Julius Richter never wanted to be a lawyer. But his father was one. And so was his grandfather. And his great grandfather. And...

He spat out a sigh.

It was a living, in any case. One that had an impact on people's lives.

He was a prosecutor. He could become the deciding factor in leading a criminal, a monster, into their rightful punishment. He could become the deciding factor that would give people solace.

Julius Richter had passed through many barriers to get to where he is now. Graduation from Harvard Law School on Earth, and the bar exam on Midgard, completing both on his first try, both at age 21. And with that, there have long been whispers of him being a genius, plain and simple.

Still, Richter always felt these tasks were trivial. He was a lawyer.

Input the necessary knowledge. Formulize the plan of attack. Output the desired result. It worked every time.

Every single time.

Input. Formulize. Output.

Every. Single. Time.

It was already the fourth day of Alexander's court case. His hands were still chained together, wrapped with steel. And today... The witness they called up was a Paladin. A man dressed in a long, black coat and his face covered in a mask of a plague doctor. Ambrose Eldritch, famed for his poison magic and advancements in magic medical procedures.

His mask was made of black leather, bound by string and cloth. There were two holes for his eyes, covered by a perfectly crafted, dark lense, connected with a ring of steel. With his black pants and black boots, dark coat and sleeves... The layers upon layers of cloth hid away his skin, not showing a single sliver. His hands were covered with white gloves of silk, and every hair on his head was hidden under a black top hat.

"Now..." Richter muttered. "Sir Eldritch... You were the one to bring down Alexander Lane, just one week ago today. You-"

"That's correct," the Paladin interrupted, leaning into the microphone before him to assure his voice was loud and audible.

Richter stared at him.

Ambrose Eldritch was always known to be a difficult man. But Richter knew he would be the key to the case. Everything that the Paladin was involved in, everything that he had seen and knew was perfect.

All Julius Richter had to do was turn that key.

As dull as his job was, this slight moment of finding the perfect gap to resolve the case... That was enough to crack a smile. With a slight smirk permeating onto his pale lips, Richter asked the paladin. "You would say you have an expertise when it comes to demons, would you not?"

He nodded. "I have experience dealing with them. Far more than an average magician, and most likely the most out of the Paladins."

"And why is that?"

The Paladin stared at Richter. His gaze was hidden behind his mask, behind the lenses of dark black. But both Alexander and Richter understood what that stare meant.

It was one of dull anger, as if that was the worst possible question to be asked.

Julius Richter wasn't able to sense the magic energy emanating from that man. But Alexander was. Maybe it was because they had already faced each other, maybe it was because of the fact he was a Paladin... But Alexander felt afraid of that man, and of what he could do.

Still, the Paladin quelled that feeling and spoke into the microphone. "I prefer not to say. Next question, if you will."

Richter wiped a single bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "You were present in New York City during the occurrence of the manifestation of Mammon. Mammon was subsequently killed by Alexander Lane, although building up to him becoming a demon. The demon you brought down. Is this all correct?"

Eldritch nodded.

Again, Richter stared at him with a stale gaze and dull eyes.

A sigh left Eldritch's lips and through his mask. "Yes. It is correct. I saw the boy-"

Julius Richter interrupted and eyed the crowd, as he stepped to the side. "The devil, you mean."

"...The Demon-Born. I saw his demonic self, his very skin turned into scales. One of his eyes was glowing. And his strength..." Eldritch stared at the palm of his hands, as if reading them behind his white and pristine gloves.

"I used magic. I fought with the intent to kill," the Paladin declared. He made it known. "I used enough poison to kill a dragon, but that wasn't enough to do anything permanent, even after the injuries he sustained in the battle against the Prince of Greed. Only knock him out."

Murmurs spread throughout the audience as each one truly understood what that meant.

A Paladin fought with the intent to kill, but couldn't achieve that purpose. Was the boy really that strong?

And before anyone could think or ask a question, Richter spoke for the. He faced the Paladin and asked, "If the demon were to live, if such an incident were to repeat itself... In your professional opinion, what would it take to kill Alexander Lane?"

Eldritch folded his gloved hands onto one another. His response was delayed, with each second of silence being deliberate, an attempt to find the true answer.

