The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

The royal hall was bathed in dim, golden light, the flicker of torches casting long, dancing shadows across the towering walls. Argider sat at the head of the table, her chin propped on one hand, while her three wives flanked her. The atmosphere was tense, crackling with unspoken friction, as the messenger stood before them, cloaked in shadow. Their voice was calm yet cold, like a winter breeze that carried the promise of a storm.

"A grave threat approaches your palace," the messenger intoned, their hooded figure almost blending into the shadows. "And it comes from within."

The words hung heavy in the air, sinking like stones into a pool. Argider felt the weight of them settle in her chest, but it was her wives who broke the silence.

"This is absurd," Esmeralda said, folding her arms with a huff. "I'm sure this so-called 'threat' is just Faeralys plotting to look more dependable. She's always trying to outshine me."

Faeralys's fiery eyes narrowed, and her hands clenched into fists. "Oh, please. You think everything revolves around you, don't you? Maybe if you stopped admiring your reflection for five minutes, you'd see the danger staring us in the face."

"Excuse me?" Esmeralda's voice rose, her nails drumming sharply against the table. "I'll have you know that I've been instrumental in securing this empire's stability—"

"If by 'instrumental,' you mean decorating the palace with more mirrors," Faeralys shot back, "then sure, congratulations."

Fialova, seated on Argider's right, sighed heavily and raised a hand to interrupt. "Enough. This isn't helping. We should be focusing on the threat, not tearing each other apart."

Yet even Fialova, with her steady demeanor, looked uncharacteristically strained. Her sharp, observant eyes darted toward the messenger, then to her wives, as though she, too, was sizing up potential betrayal.

Argider held up her hand to silence them all, her voice calm but firm. "Enough. We're not going to solve anything by bickering."

But even as she spoke, doubt churned in her mind. Could one of them really be involved? They'd fought together, laughed together, even begun to build something resembling trust. And yet... the possibility gnawed at her, an insidious little whisper she couldn't quite shake.

The messenger, seemingly unfazed by the tension, stepped back into the shadows. "Heed my warning, Empress. The threat is closer than you think." And without another word, they vanished, leaving behind only a faint shimmer of magic in the air.

Moments later, the tension reached its breaking point as an earsplitting explosion echoed through the palace. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and Argider was on her feet in an instant.

"The armory!" Fialova barked, already moving toward the door.

The group raced through the corridors, the smell of smoke growing stronger with each step. When they reached the armory, the sight that greeted them was devastating. Shelves of weapons and enchanted relics lay in ruins, flames licking at the edges of the room. But at the center of the chaos stood a figure cloaked in swirling magic, their face obscured by a mask.

The masked figure held an orb in their hands, its surface glowing with an ethereal light. Argider's heart clenched. She recognized it instantly—the crystalline orb was a relic of immense power, tied to her own unique magic.

"Stop!" Argider commanded, stepping forward. Her wives flanked her, each bristling with tension and ready for a fight.

The figure laughed, the sound dripping with mockery. "Ah, the great Empress and her loyal little court. How quaint."

Their voice was distorted by magic, but the venom in their tone was unmistakable. "You've built your empire on borrowed time, Argider. You're nothing more than a fool playing at power, and now I'll take what you never deserved."

Before Argider could respond, the figure raised the orb, and a pulse of magic erupted from it, throwing the group back. Argider hit the ground hard, her ears ringing as she struggled to get her bearings.

When she looked up, the figure was gone. All that remained was a scorch mark where they had stood and a single object glinting in the firelight—a small insignia. Argider's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the emblem etched onto it.

"Gander," Esmeralda whispered, her voice barely audible.

All eyes turned to her, and Argider could see the flicker of shock and pain in her wife's normally imperious gaze.

Faeralys wasted no time. "So it was you," she spat, stepping toward Esmeralda.

"What? No!" Esmeralda snapped, her voice rising with panic. "I have nothing to do with this! I don't even speak to my father anymore!"

"And yet his mark is here," Faeralys shot back, pointing at the insignia. "How do we know you're not working with him? Maybe this whole thing was a setup!"

