The room exploded at Jackson’s statement that he was about to perform a public execution. He had to hand it to the man; he really knew how to work a crowd.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen, I am not some kind of tyrant. What I want most is a good relationship between all of us. To demonstrate my commitment to re-instituting the rule of law, I gathered five men and women who will bear witness to this man’s heinous crimes.” Jackson gestured to the people who had gathered around him before. Alistair recognized two of the witnesses to be Robert Oakland and Jules Verdant, who he had run into before when he was trying to transport unconscious orcs.

“Please, explain to everyone what you told me,” he entreated.

One member stepped forward, a slightly chubby man wearing a Patriots uniform. He directed a finger toward the young man, who stared at the floorboards in dejected helplessness. “I was at an end-of-the-world barbecue when he killed several of my friends, and then he defiled their bodies and turned them into his slaves.”

“I was there as well,” another said. “It’s true.”

Jules and Robert’s faces were like statues and they said nothing. After a few awkward moments of silence, the final witness squeaked up. “He killed my husband! That son of a bitch needs to--”

Jackson interrupted her. “Just simply horrifying, absolutely tragic that in a civilized society, we have such an evil man in our town. I mean, with the initiation, I’m sure all of us have done things we regret.”

Alistair could feel a sizable portion of the room react to Jackson’s last remark. It did not surprise him that many people had to make difficult choices. While he didn’t want to think about it, there were doubtless other murderers surrounding him. Alistair had become a so-called Arbiter of Justice, but he wasn’t sure what that even entailed. Did he have to become a judge, jury, and executioner, like the state senator? It didn’t sit right with him.

After no one spoke up in the accused’s defense, it became clear that with no interference, Jackson was going to enact his justice.

“In New Newton,” Jackson continued as if he hadn’t just tacked on an extra “new” to the name of their town. “We aren’t about mob justice or unfair trials. Oliver Cambry, I am willing to hear out your side of the story.”

Oliver didn’t seem to react to Jackson’s words, his eyes still married to the floor. He was so out of it that Alistair thought he almost showed signs of being drugged. The young man, who appeared no older than twenty, was as pale as snow and looked like he was going to keel over from malnutrition at any second.

“Not even a single word? Shameful. Now, you may wonder why he needs to be executed. It’s simple; no jail cell can hold criminals, now that they have the potential to bend steel bars with their bare hands. As a former state senator, it pains me to bring us back to medieval times, but I’m afraid physical punishments are the only options. If no one has any defense of Mr. Cambry, it’d be best to get it done fast and humanely.”

With his burgeoning Karmic sense, Alistair could feel the air subtly shift around Jackson. He had no clue what the man was going to attempt. His new [Hand of Karma] Skill was fascinating, but what would something like that do to a person? All the magic and supernatural elements affecting Earth made Alistair wonder if deities and the afterlife were real as well. If they were, could a Karmic attack affect a person’s soul?

In a move some might have called foolish, Alistair started walking toward Jackson, who had cleared out a wide berth from the cloud. He heard Alexandra audibly groan from behind him, which made him feel somewhat guilty. Their goal wasn’t to contest some minor politician for control of the city, but if he did nothing, he wouldn’t feel right with himself.

“Wait,” he interjected. “I think there’s something wrong with him.”

The crowd murmured at his outburst and Jackson stared daggers at him. Alistair met Jackson’s gaze, not backing down from the charismatic man. The way the man looked at him with both cold, analyzing eyes and a warm smile gave Alistair the chills, but he didn’t get a notification that anyone was using an investigation Skill like before with Alexandra.

His buddies also looked shocked someone would interfere and were unsure of what to do. Without a signal from their ringleader, they would remain on the sidelines. For a moment, Alistair worried it would come to blows, but with the subtlest change of expression, he warmly welcomed him.

“And what’s your name, citizen?” He offered a handshake to Alistair, who accepted it in kind. The moment they touched hands, he felt a small jolt of Karma slither up his arm, which he promptly squashed. Jackson was a consummate politician the entire time, not reacting in the slightest to his attack being thwarted.

