The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 152

Chapter 152: Fractured Bonds
Argider’s surroundings shimmered as if the dreamlike palace were a living, breathing entity. The walls, glowing with an iridescent pulse, whispered faint echoes of voices long gone. The masked figure stood tall in the throne room, their presence commanding and suffocating.

“Do you remember me, Argider?” the masked figure sneered, their voice cutting through the haze like a blade. “Or do you only remember your victories and forget the lives you shattered?”

Argider froze. The figure’s voice carried a haunting familiarity, tugging at the edges of her fragmented memories. Then, as if a floodgate had opened, visions from a past life surged forward.

The first flashback struck like lightning. Argider—then a powerful monarch with unmatched charisma—stood in a grand council chamber. Beside her stood the person who would become the masked figure. They were her most trusted confidant, a tactician with a keen mind and unwavering loyalty. Together, they had dreamed of building a utopia, a world free from war and suffering.

But the dream turned sour.

“Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good,” Argider had said, her voice firm but cold.

The tactician had pleaded with her, begging her not to go through with a decision that would doom thousands of innocents. But Argider had been resolute. Her vision of utopia required sacrifices—calculated losses she deemed necessary.

The tactician’s face twisted in anguish. “You’re playing with lives as if they’re pawns on a chessboard. How can you call this a utopia?”

“Because it will be,” Argider had replied, her tone unyielding. “And history will vindicate me.”

Back in the present, Argider stumbled under the weight of the memory. “I… I didn’t mean for it to end this way,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

The masked figure scoffed. “Didn’t mean to? You condemned me and countless others to ruin, and now you want to play innocent? You were blind to the cost of your ambition, and now I’ll make sure you feel it.”

The air in the throne room grew heavier as the masked figure raised a hand, magic crackling at their fingertips. “This empire you’ve built in this life? It’s nothing but a shadow of your hubris.”

Meanwhile, chaos reigned in the real world. Esmeralda, Faeralys, and Fialova were locked in battle against a regrouped wave of invaders.

“Where are they all coming from?” Faeralys shouted, slashing through a cloaked figure with a burst of fire magic. Her usually composed demeanor was replaced with raw frustration, her movements sharper and more erratic than usual.

Esmeralda, her vines whipping through the air like serpents, clenched her teeth. “If you spent less time shouting and more time fighting, we might figure it out!”

Faeralys turned on her, her amber eyes blazing. “Easy for you to say, Esmeralda. Maybe if you weren’t so busy protecting your father’s legacy, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

The accusation hit like a slap. Esmeralda faltered, her magic briefly flickering. “I have nothing to do with him! How many times do I have to say it?” Her voice cracked, but she masked her hurt with anger. “Stop blaming me just because you can’t admit you’re scared!”

“Enough!” Fialova’s voice thundered over the din of battle. She drove her blade into the ground, sending a shockwave of energy that knocked several invaders off their feet. Her silver hair was disheveled, and her usually calm expression was marred by uncharacteristic tension. “This is exactly what they want—us turning on each other! If we don’t work together, we’re handing them the victory.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, but the tension between the wives was palpable. Faeralys muttered something under her breath but refocused on the fight. Esmeralda wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her eyes darting toward Fialova with a mix of gratitude and guilt.

As the three fought side by side, they began to uncover clues among the wreckage. A fragment of a parchment bore a strange sigil, one that none of them recognized but seemed eerily familiar. It was Esmeralda who finally pieced it together.

“This… this isn’t just my father’s doing,” she said, her voice trembling. “This symbol—it’s part of a larger network. There’s someone else pulling the strings.”

Faeralys eyed her warily. “And how do you know that?”

“Because he told me about it once,” Esmeralda admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Before I left him for good.”

Fialova frowned. “If what you’re saying is true, then this is bigger than just us. But that doesn’t explain why they’re targeting Argider now.”

In the dreamlike throne room, Argider’s confrontation with the masked figure reached a boiling point. The flashbacks continued to assault her mind, each one more vivid than the last. She saw the aftermath of her past decisions—villages razed, families torn apart, her trusted tactician standing amidst the ruins, broken and betrayed.

“You could have saved us,” the masked figure said, their voice cracking with emotion. “You could have listened to me, but you chose power over people. And now, in this life, you claim to be better? You’re the same, Argider. Always putting your ambitions first.”

Argider clenched her fists. “I’m not that person anymore! I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve been trying to fix them.”

“Trying isn’t enough,” the masked figure snarled. “Not when the cost of your mistakes is written in blood.”

The masked figure’s magic surged, the room quaking under its force. Argider staggered but refused to back down. “If you want revenge, take it out on me,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear in her chest. “But don’t drag my wives or my empire into this.”

The masked figure hesitated, their posture stiffening. “You think this is about revenge?” they spat. “This is about justice. The world deserves to see you for what you truly are—a fraud, a failure, and a coward.”

In the real world, the wives were forced into a final stand as an elite squad of invaders ambushed them. Faeralys and Esmeralda worked together begrudgingly, their magic combining to create explosive bursts of fire and plant life. Fialova held the line, her swordsmanship unmatched as she defended her companions with unwavering resolve.

Despite their efforts, the sheer number of enemies began to overwhelm them. For the first time, the wives found themselves questioning whether they could hold out long enough to save Argider.

The air in the dreamlike throne room crackled with tension, every word between Argider and the masked figure like a blade drawn. The warped surroundings pulsed with an eerie glow, casting shifting shadows that danced in time with the masked figure’s simmering rage.

“So, here’s my offer,” the masked figure sneered, their voice dripping with venom. “Surrender the empire. Lay down your power. Bow to me, and I’ll let your precious world survive. Refuse, and watch it all burn.”

Argider stood still, her chest heaving as she tried to mask the fear churning within her. Her eyes locked onto the figure, searching for any sign of hesitation or weakness. She forced herself to steady her voice. “You want me to bow to you? After everything you’ve done? After the lives you’ve destroyed?”

The figure chuckled darkly. “I’m merely finishing what you started. Your sins didn’t vanish with your death, Argider. The empire you cherish now? It’s built on the ashes of what you ruined. This is justice.”

Argider’s mind raced. The cryptic clues the masked figure had dropped earlier still lingered, circling like vultures in her thoughts. She knew she needed to stall—time was the only advantage she could claw back.

“And what, exactly, do you plan to do with the empire?” Argider asked, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “You claim this is justice, but all I see is chaos. Tell me, what’s your endgame?”

The masked figure tilted their head, their mask catching the flickering light. “You’re stalling. I see it in your eyes. But if you must know… my goal is simple. Restoration. Balance. Undoing the damage you wrought.”

Argider’s heart skipped a beat. Restoration? Balance? The words rattled something loose in her memories. Fragments of her past life flickered like broken glass—scenes of devastation, the haunting cries of innocents, and the chilling certainty of decisions she’d made in cold blood.

“You talk about balance,” Argider said slowly, her voice tight. “But you’re no savior. You’ve killed, manipulated, and betrayed to get here. What makes you any different from the person you claim I was?”

The masked figure’s laughter echoed through the room. “Oh, Argider. Don’t pretend to understand. You, of all people, have no right to question my methods. After all, I learned them from you.”

The words struck like a thunderclap. Argider clenched her fists, her composure faltering. The masked figure stepped closer, their presence suffocating.

“Did you really think your actions in the past had no consequences? That your death erased the scars you left behind?” they hissed. “You didn’t just lead, Argider. You wielded power that fractured the very fabric of the world. Your empire? Your ambition? They cost us everything.”

Argider’s pulse quickened. “You’re lying,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.