Esmeralda's hands curled into fists, her usual poise crumbling under the weight of the accusation. "How dare you—"

"Enough!" Argider's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. She stepped between them, her gaze firm. "This isn't the time for accusations. Whoever that was, they're gone now, and we need to focus on finding them before they use the orb."

Fialova nodded, stepping forward. "Argider's right. We can't afford to waste time fighting amongst ourselves."

But even as she spoke, Argider could see the doubt lingering in her eyes. The same doubt that churned in her own mind.

Whoever the masked figure was, they had sown a seed of distrust that was already beginning to take root. And as the group stood amidst the ruins of the armory, Argider couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much larger storm.

The air in the ruined armory was thick with smoke and tension. Esmeralda stood at the center of the chaos, her face pale but her voice sharp with defiance.

"I've told you already—I have nothing to do with my father!" she snapped, her emerald eyes blazing with frustration. "He's been out of my life for years. Whatever this is, it's not my doing!"

"Convenient," Faeralys said coldly, crossing her arms. Her crimson hair gleamed like embers in the flickering firelight. "The thief just happens to leave behind a mark tied to your estranged family, and we're supposed to believe it's all a coincidence?"

Esmeralda's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "You think I'd betray Argider? Our empire? If anyone's looking suspicious right now, it's you!"

"Oh, don't even start—"

"Enough!" Argider's voice rang out, cutting through their escalating argument. She stood tall despite the turmoil raging inside her, her gaze flickering between Esmeralda and Faeralys.

"Argider—" Esmeralda began, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

Argider held up a hand, silencing her. "We don't have time for this. Whoever that thief was, they've already set their plan in motion. We need to act now."

As if to punctuate her words, a low rumble reverberated through the palace, shaking the very walls. Argider's heart skipped a beat as a familiar chime echoed in her mind.

[SYSTEM ALERT: A traitor lurks within your circle. Uncover the truth before the empire falls.]

The words burned themselves into her thoughts, a cruel reminder of the impossible situation she was now in. She looked at her wives—Esmeralda with her fire and pride, Faeralys with her suspicion and temper, and Fialova, silent and watchful, her usually serene face now marked by a flicker of doubt.

Fialova finally spoke, her voice calm but edged with uncertainty. "Argider, what do we do? We can't afford to waste time accusing each other, but…" She hesitated, her gaze flickering toward Esmeralda.

Argider felt the weight of their eyes on her, waiting for her to make the call. Trust Esmeralda? Or confront her? The system's warning gnawed at her, amplifying her own doubts. She wanted to believe in her wife, to trust her despite the damning evidence. But what if she was wrong?

The decision was wrenched from her hands as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the palace. A wave of magic rippled through the air, sharp and malevolent, as the protective barriers around the royal halls crumbled.

"Something's wrong," Fialova murmured, her voice tense.

The door to the armory swung open, and a soldier stumbled inside, bloodied and gasping for breath. "Empress," he managed, clutching his side. "The palace—it's under attack. They've breached the gates!"

Argider's heart sank. The thief hadn't come alone—they had brought reinforcements.

"We need to move," Faeralys said, already heading for the door. Her earlier anger was replaced with grim determination. "If they've broken through the barriers, the throne room will be their next target."

Esmeralda hesitated, glancing at Argider. "We don't have time for this, Argider. You have to trust me. Let's focus on protecting the palace and sort this out later."

Argider wanted to agree, but the doubt lingered. Was Esmeralda truly innocent, or was this just a convenient way to deflect suspicion? The system's alert echoed in her mind again, like a taunt.

The group raced through the palace, the halls alive with the sound of clashing steel and crackling magic. Argider's thoughts were a whirlwind as she led her wives toward the throne room.

They were halfway there when another explosion rocked the palace, throwing them off balance. The group stumbled into a grand hallway, only to find themselves face-to-face with a squad of masked invaders. Their leader stepped forward, their robes adorned with the same insignia that had been left behind in the armory.

"You've made it this far," the masked leader sneered, their voice unmistakably familiar from earlier. "But this is where it ends."

Argider drew her blade, her wives readying their magic beside her. "You think you can walk into my palace and take what you want? You'll regret this."