“Alistair Tan.” As he spoke those words, he activated the non-Karmic aspect of [Eyes of Truth] for the first time, not caring if Jackson found out.

Name: Jackson Morley

Species: Superhuman I (Partially Evolved)

Level: 15

Class: Golden Orator (Rare) [Primary Attribute(s): Charisma]

All the pieces fell into place perfectly. He and Alexandra weren’t the only people from their subregion to reach level 15, and the third person happened to be a Charisma-based cultivator with a Class that was suited to leadership and manipulation. Being a leader was something that Alistair didn’t think suited him, but seeing this man use his abilities to brainwash and control made him uneasy.

“This man is lying to you!” With his powerful physique, his words carried to every nook and cranny of the recreation center. “He’s been manipulating you with some kind of Skill granted by his Class. Did you think about why you had the sudden desire to come to his exact location?”

“That’s absolutely correct, young man,” Jackson said immediately, before Alistair’s accusation had time to settle. “My Class, Golden Orator, gave me the [People’s Missive] Skill. It allows me to communicate impressions and thoughts at a distance. But it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. You all obviously realized those thoughts were coming from outside your mind. I can’t control people’s thoughts if that’s what you were implying. And I must ask, what gives you any right to interfere with the proceedings of justice?”

Alistair had to admire Jackson’s shamelessness. As if he was the weird one for opposing an execution based on the testimony of three people and a defendant who was possibly drugged or enchanted.

It was time to pull a little rank. He didn’t want to be the type of person to reinforce a system of might makes right, but he wasn’t sure how else to challenge the charismatic man. “My partner and I were part of the first 10,000 people in the world to reach level 15. I’ve been given the Quest to deal with the incoming monster wave that would normally kill hundreds of you people, not Jackson. He’s lying about the system choosing him to be the leader of this subregion, and he’s probably lying about the inheritance as well.”

Jackson started laughing. “Are you listening to this madman? What proof do you have for any of these claims?”

Alistair knew he was in a precarious situation. From an outsider’s perspective, they had to make a choice of whom to trust, him or the former state senator. While he thought the man was an obvious con artist and sleazy douchebag, Jackson was more objectively appealing. Whether it was from his Charisma, Skills, or his actual magnetic personality, he knew how to appeal to people better than Alistair, and he had the shining status screen that projected authority. Keeping that in mind, Alistair realized he only had one option.

He activated [Dash]. In less than a second, he appeared in between Jackson and the hunched-over necromancer. The rush of wind he left in his trail drew some gasps from the crowd and Jackson jumped back like a scared little girl. Alistair smiled, his suspicions that the self-appointed leader of New Newton wasn’t much of a fighter were all but confirmed. From the amount of Karmic energy that he wielded, Alistair reasoned his Charisma was so high that his other stats had to suffer.

“Is it true he killed fifteen people?” Alistair asked, grabbing the pale man by the scruff of his shirt and holding him in the air, an act that took him no effort these days. It was time to test out the Active to [Eyes of Truth] again. The description promised the ability to see through falsehoods, and he hoped it wasn’t an exaggeration.

His last drop of positive Karma migrated to his eyes, burning up and illuminating them with brilliant red energy. Despite having experienced losing his Karma before, the pain was still bitter. The more Karma that left him, the more desperately he wanted to cling to it.

Through the [Eyes of Truth], he looked at Jackson in a different light. His body was awash in golden light, thousands of tendrils of energy growing out from his body into the hearts of everyone in the room. With a glance, he somehow understood what the man was doing. His statement that people could detect obvious transmissions was true, but he omitted the secondary aspect of [People’s Missive], the part that slowly molded their thoughts to his own.

“Of course it is,” Jackson said, giving his companions a jaded look.

Black and red intermingled with gold in his aura. Jackson’s words felt true… but lacking. Alistair turned to the middle-aged lady that claimed Oliver had killed her husband.

“He murdered your husband? You swear that’s the truth?” He supposed he looked quite menacing, with his glowing red eyes and his sudden burst of speed.

