Chapter 13: Tales of the seven deadly sins

Constellations are celestial beings blessed by gods or immortals, each embodying aspects of divinity and power. However, their blessings come with a price, binding them to the nature of the seven deadly sins. Among them, Constellation Evermore fell under the domain of Greed, a being whose insatiable hunger for wealth, power, and control knew no bounds. Whether hoarding knowledge, treasures, or influence, Evermore saw the world not as a place to exist, but as something to be owned.

What is greed? Greed is more than just the desire for wealth or power—it is an insatiable hunger that warps human nature, distorting the lines between need and excess, ambition and corruption, survival and gluttony. It is the endless pursuit of more, a force that refuses to be satisfied, no matter how much it consumes. Greed is not simply about possession; it is about accumulation without limit, a void that deepens the more one tries to fill it.

At its core, greed is a paradox. The greedy seek security in wealth yet are never at peace, believing that just a little more will finally be enough. They crave power but are enslaved by their own desire to dominate. They hoard resources not because they lack but because the mere idea of scarcity terrifies them. Greed, then, is not about having—it is about fearing the loss of control.

14,000 Years Ago: The Rise and Fall of James, the Wrathful Immortal

Long ago, in a time lost to history, there existed a man known only as James. A foreigner to the land he walked upon, he was an enigma to those who encountered him—an outsider with no known origin, a wanderer who carried nothing yet seemed to lack nothing. During his time in the mortal world, fate intertwined his existence with that of the divine, and by the will of a High God, he was bestowed with a blessing unlike any other. This blessing granted him immortality, a gift that should have been a miracle, but in the end, became a curse.

As the centuries passed, James succumbed to the Sin of Wrath. What had once been a man was now a force of destruction, an entity of unrelenting fury that tore through civilizations as though they were made of paper. Mountains crumbled beneath his rage, entire cities were reduced to smoldering wastelands, and millions of lives were snuffed out with nothing more than a mere flicker of his power. His wrath was not indiscriminate—it was absolute. It was said that James could reduce people to atoms with a single glance, their existence erased in an instant, leaving behind nothing but whispers of their former selves.

But the world did not stand idly by. Forces rose against him, warriors, mages, kings, and even gods who sought to put an end to his rampage. Legends tell of the day he was finally struck down, his body obliterated and reduced to mere plasma dust, scattered into the vastness of the world. And yet, his blessing of immortality defied death itself. No matter how many times he was destroyed, James always returned, his form regenerating, his wrath burning ever stronger.

Yet amidst his destruction, James was not merely a killer—he was also a seeker of knowledge. His time as a destroyer led him to unravel the very mysteries of existence, delving into truths that even gods feared to acknowledge. He discovered the reality of parallel timelines, understanding that every action, no matter how small, created infinite divergences. In one timeline, a person may have chosen tea for breakfast, while in another, they may have chosen milk. He saw the branching paths of reality, the fragments of choices, and the infinite possibilities that lay beyond human perception.

But for all his power and knowledge, James was not invincible. His reign of terror came to an end at the hands of a being unlike any other—"Him."

A name spoken in hushed, fearful tones, Him was the embodiment of demonism itself, the one who sat atop the throne of all demons. No demon, no god, no force in existence rivaled Him, for He was the genuine Number One Demon in the World, an entity that reigned above all creatures of darkness. It was Him who put an end to James's existence, an act so final, so absolute, that not even the immortal blessing of the High God could restore him.

And so, the wrathful immortal who once shattered mountains and erased lives like fleeting embers was no more. But the echoes of his legend remained, buried deep within the world's forgotten history, waiting—just waiting—to be uncovered once more.

The Sin of Lust: The Most Depraved of All

Among the Seven Deadly Sins, none are more reviled, more universally condemned, than the Sin of Lust. While all sins breed corruption, Lust is uniquely insidious, burrowing into the depths of the human soul, twisting desires into horrors that defy morality. Those who fall into this sin are not merely sinners—they are monsters in human form, parasites that feast on innocence, leaving behind only scars and shattered lives.

