Seven Sins System Chapter 708. Make Gods Who Listen
Seven Sins System Chapter 708. Make Gods Who Listen
She looked away, wings folding in. “Maybe. Or maybe I just see regret.”
Her tone softened on the last word. And I hated how much it sounded like an apology.
The vision pulsed again.
The air warped, the colors bleeding into each other until the battlefield was nothing but smoke, fire, and ruin. Then something moved through the haze—a shadow at first, staggering, uncertain.
The man. The mortal mage.
Except he wasn’t just a man anymore.
His robes were burned to ash, his flesh blistered black and gold like it couldn’t decide which side it belonged to. One eye glowed white, the other red. His lips twisted into a grin that stretched too far across his face.
He sniffed the air. Once. Twice. Then again, louder, deeper—like an animal catching the scent of prey.
I frowned. “What the hell is he doing?”
Puriel tensed beside me. “Searching.”
“For what—?”
Then he crouched. His trembling hand pressed against the earth, smearing through blood-soaked soil—my blood.
“Oh no…” I whispered, realization crashing in. “Don’t tell me—”
He lifted his fingers to his mouth, tasting it. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
“Wrath,” he rasped. “Pure… wrath.”
My stomach turned. “Oh, that’s not good.”
He laughed. Not human laughter—something cracked and wet. Then he started digging again, crawling through the wreckage like a starving dog.
Puriel grabbed my arm, her voice low, horrified. “He’s… collecting it. He’s taking what’s left of us.”
I couldn’t look away. I knew where this was going. The moment that crazed mortal touched the divine residue, I could already see the shape of centuries forming—the experiments, the abominations, the monsters we’d fought and thought were accidents.
He sniffed again. The motion was jerky, frantic, his body spasming like it couldn’t contain the power. His head whipped around toward the light—the place where Puriel’s past self had fallen.
Her wings had shattered there. Blood had burned holes in the ground like molten gold.
And the man ran to it.
He knelt before the glowing pool, hands shaking, eyes wild. Then he dipped his fingers in it. Steam hissed. His flesh sizzled. He didn’t stop. He just laughed harder.
“Yes… yes!” he cried, his voice cracking. “The light that judges… the wrath that devours…”
Puriel’s face went pale. “He’s mixing them.”
“He’s making poison,” I muttered. “God‑grade poison.”
The man’s laughter rose, echoing through the collapsing battlefield. He looked up at the sky—at the torn rift of red and gold still bleeding magic—and screamed with joy.
“With this…” he shouted, “we won’t suffer again! Mortals won’t be powerless again! No more crawling at the feet of gods and demons!”
His body jerked, light spilling from the cracks in his skin. He tore at his chest, ripping flesh open with bare hands. “We’ll make our own gods!”
“Stop…” Puriel whispered, but the vision didn’t listen.
He kept screaming, the words burning themselves into the air.
“We’ll make gods who listen! Who obey! We’ll fuse the dark and the light! We’ll take everything you hoard and make it ours!”
His laughter cracked into sobs, then back into laughter again. “We’ll take over the heavens! And the hells! We’ll make you kneel!”
I felt sick.
Because he meant it.
Because he did it.
The ground beneath him pulsed, the blood of wrath and chastity swirling together into a single molten pool. The residue climbed up his arms, seeping into every pore, burning sigils into his bones. His scream turned shrill, desperate, then—ecstatic.
And then…
The crater—our battlefield—began to dissolve. The light flared brighter, consuming the shape of the man, the ground, the sky.
I could still see his grin through the glare.
Still hear his laugh echoing.
Still feel his madness threading through the magic like a virus that refused to die.
Then the light swallowed us whole.
And I knew, before it even faded—
That the war hadn’t ended that day.
It had just changed form.
I gasped.
Back in the present.
Same hill. Same temple.
Except now, I could see the faint shimmer of old mana in the air. Wrath and Chastity. Us. Echoes that never died. They floated like dust caught in light—scarlet and gold, circling each other. Not quite touching. Not quite fading. Just… lingering.
The temple walls whispered with it. With us. The old scars in the stone flared softly, like they remembered the battle. The sound of distant metal still clung to the wind, blades that hadn’t existed for centuries still clashing in some ghost echo of time.
Puriel took a shaky breath beside me. Her wings folded close, the feathers trembling slightly. “We fought here. All those centuries ago.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “And we never knew the aftermath.”
Her eyes searched the walls, the sky, the ground like she was trying to find the ghost of her past self. Like maybe if she stared hard enough, she could forgive her. Or hate her.
Then she turned to me. “Should we seal this place?”
I shook my head. “No. We need to search more. At least now… we know this is the place where it all started. And now we know what they want.”
She narrowed her eyes. “To create gods?”
“That’s what he said.”
“That’s impossible,” she snapped. “It—”
“It might be impossible to us,” I cut in. “By our logic. By what we know of ascension, divine law, mana cycles. Yeah, sure. It’s impossible. But we’re not the only ones writing the rules anymore.”
She went quiet.
The sky above us cracked faintly with thunder, even though there weren’t clouds. Just divine residue still vibrating through the atmosphere.
“You know we fought countless times before,” I went on. “This wasn’t the only war. Just one of many. And in some of them, I lost generals. Some of yours fell too.”
Puriel’s lips pressed into a line.
“Do you remember?” I asked. “We never found some of them. Not even their corpses. No broken halos. No cracked horns. Just... gone. Like they dissolved.”
She nodded slowly. “We knew they died. We couldn’t feel them anymore. No angelic aura. No call through Heaven’s tether.”