JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 8 (Patreon)

Records of Antiquity

Inside one of the village huts, Jane stood beside the bed where Gral’gor lay. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. He no longer resembled the towering twelve-foot demon he once was. Now, he’d shrunk to just over six feet. The only signs of his true nature were his vivid amethyst hair and the glowing red gem embedded in his forehead. 

“So strange... Wonder why he changed forms,” Jane said.

Melindra folded her arms. “I think I can explain. When demons emerge from the birthing pits, they’re all the same—identical. It’s only after they enter the proving grounds that a class is assigned, and that’s when they transform. You’ve probably noticed it—Hellguards, Tormentors, Infiltrators, even Smiths—they all look different. The class determines their form.”

She pointed a finger toward Gral’gor. “But you changed his class to Executioner. Your Judicator class is a human one, which suggests Executioner is too. So, when Gral’gor received it, his body adapted to match. Perhaps the System didn’t know how to reconcile a demon with a human class. Or maybe this is just the default form for Executioners among demons.”

“Right… I guess that makes sense,” Jane said. “But your appearance didn’t change when you got that demon class, Demonic Instructor.”

Melindra nodded. “True. So perhaps it’s not the class itself, but the race that determines whether the form shifts, or a combination of the two. I’d wager more than a few scholars in the Great Library would trip over themselves trying to untangle the rules of demon physiology.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Jane murmured, glancing at Gral’gor’s Health.

Health: 5210/5210

“Well, he seems to be doing alright. At least he’s not losing Health from dehydration or starvation.” Jane’s eyes narrowed as she noticed something else—another field on his status that stood out.

Lawbound: Jane King

What does that even mean? Jane frowned. I don’t feel any different. Then again, with countless demons Soul Bound to her, it was hard to tell. Her eyes flicked to the corner of the room where the reborn Voidwalker Ur crouched, his focus locked on the unconscious demon. Veralaktus told her that since emerging from the labyrinth, he had spent his time here, waiting.

Jane planted her hands on her hips. “Well, I guess all we can do is wait. Let’s go check out that temple in the meanwhile.”

***

A carefully manicured path wound upward through clusters of trees, leading to the temple nestled against the valley’s mountainous edge. It was large—imposing, even—but from this angle, Jane couldn’t quite tell just how large. Flanking her were Melindra and Veralaktus.

“Has anyone been seen entering or leaving?” Jane asked, eyes fixed on the temple’s spires.

“No, Jane,” Veralaktus replied. “An Infiltrator was stationed at each entrance. No activity reported. And as you instructed, no demon has set foot inside.”

The path opened into a wide courtyard, its packed dirt floor worn but orderly. To the right, a single-story stone structure curved around the perimeter, lined with wells and bins brimming with harvested crops. But Jane’s attention was drawn to the temple itself—a towering three-spire structure anchored at the courtyard’s northwestern edge.

Broad stone steps led to a set of ornate wooden double doors. Smaller side doors flanked them farther left and right. Jane approached, knelt at the base of the stairs, and ran her hand along the stone.

“Doesn’t feel like Arcanite—or whatever that gate and the city of Jaridume were made of,” she murmured. “Probably just granite or something.” She rose and climbed the stairs. At the top, she pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

A vast, circular chamber greeted her, the ceiling arching upward into a domed lattice that filtered sunlight in delicate patterns. At the center of the dome, a strange curved S symbol was etched deep into the stone. Around the room, thick candles—long since burned—stood in large wall sconces, their wicks blackened but unlit. Two corridors branched off to the left and right, and a set of doors loomed straight ahead.

“Remarkable…” Melindra breathed, tilting her head back. “I’ve never seen architecture like this before.”

You and me both, Jane thought, eyes lingering on the symbol overhead. The place felt like something ripped from the pages of a world history textbook.

“Yeah. I guess this place really is something,” she said aloud, her voice echoing in the chamber. A structure this size is going to take awhile to explore. She glanced at her companions. Both were just over level two hundred and more than capable of handling themselves.

“Let’s split up,” Jane suggested. “We’ll meet back here in thirty minutes.”

Melindra gave a short nod, already scanning the surrounding hallways. Veralaktus immediately set off to a corridor branching to the left.

Jane picked a set of plain wooden doors straight ahead and stepped through. Beyond lay a wide corridor shrouded in darkness. She summoned her Gavel of Repentance, letting the faint glow from its etched glyphs light her way.

