Judicator Jane
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JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 53
🕑 Added 2025-07-16 19:01:03 +0000 UTCConsequences
Thrumvalor was snoring contentedly, lost in a magnificent dream of unearthing a vein of Arcanite the size of a boulder. The colors shimmered, the crystals glittered with untapped potential, and he could almost feel the weight of wealth in his calloused hands—until the dream shattered under the persistent sound of knocking.
“What?” he groaned, tightening the blanket around his shoulders like a stubborn cocoon. The knocking didn’t stop—in fact, it grew more insistent, rattling the door in its frame. With a grunt, he reached over to check the clock on his nightstand. “Maker help me… it’s the middle of the night!”
The door burst open, slamming against the wall. A breathless young dwarf stood in the threshold, bowing repeatedly as he spoke. “I—I’m terribly sorry, sir, but it’s—well—it’s just that the High Councilor has called for the entire council to assemble. Immediately.”
Thrumvalor exhaled sharply and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Again? What is it this time?”
The attendant hesitated, swallowing hard. “It’s… err… Jane King. She’s here. In Integra. Right now.”
It was as if the bed had disappeared from beneath him. Thrumvalor shot to his feet, face contorted in disbelief. “WHAT? JANE KING IS HERE?!”
The young dwarf nodded so vigorously his beard nearly whipped around his neck. “T-that’s what I was told, sir.”
“Then why didn’t you say so from the start?” Thrumvalor snapped, already half inside his wardrobe, flinging aside garments until he found his council robe. “Maker save me from bumbling fools.”
Moments later, fully dressed and striding through the stone hall, his mind raced with questions. Jane King—she was supposed to be back in Arcadia. How in the Maker’s name did she end up here? No… it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here. And that meant answers. Real answers. Maybe even a chance to stop the calamity unfolding in the east.
“D-Do you think she can do something about it? They say she controls demons, right?” the young dwarf asked, scurrying to keep up. “My uncle Solgor… I haven’t heard from him in months.”
Thrumvalor let out a low, thoughtful grunt. “Quiet. I’m trying to think.”
***
“This way, just a bit more—only a few more turns,” their cheery guide assured them.
Jane and Melindra followed behind yet another dwarf, this one far chattier than the last. After nearly two hours of waiting in the reception room, someone had finally come to collect them.
“It really is quite the, ah, unique opportunity for humans to enter the city proper,” the dwarf said as they navigated the maze of identical corridors. “Can’t recall the last time it happened. Oh, I’ve heard the stories, of course, but you know how those go—never can tell what’s exactly fact or fiction. Still…” He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes wide with excitement. “Do you think I’ll be part of a story one day?”
He raised his hand dramatically and swept it through the air. “And then Hasselrond led the two bedazzled humans through the bank corridors into the city, anticipation rippling through his veins. He wasn’t quite sure what the outcome would be—but one thing was certain: this was the event of the century!”
He squeaked mid-step, cheeks flushing red as he glanced back again. “Oh goodness, I’ve been rambling a bit, haven’t I?”
Then he faced forward, voice dropping to a muttered scold. “Put away those dreams of grandeur, Hasselrond. Just do your job!”
He stopped abruptly. “Ah! Here we are.”
Jane blinked. They’d halted in what looked like yet another nondescript stretch of corridor—bare stone all along the walls. Hasselrond placed his hand on one section, and with a low hiss, a rectangular panel recessed and slid aside into the wall.
Without pause, the dwarf stepped through.
Jane exchanged a glance with Melindra, who gave the smallest shrug. Taking a breath, Jane followed.
And stopped cold.
The moment she crossed the threshold, it was as if stepping into another world. The walls were gone, and so was the ceiling. Everything just opened up.
She stood at the edge of a colossal cavern, so vast the limits were swallowed by shadow. Her heart thudded in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the sudden openness.
In front of her, the path led to an enormous ramp angled downward. To the right, far in the distance, she saw it intersect with a ring of glowing buildings lit by a soft orange light—just bright enough to pierce the gloom.
The floor beneath her was different too. No longer simply stone—now it was lined with hundreds of thick and thin metal pipes on the sides, like a fringe of bronze and silver. Many led directly into the walls behind her.
