JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 43

Automatic Justice

In the golden haze of the rising sun, Jane strode toward the group of captured former slaves, now surrounded by a grim cordon of Hellguards and looming Tormentors. Balostroze stood at the forefront like a statue carved from solid obsidian, his dark gaze scanning the prisoners with thinly veiled contempt.

Tarik stood chief among them, shoulders squared, eyes blazing with a simmering  fury. One of his arms hung limp at his side—likely broken—and Jane winced involuntarily at the sight.

“Mistress,” Balostroze announced, voice slick with satisfaction, “the assailants attempted to flee. We apprehended them without much effort.” His lip curled slightly. “Several were injured in the process, but once the futility of resistance became clear, they quickly submitted.”

Jane raised a hand. “Thank you. I’ll handle it from here.”

She stepped past him, locking eyes with Tarik. “What were you thinking?” she asked coldly. “That I’d let you murder my guests and walk away free?”

“Guests?” Tarik spat the word like venom. “Now I see you for what you really are—you’re no different from them. Just another tyrant in a different skin. First you enslave these… demons, now you’re breaking bread with dragonkin Masters. Was your plan to break our chains just to bind us to your own?”

That was Taltorius's plan, she thought briefly.

He glanced over his shoulder at the others. “The Masters paid the price for their crimes. And they're just the first of many!”

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the prisoners—some defiant, others weary and unsure. The futility of their current situation wasn’t lost on most of them, despite Tarik's grand claims.

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to breathe through the mounting frustration. “Those dragonkin weren’t like the ones from your lands, you idiot. There are no slaves in the Mandala of Honor.”

Tarik snorted, eyes wild. “A Master is a Master. We’ll never kneel again, nor will we shirk from giving them their due. Right, men?” He called it out behind him like a rallying cry.

A few voices rose in weak assent. Most stayed silent.

Jane turned away, letting out a slow, pained sigh. Behind her, Findarius stood quietly, eyes glazed with shock. His silence cut deeper than Tarik’s shouts ever could.

These stupid humans. She understood the rage. She’d felt it herself—helplessness turned to fury, the hunger for revenge masquerading as justice. But understanding didn’t mean excusing it. That wouldn’t bring Valrathian back. It wouldn’t answer for the blood spilled, or the diplomatic bridges they’d just burned.

So the question now was: What do I do with them?

Judgment was non-negotiable. But how to deliver it?

She considered her options. The Gray Inquisition wasn’t exactly necessary—the crime was already evident. Smacking them with her Gavel of Repentance would force them to live countless lives, until they lived one without regret. Jane still couldn’t bring herself to intentionally exact such an excessive punishment, no matter what the crime. Furthermore, it was too nebulous for her to really consider anyway. Pinpoint Judgement on the other hand would be swift and clean.

Then her eyes settled on another option. Her latest skill. Regional Arbiter. The recent evolution born from Tribunal Sentinels. She double checked the description.

Regional Arbiter (Epic)

Hope you’ve made your judgments wisely, because these little pipsqueaks have been watching like caffeinated hall monitors. Now it’s their turn to clock in. Afterall, in a world drowning in injustice, someone’s gotta clean house—and let’s face it, it’s way too messy a job for one man—err woman. So pick a spot, slap these suckers down like turbo-charged wind-up vigilantes, and let justice reign supreme!

As cold as it felt, this might actually be the perfect opportunity.

Sounds like it’s going to do something on my behalf, Jane thought, so then using it on people I know are guilty is the safest way to test it. Anyway, better here and now than in a panicked emergency.

She turned to Balostroze. “Clear a wide area. We’re going to do some skill testing, and I don’t want anyone caught in the crossfire.”

Balostroze dipped his head and focused. With a ripple of silent authority, the crowd of demons shifted—Hellguards and Tormentors pulling back, forming a large circle of open ground.

Jane stepped forward into the clearing. If it works anything like Tribunal Sentinels did, she reasoned, then I’ll need to summon it.

She focused on the skill, willing it to manifest.

Instantly, a translucent projection shimmered into view before her—a towering robed figure, easily twenty feet tall, ghostlike and imposing. Around it stretched a wide spectral ring nearly a hundred feet across, etched faintly with glowing geometric shapes. It hovered just above the ground, pulsing with ominous potential.

Whoa. That’s new. Can't make out any of the symbols though… 

Crucially, it didn't appear to have activated just yet. This must just be a preview—a targeting prompt, maybe.

“Melindra!” she called, without taking her eyes off the image. “Can you see anything floating in front of me?”

“No,” Melindra shouted back. “Nothing at all.”

