Inside an apartment, a boy, who looked not older than ten stood by the balcony, allowing the cold breeze to brush past his face.
But truth be told, his age didn't fit his appearance.
He had lived for over 230 years.
The Archbishop of Greed, Orion.
The moment his clones died, he felt his magic power rise, returning to him.
After all, for each time he split himself, his magic power halved by 50%.
For two clones he split, his power was evenly distributed 25–25 to each clone, leaving the body he desired to be his main with 50%.
That was only one of the essence of the [Authority of Greed] itself.
A power bestowed to him, as the vessel of the Seven Circles of Hell's Greed.
In any case, the door to the apartment opened, and a woman emerged soon after.
Her crimson eyes flickered for a moment as she noticed someone in her apartment room.
"You...."
She stammered.
Looking around flusteredly, Lust then returned her attention back towards Greed.
"Why are you—How did you get here?"
"Calm down, Lust. I won't be here for long."
The Archbishop of Lust.
She was the youngest, and the newest Archbishop.
And she was the weakest.
"They're talking about you. You attacked them in broad daylight! The Imperial Army is looking for you. Do you even know what you're doing?"
Orion, the Archbishop of Greed, didn't respond immediately.
He continued to stare out over the city.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," he said, his voice soft but cold. "Greed is never reckless, Lust. Greed knows when to take and when to wait."
Lust crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure.
"But you're being reckless now. You exposed yourself. The Imperial Army is going to come down on you hard."
Orion finally turned to face her, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Exposed myself? No, Lust. They've seen nothing. They don't know who I am, what I am. They only saw shadows—pieces of me."
"Pieces?"
Lust frowned. There goes Orion again with his Greed speeches.
'Can't he just talk normally!?'
If one were to refer to him in a modern setting, they would totally associate him with eighth–grade syndrome!
Orion smiled, though there was no warmth in it.
"Greed never gives everything at once. I've only shown them a fraction of what I am. And now, they'll chase shadows while I take what I want."
"And what is it you want, exactly?"
Orion took a slow step toward her, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Want? That's the wrong question."
"Then what is it?"
Lust's brows furrowed even deeper.
While Orion may have lived far longer than her, it seemed like his brain didn't develop enough after an otaku phase.
"Three of them, to be precise. Amelia Constantine—"
Crack—!
Something shattered.
"Uh...."
"Continue."
"Amelia Constantine—"
Crack—!
The window suddenly cracked.
Orion turned to the side, scrutinizing the window. Something was odd.
He put it to the test, speaking as fast as he could.
"Amelia Constantine—"
Crack—!
There, he saw it. A vein seemed to bulge on Lust's forehead.
"...."
"What's wrong? Go on."
Lust tilted her head, giving him a smile. But the smile was anything but kind.
It was a rather murderous one. As if Lust wanted to choke him.
He had heard of this before. Something called women's intuition.
"Uh.... Blondie, Raven Blackheart, and Brandon Locke—"
Lust's demeanor suddenly changed. The mana she radiated earlier was borderline malicious, now contorted into something serene.
'This woman....'
"Brandon Locke—"
"Ehe."
A strange sound escaped Lust's lips.
"Brandon Locke—"
"Hehe~"
"Are you drooling!?"
"Slurp~ Huh?"
Orion couldn't help but shake his head. He was getting a headache.
"Nevermind. Anyway, I'm quite hungry. Won't you offer your guest something to eat?"
"Cook it yourself."
"...."
Orion tilted his head.
"Brandon Locke—"
"Ehe~"
"Brandon Locke—I want something to eat."
"Hehe~ Why didn't you say so?"
"...."