Throughout history, the wickedness of Lust has manifested in the most abhorrent of crimes: rape, sexual assault, human trafficking, the enslavement of bodies and minds. Unlike Greed, which seeks wealth, or Wrath, which seeks destruction, Lust is a sin that dehumanizes, that reduces others into mere objects for gratification. Those consumed by Lust see people not as beings with dreams, fears, and souls, but as flesh to be used and discarded. And for this, they are considered the most disgusting creatures to ever walk the earth.

The Myth of Unonion: The Demon of the Night

In a distant continent, far removed from the known lands, there exists an ancient and terrifying myth—a tale whispered only in the darkest hours of the night, when even the bravest refuse to leave their homes. It is the legend of Unonion, the demon of Lust, a being so vile that even other demons recoiled at his presence.

According to the legend, Unonion was no mere spirit, but a nightmare given form. He was said to prowl the lands under the veil of darkness, seeking out the homes of the weak and the helpless. His victims were always the most vulnerable—young girls, stolen from their beds while their families remained trapped in unnatural slumber, cursed to wake only when it was too late. The demon did not merely take them—he defiled them, stripped them of their innocence, and left behind only broken bodies and shattered souls.

The myth spoke of towns that would wake to find daughters missing, their beds empty, their windows wide open despite being locked the night before. Some say that those girls were never seen again, swallowed whole by the abyss of Unonion's lust. Others claim that the few who survived were found wandering the outskirts of their villages, their minds shattered, their eyes empty, unable to speak of the horrors they endured.

To this day, in the villages where the myth persists, parents teach their children never to open their windows at night, never to whisper their names after dark, and never to walk alone when the moon is full. For even though the myth is ancient, the fear it instills has never faded.

The Reality of Lust: The Crimes That Stain the World

While Unonion may be a myth, the atrocities attributed to him are all too real. The sin of Lust has fueled some of the most heinous crimes known to humanity, from ancient times to the modern day. Sexual slavery, child exploitation, forced prostitution, the underground networks of traffickers who steal and sell human lives as if they were nothing more than commodities—these are the manifestations of Lust at its most depraved.

There exist rulers who have abused their power to take what they desire, entire kingdoms that have fallen into debauchery, treating human beings as nothing more than playthings for the powerful. There are criminals who operate in the shadows, masterminds who see virginity as a currency, who profit from the suffering of the innocent. And worst of all, there are those who do not see themselves as monsters—those who justify their crimes, who see their victims not as people, but as possessions.

Unlike other sins, which may be hidden beneath noble intentions or twisted logic, Lust carries no honor, no justifications, no illusions of righteousness. It is a sin of pure, unfiltered selfishness, one that leaves nothing behind but suffering. It is for this reason that those who indulge in it are seen as the most repugnant of all sinners, beyond redemption, beyond mercy.

Even among demons, there are those who refuse to acknowledge the creatures that fall under Lust's domain. For what they do is not battle, nor conquest, nor vengeance—it is the worst form of violation, the destruction of another's autonomy, the desecration of innocence. And for that, they are not merely damned; they are despised by all.

The Sin of Envy: The Woman "Punished by God"

In the neighboring continent of Vaeloria, within the ancient kingdom of Loun, there lived a woman whose story became legend—a tale of resentment, ruin, and divine punishment. To the people of Loun, she was known only as "The Cursed One," a woman whom fate had seemingly abandoned, whose every misfortune was whispered as proof that she had been punished by God.

A Life Defined by Envy

She had been born into poverty, her existence overshadowed by those who had been given more—more wealth, more beauty, more love, more fortune. From childhood, she watched as others around her prospered while she struggled. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how much she tried, she remained forgotten, invisible, as though the gods themselves had cursed her to a life of mediocrity.

And so, Envy took root in her soul.

