The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Chapter 163 Oh No, It Gets Worse

[Warning: Old draft.]@@@@

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The ground was still shaking. Debris tumbled from the gilded ceiling, chandeliers swayed precariously, and the nobles were screaming like frightened pigeons as they scrambled for the exits. The sky outside? Oh, that was a whole other problem—an unnatural swirl of colors that should not exist in any sane reality.

And yet, Argider found herself, once again, as the only person expected to deal with this mess. Typical.

She let out a slow, measured breath before throwing her hands in the air. "You know what? Fine. What now? Is reality breaking again? Are the gods finally sending me an apology letter? Or—" She paused mid-rant, narrowing her eyes at the mysterious figure standing far too casually in the chaos. "Did you bring whatever eldritch nightmare is currently ruining my day?"

The figure tilted their head, an infuriating smirk playing at their lips. "Oh, I wouldn't say I brought it." A pause, then a shrug. "More like... it followed me."

Cue the monstrous screech from the heavens.

The very air vibrated as the sound reverberated through the palace, rattling the very foundation. Everyone—nobles, knights, and the unfortunate souls still present—froze in absolute terror. Argider, however, just sighed.

"Great. Just great."

Slowly, cautiously, the group turned their heads upward. A rift had opened in the sky, dark and pulsing, edges fraying like torn fabric. And from within, a thing peered through.

It was an incomprehensible mass—shifting limbs that defied logic, countless glowing eyes blinking in chaotic rhythms, and an overwhelming aura of existential dread. The kind of creature that, by all accounts, should drive mortals into madness at the mere sight of it.

It waved.

Argider stared.

"Did it just—?"

"Yes," Faeralys confirmed, adjusting her glasses with a calmness that was both impressive and deeply concerning. "It waved."

Esmeralda was already drawing her sword, face set in grim determination. "I am not dealing with this today."

Fialova, on the other hand, had an entirely different reaction. She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she had just witnessed the most beautiful sight in existence. "Oh, but look at it! It's adorable!"

Argider turned to her so fast it was a miracle she didn't give herself whiplash. "Excuse me?"

Fialova beamed, her entire demeanor radiating delight. "Look at those little appendages! The glow of its endless, unknowable form! It's like a cosmic pet!"

The creature made a deep, warbling noise. One that might have been affection... or a prelude to devouring the entire plane of existence. Hard to tell.

Argider pinched the bridge of her nose. "We are not adopting the cosmic horror."

Fialova pouted. "But what if it's lonely?"

Esmeralda tightened her grip on her sword. "It can be lonely somewhere else."

The mysterious figure, who had yet to properly introduce themselves, observed the entire exchange with visible amusement. "You're taking this rather well."

Argider sighed, rubbing her temples. "If I had a meltdown every time reality threw something impossible at me, I wouldn't have time to breathe."

Faeralys, meanwhile, was flipping through her tome, humming thoughtfully. "Technically, if it is an abandoned cosmic entity, we might need to appease it before it—"

The creature suddenly roared.

The ground shook. The palace windows shattered into fine dust, priceless paintings toppled from the walls, and the nobles? Gone. Not even a farewell shriek. Just the distant echo of their retreating footsteps.

Argider crossed her arms. "See? This is why we don't adopt cosmic horrors."

Fialova sighed. "Fine, but only because it's throwing a tantrum."

Fialova leans forward, gleeful. "Oh, it definitely does."

Esmeralda, who has spent the past ten minutes glaring up at Squishy as if she could intimidate a cosmic entity into leaving, finally turns to Argider with the look of someone who has had just about enough.

"Fix it."

Argider throws up her hands. "Oh, fix it, she says. As if I have a guidebook titled How to Politely Tell an Eldritch Horror to Leave You Alone."

"You are the saintess," Faeralys points out.

"Fake saintess," Argider corrects.

"Technicality."

Meanwhile, Squishy lets out a happy, otherworldly hum that vibrates through the very fabric of reality. Everyone shudders.

"Look, Squishy, buddy," Argider starts, gesturing vaguely toward the creature, "I appreciate that you... uh, exist? But you can't stay here. The nobles are already one disaster away from declaring me the harbinger of doom."

Squishy chirps.

"That sounded suspiciously like 'too bad.'"

"Oh, definitely too bad," the mysterious figure finally speaks, watching the exchange with great amusement. "It's chosen you, dear saintess."

Argider closes her eyes. "I refuse to be chosen."

Esmeralda, now actively restraining herself from attempting a very pointless sword fight against an entity that exists beyond the limits of mortal understanding, crosses her arms. "It's dangerous. If it stays, it will throw the entire balance of the world into question."

"Okay, but what if—" Fialova starts.

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"Because the answer is no," Argider snaps.

Faeralys, being the only responsible intellectual in this disaster, hums thoughtfully. "Actually, some cosmic entities are capable of forming contracts. If Squishy is bound to Argider, it may be possible to negotiate—"

"No contracts!" Argider cuts in immediately. "Do I look like I want to be magically tied to a giant wriggling—" She waves a hand at Squishy. "—thing?"

Squishy wriggles happily.

"I think it likes that description," Faeralys notes.

Argider groans into her hands. "Okay, fine. You know what? Let's find out why it's here before we start debating its living arrangements."

Fialova beams. "Yay! Interdimensional diplomacy!"

Esmeralda, deadpan, mutters, "We are all going to die."

The discussion is interrupted as the priests begin to chant louder, their voices reaching an almost frantic crescendo. The high priest, robes in tatters from the earlier incident with Squishy's arrival, steps forward with wild, desperate eyes.

"Saintess!" he gasps, clutching his staff. "This thing is an abomination! It must be banished immediately, before it taints the holy ground of our temple any further!"

Squishy, seemingly displeased with his tone, tilts one of its many eyes in his direction. A second later, the high priest vanishes—not violently, not with any kind of gruesome spectacle. He simply blinks out of existence.

There is a long, heavy silence.

Faeralys thoughtfully adjusts her glasses. "Fascinating. That was not teleportation."