The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 153

Chapter 153: Fractured Realities
“Am I?” the masked figure snapped. “Think. Dig into that perfect little mind of yours. You were more than a leader—you were a destroyer. A tyrant cloaked in righteousness. And no matter how many lives you reincarnate into, you can’t outrun that truth.”

The ground beneath Argider’s feet trembled, cracks spidering through the dreamlike palace. Her resolve wavered as the masked figure’s words burrowed into her mind. Could they be telling the truth? Was her new life a mere facade, a fragile attempt to atone for an unforgivable past?

Back in the real world, the chaos reached a fever pitch.

Esmeralda, Faeralys, and Fialova sprinted through the shattered palace halls, each step bringing them closer to the throne room. The air was thick with the remnants of magic, a suffocating energy that made every breath feel like a battle.

“Do you feel that?” Fialova asked, her voice tight with urgency.

Faeralys nodded grimly. “It’s coming from the throne room. Argider’s in there.”

Esmeralda’s heart pounded as she pushed forward, her vines coiling protectively around her. “Then we don’t have time to waste. We need to get to her before—”

A deafening roar of magic cut her off. The ground beneath them shook violently, sending debris raining down from above. The wives exchanged panicked glances before a blinding surge of light erupted from the direction of the throne room, illuminating the palace ruins in an otherworldly glow.

“What was that?” Faeralys demanded, shielding her eyes.

Esmeralda’s voice trembled. “That… that’s not normal magic. It’s something else.”

Fialova gritted her teeth, gripping her sword tightly. “Whatever it is, Argider’s in the middle of it. We have to get to her now.”

Despite their differences, the wives moved as one, their resolve hardening as the realization sank in—Argider’s life, and the fate of the empire, hung by a thread.

In the throne room, the masked figure raised their hand, a swirling orb of chaotic energy forming in their palm. “Enough games, Argider. If you won’t bow, then I’ll make sure you fall.”

Argider, still reeling from the revelations, forced herself to stand tall. Her mind was a storm of doubts and questions, but one thing was clear—she couldn’t afford to lose.

“I may have made mistakes,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “But I won’t let you tear apart the world I’ve worked to protect. If you want my empire, you’ll have to take it from me.”

The masked figure’s laughter was cold and merciless. “So be it.”

With a sudden, violent motion, they unleashed the orb of energy. The room erupted in a cascade of light and sound, the walls of the dreamlike palace shattering into fragments. Argider braced herself, her own magic flaring to meet the oncoming attack.

As the dream world crumbled around them, one thought burned in Argider’s mind: she would face her past and fight for her future, no matter the cost.

The rumble of the explosion had faded, leaving only the eerie stillness of the destroyed throne room. Once a place where Argider’s power and authority had radiated, the throne room now lay in ruins. The pillars had crumbled, the ornate walls cracked and split, and the grand chandeliers lay shattered across the floor like fallen stars. The atmosphere was thick with dust and the remnants of magic, the once-living pulse of the palace now replaced by an unsettling quiet.

Argider’s vision blurred as her senses began to return. Her body felt heavy, her limbs weak, but as the fog cleared, she realized she wasn’t alone. Shadows seemed to dance around her, stretching and shifting in the dim light. The once vibrant, grand throne room now looked like an otherworldly maze—a twisted reflection of reality. Time itself appeared to stutter, with flickering images of moments long past appearing like fractured shards of glass, then vanishing as quickly as they had come. A broken mirror of reality, disjointed and surreal.

Argider groaned, trying to push herself up, but her body refused to obey. Her mind was foggy, and her breath came in shallow gasps. She had been through so much, but now she was alone—lost in this dreamlike space. Her surroundings pulsed with an unnatural glow, as if the walls themselves were alive. Reality warped and shifted with every blink.

