JUDICATOR JANE 7 - CHAPTER 1

Preparations

Hands on her hips, Jane hovered high above jagged peaks, scanning a desolate stretch of rocky canyons and cliffs west of the Dirthian capital, Integra. Mountains surged like frozen waves beneath her, ridges stretching to the horizon, untouched and uninhabited. No towns, no roads—just stone and silence.

As good a place as any, she decided.

Jane exhaled, then opened her System details, double checking the skill she had in mind.

Place Birthing Pit (x9)

How do you start a conversation about the birds and the bees when your offspring are shooting from a volcano? Beats me! You’ve got bigger concerns—like where to put the entire demon race. Will you chunk them down as one huge empire? Scatter them into rival tribes? Or just chuck them out on an island somewhere? The possibilities are endless! So put that noggin to use and get creative, but don’t take too long! Then again, what’s another thousand years or two?

If she was going to travel to the other side of the Green Sea—through a tunnel crawling with critch designed to kill her—then leaving the demon race without a place to spawn simply wasn’t an option. If she died, it could mean the extinction of their entire kind.

I want to find the perfect place for them, she thought, I really do… but given the circumstances, this will have to be good enough for now. It's only one of them, I should still have eight left anyway.

Focusing her thoughts, she raised a hand and started the skill activation sequence. A massive, translucent volcano shimmered into view—an exact replica of those she’d seen in the Netherrealm.

Another targeting guide, she noted, similar to the one from her Regional Arbiter skill. At least I can see the area it's going to affect. It also confirmed to her that this was very likely a permanent decision.

She scanned the ground below, picking out the tiny figures of Melindra and the other Velnatari. This was the location they’d all agreed on.

Taking one last breath, Jane confirmed the placement.

Unlike her Judicator skills, no involuntary words passed her lips—but that didn’t make the result any less earth-shaking. The mountains trembled, and the ground caved inward into a yawning black void. Lava erupted in great torrents, bubbling outward before cooling into solid rock—over and over—until the terrain sculpted itself into a jagged, towering volcano. Just like in the preview.

Far below, outside the boundaries, she saw Melindra and the others had moved even farther back during the upheaval.

And then—there, nestled in the glowing heart of the volcano—Jane spotted them: small gray forms writhing in the molten sludge, pushing their way into the world.

Baby demons…

She tried to fly closer for a better look, but bumped against an invisible barrier.

Oh, right. It's the same effect as in the Netherrealm—I guess only those with the Demonic Instructor class can enter.

Jane descended to the surface, tracing the boundary until she landed beside Melindra and the other Demonic Instructors. All three demons towered far beyond what the Dirthian tunnels could accommodate, which meant they’d be staying behind with Melindra.

“Well, that takes care of that,” Jane said, brushing off her hands. “The boundary's still active, so I guess that means we’ve got a proving ground again—I can’t get within two hundred feet of the pit’s slope. What about the Unboreal Citadel? You’ll need that, right?”

The Unboreal Citadel had served as the Velnatari’s base back in Jaridume. Now that she held an entrance key of her own, Jane was also curious what secrets it might still contain.

Melindra exchanged looks with the others. “We believe… it would be best to wait before placing that. This birthing pit was necessary. But when it comes to choosing the true heart of the demon race, more care is warranted. The Unboreal Citadel is undeniably important—and yes, there is a chance to lose it if you were to… perish. But a little risk is acceptable in the pursuit of an ideal location.”

Jane nodded. “Alright—and you three agree with that?”

Even if she technically led the horde, it didn’t feel right for her and Melindra to make such decisions alone. The Velnatari were the closest thing the demons had to an internal authority—even if they were also now bound to her.

“That… seems prudent, for now,” Lilith said carefully. “This world is far vaster than the Netherrealm. Finding an optimal location may take time.”

“Alright,” Jane repeated. “Feels like even placing this one birthing pit could change the future in ways we can’t begin to predict. But some things just can’t wait. For the other eight… we’ll really take our time.”

She placed her hands on her hips and scanned the rim of the birthing pit. No new demons were emerging yet—but it raised another important question.

“So, the demons born here—they won’t be bound to me. What do we do with them?”