Okay, Jane nodded. So this is only visible to me. Just like placing a building in a strategy game—see the footprint first, confirm to commit. If that’s the case… this might be permanent. Or semi-permanent.

Already she was gleaning more information than the System usually offered upfront. The radius alone implied a powerful area of effect—something felt like it would definitely happen to anyone inside.

Jane gently adjusted the spectral figure’s position, guiding it into the center of the cleared space, away from the surrounding demons.

Okay, so let's see what this sucker does.

She locked the projection in place, drew a breath, and spoke—almost without meaning to. The exact words rose unbidden, deep and resonant, as if the skill itself was deciding what needed to be uttered. “Justice walks the land once more—let those who seek it find solace here.”

Then the sky dimmed.

Despite the rising sun, a shadow fell across the land, blanketing the clearing in unnatural twilight. The earth groaned beneath her, trembling violently. Cracks lanced through the soil, and with a thunderous split, it gave way.

Jane took a step back, heart lurching.

A vast, circular abyss opened, perfectly matching the projected diameter from earlier. From the void below, chaos erupted—black and white-robed figures scrabbling over one another, clawing upward in a frenzy. It was like watching the dead rise: spectral bodies piling atop each other, climbing either for salvation or dominance. No floor. No origin. Just darkness beneath them, endless and hungry.

They reached the surface and continued upward, an ever-growing tower of figures struggling for control. Then, one specter reached the pinnacle—and the rest poured into it, merging, reshaping, fusing. Its form swelled, shifting hues from pale white to inky black, then flickering faster and faster between the two until it became a steady, storm-gray.

A sound like thunder cracked the sky.

With a blinding flash, the figure solidified. Circular platforms cascaded outward beneath it—stone steps descending in perfect symmetry until they covered the abyss entirely. Then—silence. Not a bird chirping, not a breeze. Just stillness while the very air itself settled.

In the center stood the gray-robed figure. Towering and motionless. Unlike her Tribunal Sentinels or Enforcers, this came with a platform, almost like a monument. Jane scanned the perimeter—no glowing ring, no boundary markings. But her pulse pounded in her ears. Yeah, this definitely feels permanent.

Turning back, she saw Melindra, Findarius, and the captured slaves staring in stunned silence. So they saw that much, she thought grimly.

Jane stepped forward cautiously, placing a foot on the first step. Even though this is my own skill… who knows.

Nothing happened.

She steadily climbed the stairs, each step echoing slightly. The stone was eerily smooth, almost like the ancient material she’d seen in Jaridume, albeit stone-gray instead of purple. Reaching the top, she placed a hand on the statue’s lower robes. Solid and cold. Her Sentinels had always been intangible—this felt carved from polished stone.

She triggered Piercing Gaze. Nothing. No designation from the System at all.

Alright… next test.

Her eyes found Veralaktus. Demons are Soul Bound. They shouldn’t be able to be judged… but I’ve gotta be sure…

“Veralaktus,” she called, voice calm but firm. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, the demoness approached the clearing and crossed the threshold, walking up the stairs to stand beside her. No reaction. No sudden judgement. Jane let out a small breath of relief.

Okay. Soul Bound demons are exempt. Good. Probably goes for anyone who has already been judged by me as well. Now for the real test.

She turned toward the prisoners, her eyes sweeping over them—most trembling, wide-eyed, mouths slack in terror. She couldn’t blame them. Legendary skills weren’t something you simply watched. They were literally living the stories of old. Too bad they landed on the wrong side of history.

It was time to test the real potential of the skill: on someone who had definitely committed a crime. She focused on Tarik.

“Well,” she said, voice steely, “if you truly believe what you did was justified—killing three unarmed dragonkin in their sleep—then walk up to the statue. Let’s put that conviction to the test.”

Tarik lifted his chin, unflinching. Even now his expression burned with defiance. Without a word, he stepped forward. Step after step, he made his way closer to the statue.

Jane guessed the boundary itself was the first step of the dais. She wasn't wrong. The instant Tarik crossed that threshold, the statue moved.

With a grinding groan, it rotated to face him. An ominous silence followed. Then the statue’s arm lifted, slow and deliberate. It paused.

A deep, metallic clang echoed like a tolling bell. Then wisps of light began to form.

Red and black light swirled around the raised arm, dancing between each other. Then, with a flash, that energy shot forward, spearing Tarik directly in the chest. He staggered, face twisted in silent agony, limbs convulsing. Moments later he collapsed to his knees, shriveled and pale.

The lights faded. The arm lowered. The figure stilled.

Jane stood frozen, breath caught in her throat.

It judged him… 

Her eyes flicked to her System log.

Regional Arbiter (0x7D3FA84B) has reached a verdict!

Tarik is Forsaken!

