As it turned out, the battle was not as one-sided as they initially thought.

Claire had never heard of Raine or even aware of what kind of magic he was capable of. Jacques, however, knew about this. Despite his reluctance in asking for Raine’s help after the revelation, he did so after realizing the strategic advantage afforded by the Felinari-human’s magic.

“As soon as she opens a tear,” whispered Raine. “Counter it.”

Raine, disregarding his issues with Jacques, turned to the Loup in disbelief.

“Whoa, wait. I don’t know how to counter spatial magic!” whispered Raine back. “I mean, Counter can return anything pure magic back to its sender, but spatial magic is not something that can be easily countered like energy bullets or elemental spells!”

“But it’s not impossible, right?”

“No, but—”

“Then do it, or we’ll be outnumbered. Do it now!”

Raine saw the tear Claire opened and held out his sword. Without hesitation, Raine slashed the dimensional tear opposite of Claire’s direction. The tear closed abruptly, sending a small shockwave that shook everyone around them, but none more shaken than Claire, who became visibly upset and panicking over what Raine did.

“Are you insane?!” she shouted, distraught. “You’ve killed everyone in there!”

“Killed?”

“You collapsed the dimensional space!” said Claire. “Only I can open the space with my magic! Whatever you did—”

Claire, however, did not realize that it was Jacques. When she did, the Loup was already shoving Raine away and shot Claire without hesitation. Claire did not have time to open a tear to divert the shot. She was only saved when Maril pushed her away just in the nick of time.

“You never said the space would collapse!” argued Raine.

“Neither did I,” said Jacques calmly. “But it serves our purpose.”

“No, it fucking doesn’t! I know you’re good in coming up something on a fly, but there is a limit to what is considered acceptable!”

“And lose whatever advantage we have? Don’t feel so bad, Raine. You chose to stand with me. You might as well learn how I really work.”

“You know, your attitude is starting to make me regret standing beside you and the kid.”

“Stop bickering,” said the kid, whose raspy voice was difficult to hear, but still managed to catch their attention. “She…opened more of them.”

Claire managed to recover from the initial shock of Jacques’s ruthless approach and opened more tears that already enabled cultists to reach the town. Raine’s quick action managed to stall the effort, but it was already done. Several cultists had already started to attack them. Unlike Ben-Renee’s lackeys, the ones Claire summoned knew what they were doing, at least until Raine realized that half of them were pure mages.

After Raine dodged some of the concentrated spells directed at him, he managed to find his timing and, as one of them threw a baseball-sized fireball, Raine positioned himself like a batter. Imbuing his sword with Counter spell, he batted the fireball back to the caster. The fireball exploded and killed several of them almost instantly. Again, the sheer absurdity of Raine’s magic surprised Claire, who reached for cover to stay out of Jacques’s relentless shooting.

She managed to summon the best spellcaster she knew while behind the cover and in a clutch. The man walked out of the portal and was quickly pulled behind the wall when the woman grabbed his coat.

“What kind of spell he uses, Cozzi?” she asked, pointing towards Raine. “In all my life, I have never encountered someone who can collapse my spatial magic. Who is he?”

The man only took a glance of Raine defending himself from a stream of magically-produced fire that returned to the caster to realize what they were up against.

“That man’s a Counter user,” said Cozzi.

“Counter?”

“A rare type of defensive magic that can reflect anything of pure mana,” explained Cozzi. “But from what I gather, not a lot of people can use it properly since Counter used up a lot of mana and very unstable. I don’t know much about the details.”

“Well, he knows how to use it properly, and without looking like he’s close to exhaustion.”

“He’s…I see.” Cozzi nodded as he saw Raine cut through the mages after deflecting their spells. “He modified the spell’s property. Instead of casting a barrier as it should, he enchanted his sword instead. He must’ve been aware of the high mana output for him to do so. Then, relying on his swordsmanship, he creates a combat-based spell out of a defensive spell. Either he’s a genius, or he was taught by someone who’s the real genius.”

“Doesn’t look so impressive to me.”

“It would be if you rely on any kind of offensive magic directed at him. I doubt illusions or hypnotisms can be countered, but no one can cast those spells that quickly."

“Hmph. Jacq's been busy. Whatever you do, find a way to counter against him. We'll look bad if he ends up winning the fight without even a scratch."

Meanwhile, Jacques and the kid fought back-to-back against the mages that managed to got through. While Raine managed to dispatch some of them, he was not quick enough to help his friends, and because his Counter spell would not be effective if he was overwhelmed. The two were forced into cover, relying on the kid’s arsenal of improvised explosives and Jacques’s marksmanship.

All these were witnessed by Karkas, who managed to stay out of the conflict and observed the fight from afar. He was ready to abandon them after learning about Jacques’s deception, but he did not, especially when he saw how Raine and the kid readily came to his aid despite his dark past.

