Seven Sins System Chapter 811. Immortality

Seven Sins System Chapter 811. Immortality

I smirked.

Not because this was funny.

Okay, partly because it was funny.

But mostly because Luci looked like he was one mild inconvenience away from rewriting the concept of customer service in the mortal realm.

I leaned back against the edge of the infirmary bed, folding my arms loosely. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, soft and clinical, like this room had no idea what kind of chaos we just dragged back into it.

“So,” I said casually, tilting my head toward Algan, “what did you find?”

He didn’t answer.

He just reached into his coat and pulled something out.

Documents.

Not clean.

Not organized.

Dust clung to the edges. Corners bent slightly. A few pages were warped like they’d been pressed under too much weight, probably because they had.

Rubble.

Pride.

You know.

The usual.

He handed them to me.

I took them.

Carefully.

Because sometimes the most dangerous things aren’t explosive.

They’re quiet.

We gathered around instinctively.

Luci stepped closer, already pouring himself into observation mode. Puriel moved in from my left, Lumira from my right. Even my double shifted subtly, leaning in just enough to read without interrupting.

Four sets of eyes.

Five if you count Algan.

We read.

Silently.

Line by line.

Left to right.

Then again.

Slower.

And with each sentence?

My expression shifted.

Just a little.

Because at first, it sounded like ambition.

Then it sounded like delusion.

And then… It crossed into something worse.

A plan.

A real one.

A structured one.

A mortal giga-plan. Written in cold, calculated language. Diagrams. Flowcharts. Resource allocation. Hierarchical models. Terms like “Ascension Infrastructure,” “Synthetic Divinity,” and my personal favorite “Post-Mortal Governance Expansion.”

I blinked once.

Then again.

They weren’t just experimenting.

They were designing.

Gods.

Goddesses.

Devils.

Not imitations.

Not worship constructs.

Actual replacements.

Their original goal?

Immortality.

Of course.

That’s where it always starts.

But it didn’t stop there.

It escalated.

They wanted to create an environment.

A system.

Something that mirrored Heaven.

And Hell.

A controlled ecosystem where souls could be processed, judged, categorized, redistributed.

By them.

By mortals.

They wanted to be the judges.

The arbiters.

The final authority.

And if that worked?

If they perfected it?

They wanted to expand.

Into Heaven.

Into Hell.

Take over.

Assimilate.

More land.

More resources.

More mana.

And as a bonus?

They decide who goes up.

Who goes down.

Who gets rewarded.

Who gets erased.

Silence filled the infirmary.

Heavy.

Dense.

I slowly lowered the paper.

“…What the hell?”

That slipped out before I could filter it.

Because honestly?

What.

The hell.

Luci huffed sharply.

Not loud.

But sharp enough to cut through the room.

I glanced at him.

His face?

Yeah.

That face.

The one that says ‘I regret everything about being here’.

He ran a hand through his hair slowly.

“I want to go back to the underworld,” he muttered.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Lumira shook her head gently.

Side to side.

Disappointment.

Not shock.

Not outrage.

Just… quiet disappointment.

Like a teacher reading a failed essay that had too much confidence and not enough understanding.

Puriel didn’t move.

She just stood there.

Looking at the pages.

And her expression?

That one caught me.

Sad.

Not angry.

Not judgmental.

Sad.

That kind of sadness that doesn’t make noise.

That just… sits.

Luci turned to me suddenly.

“Can I switch jobs with Mamon?”

I blinked.

“I prefer handling infernal economy,” he continued flatly, “over this… this nonsense.”

I snorted softly.

“You can’t.”

He stared at me.

“You are trapped here.”

I tapped the paper lightly.

“Like me.”

A pause.

“Like Algan.”

Algan didn’t react.

Of course, he didn’t.

He already accepted that reality.

Well, he was a wrath demon after all. And my soldier. We already saw a lot of mortals’ nonsense.

Luci cursed under his breath.

Something definitely not approved for mortal ears.

Then, he summoned wine.

Bottle in one hand.

Glass in the other.

He poured it with practiced precision, the deep red liquid catching the light like a promise of better decisions.

He lifted the glass.

And before it reached his lips, I took it.

Clean.

Fast.

Efficient.

He blinked.

“Hey! That’s mine.”

“I need it,” I said calmly. “For my sanity.”

And I drank it.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Letting it burn just enough to remind me I’m still functional.

He stared at me.

Then sighed.

Then summoned another glass.

Because Pride adapts.

I leaned back again, exhaling quietly as the wine settled in my system.

Good.

Because this?

This wasn’t just a threat.

This was ambition layered with arrogance.

Mortals trying to rewrite cosmic structure.

Trying to optimize damnation.

Trying to franchise judgment.

I rubbed my temple slowly.

“They’re not just copying us,” Algan muttered. “They’re replacing us.”

No one disagreed.

Because no one could.

I stared at the documents again, then at the ceiling like maybe answers were written in fluorescent lighting.

“I don’t get it,” I said finally. “Why do they want our job?”

Luci didn’t even hesitate.

“Because they’re dumb.”

I huffed softly.

“No, seriously,” I continued, gesturing with the papers. “Our job is eternal. Not glamorous. Not optional. Not something you just… pick up like a hobby.”

I tapped my chest lightly.

“Wrath domain? Overflowing. Constantly. Souls stacked like unpaid invoices. People who killed, tortured, burned their sanity just to feed their anger. I don’t just punish them, I manage them.”

I paused.

Then added flatly….

“With that many souls?”

I started counting on my fingers.

“Processing intake. Categorizing severity. Assigning punishment cycles. Rotating torment schedules so they don’t adapt too fast. Monitoring breakdown thresholds. Reassigning overflow to secondary pits when capacity hits critical.”

I looked up.

“…And don’t get me started on repeat offenders.”

Silence.

Lumira blinked.

Puriel… looked concerned.

Luci took a slow sip of wine.

“They never thought that way,” he said. “They know nothing about Heaven or Hell.”

He gestured lazily with his glass.

“They think Hell is fire and torture. Heaven is pearl gates and blessings.”

I snorted.

“Yeah.”

I leaned back, shaking my head.

“It’s like an intern suddenly deciding they want to sit on the CEO chair.”

Algan crossed his arms.

“They have ambition.”

I smirked slightly.

“Too bad they have no idea what the job actually is.”

And honestly?

That’s the part that makes this dangerous.

Because ignorance with confidence?

That’s how disasters get promoted.