The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Chapter 7 Denzelle Arctera

[WARNING: Violent Depiction]

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Argider moved through the opulent halls of the pleasure house, each room more lavish than the last. She scanned her surroundings with a single-minded focus, her mind fixed on the intels she received at hand from Addysen. She'd been told that mostly the word of the upheaval at Aloxus' entrance had been making its way up, the security tightened to a point of near-suffocation. That the city was becoming thicker with tension.

Addysen, too, had become privy to whispers circulating – whispers suggesting that something in regard to Argider felt awry.

It wasn't just that her sudden absence had gone unmentioned; it was as though it had never even happened. And so, it was not surprising that the oblivious crowd earlier had displayed such an unbewildered daze. After all, if the Emperor were to go missing, the news would have spread like wildfire. The fact that no whispers of her disappearance were circulating suggested that this information was being deliberately concealed.

Until it was the right moment to strike - she feared.

She halted in her tracks, her eyes fixating on a familiar brown head of hair visible in one of the rooms of the upper echelons' pleasure house. That boyish face, forever wearing an air of innocence, brought a wave of relief to Argider. She recognized those wide, mushy green eyes, always carrying a smile that she knew all too well.

Denzelle Arctera, the third son of Grand Duke Arctera, the family renowned for their scholarly pursuits and intellectual prowess that they served the crown as advisors. He served as Argider's loyal right-hand man, enduring her every capricious whim with a mix of patience and resignation.

Then, she looked at the top of his head. "Let's see..."

— [Judgment of the Emperor ▪︎ 100]

On this day, for the first time, Argider encountered a positive sign amidst the series of misfortunes she had experienced this morning. Finally!

Without a clue of what was about to unfold, Denzelle lay there, blissfully ignorant. But he could hear sounds of approaching footsteps, his only attention to every little step slightly longer than the other.

Denzelle nodded, "Well, yes. There will be a party later at the palace. Your mother has been included in the list of attendees." He added, his tone carrying a hint of reproach, "You would have been informed, too, if you hadn't vanished."

"So it was noticed that I had gone?" she sounded skeptical.

"Indeed," Denzelle confirmed, "But they merely assumed that you were out... with ladies." He chuckled.

As he stepped away from the bed, gathering his garments from the floor, he couldn't help but express his interest. "But I do wonder..." he mused, as he slipped into his trousers, "Why have you covered yourself up like that? What's behind your cloak, Argider? Not only that... you sound rather squeeky."

Argider hesitated initially, her hands trembling as she slowly pulled down her concealing cloak. Gradually, her features came into view, her face appearing smaller and more delicate, while her nose became slender and more refined. As her hood fell away, her long locks cascaded down, framing her face perfectly.

Denzelle's body tensed, muscles clenching in response to the unexpected sight before him. Shock was indisputable in his eyes.

"What's wrong...?" Argider questioned, perplexity on her face as she tried to decipher the expression in his eyes. "You know, I'm in dire need of your assistance. I need to reach the Palace before it's too late. Something ominous is approaching, and-"

"You...." He stook a step closer, then another. "You... were chosen as the system holder?! You, of all people?! This cannot happen!"

Argider froze. The man did not react to her new form, but rather, the system that was beyond his human senses?

Denzelle's face contorted with rage as he seized a fistful of Argider's alabaster locks, thrusting her head forcefully into the dresser that stood next to the bedpost. Denzelle paid no heed to the guttural screams and the blood staining the dressing table, nor did he acknowledge the gruesome, gory remnants now adorning the wall in a violent red.

As their eyes finally met, Argider's gaze was tearing and pleading, a mere receptacle for Denzelle's displeasure. On one knee, he scrutinized the bruise on her dainty face, watching as the colors deepened to a menacing purple, the blood, sweat, and tears blending together in a grotesque mosaic on her delicate features.

Her eyes, wide with fear, were strangely fixed, her gaze locked due to a mild concussion.