The silence after the Corrupt Judge's words was deafening. It wasn't just silence of the void—it was silence of truth unspoken, a silence that weighed heavier than screams.
Dusk stood motionless, his mind unraveling beneath the truth. He was never meant to be judged. He was never meant to die. And yet, here he was, among the worst criminals humanity had ever created, waiting to burn with them.
But he wasn't the only one.
A deep mechanical hum vibrated through the air, and from the shadows emerged five colossal thrones, carved from what looked like obsidian and bone. Upon them sat the Five High Judges, beings of immeasurable authority. Their faces were veiled, their voices distorted, but their presence was undeniable.
Each judge represented a piece of the shattered human world:
Judge Malreth, the enforcer of order.
Judge Varnis, the manipulator of fate.
Judge Eris, the weaver of emotion.
Judge Kael, the hand of execution.
And the fifth—silent, robed in gold—Judge Azariah, the one whose gaze never left Dusk.
At the center of the tribunal stood a new group of souls—the condemned—lined up like broken statues before the thrones. Dusk turned his gaze toward them. Each face held its own tale of ruin, and in their eyes, he saw not evil, but remnants of pain, betrayal, and fury.
Among them:
Vael Thorn, the crimson-eyed assassin who slaughtered monarchs in the name of equality.
Seren Vale, the deceiver who dismantled nations with her words alone.
Kaen Drahl, a warlord turned martyr who once tried to overthrow the world's order.
And Lian Rinova, her head bowed, her presence burning like fire wrapped in ice.
It was in that moment, something clicked. Lian was no mere criminal. Her steps were calculated. Her silence intentional. She wasn't here by force—she was here by choice.
As the tribunal proceeded, the judges began calling out the fates of each soul. One by one, they fell into the cosmic void beyond the eye—where their souls were erased, their sins incinerated by the bleeding light of that horrific sky.
When Kaen Drahl stepped forward, he didn't kneel.
He stared directly into Judge Kael's face and roared:
"This judgment is a farce. You wear justice like a crown, but you are the butchers of truth!"
With a flash of rage, Kaen lunged—not to escape, but to kill. His hand formed a weapon from nothing but thought and desperation, a blade of shimmering black flame. He aimed for the judge's throat.
But he never reached him.
A golden flash tore through the void. And Kaen's body crumbled into ash before it even touched the ground.
The executioner… was Lian.
Her blade still sang in the air as she lowered it calmly, without emotion.
Gasps echoed among the criminals. Even the judges seemed momentarily still.
"You—You serve them?" Dusk asked, stunned, his voice sharp with betrayal.
Lian turned to him slowly. Her eyes were unreadable, filled with something ancient.
"I serve only the truth," she said quietly. "And this world deserves none."
Before Dusk could reply, Judge Azariah finally stood.
His voice was soft, almost gentle. But it carried the power of a collapsing star.
"Olixander Dusk, your execution was a disruption. Your smile was a rebellion. Your soul... is a mistake."
Dusk met his gaze without flinching.
"No. My soul is a mirror—and you're afraid of what you see."
A murmur swept the tribunal. For the first time, the balance trembled.
The judge raised his hand.
"Then let your mistake be judged... by the truth itself."
Suddenly, the floor beneath Dusk shattered. A whirlpool of blood and time opened beneath him. He was falling again—only this time, he wasn't alone.
Lian jumped after him.
As the tribunal crumbled behind them, as time itself folded inward, Dusk heard a voice—not from outside, but from within his own being.
"You were never supposed to be saved… You were supposed to awaken."
Then everything turned to black.
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End of Chapter 2