Chapter 87: A Vessel in the Eyes of Sins
Seraphel
It was overwhelming. Crazily overwhelming to have all seven Deadly Sins gathered in a single room, their collective presence pressing down on me like an unrelenting physical weight.
My heart hammered against my ribs, beating so fast and hard it felt as though it might burst right out of my chest.
Even with Taizel casually leaning against the wall and Raziel offering dramatic winks, the atmosphere remained suffocatingly dangerous. Luceriel, in particular, looked down at me with an icy, towering contempt that made my skin prickle, as if my very existence was a stain on his immaculate floorboards.
To make matters worse, Azriel was sitting right beside me, still shooting me dark, brooding glares—his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter—as if I had personally committed a crime by simply opening my eyes.
"Tell us, human," Lumiel’s deep, chest-rattling voice cut cleanly through the frantic flurry of thoughts racing through my head. "How were you able to wield celestial light and eradicate the Goddess of Death from Elysium? I would genuinely like to know, if only to instruct my armies on the matter."
I blinked, shifting my gaze toward the massive, brick-house of a man. Slowly, tentatively, I pointed a finger back at my own chest, then flicked my eyes toward Azriel to see his reaction. He looked like he was five seconds away from slaughtering anyone who dared look at me for too long.
When Azriel offered no words, his face remaining a stoic, brooding mask of pure aggravation, I cleared my throat and decided to offer Lumiel the absolute shortest, most simplified explanation my brain could construct on the spot.
"The light... uh... it came from the baby’s powers," I blurted out.
Dead silence fell over the room.
Not a single Sin spoke. They merely exchanged silent, heavy glances, their eyes locked in what seemed like an unspoken, telepathic dialogue—the kind of invisible communication I obviously wasn’t privy to.
It was strange, mostly because Author Nude—the author whose web novel I had obsessed over as Nathan—had never actually written about any formal telepathy existing among the brothers.
Watching it unfold in real time, I had absolutely no way of guessing what was running through their terrifyingly powerful minds.
Anomas was the first to break the stillness, his quiet, measured tone drawing everyone’s attention. "It appears my vision was accurate—though, to be fair, my foresight has never once faltered. The Child of Prophecy possesses a staggering destiny. Now that one of the highest deities has been utterly erased by the child’s burgeoning energy, Elysium will not simply sit idly by. It is only a matter of time before they devise a scheme to breach Katula, seize the human, and harvest the child’s core for themselves. I am sure my mother is probably thinking of how to get that powers for herself.’’
Azriel let out a low, dangerous growl from the back of his throat. "There is no universe in which I allow them to lay a single finger on Seraphel or the baby."
"I certainly hope you aren’t making tactical decisions simply because you’re thinking with your cock again, Azriel," Sariel drawled, his amber-gold eyes narrowing into sharp slits.
The Prince of Envy’s voice carried a distinct, bitter edge—a sharp, green-eyed sting beneath every word, practically dripping with bitter resentment at the thought of Azriel holding something so central to their collective fate.
Azriel turned his head slowly, his crimson gaze locking onto his brother. "Do I look as though I am discussing fucking him in front of you all?" he countered coldly. Though his tone remained characteristically smooth and velvety, the underlying threat was unmistakable.
Sariel and Azriel.
In the original book, Author Nude had penned the two of them as the pair most frequently at each other’s throats.
Truthfully, all seven Sins were constantly locked in subtle power struggles against one another, their egos and ancient domains forever clashing.
Yet, beneath the centuries of bloody feuds and relentless posturing, there was an unshakeable, fundamental truth to their dynamic.
They were great brothers who will do anything to save the others.
Even when Azriel had been forced to kill Lumiel’s mate centuries ago to protect the rest of them—an act that sparked centuries of bitter hatred and endless plots for vengeance—they had never truly crossed the line of complete hatred.
They scheme, and they fight, but the Sins never truly betray one another. Their bond was forged in the fires of their fall from grace, an enduring unity that not even time or war could destroy.
"Enough, both of you," Luceriel commanded, his voice laced with absolute boredom as he adjusted his sweeping green robes. "Now is hardly the moment for petty squabbling when a war looms directly on our doorstep. Not that Elysium has ever possessed a particularly creative battle strategy—it will be the same tired crusade as before."
He paused, his cold, golden-brown eyes sweeping over to lock onto me with terrifying indifference. "If the child’s magic can erase one goddess, it can certainly eradicate the rest. We will utilize the vessel to his absolute fullest potential to wipe out the entirety of the divine council."
A cold, heavy knot formed in the pit of my stomach. What the hell?
Was that really all I was to them? Just an incubator? A vessel carrying an unborn weapon to be pointed at the heavens and fired until nothing was left of Elysium?