Jane exhaled slowly. “Okay… wow.”
Melindra appeared at her side.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Jane asked, still trying to wrap her head around the vastness of what lay before them.
“I have not.” Melindra replied quietly, her voice tinged with awe.
Up ahead, Hasselrond waved them onward. “Come along now—the council is waiting! No time for dilly-dallying!”
Jane shook her head, trying to push through the dizzying sense of scale. “Right. The… council.” She picked up her pace and hurried after him.
Their path soon merged into the wide ramp, angling gently downward. The deeper they went, the more details came into view.
“That’s Integra?” Jane asked, eyeing the squat cluster of buildings in the distance.
Hasselrond chuckled. “Part of it, I suppose.”
A loud hiss broke through the still air. Jane turned just in time to see a blast of steam erupt from a vent embedded in a distant cavern wall. She looked down—this ramp was also carved from stone and had its own thick pipes bolted to its sides. Lights—like the ones from the waiting room—lined the path, each housed in a glass tube that glowed a steady orange, connected to yet more narrow pipes underneath. Everything shook or rumbled with latent mechanical energy.
Before she could dwell on it, they reached the first ring of buildings—sturdy, windowless structures shaped like miniature fortresses. Brutalist in style, yet adorned with intricate carvings across their surfaces. Still, Jane couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, glancing around. "Isn't this a city?"
Hasselrond looked back, a little sheepish. “Hmm? Oh, most folks don’t live this close to the surface. These are mainly for, ah… storage. Machinery, mostly.” His face turned pink. “Oops. Not supposed to talk about that. Forget I said anything.”
“Machinery?” Jane echoed, narrowing her eyes as she studied the nearest structure. “What kind of—”
She was cut off as a hand gently pressed against her arm.
“Careful,” Hasselrond warned. “Bit of a drop ahead.”
Jane blinked and looked forward. They’d reached the edge of an enormous pit. The buildings were arranged in a circle around it, like studs on a crown. Ahead, Hasselrond was already making his way toward a broad ledge that extended over the chasm, a thin metal railing lining its edge.
Slowly Jane peered over the edge, a sense of vertigo momentarily coursing through her. The sheer scale of the hole was staggering—it seemed to plunge endlessly downward, the interior walls lined with row after row of buildings.
After a quick glance at Melindra, She swallowed and followed Hasselrond onto the platform, heart thudding in her chest. Don’t forget you can fly, she tried telling herself. At that moment, it didn’t much help.
“Hold on,” Hasselrond said, stepping up to a podium fitted with several levers. “This will only take a second.”
“A second? What do you—”
Before Jane could finish, he yanked one of them down with a loud clickety-clank.
A chorus of steam jets hissed from behind them and several latches around the edges fell away.
The platform plummeted.
Jane’s breath caught in her throat as the lift screamed downward, wind rushing past her ears. Lighted tiers of the city blurred by—rings of architecture, glimpses of homes, machinery, and shadowy figures—each flashing into view and vanishing in seconds. It was all happening too fast to process.
Finally, after what felt like minutes, the platform began to slow. Gas hissed from hidden vents around its base, and the motion softened into a gentle stop at what seemed to be the very bottom of the massive city-hole.
Jane staggered slightly, heart pounding. “A little warning next time?!”
Hasselrond turned with a puzzled look. “Err, what?” Then his cheeks colored. “Ah—my apologies.” He gestured broadly. “Yes, well… you’ve become something of a talking point around here. I’m sure the council tried to keep things discreet, but, well, a crowd was inevitable. I suppose I should’ve said something.”
“Huh? No, that’s not what I’m talking… about…” Jane’s voice trailed off as she finally took in the scene.
A vast crowd had gathered—hundreds, maybe thousands of Dirthians, all staring up at her. Eyes wide, fingers pointing, beards bristling with whispered speculation. A sea of curious faces.
“Come along now, just ignore them. We mustn’t keep the council waiting,” Hasselrond said cheerfully, already descending the metal steps at the side of the lift.
Jane blinked and followed, throwing a glance back at Melindra, who looked just as stunned.
Down at ground level, the city opened even more. Dozens of wide tunnels lined the edges, branching off in every direction, each one lit with the same steady orange glow. Colored bands were painted along the entrances—blue, red, green, silver—though meaning was unclear.
