Sin Was Power

As for Tan Man, he simply stood there, feeling the countless strands of malice his meddling had brought forth and nurtured.

Tan Man had a peculiar sensation, as though someone were whispering in his ear.

So close. If that man had died because of your illusion, your sins would have deepened, and your Cursed Technique would have grown with them.

As the whisper faded, Tan Man once again felt the sins wrapped around him-the thousand lives he had taken, the sin of killing his mother.

Amid the din, Tan Man murmured in a voice only he could hear.

"Sin is power."

The whisper returned to his ear.

Deception, gambling, incitement-only by adding the sin of killing can you go further.

Nearby, Razor noticed Tan Man standing in a daze. Suddenly remembering that his own changes had only begun after the brat cheered him on, he told Bookmaker what had happened.

That was precisely what drew everyone's attention toward Tan Man.

The short man saw Tan Man and suddenly remembered that he was a sorcerer. He immediately cried out.

"Boss, that brat is the sorcerer we reported earlier!"

As Bookmaker turned, he also spotted Toji in that direction, trying to collect his winnings. He promptly asked the short man.

"That man is the one who bet thirty million on Razor and brought this brat here, right?"

"Yes."

With his suspicions confirmed, Bookmaker walked toward Tan Man, cursing as he went. He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward Toji.

"Fuck!"

The atmosphere immediately changed. Every gang member working security picked up a machete.

Razor had been brought over from another venue to make a guest appearance. After all, with the reigning champion unchanged, every event needed challengers.

Bookmaker trusted Razor; otherwise, he would never have let him participate. That was why he, too, felt something was fishy.

He was therefore more inclined to suspect tonight's unknown quantities: the sorcerer brat and the thirty-million cash cow.

Bookmaker came up behind Toji, yanked Tan Man close, and flicked a folding knife out of his sleeve, pressing it against the boy's neck. His expression dark, he suppressed his anger as he addressed Toji.

"Your winnings can wait a moment. I'm curious, sir. What made you dare to bet so heavily on Razor?"

Toji showed no sign of panic at Tan Man being taken hostage. Rubbing his chin, he answered calmly.

"Call it a feeling, I guess. Are you planning to welch on the bet now?"

But Bookmaker gave him a hollow smile. "Not at all. Just answer a few questions honestly. Get him!"

At his command, the thugs immediately charged Toji, swinging their blades.

Watching the thugs rush at him with murder in their eyes, Toji rubbed his neck helplessly, wondering how things had inexplicably ended up like this. Easy money really wasn't easy to earn.

Feeling the cold blade pressed against his neck, Tan Man sensed something strange rising within him.

Before Tan Man's eyes, reality seemed to freeze, and the whisper sounded in his ear again.

Admit it. You feel no remorse over other people's deaths. Without those sins, you wouldn't be standing here today.

As the voice spoke, the screams of the thousand people who had died in the fire joined it in Tan Man's ears.

He seemed to see his mother's charred figure before him again, reaching out to caress his cheek and saying once more, "I knew you could do it, my darling son."

The whisper continued through the illusion of his mother.

You survived until now because you committed those sins. Now you need more sins to keep going.

Tan Man saw nothing wrong with what the whisper said. He had sinned out of ignorance, then strengthened his Cursed Technique through even greater slaughter. In the end, it was that enhanced power that had bought him a chance to survive from Naobito Zenin.

Tan Man slowly reached up and grabbed Bookmaker's knife-wielding wrist.

"Brat, stay still..."

Before Bookmaker could finish, Tan Man chanted softly.

"Eight Hot Hells: Reviving Hell."

The next second, Corpse lightly swept his sharp claws behind Bookmaker and severed his head.

Blood instantly spurted out, a torrent pouring directly over Tan Man's head.

Perhaps because he already carried the weight of lives taken, killing did not feel real to Tan Man.

It wasn't that he felt no guilt. It was just that, in Tan Man's mind, the guilt of killing was linked to his growing strength.

He could feel the next great hell's Cursed Technique beginning to loosen under the weight of his sins.

Seeing Tan Man use his Cursed Technique, Toji's gaze shifted slightly. After all, without a Cursed Technique involved, this incident wouldn't have amounted to much, even if a few gangsters died.

But revealing a Cursed Technique in front of monkeys violated the sorcerers' code. That changed the entire nature of the incident.

Not only would the higher-ups take action, but Tan Man might also be branded a Curse User.

Tan Man naturally knew all of this. So from the moment he used his Cursed Technique, everyone present except Toji had only one possible fate tonight: becoming nourishment for his growth.

As Bookmaker's corpse fell, Black Flame instantly ignited throughout the basement, its eerie glow overwhelming the flickering neon lights.

From the moment Corpse killed Bookmaker, Toji stopped holding back, shifting from simple counterattacks to swift, decisive kills.

Toji felt no psychological burden over this sort of thing. Whether he did it depended solely on whether it was necessary.

At least killing ordinary monkeys was much easier than those assignments to hunt down sorcerers.

Then Tan Man raised his hand and used Sanghata Hell to seal the basement's only exit to the outside, turning it into an inescapable cage of slaughter.

Tan Man simply stood there, amid the mingling of pounding music and agonized screams, feeling his sins grow as the monkeys were slaughtered, and the Great Wailing Hell gradually loosen.