“Whoa.”

“Whoa.”

Herb and Connie looked at their two new allies with smiles on their canine faces.

“I knew they’d say that,” said Herb. “Well, then, fellas. Let’s get to work.”

The facility beyond the damaged door was not as vast compared to the rest of the cave, but it housed a collection of uncommon scientific equipment that could not be found outside the facility. Machinery with arms and claws, along with clear tubing and vials, filled the otherwise sterile room. The sterility was helped by a blanket of magic-based veil that kept the atmosphere within the room regulated. Raine noticed that an equipment controlled the flow of mana and the intensity of the barrier; if needed, it could be increased to sterilize whatever within the veil using a short burst of intense fire.

Karkas had never seen anything like the facility before. He trained himself in magic, but he never thought anyone would utilize magic alongside technology. It felt like the future. Or maybe even a past they had lost. The Croc wondered how much of their history and knowledge was after the devastation of the war. Even the archives of the temple he grew up in did not cover that much of history. The machines in the facility could be part of that lost history recovered by the scientists, used for their nefarious purposes.

The tightness of the facility was due to the cells surrounding what looked like an examination table. The cells themselves were mostly empty, some of which were damaged, and others were caked in blood. What’s left, however, was filled with several furless beings, though they all looked different.

Raine noticed that aside from Herb and Connie, there were two more furless Loups. The rest were one furless Felinar and what seemed to be a bull, along with one that looked like a cross between a Lizan and a bird. Somehow, the existence of two uncommon beast people made the human uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable was the fact that they looked so natural, especially the Lizan-bird.

The Felinar was the one who stood first when she noticed the group. Her creamy skin had almost no trace of fur except for her long, flowy hair. Her eyes were almond-shaped and bright green in color, which complemented her angular, feline face.

“Connie? And Herbie?!” said the Felinar, bewildered by their appearance. “I can’t…I can’t believe it. They told us you died!”

“Uh…do I know you?” asked Herb.

“You never told me you know him,” said Connie.

“Oh. Right. I…guess it makes sense, given how drugged you are,” said the Felinar. “I’m Kat. Katrina. We’re the first ones here, Con. He escaped before you did. He’s the escaped subject I told you about. The only one who ever did.”

“Dang. I’m flattered.” Herb tipped his hat. “Then we better get ourselves reacquainted.”

“Heh. Even with all that memory loss, you’re still a flirt.” Kat then looked at Raine and Karkas. “Who’re your friends?”

“Raine and Karkas,” said Herb. “I’ll introduce you to them, but after we get you out of here, alright?” He then looked around. His face slowly turned sad. “Is this…all that’s left of us?”

“Unfortunately,” said the Felinar, drooping her head.

“I see. Well, I hope you know what button or lever to open y’all cages and get you some fresh air.”

While Herb and Connie (who found an overall similar to the imprisoned subjects and wore it) worked together to find ways to open the doors without triggering some sort of sterilization protocol, they acquainted themselves with the bull (who called himself a Thawarian and was never a human to begin with) and the Lizan-Bird (who was a foreigner and could not speak Common, yet a well-meaning person), Raine and Karkas explored the facility. The whole place looked familiar other than the magic-repelling metallic wall, down to the glass chambers, grated metal floor, and white to green wall. It reminded them of the underground facility of the town they claimed, only well-maintained and still in operation.

There were many apparatuses behind glass-walled rooms that seemed fragile. Dishes filled with red-colored liquid filled a smaller chamber within said room, some of which had something growing in it. They were maintained by delicate operation of the chamber, independently powered by power cells of crystallized mana, also reminding them of the power source of the facility they claimed.

“Nara’s going to have a field day in this place,” remarked Raine.

“If he knows anything about living things, then sure,” said Karkas.

“What do you think of this place?”

“A laboratory, obviously, but certainly not conducting the same research as the one under the town,” said Karkas as he flipped through a journal he found on a nearby desk. “No Magical creature studies. But….”

“But?”

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“They are trying to replicate something called the Anthropos spell, but without the need for the ritual that would require the sacrifice of a sapient being and Aether. The writer said they aimed to find a way to use modern science sensibilities to reduce the risks involved in an ancient spell. So far, it doesn't work."

“That…sounds a bit paradoxical.”

“Not if you marry science and magic, which was the case before and during the war,” said Karkas. “I remembered reading some scrolls in the temple about this feat. The scrolls from that era was sealed behind a strong magic barrier inside one of the tombs, so they’re off-limits.”

“Which makes sense. Other than the possibility of harmful knowledge, those scrolls are hundreds of years old. I bet those claws of yours would rip them rather easily.”

“I know how to be gentle,” said Karkas.

“I know, Kar. So, what does it say? Other than this Anthropos spell they’re talking about, what else did they do here?”