Hasselrond led them through the crowds, puffing up his chest as he marched ahead. “Make way! Jane King coming through! Council business! Clear the path!”
It seemed wholly unnecessary as no one was blocking the way—but he called it out all the same, voice echoing through the air.
They entered a tunnel framed in silver trim, just a few inches taller than Jane herself. As they passed through, the crowd behind them fell away, and the corridor grew quiet.
No guards, Jane noted. No weapons either. Just eyes. Despite the absurdity of it all, she tried to keep her focus sharp.
Just need to negotiate passage back to Arcadia, she reminded herself. Worry about whatever all this is later.
“So is this council, like… the rulers of all the Dirthians or something?” Jane asked, keeping her tone casual.
Hasselrond glanced back over his shoulder. “Rulers? What do you mean by that?” He stopped in front of a pair of massive metal doors. “Anyway, we’re here.”
He reached up and yanked down a large red lever. Steam hissed from hidden vents as the doors rumbled open, sliding apart with mechanical precision. He turned and gestured forward with a small bow. “Right through here, please. I’ll be waiting when you’re finished.”
“Okay…” Jane replied warily, stepping toward the threshold. She kept her posture loose, but her mind raced. If this is a trap, metal doors won’t stop me. Only Arcanite can hold back my Gavel of Repentance…
But as the doors parted fully, her nerves eased. On the other side it was well-lit, and she could hear the chattering of cantankerous old men. At least on the surface it didn’t appear to be anything nefarious. She continued through.
The room beyond was large and domed, with a ringed balcony about seven feet up encircling the perimeter. Along the ledge were a series of high-backed chairs, each occupied by an older dwarf in golden-threaded robes. Their expressions were a mixture of gruff solemnity and unbridled curiosity.
Jane’s eyes settled on the figure seated at the center. His chair was slightly more ornate than the rest—carved with runes and lined with darker inlays. His robe shimmered more richly, layered in gold and deep navy blue.
He’s definitely the one in charge, she thought, narrowing her eyes and triggering Piercing Gaze.
Horgold Ubleck (Level 137)
Dwarf
Class: Chairman (Rare)
Strength: 19
Agility: 6
Constitution: 154
Intelligence: 130
Wisdom: 78
Delving: 3
Health: 1540/1540
Mana: 780/780
Fun Fact:
So get this—Horgold rose to power in the Dirthian Banker’s Guild… basically because of a lucky dice roll. Or unlucky. Depends on whether you’re Horgold… or literally anyone else. Now he’s managing the Guild, which is sort of like herding cats. If the cats were grumpy old men who hated numbers, people, and being alive. It’s stressful and exhausting—but he’s doing his best, folks. Honestly, I don’t know how he does it.
But hey, it could be worse… his wife could be home! <ba dum tss>
Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be here all week! Try the mushroom stew, ten percent off on Mondays!
Huh. A new class, finally. Okay. Well… here we go.
As Jane stopped in the center of the chamber, murmurs rippled through the ring of council members. The robed Dirthians leaned toward one another, whispering in gravelly tones, their golden threads glinting under the warm glow of the embedded ceiling lights high above.
Finally, the central figure cleared his throat with a loud, theatrical harumph.
“Jane King,” he intoned. “Welcome to Integra. First and foremost, allow me to thank you for being such an esteemed member of the Dirthian Bankers Guild. I’m pleased to report that thanks to your most recent contribution, you now hold one of the largest accounts on record.”
“Uh… thanks, I guess? My most recent contribution?”
“Indeed.” The dwarf—Horgold—unrolled a parchment and ran a thick finger down the length of it. “A sum of approximately one hundred million gold. Let’s see here… deposited by a Reyla Dark. Does that name ring a bell?”
Jane’s throat caught. “Reyla? Yes… I know her.”
Horgold nodded. “Good. Perhaps we can return to that in a moment. Let us address the matter at hand. I’ve been informed that you seek passage back to Arcadia—via our road beneath the Green Sea. Is that accurate?”
Jane straightened. “That’s right. But it’s not just me. I'm accompanied by demons. A lot of them. I need passage for everyone. Can that be arranged?”
