The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 160

Chapter 160: Awakening Reality
[Warning: What you are reading is an old draft. Volume 2 will be changed. But in my opinion, this chapter is fine to read because it’s cleaner and well… has fanservice.]

Argider’s vision shatters. Reality bends, twists, and then—

She wakes up.

The moment her senses return, they are overwhelmed. Cold stone presses against her back, rough and uneven. The air is thick with dust and the remnants of something ancient and broken.

The first sound she registers is breathing—not just her own, but others. Labored, uneven. Familiar. She forces her eyes open and finds her wives beside her.

Esmeralda’s fingers are digging into her arm, knuckles white from tension. Her usual composed demeanor is gone, replaced by something raw, something unguarded. Faeralys is slumped forward, barely holding herself upright, her eyes clouded with the remnants of whatever chaos they had just endured. Fialova, in stark contrast, is lounging with an almost amused air, though there is something sharper in her gaze—a quiet calculation, a restrained anticipation.

“You’re back,” Esmeralda breathes, though it is unclear whether it is a statement or a question. Her grip tightens for a moment, as if reassuring herself that Argider is truly there.

Before she can answer, before she can even fully sit up, a deep groan reverberates through the room. It is not from any person but from the very palace itself. The walls tremble, the floor shifts beneath them, and the air crackles with unstable magic.

Argider exhales, attempting to move, but the moment she does, pain sears across her chest. She hisses, hand instinctively flying to the source—a mark, burning against her skin like a brand. A divine seal, shimmering faintly with celestial energy. Not just a reminder of what had transpired, but a curse, a chain.

“The deity…” Argider mutters, her voice hoarse. She looks around, scanning the ruins, but the Ancient Deity of Order and Correction is gone. Vanished. Escaped.

Or perhaps, fled.

“They didn’t just leave,” Faeralys speaks, her voice steady despite the obvious exhaustion in her posture. “They left something behind.”

Esmeralda follows her gaze, her expression hardening as she takes in the mark on Argider’s chest. “A curse.”

Fialova tilts her head, finally abandoning her amused front. “Oh? That’s new. Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

Argider swallows down a string of curses. Of course. Of course, the deity wouldn’t have just let this go. She had been too much of an anomaly, too dangerous, too unpredictable. Instead of eliminating her outright, they had bound her with something far worse. Something that made her more unstable than before.

And the world was already reacting to it.

The palace continues to groan, as though struggling to hold itself together. The damage from her divine awakening lingers—walls split, pillars cracked, floors fragmented. And beyond these walls, beyond the shattered remains of their throne room, the sky is no longer the same.

Dark cracks stretch across the heavens. They spiderweb through the firmament, veins of an unnatural force splitting reality apart. Light flickers and distorts, shifting like an illusion trying desperately to hold form.

Argider’s stomach twists. The world is breaking.

A sudden gust of wind howls through the ruined chamber, carrying whispers. Faint, distant, but growing. A presence stirs—something old, something that had been waiting. It had felt the shift, the instability. And now, it was answering.

Argider’s pulse pounds. Whatever it is, it is not a god. It is not divine. But it is something that recognizes the cracks left behind. Something eager to step into the void.

“We need to leave,” Esmeralda states, pulling Argider up with firm hands. There is no hesitation, only certainty. “Now.”

“But what if—” Faeralys begins, but she cuts herself off as the air thickens.

The whispers turn to murmurs. Then to voices. Then to something almost like laughter.

Fialova exhales, eyes narrowing as she watches the shifting shadows around them. “Well. Looks like we’re about to meet whatever decided to crawl out of the cracks first.”

Argider grips her chest, feeling the cursed mark pulse beneath her fingers. The Ancient Deity was gone. The celestial courtroom was gone. But something else had taken its place. Something waiting just beyond the veil, stepping into the shattered world she had left behind.

And it was coming for her.

Argider stood motionless in the ruins of the throne room, her mind lost in the aftermath. The divine seal on her chest pulsed, a burning reminder of what had just transpired. The cracks in the sky stretched like fractured glass, and though she knew she was back in reality, it didn’t feel real. The world around her felt distant, like an illusion she might wake up from at any moment.

Her wives called her name. Once, twice.

She could hear them. She knew they were there. But her body refused to move. She was untethered, floating between moments, unable to react.