You have received 5000 experience!

694822/731299

Holy macaroni…

Jane stared at the aftermath, heart still racing. The Regional Arbiter had acted entirely on its own—no command, no confirmation. Just cold, automatic judgment. That’s… disturbing. She hadn’t spoken Tarik’s name, or indicated the skill to target him in any way. 

Her attention drifted back upward in the logs. A string of code trailed behind the Arbiter’s name—Maybe an alphanumeric identifier? That’s new. Aside from her bracelets, it was the first time she’d seen anything like it tied to a skill.

Melindra approached quietly, eyes fixed on the statue.

“This… this is the skill you mentioned. Regional Arbiter.”

Jane nodded. “Yeah. That’s it.” She raised a hand in warning. “Stay back. Stepping onto the platform appears to be what triggers it. Doesn’t seem to react to me or the demons I’ve bound. But you?” She gave Melindra a sideways glance. “No guarantees what would happen if you stepped inside.”

She turned back toward the prisoners. Her eyes lingered on Tarik, now slumped over, barely conscious. He wasn't dead, but he was close. A quick check confirmed it—Level 1. All stats set to one. No more class. That was the punishment the Arbiter had chosen.

It likely wasn’t what Jane would have picked herself, but that was a judgement she had given out before, first to Princess Jasmine, then to countless others, including every invading mercenary in Grandia.

Jane closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, steadying herself. Would the statue give out other punishments? Or is it only that one? Beyond Tarik, there were the others. All of these men had taken part in the cowardly assasination, in some way or another. I need more information about the skill, and they need to be judged.

When she opened her eyes again, they were cold and resolute.

“Balostroze,” she said, voice hard as iron, “put the rest of them in.”

The towering demon gave a single nod and began moving, herding the rest of the captives forward. Crossing her arms, Jane let their shouts and cries for mercy go unanswered.

They made their choice, Jane thought. Now they face the consequences. Let’s see what the Arbiter makes of them.

***

Arms crossed, Jane stood in silence, her expression unreadable as the final captive was led out from the Regional Arbiter’s radius. One by one, each had been punished—some more harshly than others. The last one… the judgement had been lighter at least.

Regional Arbiter (0x7D3FA84B) has reached a verdict!

Karidor (Level 41) has lost ten Strength!

You have received 5000 experience.

10000/746249

Jane shook her head slowly, a chill settling in her chest. Thus far every punishment—every verdict delivered by the Regional Arbiter—had mirrored judgments she herself had given in the past. Some had been stripped of stats. Others had their classes forcibly altered, set to Cleaner or other unremarkable Common rarity types. The harshest judged bore the Forsaken attribute, an irreversible mark she’d only ever assigned in the gravest cases.

It wasn’t random. It was drawing from her precedent.

From The Gray Inquisition to Pinpoint Judgement, from the early days of Trials of Justice and her very first skill, Minor Judgement—every ruling the Arbiter passed down echoed decisions she’d made before. Her eyes flicked back to the skill in her stats display, a timer ticking steadily down.

Regional Arbiter (Epic)

29:20:29:31

Can’t use it again for a month… Jane looked back at the still, looming form of the Regional Arbiter, its gray robes unmoving despite the steady breeze. Still there. The statue hadn’t vanished after delivering its judgements. It’s also not drawing any Mana to maintain... Aside from the heavy cost at activation, it was entirely passive now.

A set-and-forget skill, she concluded. Which made it even more unsettling.

Anyone who wanders into the radius will be judged instantly—no warning and no mercy. Her usual skills for dismissing or repositioning specters—techniques that worked fine with the previous incarnations of the skill—had no effect here. This one wasn’t going anywhere.

Behind her, Balostroze had begun organizing the judged captives, herding them away with the help of the other demons. Jane turned and walked toward Findarius, who stood silently watching the end of the proceedings.

“I know this doesn’t bring your friends back,” she said, her voice quieter now. “But I hope it gives you at least some consolation—that justice was served.”

Findarius nodded slowly, a faint, bittersweet smile forming at the corner of his lips. “I wish it meant more. The absence of my companions is… a heavy weight. But yes. It helps, in a way. Thank you.” He paused, glancing away. “Would you allow me to retrieve my brother's remains? I’d like to deliver them back home. A proper burial is all I can do for them now.”

Jane nodded. “Of course. And if there’s anything else you need—just say the word.”

As Findarius limped off, Melindra stepped quietly beside her. She waited until he was out of earshot before speaking.

“We’re in a precarious position,” she said grimly. “Valrathian was one of the leaders of the Mandala of Honor, alongside what they call the Seven Wanderers. Findarius is one of them. So were the other two killed in the ambush. That leaves four still unaccounted for—some of which are undoubtedly back with the army.”