Horgold tugged thoughtfully at his beard. “Demons… yes, yes, I believe your account was registered on behalf of the horde as a whole, was it not? And I’ve heard of your… authority over them.” He glanced down at the parchment again. “I suppose it could be arranged. Of course, provisioning such a journey—food, water, not to mention guides—would be quite costly. But you seem more than capable of covering the expense.” He glanced up. “Isn’t that right?”
Jane felt relief surge through her chest. “That’s fine. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it.”
“Good, good,” Horgold said with a pleased nod. “Then there’s only one other matter we were hoping you might be able to shed some light on. A small… complication that may affect your journey.” He turned slightly to glance at the others, then began stroking his beard more rapidly, his fingers running the same path again and again.
“Now, if I may be so bold,” Horgold said, finally folding his hands over his robe, “have you, by chance, had any encounters with the critch before?”
Jane looked up, caught off guard. “The critch? Uh… yeah. I suppose you could say that.” Her voice faltered slightly.
In truth, she hadn’t thought much about them—not at least until reliving her brutal trek through the Great Woods from Dyle’s perspective. Until then, she hadn’t realized how many critch had actually died during her escape with the Menadeen. Not until she saw it from the outside. The carnage was unsettling to say the least. Countless numbers of them threw themselves into her path, dying by proximity alone as her Luck warped probability and found ways to slay them by chance alone. Her Language of the Law skill had summoned them without mercy. A river of blood and death stretching from one side of the Great Woods to the other.
“I see,” Horgold said, glancing sidelong at the other council members. “And your demons… I assume they’re experienced in combat? Given their nature.”
Jane narrowed her eyes. “Yes… they are. Why?”
He made a small gesture to his left. Another set of heavy doors hissed open near the edge of the chamber. Jane turned and watched as four dwarves entered, straining to push an enormous wheeled cart. By all accounts it appeared empty though.
What the heck is this…?
They rolled it to the center of the chamber. Horgold cleared his throat again.
“You see, we’ve been having a… situation in the east. One that has been spreading rather rapidly. And we were hoping you might know something about it.”
Jane frowned. “Situation? No… I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” Horgold nodded toward the four dwarves. Each reached into a leather pouch at their side and withdrew a handful of gray powder. Then, in solemn faced unison, they began casting it over the cart.
The air shimmered.
At first, it looked like nothing. Then, slowly, as the powder settled, a form emerged.
Segmented. Multilegged. Tubular limbs and ridged plates rising like pieces of armor. The creature’s body unfurled across the length of the cart. Hanging over the edges, it was easily over ten feet long. Jane could only make out the parts beneath the dust—but the shape was unmistakable.
Jane’s breath caught. Is that a critch? She’d never seen one like this before.
It was like some unholy mix of centipede and octopus—on steroids.
She instinctively triggered Piercing Gaze.
Jane King Slayer Corpse (Level 165)
Uh oh.
Jane felt her stomach drop.
“You see,” Horgold continued, “a little less than a year ago, we began encountering a… new kind of critch. At first, we didn’t understand what we were dealing with. Dirthians began disappearing—no signs of battle, no bodies. Just… gone. Entire mining crews vanished without a trace.”
He folded his hands over the edge of the chair, voice darkening.
“The critch have always been confined to a very specific region of Alur. And they’ve stayed put ever since the days of Bethlem the Vanquisher. But this new variant… it’s broken through the old boundaries. Silent. High level. Invisible to the eye. It doesn’t kill immediately—it abducts. And only later do we find the remains of our kin, entombed in stone prisons far underground. Faces purple and blue—they didn’t die from the typical critch attacks. No, they died of asphyxiation, with only their pickaxe marks to tell the story of their final, futile struggle.”
He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “A terrible, terrible way to die.”
Jane remained silent, eyes locked on the creature’s segmented, dusted form sprawled across the cart. A dull chill crept into her spine.
“It was only thanks to the bravery of our eastern battle brigades that we managed to slay one and discover its existence. Rest assured, there are a great deal more where this came from. You can imagine our surprise when we found the name of one of our highest-value clients tied to it.”
Jane gulped. “Yes, uh, I may have… possibly… killed a few critch in the past. Out of complete necessity, that is.”
