The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Chapter 164 Horror

[Warning: Old, unedited draft]

Squishy has not left. In fact, it has somehow made itself more comfortable. The interdimensional rift it emerged from is still floating ominously in the sky, but now it's... smaller? More compact? As if Squishy decided to shrink its horrifying, incomprehensible mass just enough to be "polite." Unfortunately, it is still staring at Argider with far too many glowing eyes.

Meanwhile, the palace is in full catastrophe mode. The high priest is currently screaming into a holy relic. The nobles who haven't fainted are loudly debating exile, divine smiting, and whether Squishy's presence is an omen of doom or just an unfortunate Tuesday.

And in the center of it all, Argider is pinching the bridge of her nose, vibrating with barely restrained suffering.

"Alright. Status report," she mutters. "Is reality stable?"

Faeralys glances at the rift. "Define stable."

"The sun still exists."

"For now."

Argider exhales sharply. "Cool. And what about the High Priest?"

Esmeralda, still glaring at Squishy, gestures toward the man, who is currently curled into the fetal position, whispering, "The gods have abandoned us."

"Great. So that's a no on divine intervention."

Fialova, who has been feeding Squishy some kind of glowing magical crumbs, hums. "I mean, do we really need it? Squishy's been very well-behaved!"

Squishy chirps in agreement. The sound vibrates across dimensions. Somewhere in the distance, a comet abruptly changes trajectory.

Argider whips around. "Stop feeding it."

"But it likes it!"

"I do not care if it likes it, we are not keeping it as a pet."

The mysterious figure—who has been enjoying this entire disaster far too much—chimes in. "Actually, it may be too late for that."

Argider, in the weary tone of someone who has already given up, asks, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Faeralys begins, flipping a page in her tome, "Squishy has displayed signs of imprinting."

"...Imprinting."

"Yes. As in, it may now view you as its primary attachment."

Squishy wiggles its incomprehensible form and lets out a fond screech that distorts reality for precisely 3.4 seconds.

Argider stares at the sky. "Cool. Great. Just what I needed. A cosmic stalker."

Esmeralda, deadpan, says, "We could still kill it."

Fialova gasps. "No murder."

"Fine," Esmeralda grumbles. "What's the alternative?"

Faeralys adjusts her glasses. "We could attempt to bargain with it."

Argider sighs, staring up at her new problem. "Alright, fine. If it wants to stay, it has to follow rules."

Squishy vibrates with eldritch glee.

Fialova claps. "Yay! Cosmic horror house rules!"

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

Later on, Argider sets "house rules" for Squishy, which it obeys in ways that are technically correct but still terrifying.

The nobles, priests, and general public now believe Argider is the chosen of the horror, leading to political chaos.

Squishy, being an incomprehensible entity, starts causing "accidents" that alter fate and reality in horrifyingly convenient ways.

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Esmeralda was currently chasing Squishy through the palace, her sword swinging wildly as she screamed various threats of destruction.

"I AM GOING TO BANISH IT," she shrieked as her blade sliced through empty air. Squishy effortlessly phased out of existence before reappearing behind her, blinking at her curiously.

"Esmeralda, calm down," Fialova protested. "It's just misunderstood!"

"IT NEEDS TO BE ELIMINATED."

Argider rubbed her temples. "Squishy," she growled. "You are NOT helping."

Squishy chirped. The floor momentarily transformed into an infinite abyss before returning to normal.

Faeralys, ever unbothered, flipped a page in her book. "Technically, it thinks it's helping."

"I CAN SEE THAT."

"The problem," Faeralys continued, "is that Squishy perceives reality differently. The only way to stop this is to redefine what it considers 'correct.'"

Argider took a deep breath, then slammed her fist on the table. "Then we define it. Right now. Before I wake up tomorrow as the Eternal Cosmic Overseer of a kingdom where rivers flow backward."

Everyone turned to Squishy.

Squishy hummed. A chandelier briefly turned into a jellyfish.

Possible Resolutions (None of Which Sound Good)

Squishy Agrees to "Learn."

Squishy offers to study mortals to better understand what is "correct." Unfortunately, its attempts at learning result in disturbingly perfect versions of everyday things, including people.

The Egg Hatches.

Whatever emerges is definitely not normal. Fialova is delighted. Esmeralda is horrified. Faeralys is taking notes.

The Gods Notice.

A divine representative finally descends... only to have Squishy immediately latch onto them as a new friend.

The Cult Becomes a Problem.

Inspired by the High Priest's newfound enlightenment, people start worshipping Squishy instead of the gods. Argider now has an entirely new crisis to deal with.

Squishy's "Correction" Becomes Uncannily Perfect.

No more random chaos—everything is too perfect. Squishy is still warping reality, but now in ways that feel deeply unnatural.

Argider exhaled slowly. "Squishy."

Squishy blinked.

"We need to talk."

The palace fell silent. Squishy wriggled in place. The High Priest hummed. The egg cracked ominously.

And outside, the fish continued floating peacefully through the air.

The silence that followed Argider's declaration was heavier than it had any right to be. Squishy pulsated in midair, its luminous eyes shifting in unpredictable patterns, as though calculating the exact level of trouble it was in.

Argider crossed her arms. "We. Need. To. Talk."

Squishy warbled nervously.

To its credit, Squishy did attempt to fix things. Unfortunately, its solution was to provide everyone with what it assumed would make them happiest.

Which is why the nobles were now eerily euphoric, muttering dreamily about 'perfect governance.'

Why Fialova was cradling not one but three new eggs, each vibrating ominously.

Why the High Priest was levitating.