The memories came crashing in like waves. Images from her past life—her old empire, her leadership, the power she once wielded—flooded her mind. She relived moments of her former life, each one more painful than the last. Choices she had made, decisions that seemed trivial at the time but now weighed heavily on her conscience. Her past life had been filled with moments of greed, ambition, and the pursuit of control, but there had also been sacrifices—too many sacrifices. Too many lives lost. Too many broken promises.

She saw herself as a leader—decisive, powerful, and unyielding. Her empire had thrived under her rule, but in the process, she had left behind a trail of destruction. The people who had once trusted her had been betrayed, abandoned, and cast aside in the wake of her decisions. The echoes of their voices haunted her. Some had pleaded for mercy, others for justice, but she had ignored them all. The price of power was steep, and it had cost her more than she had ever anticipated.

Amidst the fractured memories, a single image stood out. A figure, cloaked in shadows, watching her from a distance. Always just out of reach, never fully seen. The masked figure—her tormentor. She had seen them before, in glimpses, but now they were here, surrounding her, their presence suffocating.

“You think you’ve learned?” the voice of the masked figure echoed in her mind, cold and mocking. “You think you’ve changed? Your past will always be your chains. You’ll never escape it.”

Argider’s heart raced. She was trapped in a dream—or was it a nightmare? She wasn’t sure. Her body was bound by the illusions of the palace, and she couldn’t find a way out. The masked figure’s words rang in her ears, each one a painful reminder of her failures. They were right. She had been too reckless in her past life. Her choices had led her to this moment—this fractured, broken reality.

But something stirred within her. The power that had once been hers, the strength she had wielded as a ruler, surged within her chest. It wasn’t gone. It was still there, buried deep within, waiting to be reclaimed. She wouldn’t let her past define her—not now, not when the future of her empire and her wives were on the line.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the wives stood at the entrance of the ruined throne room. The magical surge that had torn through the palace had finally subsided, but the damage was immense. The palace, once a beacon of Argider’s authority, now seemed to pulse with an ominous energy. The once-imposing structure had become a labyrinth of shifting walls and corridors. The ground trembled under their feet as if the very foundation of the palace had become alive, responding to the disturbance within.

Esmeralda was the first to move. Her eyes scanned the wreckage, but there was no sign of Argider. Her heart sank. She had always known that her loyalty to Argider was inextricably linked to the empire’s fate, but this—this was worse than she had ever feared. Her estranged father, Gander, still cast a long shadow over her life, and now, the empire was on the brink of destruction. But her concern was for Argider, and in this moment, her doubts about her father felt distant, inconsequential.

Faeralys stood beside her, her usual confidence shaken. Guilt gnawed at her. She had doubted Esmeralda, questioned her loyalty, and now, their world was falling apart. Her fear of being wrong had clouded her judgment, and now it threatened everything she held dear. Fialova, ever steady, stood at the back, her mind working. Something was wrong. The palace was not just destroyed—it was shifting, changing, as if it were reflecting something deeper, something hidden within Argider herself.

“This place,” Fialova said, her voice tight with concern, “it’s not just the palace. It’s something else. It’s like… it’s alive.”

As the wives moved further into the palace, they began to notice strange phenomena—walls that moved on their own, cryptic symbols that appeared on the floors and walls, glowing faintly with an energy that didn’t belong to this world. The messages were unclear, but they were unmistakably linked to Argider. Whoever—or whatever—had caused this destruction was pulling the strings from somewhere within the palace, manipulating it, reshaping it.

Esmeralda’s mind raced. The masked figure—the one who had orchestrated everything—was still out there. They were manipulating the empire, pulling it apart. But who was behind this? And what did it have to do with Argider?

The walls seemed to close in around them. They had to find her—before it was too late. But in the back of their minds, doubt lingered. The empire, their relationships, their very existence—it all felt fragile, on the brink of collapse.

“Do you think Argider’s still alive?” Esmeralda asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Faeralys didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

They had no answers, only questions. And as they ventured deeper into the palace, it became clear that the greatest battle of all was just beginning—one that would test their loyalty, their trust, and their very understanding of reality itself.