesh crawled over its core again, sealing the cracked lattice beneath layers of holy bone and black residue muscle. The wound closed. Not perfectly, but fast enough to make me smile again.
Okay.
So I needed something to touch the core.
Not bare hand.
A tool.
A weapon.
I lifted my burned hand and flexed the fingers. They moved. Barely.
Good enough.
“Devil’s Craft.”
My shadow opened beneath me like a workshop floor.
I reached out with my tentacles and dragged ingredients from the battlefield. Broken demonic residue from the creature’s first form. Burnt black crystal. Blood-soaked pavement. My own Wrath energy. A strip of severed holy-feather bone still smoking near the crater. Not too much. Just enough to make the weapon remember what it hated.
The materials spun together in front of me.
Metal screamed into shape.
A long handle formed first, black as debt in Mamon’s ledger. Then the blade curved outward, huge and cruel, forged from Wrath flame and corrupted residue crystal, edged in red light that pulsed like a heartbeat before murder.
[Crafting Complete]
[Temporary Weapon Created: Wrathborne Execution Scythe]
[Weapon Type: Anti-Construct / Core-Gouging]
[Attribute: Wrath / Ruin / Demonic Residue]
[Warning: Weapon Stability Temporary]
Perfect.
I caught the scythe in my unburned hand first, then forced my burned hand around the shaft anyway.
Pain flared.
I laughed.
[Warning! Your insanity almost exceeded the threshold!]
My tentacles moved around me, from one angle to another, eyes tracking, mouths breathing steam. I didn’t really pay attention to anyone else now, but I knew exactly where they were. Puriel behind left, core cracked but stable. Lumira guarding the souls’ exit point even though the souls already went upward. Luci circling high right, irritated by blood on his clothes and probably assigning emotional damages. Mamon ‘s chains spread like financial infrastructure around a collapsing economy, furious that his forecast missed a second-phase holy asset.
Me?
I had the scythe. And an enemy with a core trying to hide.
The fake angel lunged.
I saw it before it moved.
Madness didn’t make me dull.
That was what people got wrong.
Insanity didn’t mean I became some stupid animal throwing myself at walls. No. It made everything sharper. Crueler. Faster. Pain became background noise. Doubt got fired from the company. Strategy stayed, but now it carried a knife.
The fake angel slashed with its wing.
I ducked under the holy edge and swung upward.
The scythe bit into its side, tore through white armor, hooked beneath the flesh, and ripped.
Blood sprayed.
Golden-silver toward me.
I twisted my shoulder so most missed, but some still splashed across my coat and cheek. It hissed. Burned.
I didn’t care.
I drove my knee into its abdomen, spun the scythe, and carved a line across its chest.
The creature retaliated with demonic spikes from its ribs, aimed not at me but at Puriel.
I saw the angle.
“Shadow Barrier.”
[You have formed a barrier]
A black wall snapped between the spikes and her. The demonic spikes shattered against it.
Puriel’s light flared behind me. “Azrael!”
I didn’t look back.
The fake angel tried to retreat upward.
“Telekinesis.”
Invisible force grabbed its wing joints and dragged it down like a failed stock listing crashing after fraudulent accounting came out.
Luci appeared above it. “Ugly thing,” he snapped, slicing both wings with violet blades. “Stay down.”
Blood sprayed over him again.
He froze midair. “…This is emotional terrorism.”
Mamon shouted, “Stop complaining and bind the core route!”
“I am complaining while contributing!”
Honestly, impressive multitasking.