Part of him hesitated just before he left the area. While to him, Jacques was irredeemable, he still cared for Raine and the kid. He hoped that Raine did not have a darker past, but he was very sure about the kid’s traumatic past. After all, the kid was the reason why he started to see Fa’ars differently. Somehow, the Croc also felt that the reason why he trusted Jacques in the first place was because of his genuine emotions and how bent on revenge he was. He was trying to right the wrongs in his own way, and for Jacques, the only way to do so was to hunt down those who wronged him.

It was a twisted way of redemption, especially towards something so irredeemable in Crocodilian culture. Jacques, however, knew what he did, and it was the reason why he did not back out of the fight even though he had a chance to do so.

But before Karkas could even make his decision, one of the mages noticed him and, thinking he was an enemy, cast a spell that burned the area around him. Karkas would try to reason with the mage but decided to defend himself the only way he knew best.

Even if the fire was scorching hot, his scales protected him enough for him to walk out of the fire ring relatively unscathed. He quickly used his spell to bind the mage before he walked towards him and knock him out with his staff. More and more mages came at him upon seeing the fire ring, so Karkas had no choice but to defend himself when not only mages, but fighters brandishing swords, knives, and even guns came towards him.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Karkas never underestimated his enemies, a trait that helped him realize that the cultists confronting him were no pushovers like the ones he dealt with just moments ago. They were able to make use of the Croc’s size and speed to overwhelm him. Being bigger than most of them, Karkas was obviously slower, and he suffered some cuts from the swords, mitigated only by his magic barrier. Soon, he needed to move when the mages enchanted the fighters’ weapons to be able to cut through his barrier.

Yet, despite the struggle, Karkas stayed calm and went for the defensive, picking off the cultists one by one. His true challenge came when a portal opened behind him and a chain whip flew out and wrapped itself around Karkas’s neck. As Karkas struggled to get free, he could not react against the follow-up attack fast enough.

His only saving grace was the terrible grinding noise that cut through the chain, cutting him loose. He couldn’t turn fast enough to cast anything, or even to react to the timely save. All he could do was turn and face the ones that attacked him from nowhere.

From the same portal Claire opened, two people, both of different kinds, walked out and entered the battlefield. Like their weapon choice, their physical appearances were widely different from one another, with the one carrying the dagger a skinny Lizan with a low, crouching stance and the one carrying the chain whip was a human, or so it seemed at first glance. Karkas noted his reptilian eyes and green scale-covered skin, along with scale-covered hands and ears. He wore headwrap that mostly obscured his scaly look, while a shawl wrapped over his combat outfit obscured his lower face. He was, like many wastelanders, wearing tattered leather jacket over a more conventional body armor made from iron, complete with a bandolier slung over his shoulder and wrapped diagonally to the man’s right. He would not look out of place in the desert, as he embodied what post-war wasteland warrior should look like.

His chain whip, now pulled and coiled into a loop, was held in his right hand. His left hand did not seem to hold any weapons, though Karkas was aware that it was his casting hand. The Croc always assumed that anyone who’s not a Fa’ar could use magic, which helped with his survival whenever he needed it.

His Lizan companion, like Kestal, also belonged to an unusual subrace Karkas wasn’t aware of. Aside from being small, the Lizan had frills on his neck that opened up in a show of aggression. He possessed reddish brown scales that reminded Karkas of rust, which was mostly visible due to his clothes which, unlike his companion, only consisted of a pair of pants. War paints covered his upper body, mostly on his torso and reptilian face. He wore a bandolier that had throwing knives and vials filled with substances the Croc wouldn’t want to know. There was no reason not to assume they were filled with poison.

“A Croc and a Fa’ar,” said the bigger one. “And a devout of Sobek. That’s not something you see every day in the desert.”

“I haven’t practiced it for years,” retorted Karkas. “Then again, it’s the most comfortable clothes I have.”

“You’re lucky to have those impervious scales, river son. You don’t have that luxury when you’re a half-breed like me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Not all Crocs are…oh, for Sobek’s sake, kid, shut that thing off!”

Throughout their conversation, the kid’s circular saw-like halberd was always on, letting out loud grinding noises which could be too loud for some. He found that it was a very effective scare tactic that could really kill, especially after he sawed off someone’s hand who took a poorly calculated risk of trying to cut the Fa’ar’s head with a sword. Karkas was more annoyed than intimidated by this point, which actually helped make him forget about his hesitation in joining the fight.

Before the kid could explain why he did not want to turn it off, Karkas cast a spell on the motor, effectively silencing it. The kid wanted to protest with his newfound voice, but also found that it was quite pleasant not to listen to such a loud noise.

“Damn it, kid. You ruined the mood,” said Karkas.

“This isn’t the time for a chat, anyway,” said the big, scaly human.

Karkas quickly noticed that his adversary made a battle stance and reacted quickly. The Croc cast a quick spell that produced a concussive force that hit the man’s right hand. It disarmed him, throwing the chain-whip off him by a considerable distance.

That, however, did not change anything. As Karkas suspected, his empty left hand was used to produce a fresh stream of fire spell that the Croc first assumed to be a strong fire, but not enough to penetrate his scales, until the fire intensified. It quickly turned into a blazing inferno that lit the wooden building behind Karkas ablaze while also engulfing the Croc with fire.