No magical lights here. This place was old, but thus far didn't show the signs of other Legendary or Epic crafter handiwork she had witnessed. Certainly nothing like the storage cavern she had just seen.

She reached another pair of doors and pushed them open.

“Oh, would you look at that…” she murmured.

The hall beyond was a vast library. The ceiling soared three stories overhead, made entirely of clear glass that let in a natural light across the space. Jane dismissed her hammer and took a slow step inside, surveying the room. Tall shelves hugged the walls, while long wooden tables stood in neat rows across the center. Some were littered with open books, scattered papers, and inkpots.

“Anyone here?” she called out.

No response.

She moved to one of the tables and ran her hand across the surface. Clean. No dust.

Curious, she picked up the nearest book: Karfaxis’ Diatribe on Precious Metals and Substances. She flipped through a few pages. Surprisingly, everything was in perfect condition—and readable.

She shrugged. “Not really my thing,” she muttered, setting the book back down. Alchemical notes on silver and iron weren’t what she was looking for. Still, there might be answers here. Histories. Records. Secrets.

There must be tens of thousands of books. Maybe hundreds of thousands. I could spend a lifetime here and still miss something important.

Then again... she did have a little help.

Let’s see if my Luck can give me some guidance.

She closed her eyes, centered herself, and whispered, “Take me to the most important book.” Arms stretched out like a diviner in search of water, she spun slowly in place and walked forward until her fingertips brushed a spine. She opened her eyes and pulled the book free.

The Silent Chamber: Latrines and Chamber Pots. A Compendium of Sanitation.

Jane pressed a palm to her forehead. “Right.”

Using her Luck like that always felt... off. It was essentially letting the System make decisions for her. And that wasn’t something she wanted to rely on too heavily.

Still, maybe I just need to be more specific.

She tried again, focusing this time on finding the oldest book. Walking forward with quiet determination, she reached out—only to smack into something solid.

Wood. A door. She tried the handle. Locked.

Well... it is just wood, she thought, summoning her Gavel again. One swing. The door burst inward in a cloud of dust and splinters.

Inside was a smaller, sealed chamber, its shelves carved from stone and heavy under the weight of musty, ancient tomes. Dust coated everything. Now we're talking.

She closed her eyes once more and walked forward. Take me to the oldest book.

Her hands landed on sturdy leather. Opening her eyes, she found a thick volume, its spine wide enough to take the place of several books itself. She dismissed the hammer, cradled the book in both arms, and carried it out into the light of the main library.

“Reliquary of Fortitude…” she whispered, setting it down on one of the tables.

A familiar symbol adorned the cover—metal inlay forming an intricate design that looked like overlapping S-shapes, just like the one etched into the top of the spire’s dome.

Jane unclasped the metal latch holding the book shut and turned to one of the opening pages.

Herein lies the record of the promise once made, and the word solemnly given.
When the world was remade and new ways were born—when the scattered remnants of our house were reforged in Harmony—the Redeemer came forth and spoke of our enemy: they who cannot be named.

For the evils they unleashed and the doom they nearly brought upon us, the Redeemer cast them into another world, that they might face justice for their transgressions and be given a chance to be reborn in her ways.

As the Redeemer asked, Narvelisik the First vowed that when the fires of conflict and hatred had been tempered by the storms of adversity, they who cannot be named would be welcomed once more among the other houses, in this new world of bounty and wonder. Thus, the Redeemer placed their fate into the hands of those they had wronged.

Huh… well that's cryptic as heck. She frowned. Could they be talking about the demons? And who’s the Redeemer supposed to be?

She sank into a nearby chair, its old wood groaning beneath her weight.

Nothing about that death maze either, she noted, flipping ahead a chunk of pages.

It came to pass that Phaliss the Third ascended to power, and by his hand a class was born unlike any the world had known: Forge Master—with the power to create wonders. Yet with this gift came a question that burned on every tongue: Why keep the promise? Once the Redeemer left, she never returned. The old enemy was gone, the world brighter. To let such darkness return, under any circumstances, was seen by many as madness. 

A proposition took root—seal the Gateway of Promise. If it were never opened, the world might remain safe forever. Phaliss the Third called upon his power, attempting to encase the gateway in solid Arcanite. But he failed. It could not be sealed. It could not be contained. Whether it was the spirit of the Redeemer enacting her will, or some deeper truth beyond mortal reach, none could say.

