Narati had a handful of questions he wanted to ask Asran, one that would not work if his best friend and his new comrades were to fight him and ask later. The distraction provided by Karkas and their general exhaustion were also blessings in disguise, as Narati was sure that they would fall into another trap just like Karkas did.

Instead of rushing towards the stairs, Narati took his time checking on traps, which he did with the help of his natural night vision. Some of the traps were only obvious to nocturnal beast people, such as a wire-thin tripwire that would activate something dangerous that could either be the explosion or the gas that took over Karkas and almost taking over N’Dari. They were fortunate that the gas had dispersed so they were not exposed to the full potency of it, particularly Narati.

As soon as he jumped over the wire (he was not confident enough to disarm it), he slowly walked towards the stairs while being vigilant. He went into a different room when there was a whole corridor full of wires. He felt like traversing a maze full of death traps, except it wasn’t a particularly big one and he reached the stairs in no time at all.

Wary of more traps, he traversed the stairs slowly, making full use of his night vision and his observant nature to keep vigilant. When he was halfway up the steps, however, someone spoke to him.

“You are wise to be wary,” said a deep, rumbling voice, something that could not have been from a Fa’ar. “But I must commend you for reaching this far.”

“Are you Asran?” asked Narati bluntly, while climbing the stairs.

“Perhaps.”

“That’s not an answer,” retorted Narati. “Stop playing around and face me.”

Narati did not get a reply when he reached the top of the stairs and opened the door towards the room where Asran was in. The room, like many others, was dark and only lit by the soft glow near the end of the room to the left. The glow was of sickly green and black, yet it stood out among the darkness surrounding it. The green and black aura was so unnatural that it unnerved Narati.

“That’s not normal,” commented Narati.

He quickly turned around when he heard scurrying noise only a Fa’ar could make. He couldn’t see anyone, but his instincts kicked in moments before he was stabbed in the stomach by a dagger. Narati dodged it quickly, leaving the assailant stumbling, though recovered almost as quickly and disappeared once again.

Narati brandished his axe and scanned the room. Despite his night vision, he couldn’t see anything beyond the faint glow from the tube-like contraption in the middle of the room. A dark fog severely limited his night vision. This was the first time his night vision failed him.

As he looked around the room, desperately trying to defend himself from an attack that could come from anywhere, his ears caught the scurrying noise again. Narati turned to face it, raising his axe to defend himself before realizing, almost too late, that he did not know where the attack would come from. He disengaged and rolled away moments before the attack could connect. Narati couldn't see what's attacking him.

“Wise choice,” said a disembodied voice. It echoed throughout the room.

Narati couldn’t do anything if his vision was impaired, but as he frantically search for something he could use, he was being attacked from within the darkness. This time, he was distracted enough for the assailant’s attack to hit. Even if it was a glancing blow, Narati started to become desperate as he knew the glancing blow meant his attacker started to read his movements. Sooner or later, the attacker would reach him before Narati could even react.

He started to regret coming up without a plan or backup. He felt like a fool asking N’Dari and Tulis to take care of Karkas while he sorted things out with Asran, presumably the one that had been accosting him ever since he entered the room. He started to become desperate, aware that this was the first time he had fought by himself and not in a support capability.

“No, wait,” thought Narati. “This…this is exactly like she predicted.”

He was fortunate that his training was still fresh in his mind. Several weeks ago, Narati asked Sakiri to teach him how to properly fight without using magic, given that she was the closest thing to a physical fighter than Narati knew, and also because she was a beast race with a similar body structure. Sakiri was more than willing to help the Fa’ar, even telling him to learn how to properly swing a normal axe instead of relying on his presently broken circular saw axe.

Narati was a quick learner, finding that a proper axe was faster to swing and easy to handle. Sakiri persuaded him not to use featherweight enhancement to get the feel of the axe’s weight. The axe he wielded had a hollow center and a handle made from composite, pre-war material that was both durable and light. Its short handle was perfect for a short person like Narati.

Nevertheless, despite his quick understanding, Narati couldn’t best Sakiri who deliberately sealed her magic to make a fair fight. Considering that Sakiri was a warrior princess, she had learned how to wield a sword, a dagger, and even an axe before she was taught combat spells. She even managed to point out a nocturnal beast person’s weakness in the dark when they decided to spar in total darkness, only relying on their nocturnal visions. Narati found that, while the night was as clear as day, it was only as far as his vision allowed; too far an object, and it would be hard to discern. An object that was black was also hard to see.