At first, it was merely bitterness—a longing gaze at the noblewomen draped in silks, at the daughters of merchants who never knew hunger, at the children who played without worry while she labored. But over time, that envy festered, rotted, and twisted into something far darker.

She no longer simply wanted what others had—she wanted them to suffer as she had suffered. If she could not be happy, then neither should they.

The Fall into Darkness

Her descent was slow but inevitable. She became obsessed with those who were better off, watching their every move, memorizing their flaws, waiting for the moment when she could tear them down. She whispered rumors, turning friends against each other, orchestrating betrayals, watching with satisfaction as reputations crumbled and lives unraveled.

But mere gossip was not enough.

Her jealousy burned too fiercely, her hatred ran too deep. And so, she turned to witchcraft, to the dark arts forbidden in the kingdom of Loun. It is said that she made a pact with an unknown entity, a being that thrived on resentment, that fed on the bitterness of those who had been denied.

With her newfound power, she cursed those she envied, bringing ruin upon the wealthy, sickness upon the beautiful, misfortune upon the lucky. A merchant's son drowned mysteriously in a shallow river. A noble's daughter, once admired for her beauty, awoke to find her face disfigured by an unknown plague. A couple who had been deeply in love turned against each other overnight, their marriage ending in violence.

And through it all, she watched. She watched and she smiled.

"Punished by God"

But her envy was insatiable. No matter how much she took from others, it was never enough. Their suffering did not bring her joy—it only deepened her own emptiness. She had everything she once wished for—power, control, revenge—but it did not erase the hollow ache in her chest.

Then, one night, the skies split open with divine fury.

Lightning struck her home, setting it ablaze, but the flames did not consume her. Instead, she was found the next morning, kneeling in the ashes, her eyes gone, her tongue missing, her hands twisted into claws. She could no longer see the beauty she had despised, could no longer speak the venomous words that had destroyed lives, could no longer reach out to steal what was never hers.

The people of Loun did not mourn her. They did not bury her.

Instead, they left her to wander, blind and tongueless, a living warning of what became of those who let envy consume them. Some say she still roams the land, whispering voiceless curses, her empty sockets weeping black tears. Others believe that her soul was claimed by the entity she had once bargained with, bound for eternity in a realm where she could do nothing but watch as others lived the lives she had always wanted—forever an outsider, forever envious, forever cursed.

Her tale became a warning, a whispered legend among the people of Loun:

"Envy does not grant happiness. It only devours the soul."

The Sin of Sloth and the Sin of Pride: Legends of Vaeloria

Vaeloria: The Land of the Twin Thrones

Vaeloria was a land of contradictions—a continent of both grandeur and decay, of ambition and ruin. It was divided into two powerful kingdoms, each claiming superiority over the other:

• The Empire of Ilythar, a land of arrogant nobility, where bloodlines were worshipped and power was inherited, not earned. Here, the people believed that status defined one's worth, that those born into greatness were meant to rule, and that the weak existed only to serve.

• The Kingdom of Orvion, a land once known for its industrious people and relentless pursuit of knowledge, but which had long since fallen into complacency. Its scholars, once the envy of the world, had become idle philosophers, lost in their own minds, while its rulers indulged in pleasures, letting their lands wither.

It was in these twin lands—Ilythar, the kingdom of Pride, and Orvion, the kingdom of Sloth—that two cursed souls emerged.

The Sin of Pride: The Emperor Who Challenged the Gods

In the empire of Ilythar, there was a ruler whose vanity and arrogance knew no bounds—Emperor Vareth, the God-King of the Eternal Throne. He believed himself divine, not merely a man chosen to rule but a being above all others, superior to mortals and even to the gods themselves.

His pride was absolute. He surrounded himself with statues of himself, demanded daily tributes of praise, and decreed that his name must be spoken before any god's in prayer. To worship another before him was heresy—an insult punishable by death.

