JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 27 (Patreon)

Breaking Out

The following morning, Jane awoke to the sound of snoring. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she glanced toward the nearby lean-to where Boli lay sprawled on his side, fast asleep. The rising sun painted the sky in soft hues of gold and lavender, ushering in the day. Aside from him, the camp was quiet.

Where’s Yin?

She scanned the surrounding area but didn’t see him near the firepit or resting under the nearby trees. Just outside her own lean-to, Veralaktus stood, statuesque as ever, waiting for orders.

“Do you know where Yin is?” Jane asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

The demoness gestured toward the top of a nearby ridge, where the clearcut line of trees gave way to the untouched forest on either side. “He is there, watching the horizon. He does not appear to be attempting escape. However… there is something else you should know.”

Jane straightened. “Oh?”

“The dragonkin captives are dead.”

Jane blinked, then spun. “WHAT?!”

Veralaktus bowed her head slightly. “I have failed you, Mistress. I can only beg for your—”

“Not now,” Jane cut her off, raising a hand. “Just tell me what happened.”

The demoness nodded. “Reports indicate one of them killed the other two, then took his own life. How he managed it is unknown—no weapons were found. Only that a blade of some sort was used. It was… unexpected. We demons would never consider such a thing. Slaying enemies, yes, but to turn a weapon inward?”

Jane exhaled, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “Which one?”

“Ulthrax,” Veralaktus said. “The one from the Mandala of Humility.”

Jane nodded slowly. “Right.” She recalled his class—Shardscale, was it combat related? Maybe he had some way to materialize a weapon with a skill? The dragonkin classes were still a mystery. Their names were all themed towards dragon lore but vague, and as far as practical application, she still didn’t understand half of what they might be able to do.

“Well,” she muttered, “we’ll just have to be more careful in the future.” Her eyes rose to the top of the ridge. “I need a moment. Wait here.”

Climbing slowly, Jane reached the crest, taking in the sweeping view. The dawn light bathed the forest in a sea of amber and copper, and the air was brisk with morning chill. The demons had made progress overnight—she could see a clean line of felled trees carving through the forest for half a mile at least.

To her right, Yin stood alone, staring out toward the south, his posture still.

“Hey,” Jane said gently as she approached. “Beautiful view, huh?”

Yin turned at her voice, nodding faintly.

Right—he can’t talk, Jane reminded herself. But… can I sign?

She looked at her hands, flexed her fingers, and gave it a try. To her surprise, they moved naturally, as though guided by muscle memory she didn’t earn.

Sorry you got caught up in all this. I know my story last night was… a lot.

Yin’s eyes widened. You know hand-speak? Who taught you?

Just a perk of my class, Jane replied. I can understand and speak all forms of communication. It’s an evolved version of my Alur Language Comprehension skill.

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting south again. The Mandalas… I never planned to go back. Until I escaped, I spent my days moving from tower to tower, cooling wine cellars and pantries with my Ice Weaver skills. Nothing more than a utility to them. My family was gone by then. Live or die—escape was my final grasp for life.

Jane crossed her arms. Boli mentioned something about you losing your tongue… but I still don’t get it. Humility is a good trait. Why would that Mandala be so awful?

In the Mandalas, Yin signed with calm finality, virtue is demanded of the subjects, not the rulers. In Humility, we were taught to abase ourselves, to view ourselves as less than. I’ve heard it’s much the same elsewhere—if your state of mind isn’t aligned with the resonance of your Mandala, you’re labeled discordant—and enslavement follows soon after. But for someone like me, with a valuable class, freedom was never an option. I was branded the day my class was revealed.

Jane exhaled, the weight of his story pressing on her shoulders. The puzzle pieces were falling into place. Harmony and Resonance—strange stats she was just starting to understand—were the defining feature of the dragonkin. The System appeared to give unique stats to all of the races. And those stats had dramatic effects on their ways of life. Humans had Luck. Demons had Dominance. Elves had Forestwalk. The dwarves had something she couldn’t recall… she even vaguely recalled the Titan she met having something unique. The dragonkin had built an entire societal framework around their Harmony stat. And apparently, its effect extended outward—she had felt it herself with the dragonkin captives.

