Here is the corrected and polished version of your text with typos fixed, consistent past-tense narration, and cleaned-up punctuation:
A man stood tossing breadcrumbs to a flock of pigeons. Suddenly, he chucked the piece of bread he was holding away.
He half-ran toward the entrance of the park a few meters away, but tripped over a bird and stumbled onto the road, falling face-first onto the asphalt.
He picked himself up slowly as passersby laughed. Only then did he notice the truck coming right at him.
I hoped for something better. I really envy those isekai protagonists.
Those were his last thoughts as he took his final breath and was run over.
Evan found himself standing on a pedestal, high above the clouds, surrounded by seven colorful thrones: violet, green, orange, pink, red, yellow, and sky-blue.
On each throne sat a figure draped in a cloak matching its color—all except one, the green throne, which stood empty.
"Mortal, do you know where you are?"
Evan turned toward the source of the sound; it came from the figure in purple.
"Tsk, don't you even know basic speech?" the figure clicked in disdain, as if speaking to an insect unworthy of his attention.
"I guess... I'm dead."
"So you do know how to speak," the purple figure spat with contempt.
"Who are you people? I thought there would be a god or goddess in white. You guys don't exactly give off a godly vibe," Evan said in confusion.
"Fufufu~ Humans are such funny creatures. How can you expect anything, Superbia, if you don't introduce yourself?" A feminine voice, as soft as honey and as enticing as sin, chimed in.
Evan didn't even glance at her. His eyes widened in surprise as one word kept repeating in his mind like a broken record...
Superbia.
Isn't that the name of a sin? Pride, usually represented by the color violet.
Color drained from his face as he realized who these mysterious figures were. He identified them by their corresponding colors and names:
Orange: Gluttony (Gula)
Pink: Lust (Luxuria)
Red: Wrath (Ira)
Yellow: Greed (Avaritia)
Sky-blue: Sloth (Acedia)
And the missing green throne belonged to Envy (Invidia).
Do they expect me to fill in for Envy? What happens if I don't? What if I do? I know I wasn't a model churchgoer, but this is excessive.
These and countless other thoughts raced through his mind while his face paled even further.
"You aren't worthy of that seat," Pride scoffed.
"You—you dare to think you're worthy?!" Wrath looked visibly pissed.
Sloth snored, Lust chuckled, while Greed and Gluttony stared at Evan as if he were a priceless treasure, though for entirely different reasons.
Lust spoke up. "How about a test? If he passes, he leaves and gets his coveted reincarnation. But if he fails, well... he's yours, Superbia."
Wrath stared daggers while Pride scoffed, but neither disagreed.
Wrath volunteered to go first. Whatever tint of color remained on Evan's face immediately drained away.
"It's three tests per person. Try to survive," Wrath grinned evilly.
Evan found himself in a bright white room covered in mirrors. Above him, text was projected: 1000 mirrors remaining.
Evan felt irked. Why bring him to a room full of mirrors and project the count, as if he were a baby who couldn't count for himself?
Suddenly, a nearby mirror shattered. The sharp shards flew straight at him, embedding themselves in his skin.
He let out a bloodcurdling scream before forcing his jaw shut. He felt furious with himself for showing weakness in front of these sadistic rulers.
Just then, another mirror shattered, showering him with shards that painfully lodged into his body and forcing another pained scream from his throat.
He instinctively looked up and saw the counter drop by two. His eyes widened, and he began cursing them internally.
A third mirror shattered, repeating the process. He managed not to scream this time, though he noticed that every time a new mirror broke, the existing shards wedged themselves deeper.
He tried to smile, but he still cursed himself for not speaking up earlier. That burst of anger caused yet another mirror to shatter and slice into his skin.
He screamed, trying to reign in the noise, but anger kept flaring up—at himself, at the sins, and at his situation. This cycle continued until 109 mirrors had broken.
When the 110th mirror shattered, a shard grazed his family jewels.
Evan broke down crying, until a thought hit him: There was nothing I could do. If I had spoken up, Wrath would have blown a fuse, and Greed and Gluttony would have done horrible things to me. It wasn't my fault, even if I didn't try to negotiate. I forgive myself... I forgive myself...
He repeated the words like a mantra until he genuinely believed them. The moment he did, the shards pulled out of his body and reformed into whole mirrors.
Above him, a giant checkmark symbol appeared to indicate he had passed.
How cliché, he thought.
Instantly, he was whisked away to another room filled with fragile items ranging from ceramic cups to man-sized glass vases.
A table stood in front of him with a hammer resting on top. The display above had updated:
Trials: 1/3
Smashed objects: 0/100
He chuckled in disbelief. Picking up a china teacup, he smashed it with the hammer. Immediately, a searing pain—worse than the previous test—racked his body.
It felt as though boiling water had been poured directly onto his unhealed wounds.
He refused to scream, but his hand trembled so violently that he dropped the hammer.
Ding!
He looked up and saw the same cliché checkmark.
He chuckled softly, hoping his realization would keep protecting him. His vision blurred red for a moment before returning.
Scanning the area, he could only see a red blur. Taking a few steps forward, he heard splashes with every movement.
Splash. Splash.
He squatted down and ran his hand along the ground. The liquid came up to his wrist.
He raised his hand, but he couldn't make out what the fluid was in the dim blur. Without thinking, he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it.
Instantly, his body spasmed, sending waves of agonizing heat through his veins.
He collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain, but he clamped his mouth shut and refused to scream for two reasons:
First, he didn't want any more of the liquid entering his mouth—the metallic taste was nauseating.
Second, he refused to give those sadistic pricks the satisfaction.
Endure! Endure! Endure!
He repeated the command until his overthinking mind kicked in. I can't focus! Wait... exactly. I can't focus. Maybe... just maybe...
He forced his mind to quiet down, sat cross-legged in the liquid—which now reached his waist—and focused entirely on tuning out the pain. He entered a deep meditative state.
A short while later, the long-awaited chime rang out, washing over him with a wave of relief.
Ding!
Trials: 3/3
[Good job. You have survived Wrath's baby-mode challenge.]
His wounds began to heal rapidly. Suddenly, he was brought back before the sins, where he could hear them mocking Wrath.
"Why don't you do better, you narcissistic prick?!" Wrath shouted at Pride.
Pride chuckled lightly. "Don't worry yourself. You know I'm the strongest here, but we'll all make it harder for... Oh. You're back. Good job surviving."
Evan wanted to rip Pride's head off. They were openly discussing how to torture him, then acting like it was a walk in the park.
If their roles were reversed, he would inflict the most hellish punishment known to existence.
Instead, Evan clenched his jaw and remained silent. Pride rose from his seat, clapping arrogantly.
"It's a marathon from here on out. Let's see how long you last with that confidence and defiance! MWAHAHAHAAA!"
Pride laughed maniacally as Evan gulped down audibly.
Would he survive?