The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 154

Chapter 154: Fractured Truths and Silent Lies
Argider’s mind was a battlefield of memories, distorted by the masked figure’s cruel manipulation. The liminal space around her shifted endlessly, forming an ever-changing tapestry of her past. At one moment, she stood on the balcony of her old empire’s palace, watching her subjects cheer her name. The next, she was surrounded by burning ruins, the cries of the fallen echoing in her ears.

She clutched her head, trying to focus. The masked figure’s voice slithered through the space, soft yet cutting.

“You see now, don’t you?” they whispered. “The destruction, the betrayal. This is your legacy.”

Argider gritted her teeth. She had no intention of letting a mere illusion break her. “If this is my legacy, then why does it feel so… off?”

She took a step forward, and the scene around her shimmered. Her supposed memories flickered like candlelight, revealing momentary inconsistencies—the wrong faces in the crowd, different words being spoken, events out of sequence. The masked figure was altering her past, reshaping her guilt into something unbearable.

Realizing this, Argider steadied herself. “You’re tampering with my past, aren’t you?” she challenged, scanning the void for any sign of her captor.

The masked figure materialized in the distance, half-shrouded in mist. “And what if I am?” they mused, their voice unreadable. “Would it change the pain? Would it absolve you?”

Argider clenched her fists. “Pain is real, but memories are truth. If you have to twist them, then you must be afraid of what I’d remember.”

A sharp, cold laughter rang through the space, and suddenly, the world shifted again. This time, Argider was in a grand hall filled with her former allies and enemies alike. Their eyes burned with accusation.

“You abandoned us,” a general from her past life spat.

“You ruled with arrogance,” hissed a fallen noble.

“You let our empire fall!” another voice cried, and soon, the room was filled with shouting. Their figures distorted, their voices merging into a chaotic chorus.

Argider’s breathing grew heavy, but she forced herself to stand tall. “I refuse to accept false memories,” she declared. “I will not be broken by lies.”

A pulse of defiant energy radiated from her, and the illusion trembled. The echoes of her past flickered and then vanished like mist, leaving only the masked figure before her. Their silence was more telling than any words.

“You’re unraveling the truth,” the masked figure admitted, their tone lower now. “But are you ready for it?”

Before Argider could respond, the dreamscape shattered.

In the real world, the palace was in chaos. Esmeralda, Faeralys, and Fialova navigated through the shifting corridors, the once-majestic halls warping around them as if the palace itself were alive. Ancient glyphs on the walls pulsed with unnatural energy, distorting the reality they knew.

“This is getting worse,” Faeralys muttered, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. “It’s like the entire structure is breaking apart.”

“It’s connected to Argider,” Fialova said grimly. “She’s in there somewhere, trapped between worlds.”

Esmeralda, leading the group, suddenly stopped in front of a massive, sealed door covered in ancient inscriptions. “This place…” she murmured, reaching out. “There’s something here.”

With a deep breath, she pressed her hand against the sigil in the center. The moment she did, the door creaked open, revealing a hidden chamber beyond.

Inside, towering shelves lined with dust-covered scrolls and aged tomes stretched into the darkness. In the center of the chamber, a stone pedestal held a single, pristine manuscript. Faeralys stepped forward, carefully unrolling it. Her eyes widened as she read.

“This… this talks about something called the ‘Veil of Rebirth,'” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “It suggests that history has been rewritten before. That certain individuals—powerful ones—can have their pasts altered.”

Esmeralda’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying Argider’s past might not be what she remembers?”

Before Faeralys could answer, the chamber grew cold. The flickering candlelight dimmed, and shadows stretched unnaturally. The three wives turned, hands on their weapons, as dark figures emerged from the walls. Cloaked in shadowy armor, their presence reeked of magic and deception.

“They’re here to stop us,” Fialova whispered, unsheathing her blade.

The figures attacked without hesitation, moving with unnatural speed. Esmeralda countered with a swift strike, her blade meeting theirs in a shower of sparks. Faeralys chanted a protective spell, forming a barrier around them, while Fialova leapt forward with a deadly grace, cutting through the illusions of darkness.

