The makeshift courtroom within the warehouse fell into a charged silence. The sounds of Carl Winger’s defeat continued. They were futile. Veronica, still seated with an air of command, gestured towards the heavy wooden table at the center of the space.

  Fiona, the prosecutor, smoothed her already immaculate advocate's attire, her professional composure firmly back in place. She moved towards the table. Olt hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing towards Ganjo and Rebecca. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. He felt the weight of the Pacifier strapped across his back. He stood opposite Fiona, the scarred table surface between them. The slanting sunlight through the high windows illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air.

  Veronica leaned back slightly, observing them both with keen interest.

  "Mr. Bartholomew, as the prevailing party in the litigation, the defense may present its sentencing proposal first."

  Olt cleared his throat. He focused, drawing on the arguments he had just made, channeling the sense of injustice he felt for Lyona and her community.

  "Honorable Judge Guzman," he began, his voice steadier now, "in the interest of restorative justice and to rectify the demonstrable harm caused by Mr. Winger's unethical pursuit of this contract, the Defense proposes the following sentence: Mr. Winger shall be compelled to establish a Community Restoration Fund for Magistrate-Spiritus Lyona's Parish."

  He paused, meeting Veronica’s dark eyes directly before continuing.

  "We propose a substantial sum of 50,000 Synoran Dollars be deposited into this fund, to be directly managed by the Parish Council and used exclusively for Parish renovations, community programs, and direct financial assistance to the vulnerable residents of District 2."

  Olt kept his proposal focused and direct. He presented the figure as a necessary and just restitution.

  Fiona listened impassively, her expression unreadable. When Olt finished, she responded without hesitation. Her tone was clipped and businesslike.

  "Honorable Judge Guzman," Fiona stated, addressing Veronica but glancing dismissively towards Olt, "while acknowledging the court's… nuanced… interpretation of the contract, the Plaintiff, in a spirit of… compromise… is willing to contribute to Magistrate-Spiritus Lyona's Parish."

  Fiona paused, letting the carefully chosen words sink in.

  "We propose establishing a Community Restoration Fund in the amount of 20,000 Synoran Dollars. This sum, while less than the Defense's… exorbitant… demand, is a commercially reasonable and generous gesture, demonstrating Mr. Winger's willingness to move forward constructively."

  Olt felt a flicker of annoyance at the lowball offer and the dismissive language. But kept his composure. He had to remind himself that it was all theatre. He waited a beat before responding, letting the inadequacy of Fiona’s proposal settle.

  "While we appreciate the Plaintiff's belated willingness to contribute," Olt countered, his tone firm but maintaining a reasonable air, "20,000 Synoran Dollars falls demonstrably short of addressing the Parish's extensive needs and the significant disruption caused by this ordeal. To demonstrate a genuine commitment to restorative justice, the Defense proposes a revised figure of 45,000 Synoran Dollars for the Community Restoration Fund."

  He locked eyes with Fiona, showing he was willing to negotiate.

  Fiona scoffed softly, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. "45,000?" she repeated, her voice laced with dismissive disbelief. "That is frankly, unreasonable. We are already making a significant concession by offering any contribution at all, given the legal validity of the contract, regardless of this court's interpretation."

  She adopted a tone suggesting finality.

  "However, to further demonstrate our commitment to… amicable resolution… the Plaintiff is willing to increase his offer to 25,000. This is our final offer for a settlement."

  She closed the file she held with a soft snap, reinforcing her statement. The negotiation had stalled, the gap between their positions still vast.

  The light from the high warehouse windows seemed to concentrate on the scarred wooden table, highlighting the tension between Olt and Fiona. Olt stood firm, his initial nervousness replaced by a quiet intensity fueled by the injustice he perceived.

  "25,000 dollars remains insufficient," Olt stated, his voice unwavering as he responded to Fiona's last offer. He met her directly, refusing to be intimidated.

  "The Defense appreciates the slight increase, but to truly address the Parish's needs and reflect the severity of Mr. Winger's unethical conduct, we must stand firm."

  He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

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  "We propose a final figure of 40,000 for the Community Restoration Fund. This is our final offer for a just resolution without resorting to further… unnecessary… proceedings."

  The subtle emphasis on the last words was a clear reference to the looming possibility of combat.

  Fiona shifted her weight, her professional facade cracking slightly. Olt’s determination clearly impressed her. She glanced towards Carl Winger, who looked increasingly miserable, then back at Olt.

  "40,000… that is still a considerable sum," she pleaded, attempting one last, futile negotiation. "Especially given the… questionable… financial state of the Parish, which we discussed earlier. Surely, Magistrate-Spiritus Lyona would agree that even a slightly smaller amount, say… 30,000 Dollars…"

  Before Fiona could finish her weak appeal, Veronica raised a hand, palm outward, cutting her off abruptly. The gesture was decisive.

