JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 17 (Patreon)

Intertwining Fates

Pogg sat alone at the long, ornate table in the grand dining hall of the palace in Dawnskeep, poking absently at a plate of breakfast that had long since gone cold. Steam once curled from the roasted meats, stewed greens, and a hearty porridge, but now the meal sat limp and barely touched. Across from him, Tiberius Centallis of the Pathbound Army remained upright and composed, his polished armor catching the early light filtering through the high, pristine-glass windows. His expression was unreadable, but grim.

“Word is spreading,” Tiberius said at last, voice low but steady. “The danger in the east grows daily. Gareth has left with the King’s Army to reinforce Arcadia’s defenses and assess how much time we still have. He believes Lord Melkit may yet be reasoned with. If not, he intends to assist with evacuating nearby villages and towns before it’s too late.” The commander exhaled through his nose. “For now, scouting reports say the undead don’t leave the cover of darkness. But there’s no guarantee that will hold.”

Pogg didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed somewhere between the table and the floor, lost in his own fog of uncertainty. The weight of titles and expectations pressed in from all sides—Legendary class-holder. The Purifier. Citizens murmured his name in reverent awe as if he were some second coming of Augustus the Lightbringer or Brand the Firelord. The streets of Dawnskeep echoed with those stories—stories he’d never asked for, stories he knew didn’t apply to the likes of him.

Outside the palace walls, his fantical followers from the Providencia had poured into the city, setting up shrines and vigils. Within the palace, the whispers of age-old prophecies flowed through the hallways. But none of them had seen what he had seen. None of them had watched helplessly as darkness swallowed everything in its path. They don’t know I've already failed.

“Listen to me, Pogg,” Tiberius said more softly now, his tone shifting. “We don’t need to remain here. If we retreat into the Providencia, it gives us time—time to build defenses. Time to prepare you.”

Pogg flinched inwardly at the mention of the southern realm.

“Maybe this shadow aims only to consume Arcadia and go no farther,” Tiberius continued. “Or perhaps, as it’s tied to the dark lord within, he may have his own limitations. Assumptions about what is yet to come would be foolish at this point. But at the rate the perpetual night is expanding, the Providencia won't be touched for some time.”

Pogg’s stomach turned at the mere thought. “No… I can’t go back there,” he whispered, almost too quietly.

Tiberius studied him for a long moment, then let out a slow breath. “Right.” He stood, his chair scraping gently against the stone floor. “Like it or not, you are the only line of defense we have against what’s coming. If you don’t pull yourself together, what hope do the rest of us have? I know you want a home for the Dalrazi. One that’s safe. And right now, that doesn’t exist.”

He looked at Pogg one last time. “Think about what you’ve been through. Not for yourself—but for them. The women, the children… those who can’t defend themselves. They look to you now.”

Without waiting for a reply, the commander turned and strode from the hall, shaking his head. The massive doors closed with a dull echo, leaving only silence.

Pogg exhaled slowly, the breath rattling in his chest. His eyes drifted shut. Tiberius’s words still hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. They look to you now. But none of them knew the truth. None of them had stood against the abyss that had called itself Lord Melkit, and failed so catastrophically.

There was no chance of victory ahead. Only the dead space between his first defeat and what would assuredly be his last.

A soft clatter broke his thoughts.

He opened his eyes and turned to the right. Down the table, seated near the far end, was the pale, vacant-eyed woman he’d occasionally seen. She sat in eerie stillness, her expression distant. In front of her was a plate of food she barely seemed to recognize. As she raised a fork and missed her mouth, the utensil slipped from her fingers and struck her dish with a sad, metallic note.

Pogg watched in silence. She didn’t react. Just slowly began the motion again, dazed and mechanical.

What will become of her? he thought. Of all the others like her? They would have no defense against the horrors he’d witnessed. The undead had no mercy. Would she be next? Just another corpse added to their ranks, like the men who had fought beside him? He shuddered as the memory surfaced: flesh dissolving from bone, his comrades turning to skeletons, their hollow eyes fixed on him as they mindlessly turned against him.

For the first time since the battle—since his defeat—Pogg reached for his identification skill: Righteous Perception.