He had no reason to lie, or sugarcoat the truth, no matter what Archibald told him. He was impartial, and will continue to be, as he spoke, "Alexander Lane has been practicing magic for just over a year. If this were to happen a year from now..." He paused for a single second. That was all he needed to understand. "At the rate he has gone, a year from now, he will be too powerful for me to kill. Only a High-Grade would be able to stop him, such as Charles Archibald or William Nero."

The murmurs grew louder, with more whispers and remarks spreading. Fear, anger, hatred. Pure malice was spreading through the jury of a hundred.

And once again, Alexander stared down at the marble floor. His eyes fixed themselves onto the chains that wrapped around his hands, the chains that kept him to the floor and kept him from moving too much.

The Jury would soon reach a verdict, Alexander guessed.

Even as the trial continued, Alexander lost focus on what Richter and Eldritch and every other witness said. He even forgot to listen to what his own attorney spoke on.

His heart simply ached. His heart simply sank further and further into fear and hopelessness.

- - - - -

Alexander was back in his cell, laying down, his head pressed against cold metal. By now, he had learned to disregard the burning odor of what smelled like sulfur yet left the taste of iron in his mouth.

Now all his thoughts lay on were his family. His friends.

Those few thoughts and mental images of comfort lasted only moments, until boots clacked against the pavement and headed towards Alexander's cell.

The man that approached was shrouded, hidden by the long over cloak he wore, his head covered by his dark hood.

"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked, his head still pressed against his iron bed, even as he recognized Julius Richter's magic energy.

The prosecutor paused. He was thinking. Each word he spoke was intentional, chosen with deliberate purpose, without the need for fillers or mistakes. Even so, that proved troublesome as his senses grew overloaded with the disgusting fumes rising from the concrete itself and the grounds and creaks coming from prisoners and metal and everything around them.

This was only the second Circle of Infernus, but his head was already spinning in the nauseating air. His intent on a stoic and quiet approach had faded away with his coughs.

"Listen, dude," Alexander said, his head still laying. "Exhale through your mouth, and make sure your inhales aren't too deep. You'll be alright."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Richter tore off his hood and hurriedly scratched his head, as if struggling to rid himself of an itch or a mite deep in his skull. "Why isn't it affecting you? You've gotten used to it?"

"It's a poison. And I happen to be a Demon-Born with poison resistance. But for you... It'll mess up your lungs if you're here too long. But if you're only here for just a couple minutes, you'll get out with breathing troubles for a day or two and that's it." It was finally then that Alexander turned to Julius, only shifting his eyes to the side. "That's assuming you have strong lungs. I don't know if you smoke or not."

Richter cleared his throat and forced down his saliva. "I wanted to ask you something," he said, still rubbing his throat, his eyes still watering. "About your trail. You weren't told this, but... The verdict is being given tomorrow."

"Yep."

The prosecutor stared with eyes strained by confusion.

Alexander didn't budge. "I just kinda figured," he explained. "You really drove everything home today."

With shallow breaths, Richter raised his head and stood up straight. "Your trial is surprising. Do you know why?"

Alexander's head slid across the metal sheet and drooped over, leaving him to stare at Julius upside down. "Because it's so long?"

"Because it was so short. You're a Demon-Born. 75% human, but being tried as a true demon. Of course, it would be necessary to define each classification and figure out where you lie. That alone would take a whole day, and would impact the result as a whole. But that was skipped over in its entirety. The change in charges was arbitrary. Et cetera."

The Demon-Born had no need to hear this. With the way the trial was going, it was all irrelevant. In all likeliness, he would receive the verdict of execution. And the day after is when it would happen.

He didn't find comfort in hearing anything Julius Richter had to say.

But... "Allow me to explain why they want to execute you."

Alexander waved off a hand, dismissing anything the man had to say. But Julius only read it to say that he could continue.

"Our magicians are more exhausted now than they've ever been. At least, more exhausted than any other point after the Age of Gods. The Golden Dawn's initiation of Tribulation is the prime cause for this. And the people are starting to notice. Still... The Golden Dawn is not public knowledge."

