The dice spun in their sockets, twin points of chaos in the Arbiter's face. Victor watched them blur through their rotation, his dagger clutched in his hand.
The pattern had been simple enough—one power at a time, borrowed and diminished. But as the dice slowed, showing a one and a two, the air itself seemed to recoil from what was coming.
Heat and cold crashed together in the arena's centre. The Arbiter's form split the difference—its left side glowing with fury while its right emanated the chill of indifference. The air distorted where the two forces met along its body.
Steam rose from the creature in violent puffs as its conflicting natures warred against each other.
"Conflicting powers," Sam muttered to himself. "It clearly has no control over the rolls since it's tearing itself apart."
However, the Arbiter had learnt to embrace contradiction. Its massive form lurched forward, one arm trailing flames while the other left the cool mist that had distorted their minds previously.
Lily rolled away from the attack, feeling the fluctuating temperature wash over her in waves. Her skin felt too hot one moment and too cold the next. She nocked an arrow, drew back, and released.
The arrow struck the Arbiter's conflicted form, piercing its left side. The Arbiter looked in her direction, its left eye socket glowing a faint red that illuminated the die. The arrow shaft was burnt to a crisp, but the arrowhead remained lodged in the Arbiter's body.
Ethan charged in, his axe biting deep into the Arbiter's side, and for a moment the creature's internal conflict paused. Heat and cold rushed towards the wound, meeting in a violent reaction that sent steam and sparks flying.
The Arbiter reeled, its dice eyes spinning frantically as if trying to escape their sockets. The next roll came quickly—two and four.
Indifference and mercy.
The creature's form shifted again, the violent extremes of temperature fading into something more insidious.
Apathy rolled off it in waves, but underneath ran a current of healing energy that sought to mend what indifference broke.
The combination was strange—it felt like being offered comfort by someone who evidently didn't care if you lived or died.
AJ flowed around the creature's reaching hand, his form cycling through states of matter with each heartbeat.
Solid to endure and liquid to avoid attacks. He constantly attacked, even when avoiding an attack he would swing at the Arbiter's arm.
The Arbiter punched out in his direction. Instead of dodging, he simply created a gap in his torso for the fist to pass through.
At the same time, his axe connected with the Arbiter's waist, the creature's healing energy immediately went to work attempting to repair itself, but the indifference interfered.
It made the repairs halfhearted and incomplete. Cracks only partially sealed themselves before the apathy took hold.
Walter circled to the Arbiter's blind spot, his sword grasped firmly in his grip. He struck at the points where the conflicting energies met, targeting the areas where the borrowed powers interfered with each other most.
Victor's dagger gleamed as he channelled mana throughout his body. The energy flowed differently now—not just strengthening himself but infusing his body with his intent.
He found a gap and slid forward before jumping up, striking at the creature's chest, the blade finding a wound that had been slowly healing.
The dagger ripped it wide open again, the Arbiter's hand reached out to grab his neck but he was quick to distance himself.
The dice rolled again. Five and one.
Deceit and wrath.
The Arbiter's form blazed with renewed fury, but the heat carried whispered lies that undermined its own power.
Victor heard his own voice telling him to retreat, to abandon his friends, to choose survival over loyalty.
But the lies were crude things, lacking the personal knowledge that had made the original so convincing.
More importantly, the wrath burnt away the deception even as the deceit cooled the rage. The creature stood caught between fury and falsehood, its attacks powerful but misdirected, its lies passionate but transparent.
Lily's arrows found their mark repeatedly, each shot guided by instinct rather than thought. The Arbiter's conflicted state making it predictable.
Sam had stopped trying to take notes, his notebook forgotten as he focused on the pattern emerging before them.
"It's losing control," he shouted over the Arbiter's roars. "The random combinations are breaking down its coherence."
They pressed their advantage with renewed intensity. Mana flowed through their bodies and into their movements, each attack carrying the accumulated experience of their trials.
They moved as one, covering each other's approaches, exploiting every opening the creature's internal conflicts created.
AJ struck high while Ethan attacked low. Victor found gaps in its defences while Lily provided covering fire.
The dice spun faster now, the creature's face a blur of changing numbers. But instead of bringing new power, the rapid shifts only accelerated its decay.
Powers cancelled each other out, energies went to war within its form, and the borrowed faces collapsed one by one.
With a sound like a mountain falling, the Six-Faced Arbiter crumbled.
The arena fell silent except for their breathing.