She turned back to the others. “I only Soul Bound demons to me out of necessity before. I’m not sure that’s needed anymore. But we also can’t just let them run wild, killing and destroying everything in sight.”

It was Grathax, another one of the Velnatari, who answered. “The younglings will listen. They will believe what we teach them. The old directive—to seek strength and claim dominion over Jaridume—must be replaced with something else.”

Jane rubbed her chin. “Right… something else.”

“Furthermore,” Grathax continued, “there is no doubt that many younglings will wish to join their brethren in your mighty horde. To refuse them might be… unnecessarily cruel. And though their strength will be limited at first, some may grow to become quite formidable in their own right.”

Jane let out a breath, chewing her lip. “Yeah… I suppose you're right. Alright, let’s say this—if they want to join the horde, you can bind them to me. But let’s not make it mandatory.”

Grathax dipped his head slightly. “As you will.”

“And as for what we teach them…” Jane exhaled slowly. “I’ll have to think more on that. For now, let’s go find Balostroze and start setting some broader guidelines for the invasion ahead.”

***

Near the edge of the mountains north of Integra, Jane found Balostroze marshalling huge swaths of the horde along the border. Despite being nearly half the size it once was, the force looked no less terrifying. The Hellguards were gone—replaced by fearsome squads of Tormentors. She also saw the Smiths, the Pit Lords, and all the other demons who were simply too large to fit into the Dirthian tunnels. In the distance she also saw the dragonkin, still under guard, and opposite from them, a large group of former human slaves.

“Hey there, how’s it going?” she called out.

Balostroze turned from a cluster of four-legged demons labeled Grinchcrawlers. “Mistress, preparations are underway. Most of the demons could not fully enter the mountain canyons leading to Integra, so I took the liberty of repositioning them here. I’m now in the process of filtering and dividing the force into independent battalions.”

Jane nodded. “Good. Thanks. We need to talk a bit about the rules of engagement for what’s coming.” She turned to Melindra and paused for a moment. “I’m not setting any—not officially. Not this time. While I’m gone, you’ll need as much flexibility as possible. But I want you to approach this with a certain mindset.”

She sighed, resting her hands on her hips. “Every human—the dragonkin too—they’re… potential members of our horde. Just like the demons we gathered in the Netherrealm. They don’t do us any good if they’re dead. I’m not saying Soul Bind them, but remember—Boli and Yin came to us as willing allies. Others might do the same. They can’t make that choice if they’re dead.”

She turned back to face the demons spread across the field. “That said, I’m not asking you to sacrifice demons needlessly either. I want a net gain.”

She faced the red sorceress. “Melindra, that’s where you come in. Not only are you wiser than me, you understand hard choices—and when they need to be made. It’ll be up to you to decide when sacrifices are necessary… or if they are at all.”

Melindra offered a thin smile. “I wish I could tell you this will be a bloodless war. But when power is challenged, it is rarely surrendered willingly. There will be casualties—among all the races.”

“Yeah. I… I know that,” Jane said, her eyes growing distant. “We just have to hope that what we accomplish will be worth the price. I wish I could stay here—with all of you—to help ensure that success. But—”

“But this is the path before us,” Melindra cut in gently. “The decision is made. All we can do now is walk the steps required to reach the end.”

Closing her eyes, Jane took a deep breath. “Right. Exactly.”

Then her attention shifted to the captured dragonkin. “And these guys…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Feels like we need to keep them away from the humans. Maybe even from each other. I think we need some kind of separate camp.”

“A camp?” Melindra raised an eyebrow.

Jane nodded. “Yeah, a place to concentrate all the dragonkin we’ve caught—and the ones to come.”

Melindra gave a slow understanding nod. “A Dragonkin Concentration Camp.”

“What? No!” Jane spun, puffing her cheeks. “I mean, yes, we need to concentrate them in one isolated place. But not like a jail. Okay, maybe a little like a jail—just at the start. They need to learn how to interact with other races in a more… constructive way. One that doesn't involve them wielding their Resonances like invisible shackles. They’ve been doing this so long, they might not even know any other way. I don't know, we need to, like, re-educate them.”

