Seven Sins System Chapter 707. Creating The God

Seven Sins System Chapter 707. Creating The God

I stared at the black hole. “Means we’re going to see something. Something real. Something probably meant to mess with us.”

“Or remind us.”

I took her hand. Tight.

Her fingers gripped back. Warm. Solid. Too alive for this cold place.

The edges of the hole pulsed, light warping around it like reality itself couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. The walls started humming again — deeper this time, vibrating straight through my ribs.

“You ready?” I murmured.

Puriel exhaled, her breath glowing faintly in the dark. “I think that’s the wrong question.”

I almost smiled. “You’re learning.”

And then the world pulled.

Not like a portal. Not like teleportation.

It dragged.

A sudden freefall. The floor vanished beneath our feet, our bodies swallowed by color and sound and pain. A rush of red light swallowed everything, then faded.

And when it cleared—

The air was fire.

The sky was screaming.

And the ground below us was nothing but ash and corpses.

I froze mid‑air, every nerve screaming with recognition.

“Oh,” I whispered.

Puriel was beside me, her wings beating against the turbulence of old, angry wind. She looked around, horrified.

“This can’t be—”

“It is,” I said through my teeth. “The War of Fall and Rise. Us.”

Flames rolled across the horizon. The battlefield stretched for miles, a wasteland of molten stone and shattered halos. The air reeked of sulfur and sanctity, a combination so foul it made my eyes sting.

Every breath tasted of dust and burnt feathers.

Above the ruined plain, two figures floated — one wreathed in red rage, the other blazing in pale gold.

Them.

Us.

The Lord of Wrath — me, hundreds of years younger, mask cracked down the center, eyes glowing crimson with pure destruction.

And her — the Goddess of Chastity, radiant, her armor gleaming like dawn even as blood streaked her cheek.

Past me snarled. Past her raised her sword.

And then the air exploded.

Wrath met Chastity.

Tentacles tipped with blades lashed forward, cutting the sky open.

Her holy blade split the world into ribbons of light.

The clash didn’t sound like thunder. It sounded like existence breaking.

Puriel — the present one, the real one beside me — gasped as the vision shook. “That… was us?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I couldn’t look away.

I could feel it — the heat from every strike, the rush of hatred that didn’t need reason.

The wrath wasn’t controlled like now; it was wild, endless, feral. Every movement of that older version of me was a scream turned physical. He didn’t fight to win. He fought to destroy.

And she — Puriel’s past self — was no less terrifying. Every slash of her blade carried purity so sharp it burned. Every light beam from her wings seared the sky.

They danced like gods trying to kill creation just to make a point.

The wind howled, space shattered, mountains crumbled into dust. Every strike carved memory into the ground — and the ground remembered.

I flinched when one of my past self’s tentacles impaled through her shoulder, only for her to grab it, slice it in half, and stab me through the chest in return.

“Damn,” I muttered. “We were… really bad at therapy.”

Puriel shot me a look, halfway between disbelief and exasperation. “You tried to destroy an entire continent.”

“And you tried to purify one.”

She sighed. “That’s not the flex you think it is.”

We both turned back as the battle dragged on.

The old us fought until neither could move, until the world around us broke under the sheer pressure of our power.

The sky itself tore apart, revealing veins of raw magic beneath — red and gold, wrath and purity tangled together in stormcloud veins.

And then — the fall.

Our past selves crashed into the ground, miles apart, wings torn, blood painting the battlefield.

The armies rushed in.

Demons dragged my past body back through the flames. Angels swarmed her like panicked birds, shielding her from the burning sky.

For a second, I thought that was the end.

But then—

Something moved in the middle of the ruin.

Between where our powers had collided — that crater where hellfire met holy light — something was… alive.

A glow.

A ripple of movement.

And then a man — no, a mortal — staggered out of the haze.

He wore tattered mage robes, his face half‑melted, eyes bright with mania.

A human.

Just a human.

He stumbled closer to the battlefield’s core, his grin wide, cracked, hungry. His hand trembled as he reached toward the shimmering air.

Puriel’s breath caught. “What is he doing?”

I already knew.

He was collecting it.

Mana threads — red and gold — clung to him as he moved, weaving into his skin. Our residue. Our blood. The remains of divine wrath and divine chastity.

He was stealing it.

“Holy hell,” I breathed. “That’s how they did it. That’s where they got it from.”

“The monster,” Puriel whispered. “They… harvested our war.”

The man knelt in the ashes, chanting something low and ecstatic. His voice broke as his body began to change, the colors burning into him.

“We’ll create our gods. We’ll create the gods who listen to us…”

Half of his skin turned black and smoking, the other half shining with cracked white light. He screamed — but kept laughing through it.

The sound crawled down my spine.

Puriel pressed closer to me unconsciously, her voice trembling. “He’s… becoming something. He’s merging it. He’s—”

“—insane,” I finished. “He’s the source. He started it.”

The vision flickered. The man’s body collapsed — no, it folded into itself. Bones rearranging. Flesh bending inward.

Something monstrous birthed from his corpse, crawling out like a bad idea that refused to die. It wasn’t fully formed. Just a prototype. A failed hybrid.

The first attempt.

I clenched my jaw. “They’ve been at this for centuries.”

Puriel’s eyes shimmered faintly, guilt mixing with awe. “Because of us.”

The words hit heavier than she meant them to.

I turned to her, still watching the vision twist into flames. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” she whispered. “If we hadn’t—”

“We did what we were made to do,” I cut in. “You followed your orders. I followed mine. The mortals made the mistake of surviving it.”

“That’s not how I see it.”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “You’re Chastity. You see sin in survival.”