My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 781: Chapter 782: Sins Of Greed

Damon sneered and raised his brows, why was he a demon was it just because it rhymed with his name.

Or was his nature actually demonic.

“Wow that actually rhymes.”

His gaze turned cold as he looked at the Archivist.

“What sins would those be? Let me guess. Is it murder, cannibalism, or theft. I did it, sue me. Oh wait, you already are. You hold no power over me.”

The Archivist did not respond. The title on the book shifted until it read Damon the demon.

Damon grimaced. He had actually earned one of those cursed names.

The Archivist turned the book to the other side and opened it from the far end.

“You have committed many sins Damon the demon.”

Its voice droned as the pages glimmered with shifting ink.

“Born Damon Grey in the war continent Soltheon, you walked the path of depravity from a young age. A disgrace upon a legacy of nobility. A lowly wretch who could not accept the world and refused to change to fit. Vile, unspeakable and damned, you made no effort to understand others and you never wished to be understood.”

It analyzed Damon Grey with calm cruelty. Damon listened without flinching. After several minutes the Archivist stopped. Black chains rose from the ground like serpents and snapped onto Damon’s wrists, ankles, throat and torso.

“We shall now begin your trial. How do you plead.”

Damon refused to show any fear.

“What gives you the right to cast judgement upon me? What makes you better than me.”

The Archivist picked up its quill. It did not try to refute him.

“Very well. I shall now call your sins and let your guilt serve as punishment.”

Its voice was a hissing vibration that echoed through the Pedestal.

“Guilt is a cage. Your guilt will punish your sins.”

The Archivist raised its hand high above its head.

“All sins are born from seven primordial deadly sins. You shall suffer for every one of them.”

It looked at Damon with empty, pitiless eyes.

“Damon the demon has committed many sins. The earliest is the sin of theft. You have stolen from many, filling your pockets with abundance taken from the sweat of others.”

The scene around Damon shimmered and dissolved. He suddenly stood in the streets of Valerion. A younger version of himself weaved through the crowds. The boy wore rags, ribs showing through skinny skin. With every passerby he slipped a hand into pockets and bags, gathering coins with practiced ease.

A woman froze. She touched her pouch.

“My zeni… it is gone…” Her voice cracked with despair.

“What a grave sin,” the Archivist hissed.

Damon frowned and bit his lip.

“I was hungry. I did what I could to survive.”

The Archivist shook its head.

“The sin of greed.”

Its voice stayed locked onto him.

“You did not need that much. You could have worked for your own income. For your greed that innocent woman paid the price. She sold herself into prostitution to feed her family and pay her debts. Eventually she took her own life.”

The Archivist raised its quill and pointed at Damon.

“Do you regret it?”

The vision twisted. Damon now saw the woman hanging from a rope. Two children clung to her corpse, sobbing. The amount he had stolen from her was less than ten thousand zeni. Such a small amount. Yet it had destroyed a family.

“I… I was trying to survive. Valerion is a harsh place. This is not on me.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

He said the words but he did not believe them. The poison of guilt throbbed in his chest.

“Guilt is a cage and sin is a stain. It must be washed.” The Archivist hissed with rising anger.

“Your punishment is the feast of empty pockets.”

It pointed its quill upward.

“You must eat the equivalent of your wealth.”

The chains rattled. Damon felt his soul dragged downward.

When he opened his eyes he was in a colossal banquet hall. People in gold ornaments and robes sat at tables heaped with wealth. They were feasting, but not on food. They devoured piles of money, jewels and treasure. They ate even when their mouths bled.

A voice thundered inside his mind.

“Eat until you have eaten all your wealth. Only then shall you be absolved of your guilt.”

Damon’s body moved without his command. His hands reached for a mound of gold. In a polished tray he saw his reflection. His real body. Not an illusion. His original flesh.

“Ahh… ahhh…” He strained to resist but the image of the woman’s corpse pressed against his mind, crushing his will.

Cold gold coins pressed against his palms. His fingers clenched. His hands shoved the metal into his mouth. His iron bones shattered the coins. Shards sliced his tongue and gums. The metallic taste of blood pooled under his tongue.

More treasure was forced between his lips. Gems scraped against enamel. Diamonds cracked between his teeth. His jaw bled. His gums tore. His throat swelled until it darkened into deep purple. Still his body devoured without pause.

His teeth fractured. Splinters of enamel mixed with gold and gems and were swallowed. His stomach swelled until it bruised red and black. Blood trickled down his chin.

Images of the woman. Her children. Her final despair. Every life he stole from. Every pocket he emptied. They all crashed into him with every bite.

Finally, after what felt like days, Damon finished eating the total of his wealth.

Listless and half broken, he sagged as the chains dragged him back to the Pedestal. Blood covered him from neck to waist. His stomach bulged unnaturally. He retched on the floor, spitting out gold dust, silver fragments and glittering pieces of magic crystal.

“Your guilt remains but your sin has been punished.”

The Archivist raised its quill again.

“Your next sin.”

Damon felt his soul tremble. His bleeding frame stood locked before the Archivist as the quill began to move.

This was not a mental projection. It was physical. The Archivist was rewriting reality itself to punish him.