“So… a Dragonkin Re-education Camp,” Melindra offered, finger on her chin.

Jane dropped her head and shook it slowly with a sigh. “God… No—yes, but let’s call it something else. Something lighter.” She thought for a moment. “How about Jane’s Super Fun Summer Camp Where You Learn Slavery Is Wrong and Other Good Stuff Too?”

Melindra crossed her arms and tilted her head. “…Seems a bit long.”

Jane’s cheeks flushed red and she crossed her arms defensively. “No. It’s not long. It’s just right.”

Melindra chuckled. “Very well. I’ll work out the details later. Put it out of your mind.”

“And the humans?” Balostroze rumbled. “Where do they fall in the hierarchy? If they are unbound, I’ll have no control over their actions.”

Jane sighed and put her hands on her hips. "I have part of a plan for that. But it's mostly going to be your call again, Melindra. Hopefully Dyle, Boli, and Yin can help too. But with so few dragonkin, we can’t afford a genocide. Keep things balanced. No more repeats of what happened with Tarik and the others.”

She turned, eyes scanning the horizon to the south. Despite all the work still needed above ground, she felt that familiar itch—the need to push forward, to dive into the unknown. But even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. Not yet. The Dirthians had preparations of their own to make in order to accommodate such a large force entering Integra—something they said had never been done before.

A smile briefly crossed her face as she imagined Veralaktus trying to negotiate the details below.

***

Frangold Hillmount nervously fidgeted with his beard, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow for what would have been the fifth time. Standing before him was one of Jane King's highest-ranking officers—a demoness with arms folded and an unreadable expression. She was scrutinizing the ramp and gateway leading from the surface to Integra’s heart with a careful eye.

“A-As you can see,” Frangold began, his voice a shaky blend of formality and fear, “the doors to the city are wide enough to accommodate nearly any number of… visitors. Once they're open, that is. Truly, it’s quite the momentous occasion. I’ve never seen the gates opened in my lifetime. Quite momentous indeed.”

The demoness offered no smile. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the ancient doors and the walkway beyond. “Rest assured,” she said coolly, “the gates of your city would not have stopped the Mistress had she truly wished to enter. It was wise of you to accede to her demands.” She turned slowly, casting a glance over the cavernous interior. “Nevertheless, the scale of your burrow is… impressive.”

Frangold gulped. “Right. Err, thank you. This way, then.” He gestured and began guiding her downward. She followed, pausing now and again to inspect exposed piping and the gas-lamps embedded into the walkway, her attention flicking from engineering details to structural quirks with disconcerting intensity.

“Now, the main choke point will be the lift,” Frangold continued, trying to maintain his composure. “It can only carry so many at a time, and given the size of your… kin, what with most being twice or thrice the size of a dwarf, it will take quite a while to ferry everyone down.”

Veralaktus stepped to the edge of the platform and peered over the side into the depths below. “Is this your only means of descent? No ramps? No secondary passageways?”

“Well, technically, yes, we do have stairs,” Frangold admitted with a weak laugh. “But it’s quite a hike—almost three hundred floors. Two hundred and ninety-seven, to be exact. And the stairwells cut through the city proper. It might be… unsettling for the common folk.”

The demoness sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “That is acceptable. We will use these… stairs. The Mistress will not tolerate delays. Neither will I.”

“V-Very well,” Frangold stammered, then hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “Err, if I may… There's been a lot of talk recently. Do you happen to know why there’s a critch bearing Jane King’s name? It’s caused quite a stir. Everyone from here to the Gear district is talking about it.”

Veralaktus’s gaze turned downward, her voice low and sharp. “Why? Because long before the Mistress conquered the Netherrealm, she rained blood and death upon the critch for daring to obstruct her path. In fear of her, they have undoubtedly turned to other methods—futile though they may be. Let that serve as a lesson to you and your people, Frangold. Do not stand in Jane King’s way.”

She stepped past him, her tone commanding. “Now, take me to the provisions your council has prepared. The ones my Mistress has graciously deigned to purchase.”

Frangold steadied himself against the railing, the color draining from his face. “Oh my… yes, yes of course. R-right this way.”