Jasmine Arctavian (Level 1)

Human

Class: None

Forsaken

Strength: 1

Agility: 1

Constitution: 1

Intelligence: 1

Luck: 1

Virtue: 1

Health: 10/10

His eyes widened in sudden recognition. Wait… is that the princess? He’d seen her before—always distant, wandering the palace gardens under the careful eye of attendants—but until now, he hadn’t made the connection. He recalled Gareth mentioning something in one of his long diatribes: that Jane had stripped the young royal’s levels, leaving her in this debilitated state. A punishment—or perhaps just Jane's sick sense of justice. The details were fuzzy, overshadowed by everything else swirling in Pogg’s mind. But now, with the woman's information from the System before him, the truth was clear.

All of her stats were one. All of them. Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence—even her Luck sat at the lowest possible value. She was little more than a shell, mechanically moving through motions she no longer understood. Gareth had claimed that the princess and the young king had used leveling machines to sacrifice others for their own advancement, siphoning life in the name of power. If that was true, Pogg had expected her Virtue to be much lower. But it wasn't even negative. He frowned. Was that Jane’s doing? Or the System itself?

I still don’t know what to believe… Jane’s disarming presence, her feigned righteousness, her strange, tangled morality—it made everything a blur. How much of what she’s done was right? How much was wrong? He clenched his fists. The truth remained just out of reach, like smoke drifting through light. Just as she planned, no doubt. Even with the strange Virtue outliers he had seen, the Virtue stat was still more trustworthy than Gareth's bewitched stories of Jane. After all, even Gareth couldn't deny all his information was second-hand.

Regardless, one thing was clear: whatever this woman may have been, whatever she may have done… she was no threat now. She could barely feed herself. Watching her fumble with her food, her hand trembling with every movement, Pogg’s heart twisted. Her Luck was just as low as her other stats—her every action dictated by failure. Something Pogg was all too familiar with, his eyes briefly drifting to his own Luck stat of one.

Then his eyes caught on something stranger. A status label set prominently at the top of her details: Forsaken.

The word lingered in his mind, surfacing memories long forgotten. The old Dalrazi status—Irradiated—the cursed mark of those exposed to the poisonous southern coasts. Before he had come, they also couldn't speak—not with words. If this woman bore a similar condition, it might explain her current state. No class. No progression. Stuck in a limbo that neither time nor effort could overcome. 

Pogg rose from his seat, the motion unconscious. He crossed the room slowly, the clink of his boots echoing through the quiet hall. The attendants flanking the woman looked up in surprise but said nothing, unsure of his intent. He didn’t stop to explain. Acting on instinct, Pogg reached out, placed his hand gently on the woman’s head, and triggered his skill: Purify.

A silver light bloomed from beneath his palm, soft at first, then flaring brighter, brighter still. The woman’s eyes went wide, though her expression didn’t change. Her form lit from within, growing more luminous with each passing second. The attendants cried out and stumbled backward as the glow filled the space around them.

Pogg didn’t move.

He held his hand steady, eyes fixed on her. Whatever she had done—or hadn’t—she was still human. Still alive. Still someone who needed help. 

System messages erupted in Pogg’s vision, cascading past in rapid succession.

Jasmine Arctavian (Level 1) has been cleansed!

You have received 100 experience!

Jasmine Arctavian (Level 1) has received +1 Virtue!

Jasmine Arctavian (Level 1) has received +1 Virtue!

Jasmine Arctavian (Level 1) has received +1 Virtue!

Moments later, it was done.

The glow faded slowly, dimming from brilliant silver to a soft shimmer before vanishing entirely. A hush settled over the dining hall, deep and haunting. The woman remained seated, but something in her posture had changed. Subtle, but unmistakable—her shoulders no longer slumped in defeat. Her presence, once muted and hollow, now shimmered faintly with life.

She survived the purification.

That alone was enough to make Pogg’s chest tighten. Whatever her past sins, whatever trauma she'd endured, surviving Purify meant something. It was a measure of strength—not of body, but of spirit. It spoke to resilience. To will. To a soul not yet past the point of redemption.

Then, without warning, her hands sprang to life, fluttering like birds as she swiped frantically at invisible System menus only she could see. Her breathing quickened, and then—

She gasped.