Vareth did not tolerate imperfection. His court was filled only with the most beautiful, the most talented, the most loyal—or at least, those who could best flatter him. If a subject displeased him, they were erased from existence. Artists who failed to capture his likeness correctly were blinded. Scholars who questioned his laws were executed. Servants who stumbled in his presence were beaten to death.

He declared himself immortal, above all kings, the greatest to have ever lived. But that was not enough.

He wanted the gods themselves to acknowledge his supremacy.

The Challenge to the Gods

One night, standing atop his palace—a golden fortress so vast that it swallowed entire villages in its shadow—Vareth gazed upon the heavens and spoke words that no mortal had dared utter.

"I am above all. The gods are nothing but relics of the past. If they still exist, let them strike me down. If they do not, then I alone shall reign as the true divinity."

For three days, nothing happened. And so Vareth laughed, convinced that he had conquered even the heavens. But on the fourth night, a storm unlike any before swallowed Ilythar. Black lightning cracked across the sky, and from the heavens descended a being shrouded in golden flame, faceless yet filled with judgment.

The gods had heard. And they had come to answer.

Vareth refused to kneel. Even as his palace crumbled around him, even as his people fled in terror, he stood defiant, believing himself above punishment. The gods could not kill him, he thought—he was too great to be erased.

But the gods did not kill him.

Instead, they did something far worse.

Vareth was cursed to live forever, but with his pride stolen away. He was stripped of his power, his name erased from history, his beauty turned to hideousness. His golden palace became his tomb, a ruin buried beneath the sands, and his once-loyal subjects forgot him entirely, as though he had never existed.

Now, in the heart of Ilythar's wastelands, there is said to be a mad, withered figure, crawling through the ruins, whispering a name that no one remembers.

The gods did not kill Vareth. They made him irrelevant.

And to one who had lived for nothing but his own greatness, that was a fate far worse than death.

The Sin of Sloth: The Scholar Who Let the World Burn

In the neighboring kingdom of Orvion, there lived a man who was once called the Brightest Mind of Vaeloria—a scholar named Edras the Dreamer.

Edras had once been a prodigy, a man who sought the deepest mysteries of the world. He uncovered the secrets of alchemy, deciphered ancient texts, and predicted the coming of great wars before they even began. Kings sought his counsel, nations feared his wisdom.

But over time, his knowledge became a curse.

He saw the endless cycle of history—wars, betrayals, rulers rising and falling, the suffering of mortals repeating itself over and over. He realized that nothing ever truly changed, no matter how much wisdom was shared.

So he stopped trying.

He turned inward, retreating into his own mind, losing himself in books and theories while the world crumbled around him. He ignored the warnings of famine, of invasion, of plague. He did not care.

"Let the world burn," he said. "It is doomed to repeat itself anyway."

His students begged him to intervene. His king pleaded for his wisdom. But Edras only shrugged. Why should he bother? Why should he dirty his hands with problems that could never truly be solved?

Then, one day, the war he had once predicted finally arrived.

Orvion was set ablaze. The city he had called home was razed to the ground, his students slaughtered, the libraries he had built turned to ash. The king who had once worshipped his wisdom was beheaded.

And only then, as he stood in the ruins of all he had ignored, did Edras realize his mistake.

His inaction had doomed them all.

The Curse of the Slothful Mind

For his refusal to act, the gods cursed him. He was made eternal, doomed to walk the world, forever witnessing suffering, forever burdened by knowledge—but powerless to change anything.

No matter how much he learned, he would never again be able to influence the world. He could scream warnings, he could write down prophecies, but none would listen. His voice was lost to the winds, his words always forgotten.

He had once chosen to be blind to the world's suffering. Now, the world had become blind to him.

To this day, travelers in the ruins of Orvion speak of a tired, robed figure, endlessly wandering the remains of the kingdom he abandoned. They say he murmurs warnings, whispers of disasters yet to come—but no one ever remembers his words.

