Seven Sins System Chapter 808. Foolish

Seven Sins System Chapter 808. Foolish

“They were kneeling,” she muttered. “While paramedics were trying to move through them.”

I winced slightly.

Okay.

That’s… fair.

“They asked for protection charms,” she added. “And selfies.”

Selfies.

I finally let out a short laugh before I could stop it.

She smacked my shoulder lightly.

“Azrael!”

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry,” I said quickly, raising both hands defensively. “It’s just… the mental image—”

“They were shoving microphones at Lumira while she was stabilizing a collapsed lung.”

That sobered me.

I leaned back slightly, staring at the skyline.

Mortals.

They worship crisis.

They monetize salvation.

They panic.

And they adore spectacle.

“You saved them,” I said quietly.

She didn’t respond immediately.

The wind brushed her hair slightly, silver strands catching the dying light.

“They weren’t looking at the injured,” she murmured. “They were looking at us.”

Ah.

That.

That part.

I glanced sideways at her.

Her shoulders were tight.

Her frown wasn’t anger.

It was disappointment.

I softened slightly.

“They don’t understand scale,” I said gently. “To them, you descending from the sky is bigger than broken bones.”

She took another sip of my tea, expression still annoyed.

“It is foolish.”

“Yes.”

Pause.

“But predictable.”

She huffed softly.

We sat there in silence for a moment, legs dangling over the city.

Sirens still wailing.

Helicopters still hovering cautiously.

Somewhere in the rubble, faint flashes of Pride and shadow moved in synchronized bursts.

I nudged her lightly with my shoulder.

“You can always refuse blessings.”

She glanced at me.

“I did.”

I smiled under my mask.

“Good.”

She didn’t smile back. Not really. Just that faint curve of amusement that never fully commits. The kind that says ‘I hear you but also you’re missing the point.’

Wind slid between us, tugging at loose strands of her hair. The sky had shifted deeper into violet now, city lights flickering awake below like artificial constellations. Somewhere in the distance, Pride was still excavating concrete with the emotional maturity of a volcano.

I watched her profile carefully.

And then it slipped out.

“I don’t get it.”

She tilted her head slightly. “What?”

“After all those nasty things,” I muttered, eyes still on the horizon, “after everything mortals do… corruption, greed, hypocrisy, exploitation—”

I gestured vaguely at the smoking district below.

“—you still try to act righteous. You’re still trying to save them.”

She snorted.

Actually snorted.

“Says the one who teleported around, grabbing as many mortals as possible from a collapsing building.”

I snorted back, lips curling slowly into something darker.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said lazily. “I wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t because of the agreement. I’m not that compassionate.”

That part was true.

Mostly.

She took another sip of my tea and locked her gaze onto the horizon.

“I do it,” she said quietly, “because I believe in this rotten world.”

I glanced at her.

Her voice didn’t waver.

“There are still innocent people,” she continued. “The ones with pure hearts. They might be silent. They might be hiding. But they’re still here.”

The sirens below wailed again, faint and distant.

“Maybe there aren’t many anymore,” she admitted softly. “But they exist.”

I stared at her longer than I meant to.

She wasn’t preaching.

She wasn’t posturing.

She believed that.

Completely.

And for a moment… I didn’t know what to say.

Because yeah.

I’ve seen too much.

Corrupted souls stacked on top of each other like unpaid debt. Mortals selling each other for power. Hunters pretending righteousness while negotiating contracts under the table. Politicians kneeling for blessings then siphoning relief funds.

I’ve seen enough to blur lines permanently.

They all ended up in my realm, and I was their torturer.

“Huh,” I muttered finally.

She glanced at me.

“I guess I’ve seen too much nasty things,” I said, voice quieter than I intended. “Too many corrupted souls. Rotten ones.”

I flexed my fingers slowly.

“I see mortals the same now. Mostly.”

She looked at me sideways.

“You are a devil,” she said evenly. “I won’t blame you for that mentality.”

That should’ve irritated me.

It didn’t.

“I recognize people’s sins before their names,” I added dryly. “That’s just how I’m built.”

She nodded once.

“I know.”

Silence stretched again.

Comfortable.

Complicated.

She took one last sip of my tea.

Then finally handed the cup back.

Empty.

Completely empty.

I stared at it.

“…You finished it. You hated it. But you still drank it.”

She gave me that smug half-smile again.

“I was irritated.”

I sighed dramatically.

“Next time I’m charging you.”

She stood slowly, wings flickering faintly behind her.

“Next time,” she said calmly, “buy something that tastes less mortal.”

And then… She vanished.

Leaving me alone again.

Empty cup.

Wind brushing my face.

Distant echoes of Luci screaming creative profanity at my name.

I stared at the cup.

Then at the sky.

Then at the rubble.

“This is why I prefer demons,” I muttered.

At least when we’re irritated?

We flatten buildings.

Much simpler.

I leaned back on my palms again, letting the wind cool my skin.

But her words lingered.

‘There are still innocent people.’

I hate that sentence.

Because it forces nuance.

And nuance is exhausting.

Oh, shut up.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes briefly.

The city smelled like burnt steel and rain that hadn’t fallen yet.

Somewhere below, mortal paramedics were still moving through debris. Someone was crying. Someone was praying. Someone was probably trying to sell exclusive footage already.

I’ve seen enough to know both are happening simultaneously.

That’s what irritates me.

Mortals can be cruel.

And soft.

Greedy.

And generous.

Selfish.

And self-sacrificing.

It’s inconsistent.

Messy.

Hard to categorize.

Demons are simpler.

We are what we are.

We don’t pretend.

Mostly.

I glanced toward the rubble again.

Faint pulses of Pride flared intermittently as Luci continued digging.

Algan’s aura flickered nearby too, assisting efficiently.

My five shadow constructs moved in synchronized bursts, lifting slabs and scanning through compressed layers.

They looked like extensions of me.

Because they are.

And even from here, I could feel their focus.

I sighed slowly.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe there are still pure ones.

Silent.

Hiding.

Statistically insignificant.

But present.