The lady seemed to think so as well, as she shook in fear answering him. “Ye-ss, I swear it’s true! We saw him roaming the streets near the bodies of our neighbors. But he had already gotten so strong from killing them and the orcs, we had to run, but some of us didn’t make it.”

While she didn’t have the same thickness and timbre as Jackson, her speech turned the color of her wispy aura black as night. His last mote of insight as his [Eyes of Truth] faded told him she was lying through her teeth.

Alistair opened up his Badges section, displaying his “Deliverance of Justice” and “Good Samaritan” Badges. It wasn’t nearly the flashy demonstration that Jackson could somehow conjure, but he hoped it was something. Knowing any conversation with Jackson or his minions would fall on deaf ears, he turned to the rest of the room, who were still unsure of what was going on.

“I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m not a hero or a leader. I think I can relate to everyone here in that I’m just another person trying to survive.”

He got some nods from the crowd at that.

“I promise I’m not trying to save a murderer here. If I truly believed that Oliver Cambry was responsible for all the crimes that they say he did, I wouldn’t have stepped in. The problem is that Jackson Morley is lying to you and trying to control you with his Skills. And have we as a society gone so far downhill we’re going to let some stranger come in and execute a man with no solid proof? I can tell you honestly, they’re lying about what he did. I know because of a Skill I have,” Alistair said. He felt he had meandered at the end, and he knew his public speaking skills weren’t the best.

“This man saved the lives of me and my daughter,” Donna said. She didn’t raise her voice, but in the gym's silence, it carried far. “He could have just run away and done nothing, but he went above and beyond to help me and Tamia.”

She raised up Tamia, who kicked in protest. Alistair had to give her props for weaponizing her daughter’s cuteness. If he was a member of the crowd, that would have won him over for sure.

Alistair nodded to her and kept carrying the prone supposed necromancer with him as he walked toward the exit. He didn’t look back a single time. Jackson could do nothing to him, he knew. Whatever the man was, he wasn’t stupid. He would have known by now that Alistair and Alexandra were more than a match for him and any of his allies.

A small notification appeared in front of him.

"Deliverance of Justice": +1 free Attribute point.

“Alistair, I hope you know what you’re doing. We should have just minded our own business,” Alexandra whispered to him as people made way for their odd group.

“So do I,” he said, smiling. At least his Badge was on his side.

Jackson Morley was furious. So furious that he almost let his emotions get the best of him and travel through [People’s Missive]. With the brat trying to turn his town against him, thousands of people feeling a sudden wave of rage would not be to his advantage.

He had been utterly embarrassed and someone had publicly questioned his authority. Ever since the collapse of the federal government and the initiation of Earth, Jackson had thought it was his opportunity to finally make something of his life. He had been stuck in a quagmire political job for ten years, his intellect and political skills wasting away when he was built for bigger and better things.

When he killed an orc that appeared during his visit to Boston College, he originally thought he was dreaming. But the powers granted by the Pathfinder AI were all too real. As he used his charming personality to gather more and more followers, he was constantly rewarded with Badges and Skills.

Jackson even reached level 15 a few hours ago, and with his 86 Charisma, Golden Orator was the perfect selection. He hadn’t even imagined how much influence he could gain with the Class’s [People’s Missive] Skill.

And then he learned he wasn’t even the highest level in the subregion, and there were two of them. His bullshitting about being chosen for an inheritance bit him in the ass.

“Sir, do you want us to follow him?”

The voice of his most trusted servant grated on his ears. Luke Anderson was a veritable idiot, and the only reason he kept him around was that he had chosen a Strength-based build and was a useful fighter.

“Send Jules and one of the kids to tail them. I repeat, just to tail. Don’t get too close either, we don’t know his full abilities yet,” he barked. Jackson really needed to calm down. He had spotted quite the beauty in the crowd earlier. Perhaps it was time to put his Charisma to the test.

The arrogant level 16 savior might think he was invincible because of his newfound powers, but Jackson knew better. A Navy SEAL could easily kill the president, but everyone recognized the one with the genuine power was the one with the pen of authority, not the soldier. He would make sure Alistair understood that.