The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 148

Chapter 148: Asshole of a Father
Finally, she was by herself and stood in the middle of the vast training room, her feet planted firmly on the cold stone floor. Around her, the air was thick with energy, crackling like a live wire. She was ready. Or, at least, she thought she was.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, a mix of determination and anxiety bubbling beneath her calm exterior. The sight of the glowing, translucent screen from the system was still fresh in her mind, the words flashing in front of her eyes as she had read them earlier. “Unite the Hearts.” Her heart had skipped a beat, and the little notification had lingered for just a second too long before vanishing. A mission. A cosmic mission.

“Great,” she muttered to herself. “What am I supposed to do now? Just wave a magic wand and poof, everyone gets along?”

But there was no time for self-pity. Argider was about to attempt something far more complicated—magic. Not just any magic, but lightning, fire, and plant magic all at once. A delicate balance of forces that could have the potential to blow up the entire training hall if she wasn’t careful.

“Well, no harm in trying,” she said, giving herself a half-hearted pep talk. The room was empty save for a few discarded practice weapons and an old set of armor that had seen better days. This was her space—her sanctuary. The perfect place for experimentation. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles, a brief look of mild excitement creeping onto her face.

Argider closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She had been practicing each element separately for weeks now, but today was different. Today, she would try to combine them, and in doing so, show the three wives just how serious she was about mastering this magic.

Her fingers twitched as she summoned the first of her magic. The familiar electric charge rippled through her body, gathering at her fingertips in the form of bright, dancing sparks. “Lightning,” she whispered, a grin forming at the corner of her mouth. She’d grown used to the feeling of it, the sizzling warmth that shot up her spine when it responded to her will.

But there was a slight problem—one that she hadn’t accounted for.

As she formed a tiny ball of lightning in her palm, it started to grow, much faster than she had expected. Within seconds, the ball swelled to the size of a melon, sparking dangerously. Argider’s eyes widened as she realized the potential catastrophe that was brewing.

“Oops,” she murmured, her eyes flicking around the room. There were no more empty spaces. There was only the ceiling above her, the walls surrounding her, and—yep—the very real possibility of turning the entire training room into a lightning-infused disaster zone.

Her fingers twitched again as she tried to reel in the energy, but instead, it exploded into a burst of light, zapping the closest practice dummy so hard that it was sent skidding across the floor. The magic dissipated with a sharp crack, leaving a smoking charred mark where the dummy once stood.

“Well, that was subtle,” she said, staring at the pile of smoldering fabric. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. Great. At this rate, she’d be banned from even looking at lightning for the next century.

But Argider wasn’t deterred. A quick shake of her head and a soft, self-deprecating laugh escaped her. “It’s okay, just breathe. You got this,” she muttered, before letting the next step fall into place. The lightning magic had given her a momentary fright, but it had sparked an idea.

She would need control. And for that, she needed focus.

Taking another deep breath, Argider shifted gears. Her posture straightened, and her hands began to glow with an amber hue. This time, she wasn’t going to let the fire magic get the best of her. She had practiced it before, and the warmth of it was familiar, soothing even.

At first, it was small, just a flicker of flame between her hands. Then, it grew—slowly, carefully—into a ball of fire as big as her head. Argider could feel it radiating heat, the burn of it dancing just beneath her skin, a fire she had learned to tame over time.

But… the flames weren’t entirely under her control. One slight shift of her hand, and the flames flared wildly, shooting out toward a nearby pile of blankets. She hissed, quickly extinguishing the fire before it could do any real damage. The room, however, smelled of scorched fabric and a faint scent of burned hair.

“Why do I keep doing this?” she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow. The room was becoming a battlefield—torn between flames, electricity, and the remnants of her failed attempts.

Her mind was racing now, and she realized the answer was simple: she was trying too hard. Magic was about feeling—letting go, surrendering to the flow of it.

Taking one last, calming breath, she decided it was time to try something different. She closed her eyes and turned inward, calling upon the earth beneath her. Her magic was connected to her emotions, after all. And what was the easiest way to center herself?

Plants.

Argider extended her hands, focusing on her breath, then on the warmth she had come to associate with the magic of the earth. She imagined the cool, soothing energy of plant life, of roots stretching deep into the ground, of leaves unfurling in the sunlight. Slowly, vines sprouted from the floor, winding their way up her legs and twisting around her arms.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Argider’s lips. This was more like it. The tendrils of magic were alive with energy, pulsing gently against her skin. She felt a deep connection with the vines, like an ancient bond that had always existed, waiting to be tapped into.

Her vines began to stretch toward the walls, crawling like serpents, pulling and twisting their way up in graceful arcs. Argider watched in awe, fascinated by the delicate strength of the plants she had summoned.

But, as was her way, her magic didn’t stay in balance for long. The vines seemed to sense her conflicting energies and started spiraling out of control, wrapping themselves around everything they could find—bookshelves, a practice sword, even the pillars of the room. With a gasp, Argider scrambled to stop them, but she wasn’t fast enough.

“Really?” she groaned, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “Not again.”

The vines had completely overrun the room, leaving her to stare at the complete chaos she had unintentionally created. From the corner of her eye, Argider caught sight of a rather ominous-looking plant vine snaking its way toward her practice dummy. For the briefest of moments, she watched in horror as it wrapped itself around the dummy’s neck, and with a loud snap, the dummy’s head was torn clean off.

“Great,” Argider muttered, rubbing her temples. “I’ve officially destroyed half the training hall. Maybe magic isn’t for me after all…”

But then, just as she was about to throw in the towel, she heard a voice from the doorway.

“Well, that was… entertaining.” It was Esmeralda, her arms crossed and a mischievous grin on her lips.

Argider shot her a glare. “Not. A. Word.”

The heavy doors of the training room creaked open with a groan, and the unmistakable figure of Gander, Esmeralda’s father, stepped into the room. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as he stood in the threshold, his sharp eyes scanning the disarray before him. He wasn’t surprised—after all, nothing ever seemed to go as planned with his daughter, but that never stopped him from acting superior.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Gander’s voice was thick with mockery, a sharp, drawn-out syllable that carried far too much arrogance for Argider’s liking. His gaze flicked over the broken dummies, the vines snaking across the floor, and the scorch marks that marred the walls. He let out a low chuckle, clearly pleased with the chaos. “How charming. It’s as if the palace has become a circus, but the clowns seem to be more charming than the usual performers.”

Argider stood tall, narrowing her eyes at the intruder. Her hand subconsciously rested on the hilt of a nearby sword, but she didn’t make a move. Gander was a familiar presence—his presence alone managed to chill the air and make even the strongest of wills buckle, but not today. Not after everything.

Esmeralda, however, froze. She had heard the footsteps before she saw him. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. Her father’s imposing form filled the space with a suffocating weight, the very air around her suddenly thick with his disdain. Every inch of her body recoiled at the familiar, venomous tone he carried with him.

“Father…” she muttered, her voice colder than she had ever allowed it to be. She turned to face him fully, her eyes icy, devoid of the warm affection they once held. Her heart felt like a rock, sinking as the sight of him stirred something old inside her. The disappointment she once carried for her father had long since turned into resentment, a flame she could no longer suppress.