Capítulo 19: The Start (Part 4)

Argider had found her newest daily delight in the form of intense sparring sessions with Uzak for three days.

It wasn't just routine—it was the highlight of her day. Trading blows, dodging jabs, and occasionally eating dirt, she was almost starting to enjoy it. Almost.

With her newfangled Physical Development Interface, she could now pinpoint exactly where she needed improvement.

Turns out, getting stronger wasn't just good for fending herself off; it was also essential for, you know, redemption and all that. A healthy body meant a healthy mind.

Finally, it was yet another day on the practice grounds, and there was now the familiar beat of intense sparring, with Argider and Uzak circling each other like two cats sizing up the same fish.

Uzak, as charmingly cocky as ever, raised an eyebrow. "Is that the best you've got?"

The new Emperor wasn't having it. "Oh, don't flatter yourself," she shot back, tightening her grip on her wooden sword.

She might not be Hercules, but she sure as blazes wasn't backing down.

Around them, a few knights had gathered to watch, probably wondering if they'd see their ruler topple over again. But in front of her, Uzak looked downright smug, proud even, as he watched his first pupil come at him.

Then, like a lightning bolt, Uzak went in for the charge, his sword a blur. Argider barely had time to blink before her weapon went soaring through the air.

She stood there, dumbfounded, as it landed with a sad little clunk somewhere behind her.

"You're getting better," Uzak said, managing to keep a straight face.

"Oh, save the 'encouragement,'" she huffed, crossing her arms with a glare.

"Fine, you want honesty?" Uzak leaned in, all smug. "Stop being so weak."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh, you absolute bitch!"

Over time, Argider and Uzak had grown as thick as thieves—or perhaps as thick as two people who occasionally tried to beat the daylights out of each other could be. They sparred endlessly, each one pushing the other to new limits, all in the spirit of... well, probably friendship, if a bruised ego counted.

Yet despite their camaraderie, Argider couldn't quite ignore that pesky whisper in her head, hinting that all this fun might come with a surprise betrayal down the line.

After the latest sweaty skirmish, she staggered back to her room, aching in every possible way and wondering how many friendships relied on bruises and insults. Grabbing a towel, she scrubbed away the sweat, mulling over just how much she could actually trust Uzak. He seemed loyal enough... for now. But it was hard to forget that even the closest sparring partners occasionally went for the jugular.

"Redemption System, show me the Physical Development Interface," she ordered.

— [Command Accepted]

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….

PHYSICAL STATUS:

[Muscle Mass Level]

Level 2 ▪︎ 20/50 EXP

[Strength Level]

Level 1 ▪︎ 15/50 EXP

[Agility Level]

Level 1 ▪︎ 15/20 EXP

[Flexibility Level]

Level 2 ▪︎ 35/50 EXP

[Endurance Level]

Level 2 ▪︎ 45/50 EXP

….

— [To Unlock New Stages In Personality Development Status, Reach Level Five To Each Category It Is Under!]

— [Loading…]

— [Example: Reaching Level Five Is the Maximum Level To Openness, Conscientiousness & Neuroticism Until You Unlock The Second Stage of Cognitive Level Through A Trial Quest!]

— [Upon Reaching The Maximum Levels, A Trial Quest Will Be Instantly Given To Fully Unlock The Next Stage]

….

Argider let out a long, dramatic sigh, staring at her Physical Development Interface like it was personally responsible for all her problems.

"Level two in almost everything?" she muttered. "This is ridiculous!"

"Well, if you weren't so busy skipping lessons and being a rebellious little emperor, maybe you'd actually level up," Alvator scolded, materializing before her in his usual cat, lecture-giving form.

Argider threw herself onto the bed, flinging her arms out dramatically. "Oh great, here we go again!"

"You ditched Madam Phirya's lessons—again—and ran straight to Uzak for sword training. Newsflash, your biggest obstacle here is you."

"Alright, alright! I know, okay? But can you blame me? She's terrifying!" Argider groaned, kicking her feet like a petulant child.

"Perhaps there's more to 'Scary Grandma' than meets the eye. She's lived a lot longer than you, after all."

The emperor paused, surprised to find herself thinking it over. "You know, now that you mention it… she's never married. Most people respect her, but it's like everyone keeps their distance. She inherited her family's title as the sole heir, with no brothers or sisters. It must've been hard, right?"

Alvator's eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'm shocked you even noticed that, given how preoccupied you are with your own royal drama."

"Hey, I do notice things! I just thought she always looked… well, lonely. I mean, if you're old and no one likes you, wouldn't you start pushing everyone away, getting angry at the world?"

"Ah, so you mean someone exactly like you?" Alvator quipped.

Argider shot him a glare, but deep down, she knew he wasn't wrong. In all honest, she wished for a simpler life, but found herself burdened with new responsibilities now that she held a position in the court.

"It's not like I wanted this," she admitted. "All I ever wanted was a simple life, a life without all this complicated court politics. But it seems the higher you rise, the more burdensome it becomes."

"This… this cannot be right. Am I hallucinating? You—Argider—the Scum Emperor—showing empathy?" His voice was a mixture of awe and something bordering on disgust. "I feel an almost physical revulsion knowing you're capable of empathy!"

"Oh, here we go again!" Argider groaned, throwing her hands up. "Just because I'm not the warmest does not mean I don't feel things!"

Though she wasn't about to admit it to Alvator of all people, Argider did have a secret soft spot for anything that was broken, old, or a little bit lonely. She just had a harder time applying that same softness to herself. She rose from the bed, frowning as she rummaged through her clothes, fighting an internal battle against accepting her own strange, sentimental streak.

"Argider, we're running out of time," Alvator's voice cut through her musings, the teasing gone and replaced with a rare tone of seriousness. "You still need to kill Denzelle."

Argider sighed heavily, her usual fire momentarily dimmed. "I know…"

As she headed for the door, Alvator floated along behind her, the very picture of her literal ghostly conscience. The looming task weighed on her; she didn't want this so-called second chance, yet the idea of wasting it gnawed at her in a way she couldn't shake.

"And where exactly are you off to?" Alvator asked.

"Madam Phirya," she muttered, her face twisting like she'd just swallowed something bitter.

Alvator said nothing, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze as he followed. Slowly but surely, she was softening, and it had all gone according to plan. Who knew that getting rid of her… man parts would unlock her sentimental side?

Argider wandered through the halls, her mind full of dramatic imaginings. Surely, if Madam Phirya was lurking anywhere, it had to be the library—a place where all manner of "corrections" happened. And in Argider's mind, those corrections were nothing short of battles worthy of epic ballads. Alright, so maybe she hadn't literally spilled blood in there, but why let reality get in the way of a good story?

With all the flair of a tragic heroine on her way to the gallows, she strode toward the library, her hand on her chest as if bracing herself for a mortal wound. She pictured herself stumbling out of the library afterward, bruised and battered from Madam Phirya's corrections, her very soul weighed down by shame and stern glances.

She took a deep breath and threw open the doors, half-expecting Madam Phirya to be waiting there, cane in hand, ready to pounce on her.

Once the door was open, Argider nearly choked at the scene in front of her. There stood Madam Phirya, deep in conversation with agirl Argider recognized instantly—Faeralys, her third wife. Both women turned to look at her, and two sets of judgmental eyes drilled into her with laser precision.

"You!" Faeralys practically roared in shock, her finger jabbing the air as she pointed. "It's you, the perverted girl! What on earth are you doing here?"

Argider froze, her mind racing to come up with something, anything, that would get her out of this unscathed.

If Madam Phirya wasn't enough, they had to be here.