The Face of Justice regarded them with its single glowing eye, and in that gaze was the weight of judgment.
The scales etched into its forehead began to glow with a cold, blue light that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone to examine the very essence of their souls.
The arena transformed around them. Where moments before had been simple stone, now crystalline formations erupted from the floor.
Each one reflected not their physical forms, but their choices, their moments of doubt, their moral failures laid bare like specimens under glass.
"The scales do not lie. Let each soul be measured according to their deeds."
The creature's eye swept across them slowly, methodically, like a judge reviewing evidence in a court. It paused on each member of the team, weighing invisible burdens that only it could see.
Most received what seemed like grudging acknowledgement—their sins present but balanced by good deeds, their failures offset by growth.
But when its gaze fell upon Victor and AJ, something different happened. The eye blazed brighter, the scales on the creature's forehead tilting.
The Arbiter raised one massive hand, its finger pointing directly at Victor.
"Your sins run deepest, merchant of souls. You traded human worth for material gain, sacrificed love for advancement, chose profit over people until the very end."
The words struck Victor like physical blows. He staggered, feeling the crushing pressure of every relationship he had neglected, every person he had used as a stepping stone, every moment he had chosen ambition over humanity.
Then the finger moved to AJ, and the creature's voice carried a different kind of condemnation.
"And you, anomaly. Your very existence is transgression. You were not meant to be, yet you persist. You consume what others need, take forms not your own, insert yourself into bonds that should exclude you. Your greatest sin is the simple fact that you are."
AJ's translucent form rippled with anguish. Where Victor's condemnation spoke of actions taken, his spoke of something far more fundamental—the basic wrongness of his existence in this world.
He had chosen this form, yes, but in doing so had he stolen something from the natural order?
The weight of divine judgement settled on both of them like invisible chains. Every movement became laboured, every breath a struggle. The others felt the pressure too, but it was nothing compared to what Victor and AJ endured.
"Judgement has been rendered. Now face the consequences of your choices."
The Arbiter moved with a precision that was terrifying in its certainty.
Where the Face of Wrath had been wild fury and the Face of Indifference had been crushing emptiness. This Face carried a sense of unapologetic justice that struck with surgical accuracy.
Its attacks focused primarily on Victor and AJ, as if they were the only ones truly deserving of its attention.
Victor found himself constantly under assault, the creature's blows coming with the weight of retribution. Each strike that connected sent waves of agony through him—not just physical pain, but the accumulated guilt of decades made manifest in his bones.
AJ struggled to maintain his human form under the pressure. The simple act of existing seemed to require tremendous effort, as if the universe itself was trying to squeeze him out of reality. His translucent body flickered and wavered, threatening to collapse back into his base slime state.
The others were not ignored, but they quickly realised that the Arbiter's attention was focused on Victor and AJ.
Lily's arrows found their marks more easily when the creature was focused on its primary targets. Ethan's axe carved deep gouges as he struck while it was distracted.
Sam and Walter could exploit openings that would have been impossible if they had been the focus of that terrible judgement.
Victor stumbled as another blow connected, his dagger trembling in his grip. The creature's words echoed in his mind: merchant of souls, sacrificed love for advancement, chose profit over people.
AJ's form was becoming increasingly unstable. The Arbiter's condemnation—your very existence is transgression—cut deeper than any physical weapon.
He had thought himself accepted, part of their family, but what if the universe itself disagreed? What if his presence among them was indeed a violation of natural law?
It was Walter who spoke first, his voice cutting through the din of battle with quiet authority. "Victor," he called out, striking at the creature's ankle with his sword. "Your past doesn't define your present. We've all seen who you choose to be now."
Ethan followed, his axe once again biting deep into the creature's leg. "AJ—I don't care what this thing says. You're one of us."
But even as their friends fought to support them, Victor and AJ had to face the deeper truth. The Arbiter's words were not lies—they were simply incomplete.
Yes, Victor had been everything it accused him of being. Yes, AJ was an anomaly whose existence defied natural order. But they were also more than that, they also had positive impacts.
Victor straightened despite the crushing pressure. "I was all those things," he said through gritted teeth, his dagger stabbing at the creature's neck. "But I'm choosing to be something else now."
AJ's form solidified, his human outline becoming more defined. "Maybe I don't belong," he said, his voice carrying his determination. "Maybe I am an anomaly. But my life and death are not for you to decide."