For that was the punishment of Sloth. Not death. Not torment.

But irrelevance.

The Legacy of the Sins

Vaeloria remembers its cursed souls—Vareth, the Emperor of Pride, forgotten by all, and Edras, the Scholar of Sloth, ignored by history. Their stories became warnings, reminders that the greatest downfalls do not always come from violence or greed, but from the most insidious of sins:

• Pride, which blinds even the strongest to their own mortality.

• Sloth, which allows evil to flourish through inaction.

And so, in the land of twin thrones and twin tragedies, the world moved on—but their curses remained, whispered in the winds of Vaeloria, forever haunting the ruins they left behind.

The Sin of Gluttony: The Empire That Ate Itself

The Xuan Continent: A Land of Abundance and Excess

The Xuan Continent was once known as the Land of Eternal Harvest, a vast and fertile expanse where rice fields stretched beyond the horizon, rivers ran thick with fish, and orchards bore fruit in endless abundance. The people of Xuan prided themselves on their wealth of food, their culinary mastery, and their deep traditions of feasting and indulgence.

But as generations passed, their pride became gluttony, and their prosperity became their downfall.

At the heart of this empire was the city of Jinlong, the so-called Golden Dragon Capital, where excess ruled above all else. Here, food was no longer just sustenance—it was worshipped, hoarded, and gorged upon. The aristocrats of Jinlong were the wealthiest, the most powerful, and, without exception, the fattest people in the world.

The Emperor of Flesh: Yuan the Ever-Hungry

No one embodied the sin of gluttony more than Emperor Yuan the Ever-Hungry, the last ruler of Xuan's golden age.

Yuan was a mountain of flesh, his body grotesquely swollen from a lifetime of overindulgence. It was said that he had never known hunger—not once in his entire life, for the moment he was born, he was fed on the milk of a hundred wet nurses, each one handpicked to ensure he never felt even the slightest pang of emptiness.

By the time he reached adulthood, Yuan had grown so large that he could no longer walk. Silk-draped servants carried him on a golden palanquin, while others stood ready to wipe the sweat from his folds or brush the crumbs from his chins. He demanded meals at all hours, feasts that never ended, tables groaning under the weight of entire roasted oxen, rivers of honeyed wine, and mountains of dumplings filled with the rarest meats.

But still, he was never satisfied.

His hunger was unnatural, insatiable—a curse. No matter how much he consumed, he only grew hungrier. The more he ate, the larger he became. His empire starved, while he alone feasted.

And when his ministers tried to warn him of the coming famine, when the people rioted for food, he laughed, his voice thick with grease and indulgence.

"Let them eat what is left," he said. "And when there is nothing left, let them eat each other."

The Collapse of the Empire

And so, Xuan fell into madness.

The fields, once bountiful, were stripped bare to feed the emperor's endless feasts. Fishermen dragged empty nets from the rivers, the forests were silent as every beast had been hunted and roasted. Even the rats disappeared, devoured in desperation.

The people, once strong and proud, became gaunt and hollow, their eyes sunken, their bones pressing against thin, starving skin. Hunger riots turned into cannibalism, families butchered each other for scraps, and entire villages vanished, their people taken to the capital as tribute for the Emperor's table.

It is said that, in the final days of the empire, there were no more servants left to feed him, no more slaves to cut his meat, no more bakers to prepare his sweets.

And so, in his endless, mindless hunger, Yuan ate himself.

The Curse of the Ever-Hungry

Though the empire of Xuan fell, the curse of gluttony remained.

Even today, among the ruins of Jinlong, there are whispers of a grotesque, swollen figure, forever trapped in shadowed halls, his mouth still chewing, his stomach still groaning, his fingers still grasping for food that no longer exists.

The people of Xuan tell a cautionary tale: that those who overindulge, who waste without restraint, will one day hear the whispers of the Ever-Hungry Emperor.

And when they do, they too will be consumed—not by him, but by their own insatiable greed.