A single, sharp inhale as if she'd just broken the surface of deep water.

“I… I… can sp-speak!” she stammered, voice cracking with disbelief. She turned toward her nearest attendant, tears brimming in wide eyes. “M-Maddy, I can speak!”

The woman she called Maddy clapped a hand to her mouth, choking back a sob. One of the other attendants stumbled forward, reaching for the princess’s arm as if afraid she’d fall back into incoherence at any moment.

Pogg stepped away quietly, giving her space. He could feel the tension breaking like thawing ice. Relief poured off the attendants in waves—shocked, hesitant, but real. Behind his calm face, a quiet weight lifted from his chest. She's restored.

While the princess—no, he corrected himself, this young woman—gathered herself, Pogg turned his attention back to her details with Righteous Perception, eyes scanning her updated System stats, searching for the changes.

Jasmine Arctavian (Level 2)

Human

Class: None

Strength: 1

Agility: 1

Constitution: 1

Intelligence: 2

Luck: 1

Virtue: 100

Health: 10/10

The Forsaken moniker was gone.

Just like the old Irradiated mark that had once plagued the Dalrazi, it had vanished under the cleansing power of his Purify skill. Whether it was some remnant of Jane’s dark judgment or not—it had been the debilitation anchoring her in place. Blocking her growth. The moment it lifted, Jasmine had gained a level. It wasn’t much, but it was proof of movement, of the first steps to recovery.

Pogg let out a quiet breath of relief. For all the chaos and destruction that had followed Jane King’s path through Arcadia, at least here—here—was something he could set right.

The young woman, Jasmine, turned to him, tears streaking freely down her cheeks. “Y-you saved me,” she whispered, voice unsteady with disbelief. “I couldn’t speak. Could barely think. How long has it been? I… I can’t remember…” Her eyes, luminous and dazed, searched his face. “Who are you?”

Pogg knelt before her, taking one of her trembling hands into his own, his grip steady and warm. “I’m no one special,” he said softly. “Just a fool with the right skill at the right time. Do you remember what happened? How you got into this state?”

Her gaze grew distant, clouded by the weight of memory struggling to return. “How I got this way…?” Her brow furrowed as she stared off past him, as if trying to glimpse something through fog. “I-I don’t remember…”

Pogg hesitated, then asked gently, “Was there a woman? Jane King?”

At the name, something immediately shifted in Jasmine’s expression—a flash of tension. “Was there…?” she repeated, searching. “Yes… yes, that’s right. I was… helping her. But how? I don't know. All I remember thinking was that maybe… maybe I could help somehow.” She gripped his hand a little tighter. “But what was it? There was something… and then…”

She trailed off, her features twisting with the effort of recollection. “Her face,” she said quietly. “That much I remember clearly. It was twisted… with fury. And then—she lashed out. The next moment, I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think clearly.”

Her hands began to tremble again, and Pogg squeezed them gently, grounding her. “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s over. You don’t have to think about it if you don’t want to.”

Jasmine closed her eyes, nodding slowly. “I suppose I should be angry with her,” she murmured. “But I don’t feel anything at all. Just… relief. Relief that it’s over. That the nightmare is finally ended.”

She looked up at him again, eyes clearer now. “I—I don’t have a General Identification skill yet, but… thank you. Whoever you are.”

“Pogg,” he answered, his voice low. “Just Pogg.”

As her attendants rushed in, overcome with emotion, fussing over her and wiping away her tears, Pogg rose and took a respectful step back, giving them room. For a long moment, he simply stood there, watching her reclaim herself—her voice, her mind, her presence.

The weight on his shoulders didn’t vanish, not entirely. Lord Melkit was still out there, cloaked in that living darkness, his army of undead horrors slowly spreading westward. And Jane—wherever she was—still had her lingering influence burrowed deep into the seams of Arcadia like weeds that refused to die. But in this moment, in this quiet corner of the palace, he had pushed back against that tide.

The despair etched into Princess Jasmine’s face was gone. In its place: a glimmer of light. Of radiance. Of life.

And in that reflection, Pogg felt something stir deep within him.

A spark. A renewed sense of purpose.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe… I can still do some good after all.