Seven Sins System Chapter 652. Trash Can I

Seven Sins System Chapter 652. Trash Can I

Azrael’s PoV

I opened my eyes.

The silence hit first.

Not peaceful silence. Not the kind that rests gently in your lungs.

No—this one bit. Like frost behind your ribs. The kind of silence that told you something just snapped, even if it didn’t make a sound.

My body was still. I was still in my dorm room.

But my insides… weren’t.

I felt them crawl. Shift. One of my tentacles twitched beneath the skin—still retracted, still tucked into my shadow. But it reacted like it knew something. Like it remembered something.

I went and sat on the balcony ledge, high above the city’s amber glow. Wind brushing my hair back. Neon lights flickering in the distance. The smell of old concrete and stormclouds mixing in the air.

And inside me?

A storm.

I clenched my fist slowly, the faint tremor in my knuckles betraying the absolute chaos in my head.

I didn’t mean to spy on her. That wasn’t the plan.

I didn’t attach the tentacle to her because I didn’t trust her.

I did it because I worried.

Because her mother is Queen Lysathiel.

Because I knew the Light Realm could flip a switch and suddenly decide what we did was a national threat.

So yeah. I slipped a thread of myself onto her before she left. Small. Quiet. A flea.

Just in case.

In case they locked her up. In case they silenced her.

I’d be there. I’d hear it. I’d rip the gates open if I had to.

But that’s not what happened.

No chains. No threats.

No… instead, I heard something else.

The truth.

The kind of truth that carves into me, slow and hot.

That ancient demon…

It wasn’t a creature born from darkness.

It was a corrupted archangel.

And suddenly, all those little pieces started to make sense. All those fragments I’d gathered. The inconsistencies. The weird echoes. The words it spat when I fought it, half-crazed, half-prophetic.

His first fall… was from the Light Realm. Straight into the Shadow Realm.

He was kicked out. Exiled. Probably for something massive. A violation. Something their pristine halls couldn’t tolerate.

And what did they do?

They threw him into my realm.

Into the Shadow Realm.

Didn’t bother warning us.

Didn’t ask.

Just… drop-kicked a time bomb like we were some goddamn trash heap for celestial garbage.

And years later… centuries, maybe millennia…

He woke up.

Enraged.

Burning.

And then came his second fall.

He tried to rise.

Tried to climb back up the ladder of light.

Maybe not even for revenge.

Maybe just for answers.

To ask why.

Why he was exiled.

Why no one looked back.

Why the ones who called themselves divine watched him rot in silence.

But Lysathiel…

She kicked him again.

Just one cold strike. One holy decision. One divine woman with the power of order and the emotional depth of a stone altar.

A second exile.

One that hit like a meteor.

And where did he land?

The mortal realm.

Of course he did.

That explained it. All of it. Every single piece that didn’t make sense until now.

It explained the clues. Faded scriptures that spoke of a monstrous entity tearing through mortal cities hundreds of years ago. Descriptions vague enough to scare prophets but precise enough to match him.

The ancient demon.

But here's the kicker…

They thought it was me.

They thought I was the reincarnation of that.

That rage. That destruction.

It never made sense until now.

And then?

Lysathiel kicked him again.

Right into my realm.

Right into the Shadow Realm.

Straight into the old capital.

My home.

Where my parents ruled. Where the Lords gathered. Where I indulged in my debauchery.

It explained why despite “his prison” being located far beyond our borders, buried deep beneath mountain-thick sigils and cosmic containment spells…

He still showed up in the capital without warning.

Because it wasn’t a rise.

It was a fall.

Again.

He fell, and we paid the price.

He didn’t return to conquer.

He crashed because someone didn’t want to deal with him.

And I…

We…

We were just the trash can.

Then the calamity happened.

The Seven Lords died.

My mother died.

And me?

I lost it.

I lost everything.

I killed it.

Ripped it apart. Consumed its core in the middle of my own goddamn breakdown.

And something inside me changed.

My core wasn’t just me anymore.

It was Wrath twisted with something ancient. Something older than sin. Something that didn’t obey god or demon. It bled into me. It rewrote me.

That’s how I got these—the six tentacles curled in my back like sleeping serpents.

Because I wasn’t just some grieving prince anymore.

I was the only one left.

I became the crown.

I became the executioner.

I became… the madness itself.

And all because Queen Lysathiel wanted to protect her damn garden from a storm she created.

And now?

They thinks I’m the problem.

No wonder they fear me.

I’m what happens when you lock your mess in someone else’s house and pretend it never existed.

“Shit…” I hissed, voice raw and low.

I gritted my teeth. The rage boiled beneath my skin, slow and venomous.

“Shit. This is so… shit.”

I wanted to punch something.

Punch her.

Lysathiel. That queen.

That smug, glowing, too-holy-to-bleed monarch who tossed a godlike bomb into our realm like it was a checkmate in some divine chess match.

I wanted to send her to the deepest pit of the Wrath Abyss. Chain her to the bones of my people. Let her hear what she cost. One scream at a time.

But…

The other half of me…

The one that still thinks instead of burns… knew something else.

Her move was strategic.

Cold. Brutal. But… tactically sound.

She saved her realm. Eliminated a massive threat. And hey, contained the Shadow Realm in the process.

After the calamity, we went quiet. Too quiet. We weren’t a threat anymore. We were busy.

Mourning. Rebuilding. Watching our own streets.

She made the Shadow Realm irrelevant.

With one move.