Then, suddenly—

A hand grasped her collar. A sharp pull. And before she could even process what was happening, Esmeralda slammed her lips against Argider’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

The world snapped into place.

The air shuddered, the crackling instability of magic around Argider’s body stilled, and time itself seemed to hold its breath. Her thoughts, scattered and disoriented, collided all at once into something solid. Something undeniable.

When Esmeralda finally pulled away, her face was flushed, her breathing uneven. “There,” she murmured, her voice softer now, more certain. “You’re back.”

Argider could only stare, dazed, her mind still catching up to the present.

A small click of shifting metal and the adjusting of glasses made her turn. Faeralys regarded her with an unreadable expression, but her lips curved ever so slightly into a smirk. “Unconventional,” she commented, “but effective.”

Fialova, meanwhile, had settled into a casual sprawl atop a broken column, holding a drink that she definitely had not possessed a moment ago. She took a slow sip, exhaling contentedly before saying, “Well, well, well. If that’s all it takes to stabilize her, I’d say we’ve been wasting an opportunity.”

Argider blinked. Then, with great effort, she managed to get a single word out.

“…What.”

The Softest Recovery (And the Most Shameless Fanservice)

With reality somewhat stabilized, Argider’s wives made a collective decision: under no circumstances was she allowed to lift a single finger. She had rewritten the cosmos, nearly been erased from existence, and quite literally broke the sky. She was done doing things for now.

She argued, of course. Tried to insist she needed to help repair the damage. But she was swiftly outvoted. Overruled. Dragged off against her will.

To the palace’s private hot springs.

Or at least, what was left of them.

Though much of the palace had been damaged, the springs remained largely intact—steamy, mineral-rich pools framed by jagged stone and faintly glowing with residual magic. Mist curled around the surface, and the water rippled invitingly.

Argider had barely sat down before she was being attended to.

Esmeralda took the lead, her assertive nature manifesting as she rolled up her sleeves and settled behind Argider. Without a word, she ran her fingers through her hair, gathering the damp strands before carefully massaging shampoo into her scalp. Her movements were slow, deliberate—almost too precise. Every press of her fingers sent an involuntary shiver down Argider’s spine.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Esmeralda noted, voice low against her ear.

“I—I just wasn’t expecting—”

“Expecting to be taken care of for once?” Faeralys interjected smoothly, settling beside her. Argider hadn’t even noticed her approach until she felt hands on her shoulders. A gentle but insistent touch, adjusting her posture. “Relax. You’re holding too much tension.”

Her words were accompanied by a soft press of fingers kneading into stiff muscles. Gods above. Argider nearly melted on the spot.

And then, of course, there was Fialova.

Lounging lazily across the rocks, her bare shoulders glistening with steam, she watched the whole ordeal with keen amusement. “This,” she mused, stretching out like a cat in the sun, “is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Argider, overwhelmed, barely managed to lift her head. “You’re not even doing anything.”

“I’m enjoying myself.” Fialova swirled a hand through the water, creating slow ripples. “And honestly, watching you squirm is entertainment enough.”

Argider let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Her face was burning. Not from residual divine energy. Not from overexertion. But from this.

She had faced gods. She had stood before the highest cosmic court. She had rewritten her own existence.

But this? Being surrounded, attended to, and utterly doted on like this?

She was losing her mind.

Esmeralda’s hands slid lower, massaging the nape of her neck, and Argider made the grave mistake of letting out an involuntary sigh. Immediately, Faeralys’ smirk deepened, and Fialova made a noise of pure delight.

“Oh, I like that sound,” Fialova purred. “Think we can get her to do it again?”

“I—” Argider’s breath hitched as Esmeralda applied just a little more pressure. “Stop conspiring!”

“No one’s conspiring,” Faeralys assured her, in a tone that was definitely conspiratorial.

Argider made another strangled noise, sinking lower into the water in a futile attempt to escape.

Then, just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, someone made a very suggestive comment—she didn’t even know who—but it was enough to send her into full-blown panic.

Water splashed. Limbs flailed. Fialova howled with laughter.

And as the steam curled around them, as the heat soaked into her weary bones, Argider couldn’t help but think—

Maybe she could allow herself to rest a little longer.