  "Enough," Veronica declared, her voice ringing with authority. Her expression was impatient, clearly tired of the back-and-forth.

  "This haggling is tedious."

  She looked from Olt to Fiona, then settled her gaze back on Fiona and the defeated Winger.

  "The Defense has proposed 40,000 Synoran Dollars. The Plaintiff will establish a Community Restoration Fund in that amount. 40,000 Dollars if they are to win the trial by combat. If they are to lose, then they will only receive the $25,000 offered by the Plaintiff. This is the final offer. And the final judgment on the sentencing negotiation phase."

  Her pronouncement was absolute, leaving no room for argument.

  Carl Winger let out an audible groan, slumping further in his chair. He ran a hand over his face, smearing some of the dried blood from his earlier nosebleed.

  "40,000… highway robbery…" he muttered under his breath. It was loud enough for those nearby, including Veronica, to hear.

  "This is ridiculous…"

  Veronica ignored Winger's muttered complaint entirely. Her attention shifted, a predatory glint returning to her eyes as she focused on Olt. A slow smile spread across her lips.

  "However…" she began, her voice laced with anticipation, "while the financial sentencing is now settled… there remains the matter of… demonstration."

  She looked directly at Olt, her smile widening, enjoying the shift in dynamics.

  "Advocate Bartholomew, you have proven yourself… eloquent… with words. But justice in our world, as you know, is not only about words." She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "It is also about action."

  Veronica gestured towards the open concrete floor of the warehouse, the space beyond the makeshift courtroom now implicitly designated as an arena.

  "Prepare yourself, Olt," she commanded with excitement. "We now proceed to the final phase. The Trial by Combat."

  Carl Winger slumped in his chair. Lyona stood near the table, relief evident in her posture, though the weariness remained in her eyes. Veronica rose from her seat, moving with fluid grace to the edge of the open concrete floor that stretched beyond the table and chairs. The vast, empty space, softly lit by the high windows and scattered lanterns, now felt like a designated stage.

  "It is time," Veronica announced, her voice ringing out, authoritative and clear in the cavernous warehouse. "We now proceed to the Sentencing by Trial by Combat."

  She gestured towards the open floor, outlining the rules with cold precision.

  "The combat will be unarmed. Aether use is permitted, and indeed, encouraged."

  Veronica’s vision swept over Olt, then Fiona.

  "The trial will conclude when one champion is incapacitated and remains 'down' for a count of five. 'Down' is defined as being unable to stand and continue fighting." She paused, adding a strategic limitation. "To ensure a swift and decisive resolution, and to reward strategic thinking over brute force, only one takedown maneuver will be permitted per champion. Choose your moment wisely."

  Ganjo and Rebecca exchanged worried glances across the space. They knew Fiona was a trained advocate, likely skilled in combat. Olt, despite his recent ordeal and surprising performance in the litigation, was, as far as they knew, just a professor.

  "Veronica, wait, are you sure this is—" Ganjo started, taking a step forward.

  "Veronica, with all due respect, Olt is a professor, not a—" Rebecca added simultaneously, also moving forward. Her tone was urgent.

  But Olt stepped forward himself, cutting off their protests before they could fully form. He faced Veronica directly. There was a newfound resolve hardening his eyes. Perhaps it was fueled by the strange echoes of his Aetheric trip and the fierce need to uphold the victory he'd just won for Lyona. He did not know. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. This never felt artificial to him. He would prove himself.

  "I accept, Veronica," Olt stated firmly, cutting through the objections.

  Rebecca and Ganjo stopped abruptly, turning to Olt with expressions of stunned disbelief and mounting worry.

  "Olt, what are you doing?" Rebecca stared at him, shocked. "You don't have to do this—"

  "Olt, are you crazy?" Ganjo frowned, his voice tight with apprehension. "You're not a fighter, you're gonna get yourself killed—"

  Olt ignored their frantic protests. He was focused on Veronica, his expression resolute. He was embracing the path he felt he had chosen, the path of the Emperor.

  "I made a choice," he said quietly, addressing Rebecca and Ganjo without looking away from Veronica. He then flickered a brief glance towards Mariah. There seemed to be a silent question that passed between them.

  Mariah caught his look. She offered a small, quick smile in return. It didn't quite reach her eyes. It held a distinct awkwardness, hinting at the secret knowledge of his potential Aether awakening. There was uncertainty about what he was truly capable of.

  Veronica’s smile widened, clearly pleased by Olt's unexpected acceptance. His courage made her test even more compelling.

  "Excellent," she said with predatory anticipation. "Courageous, Advocate Bartholomew. Precisely what I hoped to see."

  She gestured towards the designated arena space on the concrete floor.

  "I am providing a 30 minute intermission for the Champions to prepare themselves. Then let us proceed with this trial by combat."