“Hmm…mostly observations of a successful subject. Subject Heta 378. H378. A.K.A. Herbert. It mostly details his quirks and qualities, while also noting that, despite of the memory wipe, he still behaves much like he was before. He’s…unbearably friendly and tried to connect with the actors. Some were forced to be reassigned because they started to sympathize with Herb. If they continue, Herb would undoubtedly jeopardize the whole study, though it presented an opportunity for recruitment of subjects, as he was apparently too naïve to realize that his friendliness was used for a nefarious purpose."

“Yeah, I can tell you that,” said Raine. “Too bad they got us as their first victims.”

Karkas read a footnote under the journal.

“Apparently, they thought the nomads nearby would be perfect, especially since Jonas was acquainted with Herb. Unfortunately, Herb had almost no malice in him except for his desire for vengeance. He was almost declared a failure because of that, and the whole project would be terminated if it wasn’t for us.”

“You know, I started to wonder if we happened to be here because of coincidence or something or someone compelled us to be here at the right time,” said Raine. “Because that’s too much to be mere coincidence.”

Karkas shrugged. “Sometimes, you just have to accept the wills of the gods of whatever beliefs you have, even if those wills do not turn out as you expect it to be.”

Raine wasn’t sure if he could relate, though he appreciated Karkas’s wisdom. It was rather ironic, in a way. Raine was a Knight of Cavilen who still believed the knights and its adapting system but considered himself a faithless person when gods were concerned. Karkas, a former priest who left the teachings of faith after it was broken by something he never disclosed, had wisdom fitting for his age, and who was capable of sharing his thoughts on faith of his god.

The world ran on irony. Raine chose to simply live with it. It wouldn’t hurt. At least for him, or anyone else.

Realizing that his mind drifted away from what they were supposed to do, Raine returned to the documents. He read some of them, unveiling many experiments that he could not pretend to understand.

Karkas, on the other hand, found some shipping manifests. He thought it was strange for an illegal facility to have a shipping manifest. It was only after he read them through that he found how they were not just any shipping manifests.

They were lists of purchased slaves.

There weren’t enough to be conclusive, but Karkas could easily tell. He had seen manifests like these in his personal journey. After being made aware of Asran’s intentions to sell him as a slave, he started targeting slave rings. Most of the times, he requested the manifests, or even asking the traders whether they were doing business with a Fa’ar. Given his prejudice, he did not bother asking for specifics. If they were a rat person, it was enough for Karkas.

The slaves in the manifest were all human, none of which had names. There were no pictures, either; the slaves were only identified by their kind and number. Apparently, there were at least 20 of them arriving a month ago. Karkas started to wonder if the eight that were kept in the facility were the only ones left. Since this was last month, they had been buying slaves for a long time.

Karkas could only sigh and silently wish those who died due to the experiments could find the peace they needed in the end. The Croc set down the manifest, knowing that they served no purpose to him.

Or so he thought.

As the Croc gathered the manifests, he stumbled upon a half-opened journal. He would give any attention to it if not for a name. He took a quick glance at the journal, thinking that there was nothing of interest other than the writer’s personal opinion. Something caught his attention, causing the Croc to do a double take.

Without hesitation, he put the manifests back on the table and read the passage of the journal that interested him.

“First month of year 1021. As usual, the desert is as hot and as dry as ever. Got more shipment of rejects from a rather unnerving fellow. I don’t mind the presence of a Fa’ar, but this one knows what to say to make me uncomfortable. He seems to be friendly, but at the same time, he has hints of malice in his tone. He told us his name: Asran Taburan. None of my colleagues are comfortable enough to continue associating with him. We contemplate killing him; I have a feeling he will ruin our research. It’s not a moral thing; this Asran fellow can easily sell us out like he did the foreigners he gave us.”

The journal did not discuss Asran further, but several more entries made it clear that he was operating a slave ring. He was unnerving to these people, which Karkas could understand. Several of the entries even mentioned hardened human warriors who claimed to be tricked and was never a slave, fitting the rat person’s MO.

To Karkas’s disappointment, the journal mentioned that, due to not wanting to make too many people suspicious, they decided to cut ties with Asran through his representative. It turned out many of the slaves he sold them were abducted victims. Given the harshness of the desert, these victims would easily be declared dead, but even so, they were worried that this would only make their presence more apparent, and due to changing their studies into something more observational, referring to their active observations of Herb.

Yet, the Croc did not wish to give up. After a while, he finally found a concrete lead to follow. He silently put the leather-bound journal inside his sack while he took the rest of the manifests. He let out a deep growl, indicating his fueled hatred against the Fa’ar who betrayed him.

“Soon, little rat, soon,” he murmured while deeply growling. “I will wipe that smug grin off your rodent face, rat. Just you wait.”

He looked around to find Raine, intending to regroup and prepare to return to the town he called home. With a home base and a concrete lead, Karkas could resume his quest for vendetta.

But until then, it would be better to help his old friend set herself up first.