If you’re serious about going through the Mandalas, Yin signed, his hands steady, I’d like to help. Fighting back… it’s something I never dreamed was possible.

Jane paused, looking him in the eyes. “Look,” she said aloud, voice quiet but firm, “I know how bad it is. I get that. Just reading the Loremaster's quest told me that much. But I can’t get tangled in this mess. I meant what I said, I’m cutting straight south. I’ve got responsibilities elsewhere. People are counting on me.”

She softened, seeing his expression remain open, undemanding. “But I can promise you this—if there’s a chance for me to help along the way, I’ll take it.”

Yin smiled, the barest curl of his lips as he nodded. Thank you.

***

Two days later, they finally emerged from the forested mountains. Urging her Emerald Drake forward, Jane’s eyes widened as the terrain opened into a wide field below, stretching out like an empty board game—full of possibilities. The last of the trees thinned behind them, the forested ridges giving way to gentle, golden hills.

Melindra pulled up beside her, a map in hand, now annotated with detailed notes from Boli, Yin, and the other Infiltrators.

“We should be here,” she said, tapping the northern edge of the parchment. Then she gestured west. “The Mandala of Power lies in that direction—its capital city is Garontal.” She swept her arm to the east. “The Mandala of Humility runs along the coast of the Green Sea. If we move directly south, it should put us between the two of them.”

Balostroze galloped up to meet them, his eyes scanning the horizon before turning to her.

“Mistress, for the battles ahead, I advise we wait until the remainder of the horde clears the mountain pass.” He pointed his spear southward. “Advancing as one will keep our forces consolidated and reduce the risk of flanking strikes or piecemeal ambushes. Particularly as we delve deeper into enemy territory.”

Jane nodded. “Agreed. No reason to spread out if we don't have to.” She rubbed her chin. “Yin told me the Mandalas use a mix of enslaved and free humans in their armies, with the dragonkin mostly issuing orders from behind the battlelines. It doesn’t sound like they do much fighting themselves, except for ritualistic duels.”

She turned toward the towering demon. “Let’s put the Infiltrators back to work. Send them ahead—along our projected route. Sabotage, confusion, spreading panic. Anything to disrupt Mandala operations and distract them from our impending arrival.”

Balostroze dipped his head, closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “It is done.”

“Good. Also—deploy the Darkwing Skimmers. Have them fly low patrols around our staging ground. I doubt we can keep our presence secret much longer, but I also doubt anyone is expecting an invasion from the north. For now we’ll have to hope those two escaped dragonkin from the valley haven’t found a receptive ear.”

“As you will it,” he said, before galloping off to carry out her commands.

This would be their staging ground—right here, at the foot of the mountains. Jane scanned the horizon again. Faintly, she could make out the silhouette of a city far to the west. To the east, neat rows of farmland dotted the hills like a quilt. Finally, back in civilization. But what kind of civilization was it? 

She rubbed her chin, staring out at the fields. We get all the demons together, then bulldoze through the warzone—freeing slaves and smiting bad guys until we punch through to the other side. Kind of like my shock-and-awe campaign in Arcadia—only turbo-juiced. Here it was different. No politics. No overthrowing lords, setting up laws, or winning hearts and minds. In Arcadia, she tried to be a diplomat. Here? She was a battering ram with wings.

And she still had one tool left—one skill she hadn’t fully explored.

Jane opened her System logs.

Minor Law (Epic)

Passing judgment is one thing, but how can you do that without knowing the rules? Good news—you get to make your own! Hear that, boys? Leaving the toilet seat up might just cost you your head! So think carefully and channel those long-buried childhood dreams of bureaucracy, because these laws don’t need an animated cartoon and catchy jingle to become reality!

I still haven't tested it. And if there was one thing she’d learned, it was never to trust the System’s definition of “Minor.” More than that, she had a gnawing suspicion the skill was tied to Gral’gor. His Executioner class was supposedly meant to help enforce her judgments—and that had to mean some kind of synergy. The fact that the new skill had unlocked right after she gained the Executioner skill made the connection feel all but certain.

“Veralaktus,” she called, eyes still fixed on the rolling fields ahead. “Summon Gral’gor. It’s time we ran some tests on my new skill.”