"All the public notice is that Gateways from the UnderWorld are appearing at faster rates. More unpredictable than usual. Our magicians, combined with the Hunters and anyone else... Well, they've been imperfect. Faith in them is wavering. But if we are to defend ourselves, we can't afford to lose them. We can't lose those that try so hard to become stronger, for the sake of protecting others. And so... Through you, the Association is putting demons themselves on trial. The plan was always to find you guilty. The jury was filled with those who hate devils and non-humans. The judge is one notorious for rarely springing true order in his court. And the prosecutor... is one who has hated Demon-Borns."

Richter's eyes fell, dropping and fixing themselves on the floor. His voice softened as he brought himself to continue, to speak once again. "If you were tried guilty and executed... The Association would prove it was still in control. It was still useful and worthy of the citizens' trust. If you went free... then it would be the opposite. You have to understand. This was never about Demon-Borns. This was about the Magecraft Association. About humanity overcoming the tribulation we are experiencing. Together. You are meant to be a casualty of that. The only one necessary."

"At least for now," Alexander muttered. He looked up and stared at Julius, as he stood in silence and shrouded in the cover of darkness. Even in the dim light, he could see Richter's face.

"Julius... Are you feeling guilt? Is that what this is about? You're just... wanting to tell me that my death isn't personal, that you were just doing your job or something?"

Richter shook his head. "I just want you to understand. Because genuinely... It isn't personal."

A heavy, weary sigh left Alexander's lips.

"Alexander Lane. You are charged with crimes against humanity. But let's discuss the original charges."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. He swiveled on the metal and sat himself up, finally meeting Richter at eye level. "Why?"

"I can't try to change the outcome of the trial. Regardless of anything, everything is out of my hands. It's all up to fate now. But here... It's only the two of us. So let's have a trial right here and now."

Alexander sighed and pressed his hands together, interlocking his fingers and letting his chains rattle around.

"Alexander Lane, you are under suspicion of treason to the Union, under the charges of destruction of property and endangerment to civilians, as well as battery counts for 19 humans, on March 9th, 2023."

All he could do was stare at Richter. His great somber, letting it unfurl and soften, all to prepare himself to face the truth. "Yeah." That was all he uttered, his throat constricting and his eyes beginning to water. "I did it. It was my fault. I'm not going to deny it or even lie."

Richter's eyebrows furrowed.

He found himself wanting to understand Alexander. He found himself wanting Alexander to live. He found himself in rage, directed at Alexander and at himself. And why? Why was his heart unraveling in such a manner?

'Empathy is useless.'

That was what Richter always told himself.

He was a lawyer.

Empathizing with someone means understanding that person's heart. It means accepting their flaws and weaknesses.

The flaws of a victim. The flaws of a perpetrator. Day in, day out, it's always the same jumble of morality and legality. Julius Richter was tired of it.

'Hideous...' he told himself. That was his instinctive thought when he took on a case. He couldn't afford to empathize with anyone. Not on his job. He was a lawyer.

"And..." he uttered. "You are no exception, Alexander Lane."

"What?"

He clenched his jaw, his teeth gritting against one another. "All people are hideous. Flawed! No matter how noble your heart is! No matter how noble you wish it to be!"

Richter aimed a finger at Alexander. "You are a devil. The darkness lying before you is nothing more than that! Pure, simple darkness! You won't find anything beyond it, no matter what light you ignite in life! Your life is a void that will drown out that light ahead of you, no matter how hard you try! All you will see is emptiness!"

He repeated his thoughts in his head. 'All people are hideous. Flawed. But at that time... At least until now... I believed in that impurity. Such a thing that was exclusive to humans.'

But he finally focused on the Demon-Born, the devil before him. 'Alexander Lane... Why did you admit to the crime?'

'It wasn't you who did it! So why?! Why?!'

Julius stared at Alexander, and the boy stared back. With his trembling legs, Julius fell back, crashing down onto the concrete ground to sit.

A cough left his lips. "Union of Norteon, penal code. Article 26, section 1. Non Compos Mentis. That consideration is applied if a person lacks the cognitive ability or the capacity to control themselves. You, Alexander Lane, had your body taken over. It was by a demon. You. Nevertheless, you were out of control. Nor did you willingly give up control."

He continued. "The charge is crimes against the union. In this case, you're not at fault. You're innocent."

Alexander shook his head. "But still..." he said. "It's my fault. It was because I'm weak."

Richter's dull gaze remained. "...Is that so?"

