Seven Sins System Chapter 590. 10/10

Seven Sins System Chapter 590. 10/10

“I said out. We’re leaving. Before you violate another representation of my divinity.”

I turned back with the slowest, most exaggerated spin my boots would allow, and let out the most mocking laugh I could manage without summoning thunderclouds.

“Oh, no. No no no no.” I held up both hands, palms open like I was pushing away her words. “If you want to get out, by all means. Door’s that way. Teleport yourself back to your shiny throne or library or tea circle or whatever divine hobby you’re currently pretending to enjoy. Me?”

I jabbed a thumb toward myself. “I’m going to continue this investigation.”

I turned toward the sealed door at the far end of the chamber—the one humming ever-so-gently with restrained power, the kind of door that practically whispered bad decisions go this way.

Behind me, I heard Puriel’s footsteps. Predictable.

“Wait,” she called, catching up beside me. “There’s… still another secret?”

I glanced at her like she’d just asked if fire was hot. Disbelief didn’t even begin to cover it.

Then I shook my head slowly from side to side, dragging the disappointment out like a slow sip of ancient wine.

“By the First Hell Inferno…” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “No wonder your investigation is stuck. You really believe in mortals too much. It’s actually impressive.”

Puriel frowned, defensive now. “It’s not like that. But—”

I cut her off with the world’s most sarcastic eyebrow raise. “‘But they look like good mortals,’ right?”

Silence.

Boom. Got her.

She closed her mouth. A full five seconds passed where she didn’t say a thing, which might be a new record.

I grinned and kept walking. “Thought so.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said finally, trailing me like a confused paladin chasing a drunk wizard through a dungeon.

“You didn’t have to. Your face screamed it.”

“They were devout,” she argued weakly.

“Oh, sure, devoutly hiding a crystal-fueled divine nuke factory behind a talking altar.” I made a face. “Totally the picture of humble worship.”

She looked around at the wrecked sanctum, the shattered remains of her eight-foot-tall holy doppelganger still crumbling into dust. “Okay, but—”

“Uh-huh?” I said, approaching the door, eyes narrowing as I studied the formation glowing softly across the frame. Complex sigils, overlapping patterns—this wasn’t divine in origin. No, this was something else. Something mortal-made.

Again.

I pressed one hand against the surface and felt it resist. Barely.

[Status: Hidden Door – Locked (Seal Formation Lv. 3 – Mortal Craft)]

[Requirement to Unlock: High-Rank Interference / Override Ritual]

“Tch. Amateur hour,” I muttered. “They’ve been busy down here. And sloppily, might I add.”

Puriel stepped closer, arms still crossed, expression stuck somewhere between worried and insulted. “Azrael. You don’t know what’s behind that door.”

I gave her a look over my shoulder. “And that’s exactly why I’m opening it.”

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t open it!” she snapped. “This could be a trap!”

I squinted at her like I was trying to figure out if she was serious or trolling me. “Puriel. Everything’s a trap. Breathing is a trap. Waking up next to someone in Hell is definitely a trap.”

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m halfway through a side quest that smells a lot like a main story beat,” I said, summoning my tentacles again. They burst from my back with a satisfying whip. “So unless you want to stand there and scold me while I do all the heavy lifting—again—I suggest you either help, or shush.”

She didn’t reply, which was code for “fine, but I’m still judging you.”

I stepped up to the door and rolled my neck. “Alright, let’s see what lies behind door number Holy-Coverup.”

With a single word, I activated a power surge. “Wrath.”

My tentacles morphed into blade-form. I sliced through the seal with one clean stroke, the air shuddering from the impact. The runes sparked, fizzled—and died.

The door groaned open.

A dark, spiraling stairwell yawned before us, descending into depths that definitely weren’t on the temple’s official blueprint.

Puriel leaned forward slightly. “This place wasn’t on the map.”

“Nope,” I said, already stepping through. “Because it wasn’t supposed to be found.”

“And you’re just going in?”

“Of course. You coming?”

She hesitated. Then sighed. “Yeah.”

As we started our descent into the unknown, I grinned to myself. Whatever secrets these mortals were hiding—demonic rituals, divine hoarding, or some twisted combo of both—I was going to dig it all up.

Because nothing pissed me off more than being underestimated by a bunch of robe-wearing hypocrites who think they can play god while pretending to worship one.

And with Puriel following behind, muttering silent prayers probably meant to keep me from licking cursed artifacts again, I knew one thing for sure—this mystery was just getting good.

I whistled as we walked, loud and carefree, the tune bouncing off the ancient stone walls like we weren’t descending into what was clearly an ominous, cursed sublevel of a temple built by holy hypocrites. Our steps echoed in the long spiral staircase, like the old stones themselves were trying to whisper “hey, maybe don’t go down here”—but I’ve never been one for taking advice from rocks.

Puriel, predictably, was silent. Her expression unreadable. But that’s how she always looked when she was trying not to say I told you so every five seconds.

The darkness down here wasn’t just “lack of light” darkness. It was thick. Physical. Oppressive. Any other mortal would’ve been stumbling, freaking out, or wetting themselves by now.

But me?

Born in it. Molded by it.

This was practically a spa day.

I kept strolling leisurely, hands in my pockets, whistling like I was enjoying a casual stroll through a torture garden. Y’know. With the faint psychic echoes of damned souls screaming softly in the distance. My kinda ambiance.

“You enjoying this?” Puriel muttered behind me.

“Oh absolutely,” I said, grinning. “Ten outta ten. Would recommend. Missing only a blood fountain and a spine chandelier.”