Jane’s brow furrowed.

Melindra continued. “And we’re deep in their territory. With the Mandalas of Beauty and Courage to the south—and unrest on every side—we may soon find ourselves surrounded. A battle on all fronts is not out of the question.”

In the distance, across the rolling fields, Jane could see the armies of the Mandala of Honor assembled—waiting, no doubt, for the return of their leader.

“What do you think Findarius will tell them?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Melindra gave a slight shrug. “Who can say? We can only hope he speaks with reason. Though, the dishonorable way in which Valrathian was slain does not bode well for us. Even if he does urge for understanding, it may already be too late. Valrathian and the others likely had high Harmony stats—any disruption in their Resonance will have been noticed by now.”

Jane ran a tired hand down her face, sighing. “Right. Well, we just need to get through the rest of this. Better play it safe—start pulling back all demon forces still operating in the north. The last thing we need is anyone getting cut off or surrounded. In fact—”

A cold, rasping voice cut in. “I see you’ve finally understood the true value of these wretched Culls.”

Jane turned sharply.

Ristharak stood nearby, arms crossed, his gold mask gleaming in the morning light. Gral’gor loomed beside him, ever silent.

“Better to keep them leashed,” Ristharak sneered. “We learned that lesson long ago. Let them taste freedom, and they’ll bite the hand that feeds. If you want obedience, I can offer you advice. First, you must break—”

“Nope.” Jane held up a hand, cutting him off. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

She turned to Gral’gor. “Toss him into the statue’s radius. Let’s see how he measures up.”

Ristharak’s mask twitched. “What? Wait—no! I can help you!”

Jane didn’t react. “Sorry. I can’t have my top demon wasting his time on babysitting duty. And you? You’re a high-level Epic class holder. As we've just seen—far too dangerous to keep around. But who knows? Let’s see if you’re any better than the people you look down at. Perhaps you'll be rewarded for your… past deeds.”

Gral’gor didn’t pause. One firm steel-clad hand gripped Ristharak by the shoulder and began dragging him forward.

“Please—wait! Show mercy! You’re making a mistake—”

His plea was drowned out by the grinding hum of the Regional Arbiter activating. The twenty-foot statue rotated to face him, mechanical and cold. Its arm lifted slowly—deliberately. Black and red energy spiraled up the limb and fired, engulfing the gold-masked dragonkin in a writhing storm of crimson light.

Above his head, a ghostly double-bladed axe appeared, swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

Then, silence. The light vanished. The axe disappeared. Ristharak dropped to his knees.

Guess it didn't think very much of you. Jane exhaled through her nose and brought up her System logs. 

Regional Arbiter (0x7D3FA84B) has reached a verdict!

Ristharak has been Quest Bound!

Rescue the Slaves!

Quest: Free all the slaves in the Mandala of Power and then spend the rest of your life defending them from danger.

Reward: None

Failure Penalty: Death

Duration: 100 Years

You have received 5000 experience.

15000/746249

Well, would you look at that?

The punishment dealt to Ristharak was nearly identical to the one she’d once handed down to that mercenary company outside the Great Woods. Poetic, in a grim sort of way. If the Regional Arbiter truly mirrored her own past judgments, then this outcome was par for the course.

But I’m not the same person I was back then. That thought lingered longer than she liked. Would I make the same call now? And if I wouldn’t… will my future decisions influence how this thing judges in my name?

She shook her head, brushing the thoughts aside—just in time to see Ristharak bolt into a panicked sprint, stumbling away from the Regional Arbiter’s range like someone fleeing his own shadow.

Gral’gor looked to her for instruction. Jane gave a casual wave. “Let him go. He’s not a threat anymore.”

Not really. That same silent sentence would follow him now—just like the mercenaries from before. She’d never seen them again. Did any of them survive? Maybe. But it didn’t feel very likely.

Turning toward Balostroze, she twirled a finger in the air. “Come on. No time to waste. Let’s keep moving before the next disaster shows up.”

With that, the demon horde began to lumber forward again, their endless march resuming under the bright noonday sun. Jane cast one last glance over her shoulder, toward the unmoving figure of the Regional Arbiter still rooted in place.

It hadn’t vanished. And it still granted her experience—passively. Even when she wasn’t delivering judgment personally, the skill would feed her levels. The pragmatic side of her was already calculating the potential gains.

How long will it last? she wondered. Days? Weeks? Forever?

She considered leaving a warning—flags, markers, something. But there was nothing to work with here. Even if she did manage to set something up, who would understand its meaning?

Can’t worry about it now, she thought grimly, turning away.

Just gotta keep moving.