Lucien didn't sleep that night.
Not because he couldn't—but because he dared not.
The second core pulsed within him now. Not fiery and volatile like Wrath, but cold and dense, like a quiet hunger pressing in from all sides. It wasn't a heartbeat—it was a pull. Greed didn't scream or rage.
It invited.
It whispered.
More. You can take more. You deserve more.
Lucien sat cross-legged in the heart of the ruined city, breathing slow and steady. His thoughts were scattered, but sharper than ever—his mind expanding in ways he didn't yet understand. He could feel echoes of knowledge leaking into his awareness from the Greed Core.
Sword forms he'd never studied.
Scriptures he'd never read.
Languages he'd never spoken.
It was like standing before a vast, endless library and being given the key—but only able to open one door at a time.
Still, it was real. And it was dangerous.
The system shimmered in his consciousness again.
[Codex Status: 2/7 Cores Awakened][Wrath Core – Level 1: Pain → Power Conversion (Passive)][Greed Core – Level 1: Devour and Inherit (Passive)][New Skill: Memory Leech – Partially active. Can consume fragments from slain humans or beasts with developed souls.][Stability Warning: Dual Core Conflict Likely Beyond 3 Cores Without Mind Fortification]
Lucien exhaled slowly.
That last line echoed in his head.
Dual Core Conflict.
The Codex hadn't warned him when he activated Wrath.
But now that Greed was burning inside him too, he could feel a shift—not just in his body, but in his identity. His thoughts were heavier. His instincts sharper, but also more possessive. He found himself mentally categorizing the broken swords near him, the coins in his pouch, the old books from the shrine ruins.
None of them were valuable.
Yet he wanted them.
Not for use.
Just to own.
It was a small thing.
But it frightened him more than the killing ever had.
He stood before dawn.
There was no reason to linger here.
The monk had said the next sin was far—far deeper into the forbidden western territories, where the outer sects didn't tread and rogue cultivators ruled like warlords. He didn't yet know which sin would awaken next. Pride? Envy? Sloth?
But he would find it.
He had to.
Because there was no turning back.
Not anymore.
Lucien followed the map north for a day, traveling through blackened trees and the crumbled bones of long-dead villages. The path twisted like a scar across the land, untouched by cultivation or life. Occasionally, he saw signs of others—old campsites, broken tools, dried blood trails—but never the people themselves.
Until dusk on the second day.
That's when he saw smoke.
Faint, distant, but too steady to be natural.
He approached silently, moving through the forest like a shadow. His steps didn't snap branches. His breath didn't fog.
A gift from Greed. Or maybe Wrath.
Ahead, through the trees, was a camp.
Four tents. A firepit. Crates of dried meat and stolen supplies.
And six men.
Lucien studied them from the shadows.
Bandits. No sect symbols. No formation. No discipline. Just swords, crossbows, and bad tempers. He could tell immediately—they weren't warriors. They were scavengers, preying on travelers and weak cultivators.
He could leave them.
They weren't part of his mission.
But one of them was dragging a girl out from a cage made of rusted spirit-forged iron.
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
She looked maybe fifteen. Bloodied. Her leg twisted wrong. Her eyes hollow.
The man holding her laughed, tossing her forward toward the others.
Lucien didn't hear the rest.
His pulse slowed.
The Wrath Core warmed.
The Greed Core cooled.
Together, they agreed.
He struck like smoke.
By the time the first scream rang out, two men were already down. Their necks twisted, bones broken by blunt force.
Lucien didn't use a weapon.
He was the weapon.
He leapt from the dark, driving his shoulder into the third man's chest—cracking ribs, sending him flying into the crates.
The others turned, drawing swords—but too slow.
Lucien embraced the first blade that came his way, letting it slice into his shoulder.
[Damage Detected – +1.8% Wrath Energy Gained][Skill: Infernal Pulse Ready]
He channeled it.
The pain became a flash of pure force, exploding outward in a half-circle shockwave that slammed two more into trees. One didn't rise again.
The last man tried to run.
Lucien moved faster.
He tackled him from behind, driving him into the dirt. The man screamed, begged—Lucien didn't listen.
He pressed a hand to the man's head.
[Memory Leech Activated][Target: Human – Rogue Cultivator Rank 2][Available Memories: Combat Techniques, Bandit Camp Location, Smuggler Routes][Absorb?]
Lucien hesitated for half a breath.
Then whispered: "Yes."
The man's body jerked.
And then he was still.
Lucien stood up slowly, chest rising and falling with control. His shoulder was bleeding, but it didn't matter.
Pain was just momentum.
The girl hadn't moved. She stared at him, trembling, unsure if he was rescuer or reaper.
He approached slowly, crouched before her.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said. His voice was steady but quiet. Not kind. Not cold.
She stared at him for a long time, then whispered, "You're... not like them."
"No," he agreed. "I'm worse."
He left her with food, a cloak, and the map markings to reach the nearest sect-guarded village.
She didn't ask his name.
He didn't offer it.
But as he walked away, her voice called out faintly behind him.
"Thank you."
Lucien stopped for a heartbeat.
Then kept walking.
That night, he sat beneath a hollow tree, his hand pressed to his chest.
The cores burned quietly—opposites, yet synchronized.
Wrath, red and fierce.Greed, black and deep.
And something between them.
Space for five more.
He looked up at the sky.
Somewhere, the other sins still slumbered.
He would find them.
He must.
Because only through completion...
Could he become what the heavens feared most.