Seven Sins System Chapter 356. An Exception

Seven Sins System Chapter 356. An Exception

"I can't," she answered, and though the words came out with a semblance of firmness, there was an undercurrent of sadness that I couldn't ignore. It was as if she was caught in the crossfire of a decision not entirely her own, a powerlessness that hinted at a deeper struggle.

My curiosity kicked into overdrive. ‘Hmm... Is this related to her own condition?’ I pondered silently, my mind racing to dissect the subtle nuances of her response. I couldn't shake the memory of her previous chatter about the uncontrollable nature of her powers. It was a fleeting revelation, a moment when her guard slipped, and she babbled about the struggle to rein in the very essence that defined her celestial existence.

I contemplated the question that lingered in my mind. 'Do you also have "something" in you?' It was a tempting inquiry, a peek into the mysteries that might be hidden within her celestial form. But as the words poised on the edge of my tongue, I opted for discretion. The temptation to reveal my suspicions about the legendary demon trapped within me was strong, but so was the instinct for self-preservation.

With a silent acknowledgment, I pressed my lips together, stifling the question before it could escape. Revealing my curiosity could lead to a cascade of inquiries from her end, and I certainly wasn't ready to unveil the devilish secrets sealed within my own existence.

'Not my problem, if she wants to be naïve, let her be,' I reminded myself, a devilish grin playing on my lips. Her naivety might just be the advantage I needed. But, of course, it came with its own set of challenges, particularly the inability to trust her judgment completely.

"Okay, I won't force you anymore. Just eat your breakfast," I conceded, switching gears from the mischievous devil to a more serious tone. She didn't utter a word but simply grabbed the sandwich and left. It felt odd, witnessing a moment of obedience from a goddess who usually exuded celestial authority. Still, my mind couldn't shake the lingering questions about the depths of her power and the reasons behind her struggle to control it.

As she disappeared through the door, my gaze stayed fixed, lingering on the spot where she had exited. I couldn't help but wonder—what could push a goddess to lose control over her own divine abilities, and to what extent had she surrendered to the chaos within?

Lost in speculation, a quirky thought darted through my mind. "Or maybe... she can’t see mortals' hearts at all, but she's hiding it from her own mother?" I mused aloud, a playful grin forming. The idea struck me as both funny and ironic.

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Puriel's PoV

Puriel strolled towards the cafeteria, her steps deliberate and her thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind. 'I can't let him know,' she mused, her mind a battlefield of secrets. The weight of her recent struggle to control the power that allowed her to read mortals' hearts pressed upon her like an invisible burden. She kept her celestial composure intact.

Quickly, she walked towards the cafeteria as usual as she replayed the moments in her mind, the instances where Azrael's disguise had fooled her. It was a harsh realization. The power she had wielded effortlessly now seemed to slip through her fingers, leaving her vulnerable to deception.

The angelic power she possessed was supposed to be a precision tool, honed to detect the hearts of individuals or her designated targets. Yet, there were times when that celestial radar went haywire, spiraling out of control like a rogue satellite. It stretched far beyond its intended limits, detecting random mortals in areas that had no business being on its radar. We're talking up to five hundred kilometers from her current location, and it was more than a bit overwhelming for her.

It was like divine torture, a celestial version of information overload. Puriel found herself inundated with the cacophony of mortal emotions, hopes, and dreams from every corner within that absurd radius. It wasn't the serene, focused power she once knew. Instead, it became a tumultuous storm of human sentiment, hitting her like a celestial tidal wave.

The irony wasn't lost on her. A power meant to be a beacon of divine precision had turned into a cosmic game of emotional Russian roulette. The celestial GPS went haywire, and she ended up tuning into the hearts of more mortals than a deity should handle. Joy, despair, love, hate, pain, anger, scared.

Imagine feeling the surge of emotions from countless souls, all within a radius that stretched far beyond what was reasonable. It was like tuning into a hundred radio stations at once, each broadcasting a different emotional frequency. It was similar to an empath but hers was much worse since she could know the mortals’ intentions and hearts, kind or bad, sinner or saint.

On the flip side, there were those moments when her celestial radar just decided to go on a coffee break. It didn't react at all, leaving her unable to read a mortal's heart as if her power had decided to play hide and seek. Those were the times when Puriel found herself scratching her head, wondering if her powers had taken a sudden vacation.

Then came the discovery – Dr. Allen. Puriel's powers weren't doing their usual song and dance in his presence. Cue the intrigue and the classic celestial detective work. She got curious, thinking maybe, just maybe, her powers reserved themselves for only the extra special mortals. And she decided that Dr. Allen must be one of those special beings.

But the irony slapped her across the face. Her celestial radar wasn't malfunctioning; it was just being selective. Dr. Allen wasn't some uniquely special person meant for divine attention. No, he was Azrael, the lord of wrath, her nemesis in mortal disguise.

So, there she was, thinking she had stumbled upon an exception to the celestial rules, only to find out it was her arch-enemy playing mortal dress-up.