Chapter 419. Ignorance is Bliss

Seven Sins System Chapter 419. Ignorance is Bliss

Azrael’s PoV

I stood up from the bed. My head was a whirlwind of conflicted thoughts, a mess of past and present tangled up like wires.

I wanted to sneer at her, really let her have it about her delusional ideas of us going back to the way things were—fooling around, carefree, and reckless.

It was tempting, so tempting to just burst that bubble with a sharp jab of reality.

But then, I caught a look on her face. She wasn’t showing much, trying to keep it all under wraps, but I’ve gotten good at reading her over the years.

There was this slight tremble in her lip, a glossiness in her eyes that screamed she was on the brink. And her disappointment hit me when I spilled the harsh truths.

Back in the day, we didn’t even know who we really were to each other. That ignorance was bliss; it let us play and laugh, no strings attached, no baggage.

And sure, while she might’ve thought of me as a friend, my initial game plan was way different. I first saw her as a potential pet—a cool pet, not just like a cat or raven.

But as time passed, she became more than that. She became a friend. A real one. I found myself ditching my usual crew, preferring her company, which was new and weird for me.

Now here we were, in this room. The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable.

I could’ve broken it with a scoff, could’ve thrown in a biting remark, but I didn’t. Instead, I found myself grappling with this weird, gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was like nostalgia, mixed with something else—something deeper.

I swiveled on my heel, passing the curtain. Ahead, the goons we had trapped sprawled awkwardly against the wall, their eyes wide with terror as they took in my approach.

An evil grin stretched across my face, my mood shifting as I embraced the darker side of my nature.

‘Wrath.’

With a thought, the tentacles on my back morphed, entering my Wrath mode.

The once slick, serpentine limbs transformed, blades gleaming wickedly at their tips. They writhed behind me.

My gaze was icy, lethal intent radiating from every line of my body as I closed the distance.

These mortals, these insignificant pests, had seen my true form. There was no going back now, no simple memory wipe to clear the slate. They had crossed a line, and for their transgressions, a price had to be paid—a price I would exact with interest.

"Thought you could mess with me, huh?" I sneered, standing before them.

The fear in their eyes fueled my anger. My tentacles hovered menacingly, the blades poised like the swords of Damocles over their heads.

"You saw something you shouldn’t have," I continued, my voice a low growl of barely contained fury. "And you can’t get away with it. Not today. Not ever."

The goons looked like deer caught in headlights, their eyes wide and their bodies trembling as they tried in vain to wriggle free.

I approached slowly, savoring the moment. An evil grin spread across my face. It had been days since I last allowed myself to really feel, to unleash the darker urges I’d kept on a tight leash.

I was ready to ensure they’d live in extreme suffering for the rest of their pitiful lives.

But just as I was about to let loose, a firm hand grabbed mine.

I spun around, glaring at Puriel with a look sharp enough to cut through steel.

"What?" I snapped, my voice a razor-edged whip of annoyance.

If she dared to feed me that line about sparing them because they were brainwashed by the cult, or worse, suggested I could simply wipe their memories because they deserved a second chance, I was going to lose it.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t unleash this fury on her; fate had annoyingly bound us together, making it impossible to direct my anger at her.

So, something else had to bear the brunt of my wrath, like the entire building for example.

After all, if forgetting could really wipe out every sin… then what the hell was the point of my realm?

Why were devils like me stuck torturing mortals for eternity instead of just hitting the reset button on their memories?

Why weren’t we just brainwashing them clean and giving them a fresh start—no guilt, no past, no mess?

“Just don't kill them,” Puriel's voice broke through my stormy thoughts.

I jerked my hand away, breaking free from her grip with a rough tug.

“You don't need to remind me. I know,” I retorted sharply.

I was a devil, not a saint, but I wasn’t mindless. I knew the lines I couldn’t cross, not here, not with her watching.

With a chilling swiftness, my tentacles struck. The blades sliced through the air with a hiss, cutting into flesh and tendon with brutal efficiency.

Screams erupted from the goons, echoing off the walls. The sound was almost musical, for me.

Yet, as quickly as the tentacles inflicted their cruel punishment, my other limbs moved to mend the damage.

My Pride tentacles, shimmering with a darker light, extended towards the wounded men. They worked quickly, weaving a dark healing energy over the gashes and severed tendons. The magic sealed the wounds.

The men were no longer capable of moving as they once had. Their limbs, though healed, were twisted and crippled. The punishment was fitting. They would never forget, never fully recover.

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