Dust motes danced in the aftermath, catching what remained of the artificial light as it settled back to normal.
The Six-Faced Arbiter's fragments lay scattered across the stone floor like the remnants of a shattered monument, each piece still radiating faint traces of the powers it had wielded.
Victor lowered his dagger, feeling the mana drain from his limbs with the familiar ache of exhaustion.
Around him, the others were finding their own ways to process what they'd accomplished.
Lily's hands trembled slightly as she returned her arrows to her quiver. The motion was automatic, ingrained by weeks of practice, but her fingers lingered on the fletching longer than necessary. She'd struck true when it mattered most, her aim guided by something deeper than technique.
I didn't miss, she thought, the realisation carrying more weight than mere satisfaction. Not once.
Ethan planted his axe head-down in the stone, using the weapon as a support while he caught his breath.
AJ's maintained his human form, though ripples still ran beneath his surface. The earlier shifting between states of matter had left him feeling oddly coherent, as if the chaos had somehow clarified rather than confused his nature.
"We adapted to it," he spoke, his voice carrying quiet pride. "It constantly changed and we were able to keep up with it."
Sam knelt beside one of the larger fragments, his notebook materialising in his hands with its pages pristine and unmarked. The endless cycle of burning and reformation had seemingly cleaned up his previously weathered notebook.
"The final face's borrowed powers were the cause of its downfall in the end," he murmured. "It had the forms but not the understanding or intent."
Walter straightened, his cane tapping against the stone. "Knowledge without wisdom. Power without purpose." His weathered eyes surveyed the battlefield. "A lesson worth remembering."
A familiar blue screen appeared in the air above the Arbiter's shattered remains:
Reward Granted: The Judicator's Ring: Enhances emotional regulation and mental clarity.
Victor's eyes caught a shimmer in the rubble and approached, digging out the ring, his movements cautious.
It was warm to the touch despite the cool air of the arena. When he held it up to the light, intricate engravings became visible along its surface—scales that seemed to tip and balance even as he watched.
"Only one of these," he said. "Of course."
Lily stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the ring with undisguised curiosity. "What do you think it actually does?"
Sam thought about it for a moment. "Emotional regulation and mental clarity would help with keeping calm and focusing, could be useful when meditating and in combat."
He paused, considering the implications. "Seems like the Spire recognises the mental and emotional strain it's put us through."
AJ's form rippled with what might have been amusement. "We've earned it. The question is how we split it."
The suggestion hung in the air between them for some time. They'd faced the temptations to sacrifice one another, had proven their unity stronger than individual desire.
Now they were seemingly faced with a different test—how to share something that couldn't be divided.
Walter's cane tapped once against the stone. "Equal rotation," he said simply. "Each person holds it when their need is greatest."
They all nodded.
The ring passed from hand to hand, each person testing its weight, its warmth, the strange sense of calm that seemed to emanate from its surface.
When it reached AJ, his translucent form shifted slightly before becoming still again.
"It works," he said, wonder colouring his voice. "I can feel my emotions, but they're... quieter. More manageable."
They agreed that Ethan would wear it first—his tendency towards impulsive action being balanced by the ring's calming influence could benefit them all.
The band settled onto his finger as if it had been crafted specifically for him, the engravings glowing faintly before fading to their normal silver lustre.
The arena began to shift, revealing the corridor that led back to the main chamber. They returned in comfortable silence.
The main chamber greeted them with its eternal constancy—three archways standing in patient invitation, symbols gleaming in the ever-present light.
Familiar symbols appeared above each archway: the serpent, the eye, and the two-faced visage.
"The usual suspects," Victor observed, though without resignation. "What are we going with this time?"
"Mind trial," Sam said, his preference clear in his voice.
Lily considered the eye symbol, remembering their previous encounters with its domain. "Puzzles, good idea. I think we can agree that the spirit trials suck."
Walter's cane tapped approvingly. "And we just fought, so there's no need to fight again."
Ethan flexed his fingers, the ring's weight strange but welcome on his hand. "As long as it doesn't involve more meditation."
AJ's form rippled with quiet laughter.
They approached the archway together, their footsteps echoing in the vast chamber. The door responded to their proximity, stone grinding against stone as the passage opened to reveal another corridor.
The air carried the weight of centuries: parchment aged to amber, leather bindings worn smooth by countless hands, and beneath it all, the faint scent of ink that had witnessed the recording of forgotten truths.
Behind them, the main chamber waited in eternal patience for their return.