Seven Sins System Chapter 796. You’re Terrible at Moral Compromise

Seven Sins System Chapter 796. You’re Terrible at Moral Compromise

The rooftop wind tugged at my coat like it was trying to give me advice. Neon light spilled across glass towers in front of us, the city pulsing in quiet arrogance. Somewhere in that skyline, someone thought they could siphon sin like it was a subscription service. Bold. Stupid. Kind of impressive.

Mamon stood a few steps ahead of us, tablet in hand, fingers moving at inhuman speed. The glow from the screen reflected in his glasses, red and green bars flickering like market charts but twisted, mana fluctuations instead of currency flow. He looked completely at home.

“Found it,” he said flatly.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t dramatize. He just pointed.

The tallest building in the district.

Of course it was the tallest one.

Because subtlety is dead.

I narrowed my eyes at the structure. Smooth black glass. Corporate minimalist. The kind of building that pretends to be ethical.

“Wards,” Mamon continued, tapping his screen. “Layered. Outer detection suppression. Inner containment seal. Energy dampening. Very expensive.”

“So,” Luci drawled lazily, “someone rich and paranoid.”

“Someone strong,” Mamon corrected.

I could feel it now that I focused. The building hummed. Not loud. But thick. Dense. Like something inside was coiled tight and feeding.

Harvesting residue.

Our residue.

Mana remnants. Emotional fragments. Divine scraps.

I exhaled slowly.

It reeked of Greed.

And a little bit of Pride.

Luci shifted beside me. “What can we expect in there? Ritual lab? Private club? Or are we going full Wrath style?”

He tilted his head toward me.

“Come. Destroy. Leave.”

I didn’t hesitate. “I approve that style.”

Algan nodded once. “Agree.”

Luci threw his hands up. “Barbaric.”

I shrugged. “Efficient.”

Puriel stepped forward, wings faintly shimmering in the city glow. “There may be innocents inside.”

Of course there were.

There are always innocents inside.

That’s how buildings work.

Lumira nodded. “We cannot assume every soul there deserves annihilation.”

I stared at the building.

Internally?

There was a split.

Half of me wanted to crash through the glass and let gravity solve everything.

The other half….

The half chained by that stupid celestial mortal infernal binding deal…

Had to think.

“Well,” I said slowly, “if they die accidentally…”

Puriel gave me a look.

“…let’s just count them as ill-fated.”

Her wings twitched.

“You just need to guide them upward,” I added casually. “Better life. Fresh start. Statistically speaking, their survival rate in this rotten system is one in a million anyway.”

I smirked.

Luci chuckled. “You’re terrible at moral compromise. Even after you stay in the mortal realm.”

“I try.”

The wind picked up.

And my thoughts drifted somewhere dangerous.

I could just summon one of my ancient demons.

One presence.

And that entire skyscraper would be dust before the echo finished.

Simple.

Clean.

Beautiful.

So Wrath.

My lips curved slightly at the idea.

Luci saw it immediately.

He huffed.

“Hey, don’t ever think of it. If you do that, that means you killed them.”

My smile froze.

“You will break the deal.”

…Oh.

Oh.

I went silent.

Internally?

Full meltdown.

‘SHIETTTTT!’

Because he was right.

The celestial-infernal treaty. The mortal clause. The “no slaughter of civilians” binding.

Specifically tailored.

Specifically binding.

Specifically for me.

I inhaled sharply through my nose. “That deal,” I muttered darkly, “is a curse.”

Mamon didn’t look up from his tablet. “It was written to bind you.”

I glared at the side of his head.

“You are the most bloodlust among us.” He said it clinically.

No judgment.

Just fact.

And that somehow made it worse.

I wanted to argue.

But he wasn’t wrong.

Algan shifted beside me.

Our eyes met briefly.

Silent understanding.

We both knew what this felt like.

Wrath restrained.

It’s like holding your breath underwater while everyone else debates swimming etiquette.

I dragged a hand down my face.

“I hate that deal,” I muttered.

Luci leaned closer, amused. “You don’t hate it.”

“I curse it.”

For a second, I genuinely considered sulking.

Then I straightened.

“Fine,” I said stiffly. “Mamon, you lead the mission.”

Mamon’s lips curved.

“Oh?” he said lightly. “Someone in urge to kill so bad?”

I looked away.

Algan coughed once.

We both did the equivalent of demonic huffing.

Mamon smirked.

“Right,” he said, turning back toward the skyline. “Follow me, lost ducklings.”

Luci scoffed immediately. “Don’t call me that.”

“You quack when annoyed.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

I rubbed my temples.

This was our war council.

Four devils and two goddesses standing on a rooftop, arguing about waterfowl while a counterfeit sin franchise ran a mana-harvesting operation below.

This is why mortals think they can fake us.

Because sometimes we look unserious.

But then…

Mamon moved. “Let’s go!”

And the air shifted.

A coin appeared in his hand.

Not a minted mortal coin.

Not gold.

Not silver.

It was darker.

Matte.

Dense.

A soul coin.

Forged from a damned spirit long processed through infernal bureaucracy. Compact. Condensed. Valuable.

Even Luci stopped talking.

The coin hummed faintly.

I felt it in my teeth.

Mamon stared at the skyscraper.

Then he fed it.

Greed power poured from him like invisible heat. Controlled. Measured. Precise. The coin absorbed it, drinking, growing brighter but not glowing, just compressing.

He flicked his wrist.

The coin launched.

Not thrown.

Launched.

Like a bullet that decided physics was optional.

It sliced through the night air in a perfect line and struck the invisible barrier surrounding the building.

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then…

-Crack!

The ward spiderwebbed in silent fractures.

The coin drilled forward, spinning, biting.

And the layered magic shattered outward in a rippling implosion.

No explosion.

Just… collapse.

I grinned.

Subtle brutality.

I like it.

Before I could comment, I  grabbed Mamon’s shoulder.

Algan and Luci grabbed on instinct.

Puriel and Lumira pressed close.

The skyline folded inward.

And we teleported.

We didn’t land in a hallway.

We didn’t phase into a corridor.

We appeared directly…

On the meeting table.

A massive obsidian conference table.

Polished.

Long.

Minimalist.

Executive.