Chapter 77

                                    

                                          
In the depths of the Envy Ring, Leviathan reclined in a massive underwater grotto filled with shimmering treasures, glowing coral, and bioluminescent jellyfish lazily drifting by. The aquatic demon was enjoying a rare moment of peace when her phone chimed, echoing through the watery expanse.
The left head groaned, reaching out to grab the device, while the right one yawned lazily, her fanged snout curling into a faint smirk. "Another message from Mammon, probably bragging about his profits again," the right head muttered, her voice sharp and cynical.
"I hope it’s something fun this time," the left head chimed in, her tone far more cheerful as she eagerly unlocked the phone.
Both heads scanned the message in silence, their expressions shifting from curiosity to mild confusion. The screen displayed the same alert the other Sins had received—a detailed account of Spawn’s recent activities and the carnage he’d left behind. Attached was a picture of Crimson’s flayed remains.
The right head scoffed, her eel-like features twisting into an annoyed grimace. "Who the hell is Spawn? Some sinner trying to play big shot?"
The left head tilted slightly, her webbed ears twitching in thought. "He sounds kind of exciting. I mean, look at what he did! That Crimson guy wasn’t exactly a saint himself."
"Doesn’t matter," the right head snapped. "He’s a sinner. He’s not supposed to be running around causing chaos. It’s our chaos, not his." She narrowed her pupil-less cyan eyes at the screen. "And why is Mammon making this our problem? He’s the one who runs Greed."
The left head pouted. "You’re always so negative. Maybe this Spawn guy could be interesting. He’s clearly shaking things up."
The right head rolled her eyes, guiding their body toward a throne-like coral structure. "The last thing we need is another Mammon-style headache. If Satan wants to drag us into some pointless meeting about it, fine. But don’t get your hopes up about this Spawn. He’s probably just another overambitious idiot who’ll get himself obliterated in the end."
The left head sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "You’re no fun. What if he’s different? What if he’s... I don’t know, someone worth paying attention to?"
The right head snorted dismissively. "Then he’d better learn his place before Satan makes it very clear to him."
As the two continued to bicker, the glowing creatures around them seemed to swirl lazily in the current, oblivious to the growing tension in the Sin’s divided thoughts. One thing was certain: whether out of annoyance or curiosity, Leviathan would be keeping an eye on the events unfolding in the rings.
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In the vast, vibrant expanse of the Gluttony Ring, Beelzebub sat in her sprawling lounge, the ambiance around her as lively as ever. Music pulsed through the air, the faint hum of chatter from distant parties filling the spaces. But her mind wasn’t on the festivities—it was on the upcoming meeting with Satan and the other Sins.
Perched on the arm of a plush chair, she swirled a glass of Beezlejuice in her hand, her eyes fixed on the swirling liquid as though it held answers. The whole ordeal felt ridiculous. Spawn didn’t seem like the type to cause trouble for the sake of it, and from what she’d gathered, Crimson deserved every bit of what he got.
She sighed, setting the glass down on the nearest table. “This is such a waste of time,” she muttered, her tone carrying a mix of frustration and resignation. “But I can’t just let Ozzy take all the heat defending him. He’s got enough on his plate as it is.”
At that moment, Thorn, one of the hellhounds from her entourage, approached with a curious tilt of her head. Thorn was loyal, sharp, and always willing to lend an ear when Beelzebub needed to vent. “You okay, Boss Bee?” Thorn asked, her tone casual but laced with concern.