“Karkas!” shouted the kid. The intense fire, and the fact that the Croc was completely engulfed, were enough to cause the Fa’ar kid to panic. Several seconds past, and the intense fire did not let up.

He did not have time to be worried about Karkas, however. As soon as he was distracted, the frilled neck Lizan let out a screech that was followed by him jumping towards the kid, who could only defend himself by keeping his weapon close in front of him. He did not have time to hold out the circular saw, and this was used by the Lizan to his advantage. The kid managed to recover and swung his weapon around. The Lizan was surprised by how nimble he was with the weapon despite its apparent weight, but he did not have a reason to be worried, for he was far nimbler, and the kid’s skill with his weapon was poor.

The kid, too, was frustrated that he had to face an opponent with similar or possibly greater agility than he was. He soon realized that he needed to change his plan of attack if he wanted to be ahead of his opponent, and learned that relying heavily on a weapon that he barely knew how to wield would only get him killed.

Thinking quickly, just as the nimble Lizan found an opening, the kid quickly released the grip on his weapon and ducked just as the Lizan lunged at him. He ran to his left on all four, increasing his speed and agility, while his opponent tried to find him. That split-second of distraction was enough for the kid to reach into his satchel and got the grenade he needed. Two of them, in fact, one for each purposes.

The kid stopped and threw the first grenade just as the Lizan found him, as he intended it. The Fa’ar quickly averted his eyes just as it exploded, releasing a blinding flash of light and a high-pitched bang. His opponent was caught unaware by this and was stunned. He screeched and hissed like an animal, something to be expected if he was not a sapient race. The Fa’ar kid did not have the time to think about this as he continued with his improvised plan, which involved throwing the second makeshift grenade. It let out a burst of thick smoke that obscured the Lizan’s vision, but only momentarily. He soon found where the kid was standing and let out a screech before he jumped at the kid.

Only that he fell short. The kid dodged and prepared for the next step of his plan, unaware that the Lizan fell short of his intended target and dropped to his knees, gasping for air. He writhed as he grabbed his throat, unable to draw breath. Something was clogging his airpipe. It was instant and surprising. He noticed the chalk-white substance in the air and on the ground but couldn’t make sense of it with his limited ability to reason or think.

This was a fatal mistake. The Fa’ar did not care about his opponent and, finishing his plan, held out an aerosol can and a click lighter. The aerosol can was a hair spray he bought from one of the vendors, which was intended for a human or an elf who were not covered in fur from head to toe. The click lighter was something he bought as he felt it could be useful in the future, which it was.

The kid, without knowing this beforehand, surmised that the aerosol spray was flammable. He held out the lighter, lit a fire, and sprayed the aerosol towards it. The result was as he predicted; the spray was ignited. What happened next, however, was something that he did not expect.

He expected the chalk-white powder to be ignited slowly. Instead, it was an explosive ignition. The explosive force sent shockwave all over the area, with the Fa’ar kid being the closest. It threw him off his feet as he did not have time to drop on all fours. It wouldn’t matter anyway. He was fortunate that he was not standing in front of anything deadly. The worst he got as he landed on the sandy terrain was sand covering his fur and dust flying to the air. Part of the kid’s fur was singed, but it wasn’t too bad.

It wasn’t as bad as his opponent, who died in the most gruesome way. As he inhaled the chalk-white powder, suffocating from it as a result, he inadvertently had the explosive substance in his throat. As a result, he was blown from the inside-out, particularly his throat. His scales were burned all over, leaving nothing but a charred, almost unidentifiable Lizan corpse. If it wasn’t for the frills on his blown open neck, he would be unrecognizable.

The kid was more stunned by the explosiveness of the power he salvaged from a random box in the middle of the wasteland. He did not remember if there were anything written on the box to indicate that it was an explosive material. He did remember seeing a yellow label with a black picture that looked like an exploding ball.

“By the Maker,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I should really be more careful next time. Damn thing almost killed me.”

Unbeknownst to him, the shock from the explosion caused him to form a full sentence without stuttering. It still came out raspy and hard to understand, especially after an explosion as loud and as dangerous as the one Narati set off. He had no time to realize this, however. His attention was quickly drawn to something else. Someone else, to be precise.

“Did your ama ever taught you not to play with fire?” said Maril. She soon shook her head when she noticed the kid’s collar and halter. “Never mind. I guess you have your own story for the reason why you’re so reckless.”

“Reckless or not,” replied the kid. “It makes quite a spectacle. It’s not a waste, either.”

Maril couldn’t help but laugh at the kid’s remark. “Someone’s got some humor. Too bad you’re with Jacq.”

The kid readied himself for another fight, but then found that his weapon was on the other side of the inferno. Maril drew her sword, which started to glow. Jacques never told him about the sword’s ability.

Knowing the risk from facing the unknown, the kid had no choice but to run and think of something.