The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Chapter 162 Forced Rest

[Warning: Old Draft]

Argider swayed on her feet, the world tilting dangerously as the remnants of whatever unholy power had just nearly broken her apart still clung to the air. Her divine seal was cracked, her body a battlefield of pain and exhaustion, and her mind? Blissfully, stubbornly refusing to process what had just happened.

Unfortunately, her wives had already processed everything for her.

"Nope," Esmeralda declared, stepping forward with all the certainty of a woman who had made up her mind. "She's done. Time for forced rest. Again."

Before Argider could even blink, strong arms scooped her up.

Argider flailed. "PUT ME DOWN—"

"No," Esmeralda replied, as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

"This is ridiculous! I can still—"

"Be stubborn and collapse in the middle of something important? Yes. That is exactly why we're doing this," Faeralys said, adjusting her glasses with a look that screamed 'I told you so.'

Fialova, lounging with a glass of wine she had definitely conjured out of nowhere, smirked. "Oh, let her struggle a little. It's entertaining."

The struggling? Completely pointless. Argider was summarily carried off, all resistance ignored.

Argider was tucked into bed with military precision.

It was not optional.

Esmeralda stood at the bedside, arms crossed, her stance daring Argider to try anything foolish. Faeralys, ever the scholar, was already flipping through a massive tome on divine backlash, ready to deliver an impromptu lecture. And Fialova? Fialova was far too pleased about all of this.

"You should just give in, darling," she cooed, leaning over with a grin. "Think of the attention you're getting."

Argider, deadpan, muttered, "I'd rather fight a god."

"Oh, but you already did," Fialova purred, fingers tracing circles on the sheets. "And look where it got you."

Since rest was non-negotiable, her wives took full advantage of the situation.

Esmeralda, the relentless caretaker, ensured Argider was fed, hydrated, and completely immobile. Any attempt to move was met with an unimpressed stare and the simple question: "Do you want to make it worse?"

Faeralys, ever the intellectual menace, insisted on examining Argider's divine seal thoroughly. Unfortunately, her method involved tracing intricate patterns on her skin while murmuring about energy stabilization.

Fialova, the shameless flirt, was having the time of her life. Every now and then, she let out dramatic sighs, stretched in entirely unnecessary ways, and generally made everything worse for Argider's already-frayed sanity.

Argider? Absolutely. Losing. Her. Mind.

Since divine backlash still left her body aching, her wives decided that a trip to the hot springs was mandatory.

Argider crossed her arms. "This is excessive."

Faeralys, adjusting her glasses, responded with complete seriousness, "It's medically necessary."

Fialova smirked. "And aesthetically pleasing."

This time, it was even worse than before.

Esmeralda, sleeves rolled up, washed her hair with deliberate care, making sure Argider felt every second of it.

Faeralys ran a soothing hand along her back, murmuring about healing properties, letting her touch linger.

Fialova? She simply stretched in the water, watching the chaos unfold with absolute glee.

Argider? 100% defeated.

Just when Argider thought she might finally catch a break—

Boom.

A messenger arrived, frantic and breathless.

The entire continent was in absolute disarray.

Argider smacked a hand over her face. "I hate all of you."

Ultimately, they reached a compromise. Esmeralda's protection came in the form of delicate, enchanted silver embroidery woven into the fabric. Faeralys ensured the robes were elegant, ethereal, and befitting a Saintess. And Fialova? She got thigh-high slits, because of course she did.

When they arrived at the royal court, the suffocating silence confirmed all of Argider's worst fears.

Nobles, scholars, priests, and foreign dignitaries all turned to stare at her as if she were some rare beast paraded for display. The High Priest was the first to approach, his voice trembling with fervor. "Saintess Argider, we must discuss the meaning of your recent... incident."

"Do we?" Argider muttered.

The royal advisor stepped forward. "The celestial disturbance has left our scholars baffled. The gods have not responded to our prayers, and yet... you bear the mark of something beyond divine comprehension."

"Lucky me," Argider said flatly.

A foreign ambassador bowed deeply. "Some believe you are a herald of new divine law. Others... whisper that you are the end of the old gods."

Esmeralda stiffened, her hand resting on her sword. Faeralys's expression darkened. Fialova merely looked delighted, as if watching the opening act of a particularly dramatic play.

Argider sighed. "And I believe I should have stayed in bed." Continue your adventure at My Virtual Library Empire

Before she could endure further questioning, the air in the hall shifted.

The torches flickered.

A chill crawled down her spine.

And then—

A voice. Familiar. Amused.

"Oh, my dear Argider."

Silence crashed over the room as they appeared.

The same figure from before. The one who had shattered reality, whispered forgotten truths, and cracked her divine seal.

Nobles panicked. Priests began chanting hurried prayers. Guards drew their weapons.

Argider closed her eyes. "I hate my life."

Fialova, ever the menace, leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Oh, but it's so fun to watch."

The figure took a slow step forward, their presence unsettlingly at ease. "I promised we'd meet again, didn't I?"

Argider glared. "You could have chosen not to fulfill that promise."

They chuckled. "Now, where's the fun in that?"

Esmeralda immediately stepped between them, hand gripping her sword. "What do you want?"

The figure tilted their head, their expression unreadable. "Why, only to talk." Their gaze settled back on Argider. "After all, dear Saintess, you and I have unfinished business."

The air in the hall was thick with tension.

Fialova smirked, licking her lips. "Well. This just got interesting."

Argider groaned, rubbing her temples. "I'm going to need more wine."

Just as Argider is about to demand answers from the mysterious figure, the ground rumbles. The palace trembles. The sky outside? Now a swirling mess of unnatural colors.

The scholars scream. The priests faint. The nobles try to flee.

And the figure? They just smile.

"Oh, Saintess," they murmur, stepping closer. "You didn't think you were the only anomaly, did you?"

Argider? Staring. Processing. Dreading.

Esmeralda's grip tightens on her sword. Faeralys is already flipping through her tome. Fialova? She just grins.

"Well," Fialova hums, "this should be fun."