The battle was fierce, each wife pushing herself to the limit. The shadowy figures fought relentlessly, as if protecting something—no, hiding something. It was clear now. This conspiracy ran deeper than they had imagined.

Despite their skill, the wives were gradually being pushed back. Then, in an instant, the attack stopped. The shadowy figures dissolved into nothingness, leaving only an eerie silence in their wake.

“That wasn’t a victory,” Faeralys murmured, breathing heavily. “They retreated.”

“They were buying time,” Esmeralda said darkly, her grip tightening on her weapon.

A sudden, powerful tremor shook the palace, sending cracks spiraling through the walls. The ancient chamber itself began to collapse. Fialova grabbed the manuscript, tucking it away as they made a desperate dash out of the room just before the ceiling caved in.

Back in the liminal space, Argider stood amidst a shifting void, her mind clearer than before. The masked figure regarded her with new intensity, their expression unreadable behind the veil.

“I see now,” Argider said, voice firm. “You’ve been trying to rewrite my past, to shape it into something that suits your goal.”

The masked figure chuckled. “Perhaps. But have you considered that I might not be the only one?”

A chill ran through Argider. “What do you mean?”

“You believe you know who you were,” the masked figure said, stepping closer. “But what if the truth was hidden from you long before I ever arrived?”

Argider’s breath caught. The possibility was terrifying—had she been living a lie from the very beginning? If history had been rewritten before, then who had done it? And why?

The dreamscape trembled, warning of an impending collapse. Argider knew she had little time left. But she refused to let this confrontation end without answers.

“I will find the truth,” she vowed. “No matter what it takes.”

The masked figure’s lips curled in a knowing smile. “Then let the real trial begin.”

And with that, everything shattered into darkness.

Argider gritted her teeth as the dreamworld twisted around her. The masked figure’s fabricated memories pressed down on her like a suffocating weight, showing her visions of past mistakes, betrayals, and failures. But something was wrong. The scenes flickered—faces warped, words shifted, and certain events played out in ways she didn’t remember. This wasn’t just a forced recollection of her sins. It was a distortion.

The masked figure’s voice slithered through the shifting void. “See now, the ruin you brought upon the world. Your empire burned because of you, because of your choices.”

But Argider refused to be swallowed by the illusion. As she struggled to separate truth from fabrication, a single memory persisted—one the masked figure hadn’t changed. It called to her like an anchor in the storm of deceit. A name she couldn’t yet recall. A bond she had once held dear. A betrayal that had never truly been hers.

Determined, she pushed deeper into the mirage, peeling away the falsehoods. And then, the realization struck her like a lightning bolt—the masked figure wasn’t simply a vengeful former ally. They were something far worse: a remnant of a war long buried, a being shaped by lies, a shadow molded by hands that had rewritten history itself.

Meanwhile, in the real world, Esmeralda, Faeralys, and Fialova barely stood after their battle against the shadowy agents. Their injuries burned, their breaths came in ragged gasps, but they had no time to falter. The palace walls around them trembled, pulsing as if alive. Magic surged unnaturally through its halls, the air thick with an ominous presence.

They reached the hidden chamber at last. Within, ancient records lay in disarray—scrolls, letters, and decrees, all bearing the weight of forgotten truths. As they pieced together the fragmented words, a horrifying realization unfolded before them. Argider’s past empire hadn’t fallen simply because of her. It had been orchestrated. Manipulated. There were forces at work, older and crueler than any of them had imagined, ensuring that she would never reclaim her true past.

Above them, the very foundation of the palace began to crack. The dreamworld and reality were colliding, the boundary between them breaking apart. Argider felt it, the pull of oblivion tightening around her. The masked figure’s power surged, the air humming with violent energy.

“If you resist, you will be erased,” they warned, voice seething with fury.

But Argider’s mind had cleared. She saw through the lies. And she made her choice.

With a defiant snarl, she reached for the last untouched memory—the one truth they could not change.

The masked figure recoiled, realizing too late that they had underestimated her resolve. The dreamworld cracked open, unraveling their deception.

And then, a whisper. Not from the masked figure.

Something else had been watching.

And it was not pleased.