The Demon-Born stood up. "It is. And I'll be weak for a long time. But I still have to get stronger."

"Why? To kill your fellow demons?" Julius asked.

Alexander walked towards Julius. He clenched his jaw further with each step, up until he was right before the bars of the cell. "To protect people."

Julius pushed his hands against the ground, pushing himself up. He wiped his hands off on his cloak and stared at Alexander. Their eyes stood level and met each other. Julius stared with confusion, with his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Alexander's obsidian eyes.

"That's my role in this world," Alexander told him. "That's my resolve."

Julius Richter couldn't help but smile. He shook his head, his hair swaying slightly as he let out a heavy breath. "Alright, Demon-Born."

He began to walk off into the darkness surrounding them to exit the pit of hell he stood in. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even after having that talk, even after throwing himself back on his steel bed, Alexander found himself unable to sleep. He laid there for hours and hours, staring up at the stone ceiling.

And before he knew it, it was already day five of the trial. It was already what would become the final one.

Starting early in the morning, Alexander stood in his spot, at the center of the room, surrounded by the pillars of steel and his hands bound together.

The vast windows of the courthouse were in each direction. Alexander faced East, just as the rising sun was finally shining past the clouds. Alexander could hardly see with the sun right in his eyes, glimmering through the windows and directly onto him.

As early as it was, the jury was already assembled, the press was already present, and the judge was ready to give the verdict.

It was Alexander's expectation for another hour or so of useless talk and formalities, just as the trial began. And if he had to sit through that again... Well, he'd rather die.

That thought of complaint forced him to freeze. He was going to die, anyway, it seemed.

And just as his heart began to sink, the judge smacked his gavel into the sound block. It was beginning.

Alexander turned around and faced the benches of the public. Among the hundreds that watched the trial were the six remaining Virtues, and almost each Paladin, along with Emilia and Carmen.

Over half of the Paladins were there, with the most notable absence being Charles Archibald. Alexander hadn't seen him since before the trial started. This whole time, for each of the past five days, he had disappeared.

The thought of Archibald's promise left some hope, some faith in Alexander's heart. But even that withered away with time.

The jury and the public all collectively quieted down, as Alexander gave his final looks at his family and friends.

Clearing his throat, the judge began to speak. "On the count of crimes against the Union and against humanity... The court rules that Alexander Lane is found not guilty."

A moment of silence gripped the room with an intensity. Not a single sound leaving or entering any being or object. Still, they were gritting their teeth. They were clenching their jaws in anger. And they were building up with rage, almost boiling.

In the following instant, jeers and shouts rang out, as dozens, hundreds of people clamored out in confusion. Cries of confusion permeated and echoed, yells of immediate objections. Even so, all of the Virtues shot up from their seats on instinct, with excited mumbles and high fives, just as Emilia and Carmen cried out in joy and embraced one another.

And as much as Alexander wanted to scream out from the top of his lungs, in the end of desperation and the fulfillment of his hope, he simply clenched his fists within his shackles and let out a heavy sigh.

Alexander would live.

Whatever Archibald had done, it had worked. Words nor actions weren't enough to display how thankful Alexander was for that, for him. The Paladin that changed everything.

But before Alexander turned to the crowd of the public, the judge spoke once again "But..." he called out.

Everyone in the room immediately fell silent. "It has been found unlawful for Charles Archibald, and all Paladins involved, to create the Ordinance of the Heavenly Virtues without affirmation from the Magecraft Association. Henceforth, the Heavenly Virtues are disbanded and prohibited from interfering with the Association's affairs. They shall cease all operations and matters, effective immediately. That is all."

He banged his gavel and stood up. "Thank you."

The Virtues were all silent, in confusion and worry. What the judge had just said... What he had ruled...

The Virtues were disbanded. Even if their presence wasn't known to the public, even if their actions were kept secret... The Virtues had to exist. With this, there would be no more missions. Without them...

Leonard's legs began to quiver. "Wait. So we can't-"

"Not anymore," muttered Gabriel with a shake of his head.

Alexander let himself fall to his knees. As soon as he did, another exasperated sigh left his lips. Not one of release of pain, but of a growing weariness and helplessness. He rubbed his worn-out face with his hands, and spoke softly to himself. "This war... is now out of our hands."