'I'm running out of time,' Ethan thinks. Following Alecto, they descend the stairs to the main hallway, where they rejoin with everyone else. Ethan's mind races. If the only things that matter are the sins committed in this place, only Fabio will be on the hook. If their entire life is judged, who could pass? 'Why do we have to enter in groups of eight? Is it only to provide targets for the anger it tries to entice?'

Ivy's hand shivers, or rather, her whole body shakes. Her heart races, veins pulsating below her skin.

Grant stares at Ethan, terrified. Could it be that he fears being killed on a whim? Ivy made it easier with the information she revealed, but Ethan doesn't need him dead unless he acts against him.

The stairs leading to the door bearing the sculpture of Cain and Abel groan. The steps break away from each other, descending to form a reversed staircase. Through the darkness, Ethan can see a stone door with another illustration – a carving of The Last Judgment.

Mikko freezes for a moment, staring at the copy of Michelangelo's work. Ivy stops too. She grasps her uncovered hand with the other, trying to stop herself from shaking. Derek places a hand on her shoulder, worried.

The furies line the edges of the stairs, clicking their sabatons as they straighten with their hands held behind their backs. They all say, "They are awaiting you."

Derek leaves Ivy's side and descends first. He places his right hand over his thigh, his fingers ready to unholster an inexistent handgun. Likely realizing it, he relaxes his fingers and places his other hand on the handle of his sword.

'Since we entered this place, I have been stronger than anything the labyrinth threw at us. The most dangerous beings here are the Wolves.' Ethan thinks. He steps down the stairs, Russ following. 'Whatever this lord is, it's possible that I could fight my way through. The furies will attack me if I try anything, but that won't be a problem if they share characteristics.'

A large circular room awaits them, around thirty meters wide. Half of the walls, like an amphitheater, hold stone tribunes. A disproportionate judge's bench lies on the other side, opposite of the room's entrance. There are no other doors or paths leading away from the room.

As the furies enter last, the door closes and the stairs behind grind, closing the sole escape route.

All but Derek and Ethan shiver in stress. The furies motion towards the stone tribunes, silently ordering them to sit. It takes some time for everyone to take place. Besides Russ' growls, only the furies' sabatons make any sound.

A dark smoke rises from behind the bench; it takes a humanoid shape and condenses into a giant creature. A flowing robe of dark linen drapes its body. Glowing in the light of torches, golden runes, and glyphs of Nordic and Egyptian origin garnish its attire. A scale is embroidered on its robe, broken in half by the opening revealing its upper chest. A Britannic bench wig frames a black jackal head with a long, braided goatee, its eyes glowing red.

'He's ugly. And what is this patchwork of myths?' Ethan thinks. He glances at the humans around him and sees them staring at the thing in fear. Were they expecting something less intimidating?

The furies bow to the creature. With both of its hands already on the bench, it raises a third to its maw, a large cigar between its fingers. The shift of its attire reveals that he still hides a fourth arm behind the bench. It snaps its fingers; a flame forms on its thumb, with which it ignites its cigar. It puffs clouds of gray, flooding the room in their scent.

The smoke burns Ethan's lungs more than it should; it's bearable but makes breathing painful. Everyone else cough, bending in pain with each expulsion of smoke. Russ covers his snout, coughing through his nostrils.

With the cancerous voice of a lifelong smoker, the judge finally speaks. "At last, the last defendants reached my doors. You shall excuse the wait." It vanishes into black smoke.

The walls behind the bench split and fall down, revealing a titanic room. Their now small room is connected to a larger disc-like platform by narrow stone bridges. Seven other rooms, such as theirs, circle the central platform. Each holds eight people, all staring at the endless void surrounding the bridges.

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The bench floats towards the center; it connects with seven others, forming a circular bench hovering above the platform. The creature reappears up there, eyeing each room one by one.

The furies fly off to the central platform, placing themselves under the bench.

It announces, "And thus, all the necessary lost souls finally joined my house." It draws on its cigar and exhales more smoke. "Your civilization sins so much that none may pass my trial. But if none are given the opportunity to ascend, I would fail at my task. Thus, eight may succeed while the others will fall to the torments of purgatory."