The Arbiter paused, its single eye narrowing as if confused by this response. Justice demanded punishment for guilt, retribution for transgression.
But they were not denying their sins—they were accepting them while refusing to be defined by them.
The Face of Justice began to show cracks as their assault found its rhythm. Lily's arrows struck with precision, the obsidian tips piercing deep into the stone body of the Arbiter.
Ethan intercepted the Arbiters attacks with his shield, freeing up AJ and Victor.
Walter's sword struck at precise angles, each blow targeting the stress points where the creature's massive frame bore the most weight.
Sam coordinated their efforts, calling out vulnerabilities as he observed them forming.
AJ, despite the weight crushing down on him, managed to land attacks with his axe, striking at the Arbiter's face.
With a sound like breaking crystal, the stern face shattered. The overwhelming pressure lifted from Victor and AJ's shoulders, leaving them gasping but standing.
The remaining faces rotated with what seemed like increased urgency; it seemed this team had the potential to defeat it.
"Where judgement sought to divide, unity proved stronger. Perhaps mercy will prove more... capable."
The Face of Mercy locked into position—a serene visage with closed eyes and a gentle smile, white tears flowing down its stone cheeks like liquid starlight.
Where the previous faces had emanated raw emotion, this one radiated something more complex: forgiveness, compassion, and the dangerous comfort of unearned grace.
The arena transformed again. The harsh crystal formations melted away, replaced by soft, rolling hills covered in flowers that glowed with their own inner light.
The air became warm and sweet, carrying the scent of home, safety, and love. It was beautiful, peaceful, perfect—and somehow more threatening than anything they had yet faced.
The Arbiter's stance shifted completely. Where it had been aggressive, then judgemental, now it moved with fluid grace. Its robes seemed to flow like water, and when it raised its hands, light cascaded from its fingers.
But this was not the mercy of earned forgiveness—this was the mercy that sought to heal by removing all struggle, all growth, all the sharp edges that made them who they were.
As its light touched them, they felt their scars beginning to fade, their painful memories growing distant and vague.
Ethan swung his axe, but as the blade connected with the Arbiter's arm, something strange happened.
Instead of stone chipping away, his weapon passed through completely, and where it should have carved a wound, golden light bloomed instead. The creature's arm had begun healing, all their previous efforts being washed away.
"What the hell?" Ethan stared at his axe, then at the creature. He'd hit where he'd aimed, but the Arbiter looked... grateful. As if the attack had been a gift rather than an assault.
Victor's dagger found its mark, but again the blade seemed to heal rather than harm. The creature's movements became more graceful, its form more radiant.
"It's not dodging us," Victor said, confusion creeping into his voice. "It's absorbing our attacks and turning them into a healing power."
Lily's arrows transformed mid-flight into points of warm light that made the creature glow brighter. The more they fought, the more their opponent healed and grew stronger.
But AJ saw what the others were missing. "It's not just healing itself," he said. "It's healing us too. Look at your hands."
They looked down to see their old scars fading, their calloused fingers becoming smooth and unmarked.
The aches from previous battles were melting away, but so were the reminders of what they'd survived, what they'd learnt, what had made them strong.
"This isn't mercy," AJ continued, his form rippling with alarm. "This is theft. It's stealing our experiences, our growth, our pain—the pain that made us who we are."
The Face of Mercy smiled wider, its white tears flowing more freely. Each drop that fell created flowers where it touched the ground, beautiful blooms that released spores of contentment and peaceful surrender.
But they had not come this far, endured this much, grown this strong, only to be dissolved in a bath of unearned grace. Their scars were not flaws to be erased—they were proof of survival, evidence of growth, marks of the battles that had forged them into who they had become.
"We don't need to be healed," Lily said, her voice growing stronger as she fought against the peaceful haze. "We need to be whole, and that includes the broken parts."
The battle against mercy proved to be their strangest yet—a fight not to destroy, but to remain themselves in the face of love that sought to transform them into something safer, smaller, more manageable.
It was a war fought not with weapons but with will, not with strength but with the stubborn insistence on remaining complicated, flawed, and gloriously human.
They refused the easy grace being offered, refusing to attack the Arbiter. They knew that attacking would heal it, and so they stubbornly refused to do anything.
They didn't attack, they didn't accept its mercy, and sure enough after some time the Face of Mercy began to crack.
It had a fatal flaw—the Face of Mercy was falling apart on its own, it relied entirely on being attacked to remain intact.