The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

The robin flapped its wings experimentally, looking at itself with growing bewilderment. "What the hell? Am I glowing? Why am I glowing? What did you do to me?"

"I... uh..." Argider stammered, her brain scrambling to process what had just happened.

"Did you—did you enchant me or something?" the bird demanded, fixing her with a sharp, accusatory glare.

"I... might have?" Argider squeaked, glancing helplessly at Alvator.

"Well," he said slowly, "that's not exactly what I expected, but... congratulations, Argider. You've just awakened a very opinionated robin."

The bird ruffled its feathers indignantly. "Awakened? Awakened into what? Some kind of glowing magic... thing? Oh! I can talk!"

Argider groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is not how I thought today would go."

"Welcome to magic," Alvator said with a smirk. "It's never boring."

It flapped onto Argider's shoulder, glaring at her with all the fiery indignation a tiny bird could muster. "Well, you're no longer allowed to stay away from me, lady. Because I don't know what kind of spell you just pulled, but I'm gonna stick around forever!"

Argider sighed deeply. "This is why I don't experiment with magic on animals."

"Too late now," Alvator said cheerfully. "Better start taking notes, Bestower. You've got a lot to learn."

The days that followed were a blur of sweat, frustration, and incremental progress. Mornings were reserved for sword practice—a discipline Argider refused to let go of, despite her new focus on magic.

"Alright," she muttered under her breath. "No more excuses. If I'm stuck at level one, it's because I haven't done anything properly yet."

"Good. Admitting your laziness is the first step toward improvement," Alvator's voice chimed in from the shadows. He floated beside the girl, paws folded, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.

Argider shot him a glare. "Whatever."

"Right," Alvator said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, studying doesn't fill your experience bar. You're going to need to get your hands dirty."

"Dirty how?" Argider asked warily.

"Magic is a muscle," he said, circling around her. "You can't strengthen it by reading about how it works. You have to use it, push it, fail with it, and then use it again. And lucky for you, I've prepared a series of exercises to make sure you don't explode yourself—or anyone else."

Argider sighed but nodded. "Fine. What's first?"

The first exercise Alvator assigned was deceptively simple: focus her mana into a single point of light and maintain it for as long as possible.

Argider held out her palm, summoning a small, flickering orb of golden light. It hovered just above her skin, warm and steady—for about five seconds. Then it sputtered, dimmed, and winked out like a snuffed candle.

"Focus," Alvator called from the sidelines. "Your mana is slipping. Stop thinking about what it looks like and concentrate on feeling it."

"I am concentrating!" Argider snapped, her voice rising with frustration. She closed her eyes, summoning the orb again.

This time, she focused on the sensation of mana flowing through her, imagining it like a stream of warm sunlight pooling in her hand. The light grew steadier, brighter.

"Better," Alvator said, though he still sounded unimpressed. "Now keep it stable while moving."

"Wait, what?"

Before she could protest further, a magical pulse shot toward her from Alvator's direction.

Argider yelped and stumbled sideways, the light in her hand vanishing as she instinctively threw up her arms.

"You could've warned me!" she shouted.

"Consider it part of the training," he said with a grin. "Now try again."

For the next hour, Argider repeated the exercise, learning to maintain her focus even as Alvator bombarded her with low-level distractions—illusory sparks, sudden noises, and the occasional harmless magical projectile.

By the end of the session, her orb of light was stable even as she jogged across the room to dodge his tricks.

"Not bad," Alvator admitted as she collapsed onto the floor, panting.

Argider glared up at him. "You could at least pretend to be encouraging."

"If you want encouragement," he said, tossing her a waterskin, "level up. You're still a novice."

As the weeks passed, Argider's relentless training began to catch the attention of everyone in the empire. Her transformation was gradual but undeniable.

Sword training with her left hand, grueling magical exercises, and hours of study became her routine, pushing her body and mind to their limits.

The royal servants whispered about her, noticing how her strikes had sharpened and her presence had grown more vibrant.

Nobles and soldiers alike remarked on the change in her demeanor, as if she had suddenly become more alive and aware of everything around her.

Even Alvator, observing her from the sidelines, couldn't help but notice the subtle shift.

As a result, the Perception of the People to rose to level four, and with it, the people's judgment of the Emperor also grew more refined, their views becoming positive.

While Argider threw herself into her relentless training, Callista lingered in the background, peeking through the palace halls like a curious cat, waiting for a scrap of attention.

A soft frown tugged at her lips. Does she no longer need me after all?

It hadn't always been like this. Argider had once come to Callista for everything—comfort, guidance, even just passionate moments in bed.

They had shared a connection that made Callista feel needed, desired, essential.

But now? It felt like she was some forgotten relic, gathering dust while Argider became consumed with her training. Stay connected with empire

Callista was no longer the center of Argider's world; in fact, she barely seemed to exist in it anymore.

She couldn't help but notice how little room there was for her in Argider's rapidly shifting world.

Sword drills, magic exercises, and study sessions filled her days, while Callista was left watching from the sidelines, unsure of where she fit into this new version of Argider.

The palace whispers, of course, didn't help. "Looks like the Fourth Wife is no longer the favorite," they chuckled behind her back.

Callista rolled her eyes at their petty gossip but couldn't shake the sting of their words.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Maybe it's just a phase, Callista thought, but that thought didn't bring her any comfort. Even the soft glances and fleeting touches had become scarce, replaced by the cold intensity of someone with a singular purpose.