Horgold arched an eyebrow, stroking his beard. “A few. I see.”
He leaned forward, voice firm. “Whatever the cause, the old boundaries—kept in place through centuries of blood and discipline—have been broken. The critch now spread freely, using our own tunnels against us.”
A long pause followed. Then, from his seat above, Horgold gave a slow nod.
“So, Jane King—yes, you may use the Road of Kalahibre to return east to Arcadia. Use it with our full blessing. And bring every demon you can muster.” His eyes locked onto hers. “I pray to the Maker you clear the path. And survive the journey.”
He exchanged a grave glance with the other council members. “Because if you don’t… even Integra itself may not stand for long.”
A murmured whisper reached Horgold’s ear from the councilmember beside him. He nodded slowly.
“Ah. Yes. I’d almost forgotten.” He turned back to Jane, his voice dipping. “That wasn’t all we discovered…”
***
Jane stumbled out of the council chamber, eyes glazed, her mind struggling to process what she had just seen.
Hasselrond led the way, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oh, how did it go? Meeting the council is such an honor—especially for a human! The only thing more prestigious might be an audience with The Planner itse—oops!” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “There I go again… Hasselrond, you’ll never get that promotion if you can’t learn to keep your tongue in check.”
Jane barely registered the words.
I can’t believe it… Did the System really create an entirely new variant of critch—just to counter me?
She had killed hundreds of thousands—maybe even millions—of them. Each one had given her experience, pushed her level higher. More stats, more skills. The gains had been enormous. But didn’t I ban that kind of class with my Mandate of the Celestial Court? No… that wasn’t it. It’s not a class. It’s not even tied to a specific race. It was a creature, more or less an animal, constructed by the System itself.
And it was built to fight her.
Is this what happens when someone grows too powerful? The System attempts to manifest a counter? Or is it because I exploited a method to kill such a vast amount of the critch?
It wouldn't be the first time she had seen something like that. She remembered the Menadeen’s ancient Titan Slayer class. Of course, Melindra had also once been a Demon Slayer. The System had a long memory—and a habit of arming underdogs. But this time, it wasn’t some young kid handed a class like The Chosen One and thrust against an ancient evil.
This time, it had created something for the critch. And it was meant for her.
“Excuse me,” Melindra called ahead, her voice composed, cutting through the fog of Jane’s thoughts. “The council has given us permission to travel east—through your tunnel back to Arcadia. Could you show us what it looks like?”
“What?” Hasselrond blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh—of course, of course.” He turned and gestured toward a green-trimmed tunnel stretching endlessly into the distance. “The entrance to the Road of Kalahibre is just there.”
Jane followed numbly, her thoughts still spinning with the implications of what the System had done. She barely registered that the tunnel looked almost identical to the one leading to the council chamber—just a foot taller than herself.
“I see,” Melindra murmured, running her hand along the wall’s edge. “And does the tunnel look like this the entire way? Or is this just the entrance?”
Hasselrond let out a small grunt of annoyance. “Well, I’ve never traveled it myself. Haven’t had the chance. But yes, as far as I know, it remains mostly the same. A uniform structure with a few larger chambers spaced out along the route. Plenty of places for rest and recuperation. Dirthian hospitality isn’t to be underestimated, I assure you.”
Melindra turned, her expression grave. “Jane… I believe we have a problem.”
“A problem?” Jane echoed, still only half-present, eyes directed at a set of metal tubes running along the ceiling of the tunnel. A blur shot past, visible through a small glass segment. She turned her head just in time to catch it zip by. “Yeah… you got that right. If we’re going to have to fight these new critch the whole way through, especially in a tight space like this, it’s going to be a nightmare. But we’ll figure something out. I’m not going to let a few oversized bugs stop us.”
Melindra shook her head. “No, Jane. Not that. The corridor—look at it. It’s far too small.”
Jane’s attention snapped into focus. Her eyes flicked to the tunnel’s dimensions. Boxlike and stout. Just about six feet tall and wide, if she had to guess. She stumbled backward. No…
Balostroze alone stood nearly twelve feet. The Tormentors? Eight at the very least.
She flinched. Melindra was right.
It’s not big enough.