And so began the construction of the Terrazene Labyrinth. For if the gate could not be sealed, at the least defenses could be erected.

Skimming ahead, Jane found pages filled with ancient schematics, names, and meticulous records—plans, roles, dates, responsibilities. Dense and thorough. But aside from the overwhelming detail, not much seemed immediately relevant.

She stretched her arms overhead, cracking her back. So... they built the labyrinth to contain the demons. Guess they had some pretty bad blood between them.

Flipping further, she found more of the same. Repeated contributions from different Forge Masters across the ages—each adding to the labyrinth’s design, refining it, expanding it. 

She stifled a yawn, eyes blinking slowly as she fought to stay alert. One thing did stand out: the style and structure of the writing changed over time. The tome hadn’t been written all at once—it had been updated, added to over the years. Or at least... it had been.

The room she’d found it in didn’t look like anyone had stepped inside for quite some time. She blinked again, shaking off the haze. Focus, Jane. Just a little more.

Denakrass the Forty-Seventh, the fourth to bear the title of Forge Master, rose during the turbulent era known as the Testing. It was in these days that the Forgotten rose in strength, and the great work of our people began to lose its worth in the eyes of many. Yet Denakrass labored on—undaunted, unwavering—until the moment his work was suddenly brought to an unexpected end. Midway through the labyrinth’s extension, his power faltered—no further length could be added. Just as all attempts to seal the Gateway had been thwarted, so too was the expansion of the Terrazene Labyrinth now forbidden.

Several members of the Fellowship have since speculated that the length of the true path now corresponds precisely to the onset of dehydration—an ordeal by design, perhaps. Whatever the reason, the final location of the labyrinth’s entrance proved unexpectedly fortuitous. Nestled deep within this secluded valley, the Fellowship may fulfill its sacred duty, shielded at last from the interference of the wider world.

The Terrazene Labyrinth stands complete—our greatest defense against the memories  of those who cannot be named. At times, whispers reach us of brief incursions, fleeting shadows of their kind slipping into our world. But they are just that: temporary. So long as the Gateway of Promise remains dormant, their true return is impossible. And should they ever find a way, the Labyrinth shall be their end. It is escapable only in theory—for should the wrong pathway be chosen even once, they will fall before ever reaching the exit.

Jane gulped. Huh. Well. Okay then. Even now, the book was only halfway complete. She flipped through a few more pages. Definitely not light reading.

Then it hit her—the others. How long had she been here?

She stood up, leaving the tome on the table. It was far too heavy to lug around, anyway.

On her way back, she passed several unopened doors. Great. I only managed to check one room. Hopefully the others had better luck.

Back in the entrance chamber, Melindra and Veralaktus were already waiting. In Melindra’s hand was a golden mask, along with a folded robe.

“There you are,” Melindra said. “We were just about to come looking. Find anything of note?”

Jane tilted her head. “Kind of. There’s a massive library back that way. I found an old tome that talks about the labyrinth’s construction. Didn’t finish it—could take weeks to get through. What about you two? No dragonkin, I’m guessing?”

Veralaktus stepped forward. “No. I followed a path into tunnels beneath the mountain—dark, winding. I found more of those… baths we sat in before, and several storerooms filled with objects I couldn’t begin to describe. But no weapons. I did find a chamber with a blazing furnace, though I saw no sign of smithing tools.”

“And I,” Melindra added, “discovered a large dormitory complex, split into multiple wings. It could house over a thousand, easily—but only a small portion looked recently used. I found several of these masks and robes, but my identification skill didn’t react to them.”

Jane took the golden mask from her hand. It was completely featureless—just eye holes, a generic nose, and a blank expression. No gender, no personality. She activated Piercing Gaze.

Nothing.

“I swear I’ve seen this before,” she muttered. “One of my visions—when I was questioning members of the Order of the Shining Circle. But the details are fuzzy.”

“Well,” Melindra said, glancing around the chamber, “the temple was definitely in use. Recently, too. I think it’s safe to assume those dragonkin we found in the labyrinth lived here. The question is… were they all wiped out? Was that the whole race?”

Jane exhaled, shaking her head. “No clue. I hope not. I might head back to the library—see if I can find a map or atlas. That might help us—”

Veralaktus suddenly stepped forward, her tone sharp. “Jane. Gral’gor has awoken.”