Yells escape from the other rooms, inaudible from Ethan's position. He triggers predator's sight, not to hear their complaints but to scan their faces. He searches for Hayes but once again fails to spot him. He thinks, 'Even if people are brought here in batches of sixty-four, he probably came way ahead of me. And I doubt he could be said to be sinless, being a company owner on earth and either a tyrant or a traitor on the other side.'

Derek booms, "What a load of crap!" His voice echoes through the massive chamber, drawing the attention of not only their group but the figures in the other rooms as well.

Ivy tenses, her worried eyes staring at Derek.

Derek continues, "Judging people by irrelevant standards of religions from a time when slavery was normal? A smoking judge acting like he's sentencing us at the back of a front, between two lines. You don't even have a singular identity; your religions contradict each other and punish what others consider mundane. How can you claim authority when you represent nothing of our laws?"

The room falls silent, the furies stiffening. The lord pauses mid-puff, its red eyes glowing. For a moment, the creature seems amused, as a low chuckle reverberates.

"You presume to question powers far beyond you," the lord finally says. "Do you believe you are above judgment, or is it the delusion of superiority that feeds your insolence?"

Derek's face stays defiant. "Real justice has standards – accountability, fairness. How is it that you dare judge us on laws that we do not know?"

"Ignorance of the law isn't a valid defense. You, of all defendants, should know that," the lord retorts.

"Not when you fail to provide it. What tells us that you won't make it on the spot to fail those you want? Where is our defense? Where is our jury of peers?"

Megaera leaps forward, closing the distance with a speed the others can't follow, yet languidly in Ethan's eyes. She summons a black, thin, long sword in her hand and places its blade under Derek's throat. The fury commands, "Mind your tongue when addressing the lord. The next insult will cost you your life."

"My point exactly," Derek quips. She twitches her blade, but he stays immobile, staring at her.

Ethan peers into the Ether and realizes that her blade holds none of it. Just like her armor, it is nothing in comparison to even his dagger. He could slice it with ease. Tisiphone's seething gaze falls on Ethan as he visualizes his fight with her sister. He ponders, 'Can her talent tell her when someone is thinking of killing? I'll have to act without premeditation, or she might alarm them.'

"Does this mean that eight of all sixty-four people may pass, or that a room will?" Ivy ponders aloud. It breaks the tension, and the fury returns to her post. Her question makes Grant look at Ethan.

The lord exhales and continues, "One by one, you will present a candidate amongst your cohort, or one will be designated should you fail to choose."

Ethan's heart hastens, not in fear for himself but for Russ. He scans the scene and estimates that, if necessary, he could leap to the lord's bench. But with so many people here, isn't it expected of them to gang up on the thing? Or is it so strong that no amount of enemies could defeat the lord?

"They will engage in a game of my creation," the lord continues. A game? Derek is right; this thing will not judge anyone fairly and will do as it pleases. But Ethan feels he cannot act now; he ignores too much of the thing's abilities. And perhaps the game is a skill-based one he could win. "One where they –"

A roar cuts the lord, rushing from one of the rooms. Two men run down the bridge, one armed with a mace and shield and the other with a decorated bow. The later arms a shot; light shines from the arrow's tip, turning into a beam as he releases the string.

The lord raises a hand, forming a disk-like shield in the arrow's path. It blocks the strike but cracks; the arrow spins in the air, its momentum broken. It hurls a fist at the bench, the impact echoing.

Megaera rushes to them. She leaps in the air, spinning to avoid a mace blow, and passes beyond the first man's shield. She summons a blade like her sister's and slits his throat with little force. The archer arms another shot, but she grabs his bow and twists it away from his grip. With a flap of her wings, she impales her knee in his chest, bringing him to the ground.

The man turns and stares at her, a dumfounded expression on his face. Ethan catches a smirk on Alecto's face. He ponders, 'Did they try because they thought they couldn't pass anyway, or did the furies convince them to do it?'

The lord booms, "For your greed in exploiting others who sought nothing but escaping their condition. For your wrath in beating the one who sought shelter in your love. And for your lust in bedding another than your wife, I condemn you to purgatory!"

Blinding light engulfs the man; he vanishes without a trace. The rooms fall silent, their occupants' faces etched by fear. Some who hefted their weapons lower them, courage leaving their minds.

Ethan thinks, 'It only spoke of deadly sins, but that thing condemned him for sins he committed outside the castle.'