The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

[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."

The figure chuckled, slow and amused. "Oh, I do love this group."

Argider shot them a glare. "Of course you do."

The creature shifted slightly, its massive form squeezing a bit further through the rift. Not fully, thank the gods, but enough to increase the existential crisis in the room tenfold.

Esmeralda scowled. "Alright, how do we get rid of it?"

Faeralys hummed, tapping her chin. "Well, cosmic entities like this typically respond to offerings, rituals, or strong displays of dominance. We could—"

Before she could finish, Fialova marched forward and booped the creature's nearest appendage.

Everyone froze.

The entity recoiled. It let out a sound that could only be described as a mix between a surprised chirp and a black hole collapsing in on itself. Its countless eyes blinked erratically.

Fialova placed her hands on her hips, nodding in satisfaction. "See? It just needed a little affection."

Argider blinked slowly. "I—" She exhaled. "You know what? I give up."

The creature made another deep, warbling sound, then—much to everyone's astonishment—began retreating back into the rift.

Esmeralda lowered her sword slightly. "Wait… that worked?"

Faeralys tilted her head, intrigued. "Fascinating. Perhaps it simply wanted acknowledgment."

The rift slowly began to close, the creature letting out a final, mournful coo before disappearing entirely. The sky returned to its normal, non-apocalyptic hues. The shaking ceased.

Silence stretched through the ruined hall.

Argider ran a hand down her face. "So… to recap: a cosmic horror appeared, nearly shattered reality, and the solution was booping it on the head?"

Fialova beamed. "Affection is a universal language."

The mysterious figure laughed. "Well, that was certainly entertaining. I must say, I was quite fond of the little guy."

Argider turned on them. "WHO EVEN ARE YOU?"

The figure merely winked. "A friend. Perhaps."

The urge to scream was very, very strong.

Esmeralda sighed, sheathing her sword. "I need a drink."

Faeralys closed her tome. "I need to document this."

Fialova clapped her hands together. "I need a pet."

Argider turned, walked straight to the nearest intact chair, and collapsed into it. "I need a nap."

And for once, just once, she hoped reality would let her have it.

The cosmic horror—who, for the sake of convenience, Fialova has already started calling "Squishy"—has not left. In fact, it seems very comfortable here, looming just outside reality with far too many glowing, unblinking eyes.

The royal guards have given up. The nobles have long since fled. The priests are still frantically chanting prayers in the background, but it's clear no divine intervention is coming anytime soon.

Argider, sitting cross-legged on what used to be an opulent royal carpet but is now just burnt disaster, sighs deeply. She has accepted her suffering.

"I hate to be the one to say it," Faeralys says, not looking up from her tome, "but Squishy likes you."

Argider groans. "No. No, it does not."

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."