Chapter 71: Pride
At this moment, a wisp of illusory purple light hovered above Divoman’s Spiritual Star.
At the same time, the pitch-black color swaying behind her like a comet's tail, as if a pool of ink, was drawn out and pressed onto the Spiritual Star, mingling with the black mist converging toward the star.
Then, as the purple light extended two forked arms that fluttered up and down, a black “patch” appeared on the Spiritual Star, which was originally a blend of red and blue hues.
The black mist, upon being pressed onto the star, seemed to want to merge with it, but once she blended in that “ink,” it began to stabilize.
A closer look revealed that strands of spiritual light from within the star were slowly being “sucked” into the black patch and merging into it.
“Hmm... why does it feel kind of disgusting?”
Using the Original Sin to bind and separate the “sins” that had gathered, Sylvia frowned—though she had no physical brows to frown with—as she observed the scene before her.
This experiment had thoroughly confirmed for her that the Original Sin was indeed effective.
Once transformed, and mixed with it, the “sins” became extremely stable, difficult to integrate with foreign forces, and possessed a rather strong adhesive quality.
To this end, she was willing to call it Mystic Adhesive 502.
However, current research on it was still shallow, with many of its capabilities yet to be developed.
She had named it “Original Sin” simply because it sounded good.
Still, its use wasn’t without drawbacks—
For instance, it significantly reduced the efficiency of converting sins into existing extraordinary abilities.
At the same time, under her guidance, the first stage of the Sinner path had already been completed.
The ritual for this path required no ritual at all. As long as she was present, success needed no ceremony; if she wasn’t, no kind of ritual would succeed.
Because that meant a guaranteed failure.
The spiritual materials used in the ritual were all handcrafted by her.
But this was only the present state. Once the laws of the Spiritual Realm recorded this new combination of extraordinary powers and their intrinsic nature, corresponding border demons would begin to take form.
She believed that before long, border demons representing the Seven Deadly Sins would start roaming the Manifest Realm and reality.
However, these border demons might not be particularly powerful, given the incomplete state of the associated laws.
Still, this couldn’t be taken as absolute, for before she wove this path, the world had no identical extraordinary powers, but there were similar laws.
Perhaps, if two similar laws fused during the formation of a border demon, a truly terrifying monster would be born.
This, however, was beyond her control.
As she watched the Spiritual Star gradually stabilize, Sylvia withdrew her gaze and allowed her spirituality to descend and return.
In the Spiritual Realm, there was no need to worry about getting lost. No matter where one detached, the soul would always follow the connection to the body and return to its location.
Moreover, those capable of leaving their own Spiritual Star to roam the Spiritual Realm had no fear of losing themselves.
...
Standing amid a web of dried-out lines, Divoman slowly opened his eyes, his expression carrying a trace of confusion as he looked toward Sylvia seated on a nearby sofa chair.
The moment his gaze met hers—those eyes that seemed to smile yet not—he suddenly came to his senses, and a surge of uncontrollable joy welled up in his heart.
He waved his fists, feeling strength coursing through his body.
A first-stage Warrior possessed terrifying physical prowess, unimaginable explosive power, and tenacious vitality.
But he wasn’t just a Warrior—he was also a Sinner.
The Original Sin he bore was named Pride—
In a sense, this sin was quite similar to Wrath. Both magnified and enhanced one’s existing abilities, but their natures were completely different.
Wrath gained its power through the cost of self-immolation, resulting in a very real and tangible boost.
No matter how it changed, that power was genuinely present.
Pride, on the other hand, was the opposite. The boost it offered was nothing but a castle in the air—illusory and unfounded.
Once one’s pride was pierced, that castle would collapse in an instant.
Moreover, unlike the wild and unrestrained fury of Wrath, Pride emphasized precision and “absoluteness.”
As Sylvia put it in the words of her homeland, one focused on brute force that could fling bricks, while the other prided itself on meticulous control.
Each had its pros and cons. Pride offered far less enhancement—less than half of what Wrath could achieve—but it had the advantage of leaving no side effects. It could be used passively at all times without placing a heavy burden on one's spirituality.
To Sylvia, she preferred Pride over Wrath.
As a traveler from another world, as a being whose essence was divine, she rarely truly felt anger.
But pride—was different.
As someone holding the status of a True God and a transmigrator, even if she didn’t wish to admit it, she couldn’t hide her indifference toward this world.
Though she sometimes felt lonely, though she sometimes felt sorrow, she always viewed this world from a detached perspective.
Just like a game she played back in her homeland.
Perhaps time would wear down her pride, but that was a matter for the distant future—not the present.
Feeling as though he had been reborn, Divoman lowered his head and spoke to the great being who had given him the chance to change the rest of his life:
“Thank you for your generosity.”
“But I’d like to know—just now, who was I praying to?”
“I wish to follow in your footsteps and place my faith in that great being.”
Although he believed in the God of Machinery, he was merely a shallow follower.
For people like him, once rats of the sewers, survival was the only true creed.
As for faith… if the Church of Radiance handed out more relief grain, he wouldn’t have minded converting to Radiance.
And now, though he was filled with gratitude toward Sylvia, the logic behind his decision remained the same as before—
It was for power.
Upon hearing his request, the corners of Sylvia’s lips gradually lifted.
“Didn’t you just now recite His revered name?”
Divoman paused for a moment, then cautiously asked:
“The Lord of Seven Sins?”
“That’s right.”
The gray-haired puppet’s lips curled upward bit by bit.
“Then how should I serve Him?”
The rugged, blond brute now appeared remarkably careful.
“……”
At that moment, a certain Outer God—who had yet to establish any prayer gestures or doctrine—felt just a tad awkward.
“My Lord walks alongside the God of Machinery.”
Sylvia, in her usual mystic-hustler tone, casually bluffed the completely clueless Divoman. Watching his pensive expression, she chuckled lightly and shifted the subject.
“Do you have anything you plan to do next?”
At this, Divoman fell silent for a moment, then responded with earnest resolve:
“Revenge. I’m going to find those followers of the King of Loathing and Hatred.”
His answer did not surprise Sylvia, for she remembered what he once told her when reporting clues from the Lower District:
“I know I’m not a good person. I’m a complete bastard. But I have my bottom line—my friends.”
“Even my brother-in-arms was a bastard just like me. But since he accepted me, followed me, then I must do everything a boss should.”
“I know that family wasn’t any better. But I’m not going after them from some self-righteous moral high ground—because I know I don’t deserve that.”
“As a rat of the sewers, I have only one reason for revenge: to avenge my brother who was killed by them.”
Back then, after hearing those words, Sylvia had withdrawn the faint trace of amusement in her eyes.
At the same time, she had also dismissed the idea of quietly eliminating them herself.
But now, the smile in her eyes grew ever more pronounced.
“Go.”
“But I hope that after this, you’ll stop being the ‘bastard’ you call yourself.”
“You should be grateful you’re not a completely, irredeemably hopeless bastard—otherwise, you wouldn’t still be alive.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Divoman bowed his head respectfully. At the same time, a genuine smile flickered briefly across his lips.
That fleeting smile vanished in an instant, so quickly that he likely didn’t even notice it himself.