The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 101

Chapter 101: Magic Bestowal Is More Than Bestowing
“You know, this just doesn’t make any sense!” Argider fumed, swinging her broken sword with all the frustration that had been building up in her chest.

The jagged wooden end whipped through the air, slamming into the ground with a force that made her knuckles ache. “I can bestow magic. Magic! But I can’t even bestow it to myself! What kind of nonsense is that? And don’t even get me started on how I can’t bestow magic when I don’t even have that magic!” She threw her hands up in exasperation, the broken sword hanging loosely from her grip.

“Well, you know, that’s something I didn’t understand either, back when I first started… but over time, I spent hours watching from the shadows, observing the flow of mana, reading it, feeling it…”

“So?” Argider snapped, her patience at the end of its tether. She glanced at him impatiently, raising a brow. “What did you learn? Spit it out already!”

Alvator, clearly unperturbed by her sudden outburst, straightened up a little, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of someone who had a secret and was dying to share it. “You ever wonder why emotional connection is the key to triggering this skill?” His voice was laced with intrigue, but there was a calmness to it that made Argider’s curiosity twitch.

“Why?” Argider asked, half-exasperated, half-curious. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, eager for an answer that might finally make sense of the madness in her mind.

“Well, here’s my theory,” he began, his voice turning thoughtful. “To truly bestow magic, you need more than just having it. You need to embody it. You have to understand it on a deeper level. Its essence, its nature. And yeah, it sounds kind of like a cheat code to get extra power, but it’s actually not. The catch is, you can’t bestow magic to yourself. Not unless there’s someone else. That’s the hitch. You can’t be both the giver and the receiver.”

Argider blinked, processing this new tidbit of information. “Wait, so… you’re saying I can’t just magically bestow something on myself? What kind of cosmic joke is that?”

“Exactly. Not yet atleast. The real magic comes when you connect with others. When you really connect. You see, connecting with another person isn’t just about sharing a moment. It’s about understanding them. All of them. And that includes their magic. When you understand the essence of someone’s being, their anger, their joy, their struggles… when you feel it yourself, that’s when you can embody it.”

“So… let me get this straight,” she said slowly, like she was mentally assembling a puzzle. “I need to emphatize with them?”

“Exactly!” Alvator’s tone lightened, as if he were explaining a simple riddle to a child. “It’s like this: you can’t pretend to be angry for someone else if you’ve never experienced their anger. How could you? You’d have no reference point. No real understanding of what it means to feel their anger, to be their anger. Magic is the same. To bestow it, you need to understand it fully, which means you have to connect, feel, and embody what someone else is going through.”

“But why do I need a connection to embody the magic and get the magic?

The cat sat down, his tail curling neatly around his paws as he prepared to explain, his tone oddly patient for once. “Because once you activate their magic, your mana becomes connected to them. Your mana is the key that keeps their Navel open and lets their ether veins finally pump mana throughout their body.”

Argider tilted her head, squinting in confusion. “So, basically, I’m like their magic life support system?”

“Not quite,” he replied with a sly grin. “Not only do you connect to them emotionally, but you also connect through mana. In a way, Argider, you are them. Their magic flows because of you.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Okay, that sounds… weirdly profound, but I still need more explanation. Like, a lot more.”

“Alright, think of it this way: If you don’t have something like, say, understanding magic, you need to experience it. You need to see it, to feel it. And in this world, where magic barely exists, activating someone’s magic is your way of doing that. It lets you witness it firsthand.”

“But how does that even work?” she pressed, still clutching the broken pieces of her sword.

He flicked his tail, a knowing gleam in his white eyes. “Because magic is the personality of someone. It’s not just some tool or skill. It’s tied to who they are, their essence.”

She frowned, trying to piece it together. “Wait, are you saying… Faeralys has magic because… she’s a fiery person?”

“Exactly,” Alvator said, his grin widening. “Her fire isn’t just metaphorical. It’s real because it’s her. Magic is tied to emotions, desires, willpower. The stronger someone’s personality, the stronger their magic can become.”

“Wait… does that mean…” Argider’s voice trailed off.

She lifted her hand instinctively, palm open, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The idea seemed impossible, absurd, even, but it tugged at her, like a tiny ember refusing to go out.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus.

The world around her seemed to quiet, the sounds of the training ground fading into a low hum as she turned her attention inward.

She thought about what Alvator had said. About connection, about understanding, about embodying magic.

But this time, instead of trying to force it, she let herself feel.

Not power, not frustration, but something simpler. Softer. She thought of warmth, the way a fire crackles and glows, the gentle heat of the sun on her skin, the way Faeralys’ lips felt on hers.

Her mana stirred, sluggish at first, like an old engine trying to come to life.

She could feel it gathering in her core, the Navel, moving hesitantly toward her outstretched hand.

It wasn’t much, just a faint whisper of energy, but she encouraged it, coaxing it like a shy creature emerging from hiding.

Then, faint and flickering, a tiny flame appeared in her palm.

It wasn’t strong; the light barely illuminated her face, and the heat was so weak she could hardly feel it.

The flame wavered, as if uncertain it belonged there, but it was there nonetheless.

Her breath caught, and her heart leapt in her chest. She stared at it, wide-eyed, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

The flame danced unsteadily, its fragile glow reflecting in her eyes.

“I… I did it.”