Seven Sins System Chapter 418. I Like To Piss You Off

Seven Sins System Chapter 418. I Like To Piss You Off

Puriel’s PoV

"It is," Azrael said calmly, the slight grin still playing at the edges of his mouth. "But I like to piss you off," he added, the smirk blossoming into a full, unapologetic smile.

"Why?" Puriel shot back, her annoyance palpable in her tone, her celestial patience visibly fraying.

"Because that's how we communicate. At least, that's the only way I know," Azrael admitted with a bluntness that was characteristic of his straightforward, devil-may-care attitude. His words, simple yet profound, struck a chord. It was an unexpected confession, one that left Puriel momentarily speechless. It sounded absurd, yet it resonated with a harsh truth. Their interactions, since their unexpected reunion amidst the chaos of war, had indeed evolved into a series of provocations. This was their language now—conflict and reaction, a dance of discord where each step was both familiar and maddening.

Puriel's hand, which had been poised in a gesture of defiance, slowly lowered as she processed his words. She shifted her gaze to meet him, searching his eyes for a hint of the boy she once knew. "Tell me, do you want us to communicate like in the past? When we were still kids? When we were still Riri and El?" she asked, her voice softer now but laced with a poignant yearning. It was a tricky question, loaded with the weight of memories and the pain of what might have been. If not for the misunderstandings that had driven them apart, perhaps their story would have followed a different path.

Azrael's reaction was immediate and visible. His eyebrows shot up, a look of confusion overtaking his face as he tried to grasp the full implication of her words. "So you want us to play around in the mortal realm?" he asked, his tone uncertain. The frown returned, creasing his brow as he tried to understand her angle. "You mean like playing with mortals' lives? Make a little mess here and there?" He needed to be sure they were on the same page, his mind racing to align her nostalgic wish with his understanding of their capabilities and roles.

"No, Azrael, not like that," Puriel clarified, her voice firm yet tinged with frustration at being misunderstood. Her expression darkened into a frown, her brow creasing as Azrael’s devil logic failed to grasp the essence of her nostalgic desire. "No. I'm a goddess, I can't possibly let you do that," she stated, her voice clear and resolute, aimed at dispelling any misconceived notions he might entertain about mischiefs involving mortals.

"Then what do you mean?" Azrael pressed, his confusion evident as his voice rose slightly in a mix of frustration and curiosity.

"Just imagine if we went back to the past, and we did the same things as we did then," Puriel replied, her annoyance seeping through her tone. She found it exasperating how he couldn't latch onto such a simple, heartfelt concept.

Azrael’s face contorted into a cringe, his features twisting as he attempted to align his thoughts with hers. "You mean you want us to climb trees, play in the river, and run around in the forest like we're little kids?" His voice was laced with skepticism, needing her confirmation to ensure his understanding wasn’t leading him astray.

“Yes, exactly!” Puriel responded, her voice suddenly bursting with excitement. She couldn’t conceal the longing that surged through her, the ache for those carefree days of their youth—a time of innocence and joy that she missed profoundly.

Azrael’s expression morphed from confusion to disbelief, his cringe deepening. “You want us, a hundred-year-old devil and goddess, to play in the forest, climb trees, and splash in the river like we used to?” He shook his head, incredulous. “Don’t you think that will make us look like a couple of retard creatures? Even adult mortals don't do that,” he argued, his voice a mix of amusement and objection.

Puriel fell silent, her eyes locking with Azrael's. His words, though harsh and jarring, rang with an undeniable truth that gnawed at her resolve. They were not children anymore; they were entities bound by celestial duties and dark missions. This was a reality far removed from the innocent days of tree climbing and river splashing they had once known.

Her disappointment was clear. Yet, she remained silent, her lips tightly sealed. Even though Azrael's blunt dismissal was expected, it carried a bitterness that stung deeply. She didn't want to admit he was right—that such actions would indeed make them look foolish, a pair of ancient beings regressing to juvenile antics.

Azrael's expression shifted, his usual smirk faltering as he seemed to ponder her quiet despair. Puriel couldn't be certain what thoughts were crossing his mind, but she could imagine his sneer, the internal mockery as he possibly thought her delusional to even suggest such a thing.

Suddenly, Azrael stood up from his seat, breaking the tense atmosphere. "Move your ass; we need to get to work. Or do you want to stare at me for the rest of the day?" he demanded, his tone reproachful yet carrying an undercurrent of something else—was it pity? There was a softness there, a rare and fleeting glimpse of something beyond his devil-may-care facade.

Puriel looked up at him, struck by the subtle shift in his voice. It hinted at a depth she rarely saw, a complexity that suggested he might understand more than he let on. But before she could dissect his tone further, the moment passed, and she was left to grapple with the weight of her own silence.

“Yes,” she answered in a reluctant tone. Her heart ached with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and a poignant sense of loss. The loss of what could have been, of the simplicity they had once enjoyed as children. Those memories, so vivid in her mind, seemed like taunting ghosts in the shadow of their current reality. The gap between them, widened by centuries and shaped by their contrasting natures, felt insurmountable.