I stared at Luceriel in utter disbelief, a wave of bitter reality crashing over me. But as my mind raced, a hollow realization settled in—they were the Seven Deadly Sins, ancient beings who had ruled dark realms for millennia.
Why on earth would they care about the personal well-being or comfort of a mortal like me?
"I agree with Luceriel," Lumiel grunted quietly, his massive arms crossing over his chest, his tone devoid of any sympathy. "It is the most logical path forward. The child’s power is an asset we cannot afford to ignore. It will serve as a great war weapon.’’
Sariel gave a sharp, decisive nod of agreement, while Taizel merely shrugged, chewing lazily on another piece of dried fruit, completely indifferent to my plight. Uriel remained slumped against the far wall, barely keeping his eyelids open, opting out of the conversation entirely.
Then, a loud, disdainful scoff cut through the room.
"So that is your grand plan?" Azriel sneered, rising slowly to his feet. The sheer, suffocating pressure of his aura began to leak into the room, darkening the edges of the chamber with a thick, crimson mist. "You intend to weaponize my unborn child? To parade my mate into the front lines of a war?"
Hearing the word mate roll off his tongue sent my heart slamming against my ribs with a violent, erratic rhythm.
I stared up at his towering back, my breath catching in my throat as his posture grew rigid with unyielding fury.
"There is not a chance in hell I will allow that to happen," Azriel stated, his voice dangerously quiet.
"You dare attempt to refuse our decison, Azriel?" Sariel interjected sharply, taking a step forward, his amber eyes flaring with envy. "One of Elysium’s top deities has been completely struck from existence! They are likely mobilizing their forces to lay siege to every single one of our realms this very second! We use the resources currently available to us to crush them before they reach our gates!"
Raziel chimed in, tossing his golden chains over his shoulder, his theatrical demeanor dropping into something far colder. "The mortal is merely the vessel, Azriel. Utilizing him and the child is simply the most efficient resolution to this impending crisis. The child was never meant to be a family heirloom—it was an unplanned anomaly, and he—"
"ENOUGH!"
Azriel’s voice didn’t just boom—it ruptured through the chamber, infused with an ancient, divine force that vibrated in the very marrow of my bones.
A violent, atmospheric shockwave blasted outward from his frame, rattling the massive stone pillars and sending a sharp gale of wind howling through the room.
It snuffed out the wall torches in a single instant, plunging the sanctuary into a dim, blood-red twilight lit only by his blazing eyes.
"No one is permitted to speak of my child or Seraphel in such a manner!" Azriel declared, his tone dropping into a rasping, monstrous register that sent ice rushing through my veins. "Say another word regarding them as tools, and I will tear this room apart!"
A low, mocking chuckle echoed from the shadows as Luceriel stepped into the crimson light, entirely unbothered by the crushing pressure radiating from his brother.
"Just because you were chosen to sow the seed of the Prophecy does not make the child exclusively yours, brother," Luceriel muttered, his voice dripping with demeaning arrogance. "Why do you suddenly harbor such pathetic concern for a creature destined solely to break our ancient curse? Had any other Sin planted the seed, the outcome would be the same. Or have you grown soft, Azriel? Have you truly developed some pathetic, mortal affection for the vessel carrying the child?"
Luceriel’s words were sharp, and thoroughly humiliating.
He spoke as if I were nothing more than furniture, an inanimate object devoid of feelings or presence.
A surge of indignation flared in my chest, and I opened my mouth, desperate to shout back at him, to defend myself against his towering arrogance—but Luceriel wasn’t finished.
"The Child of Prophecy is nothing more than a weapon forged to shatter our chains, break the curse, and the mortal is merely—"
SWIISH.
Luceriel’s words were cut off instantly.
A sharp, microscopic gust of air sliced through the space between them. A single strand of mint-green hair fluttered harmlessly to the marble floor, followed immediately by a thin, perfectly straight crimson line forming along the curve of Luceriel’s cheekbone.
A second later, a droplet of dark blood pooled from the slit, slowly tracing a path down his face.
My breath hitched in my throat, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as I stared at the blood. The attack had been so blindingly fast, so impossibly swift, that my human eyes hadn’t even figure it out.
I slowly turned my head back toward Azriel.
He hadn’t moved from his spot, but his entire form was now engulfed in a swirling, violent storm of deep red energy. His crimson eyes burned with a terrifying, absolute malice, the pressure spilling off him so intense that the stone floor beneath his boots began to spiderweb with deep, jagged cracks.
"You will not speak of my mate and child like that again," Azriel whispered, his voice dangerously calm, "or the next cut takes your head."