Seven Sins System Chapter 357. Stupid Devil

Seven Sins System Chapter 357. Stupid Devil

Puriel’s PoV

Her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, a puzzle she couldn't decipher. Puriel found herself lost in the labyrinth of her own uncertainties, unable to grasp what was wrong or identify the root cause of her celestial conundrum. All she knew for certain was the overwhelming sense of stupidity and weakness that clouded her existence.

As a goddess, she felt a gnawing expectation to comprehend the intricate symphony of mortal hearts. It was supposed to be her divine birthright, a skill set to understand the very essence of those she watched over. But here she was, grappling with the frustration of her own limitations. A feeling of inadequacy gnawed at her divine pride. She shouldn't be struggling with this.

The weight of this secret burdened her, a vulnerability she couldn't share with her mother, her sisters, or even her fellow angels and goddesses. In a realm where perfection was the expectation, admitting her inability to understand mortal hearts felt like an unthinkable confession. The future queen of the light realm couldn't let anyone know that she grappled with a blind spot.

And so, Puriel carried this silent struggle within her, determined to keep the facade intact. No one, not even those closest to her, would know the hidden battle she fought to comprehend the hearts of mortals.

Her mind wandered through the corridors of time, tracing the roots of her current turmoil. It all began three hundred years ago, in the throes of the great war that shook the three realms. Puriel found herself entangled in a relentless clash with Azrael, a conflict that birthed a bitter enmity within her.

In the early days of the war, she still wielded the power to unravel the secrets of mortal hearts. The celestial gift, once a tool of understanding, began to morph into an uncontrollable force. The turning point was a colossal battle, a cataclysmic clash with Azrael that nearly split a mortal's continent in two. It was a crazy fight, a spectacle that pushed the boundaries of celestial might.

During that epic confrontation, Puriel glimpsed Azrael teetering on the brink of insanity, a state where the Lord of Wrath unleashed his power without heed to consequences. Despite the chaos, she held her ground, emerging battered but not broken. Little did she know that this incident would exact a different kind of toll.

From that moment on, the delicate balance of her power shifted irrevocably. The ability to peer into mortal hearts, once second nature, slipped through her grasp. It became a fickle force, swinging between extremes—either an overwhelming deluge of emotions or a deafening silence that left her in the dark.

Puriel's gaze fell to her wrist, a gesture laden with melancholy. 'I wonder if it was because we had already been tied with the thread of fate at that time,' she pondered, a hint of sadness clouding her celestial features. It was no more than a speculative guess, a cosmic hypothesis dancing in the recesses of her mind. The thread that bound them—was it woven in the tapestry of fate during that tumultuous clash? Or perhaps, it stretched back even further, to the innocent promises of childhood when their identities remained veiled in the cloak of unknowing.

'Maybe...' she mused once more, the uncertainty of her own analysis lingering like a fog.

A long exhale escaped her lips. Lowering her hand, she shifted her focus to the empty corridor stretching before her.

The problem was, how to fix this? She didn't want to go on like this, she couldn't. But how?

Puriel's thoughts spun like a roulette, the wheel of uncertainty turning in her mind. 'If it's because of him, is he also the answer to my problem?' she wondered, the question dangling in the expanse of her contemplation. The idea that Azrael, her nemesis, could hold the key to resolving her conundrum hovered in the fog of uncertainty.

Yet, caution gnawed at her instincts. How could she be sure? Revealing her vulnerability to the devil, even one as cheeky and seemingly harmless as Azrael, felt akin to suicide. It wasn't merely the risk of becoming a punchline that concerned her; it was the potential ripple effect that could endanger her very existence. The Lord of Wrath might be bound by the thread of fate, preventing direct attacks, but there were other sinister avenues he could exploit. What if he spilled the beans to his fellow lords of sin or, worse yet, to his father?

'No... I can't tell him,' she concluded. The risk was too great, the consequences too unpredictable.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Puriel sank into her usual spot, the chair creaking in a greeting that had become routine. With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, she cracked open the crinkly paper bag, already anticipating what she'd find inside. It was Azrael's trademark lame sandwich—nothing gourmet, just the usual, but it beat braving the morning on an empty stomach.

Despite the lack of culinary excitement, there was an unspoken acknowledgment in the act of receiving Azrael's daily offering. Getting a sandwich from him every morning was nothing short of a miracle, especially considering the less-than-rosy state of their relationship. It was a begrudging truce sealed with a sandwich.

But it was better than the alternatives. She wouldn’t need to resort to food thievery or hypnotizing mortals into surrendering their leftover lunches.

As Puriel unearthed the expected sandwich from the paper bag, there was an unexpected heft lingering within. A curious twist in the narrative. A swift investigation revealed a small carton of milk nestled beneath the layers of bread and fillings. Surprise danced in her eyes, and a genuine smile found its way onto her face.

"Stupid devil…" she muttered under her breath, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring her tone. It was a fleeting acknowledgment of Azrael's peculiar brand of kindness, a muttered commentary on the devil's antics that, despite the grumbling, managed to coax a smile from the goddess.