When they took a rest, Sakiri gave him advice that he was grateful to have followed.

“In total darkness, even if it looks as clear as day, we can only see if nothing’s clouding it. Smokes and fog will cloud your vision, especially if they are enhanced with spells to obscure even more details,” she explained. “Your ears are your greatest friends, but you can rely too much on them.”

“To be fair, I never faced someone in total darkness before,” said Narati. “When we spar, it felt so weird. It’s like I can’t focus. I don’t think fog is the least of my concerns. Rather, I prefer that because I know they can’t see me, too.”

“You excel in stealth, right? That is an advantage you have. However, your decision making will be severely hampered by your attempt to focus, dividing your attention, and reducing your awareness. This is why you do not engage anyone in the dark if possible."

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“One. When the darkness betrays you, kill it with light. Just be careful not to overwhelm your senses when you do so. Switching from dark to light can be…painful. But knowing you, Narati, I think you’ll find a way to make it less agonizing. Or not.”

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“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sakiri chuckled. “I don’t see you as a careful type.”

Remembering this conversation, Narati took a deep breath, calming himself, then opened his satchel to find something that could help him change the course of the battle. He managed to find the thing he needed: the flash grenade he had been using to gain a tactical edge. However, instead of pulling the pin and throwing away, he risked himself by throwing it under himself while closing his eyes and looking away.

That wasn’t enough to reduce the intense flash the grenade produced when it exploded under his feet, but it did not incapacitate him as much as his opponent. Narati’s opponent let out a pained yell when the flash happened while Narati let out an uncomfortable grunt, though he recovered first. He quickly saw his target when the darkness dissipated, but was momentarily stunned by his appearance. This did not stop him from attacking. He swung his axe, and it clashed with his opponent’s dagger.

“What are you?!” exclaimed Narati when he saw his opponent’s full appearance.

His opponent was still recognizable as a Fa’ar for the most part, but also something else. While his head was still rat-like, he had a pair of horns that branched out like antlers, except they were not antlers and were closer to a goat’s horn. His fur was black, but it was coated with a yellowish-green aura. His eyes were not black or brown like most Fa’ars, but yellowish-green, similar to the aura emanating from the tube-like contraption.

“A flashbang! Of course, you’d have one!” exclaimed the unusual-looking Fa’ar as he broke off from the clash. “But that’s merely a temporary measure.”

The Fa’ar drew more of the black-green energy from the tube-like contraption, extending his hand towards it. Wisps of sickly green energy flow to him, causing him to glow even more.

Narati acted quickly. When he recovered from the shock, he pulled out his grenade and pulled the pin before throwing it into the tube-like contraption. It exploded, despite his opponent’s attempt to stop it, throwing them off their feet. The explosion was enough to break the tube, deforming it in a way that it was nothing more than scrap metal.

When Narati recovered, he scanned the room, trying to find where his opponent was. His ears picked out the skittering noise from a Fa’ar’s feet and raised his axe just in time as his opponent appeared from within the smoke, dagger on each hand. Their blades clashed against Narati’s axe, but Narati soon realized that he was out of his league when the horned Fa’ar overwhelm the younger Fa’ar with his strength. Narati could feel his body being pushed away as he struggled to keep his guard up.

“You shouldn’t have done that, child,” said Asran with a mildly annoyed tone. “It’s hard enough to find a working pre-war technology. You ruined 5 years of progress."

“You don’t sound so angry about it,” wondered Narati, with strain in his voice.

“I know my own limits. There is no point in absorbing more of it if you know how dangerous it is to a Fa’ar. In fact, it is you who don’t understand his own limits. This power afforded to me…is something that was robbed from us ever since our Makers lost.”

“Whatever that is, it’s not worth getting it from slaves.”

“What do you know about it?” asked Asran, as if thinking that Narati did not understand what he was saying.

“Everything,” said Narati, emphatically. “I know everything.”

Asran scoffed. “Not everything.”

Narati managed to disengage when he saw green light coming from Asran’s palm, moments before a burst of green flame shot out of said palm. The flame hit the ceiling and created a hole that opened the top floor to the sky. It continued to burn through the ceiling, corroding it. Narati noticed that it caused the ceiling to rust instead of melting.

Narati did not want to know what it would do to a living being. His focus, however, was more to his bewilderment to the impossible fact.

“You can cast spells?!” exclaimed Narati.

“I am more than just a Fa’ar,” declared Asran. “This is what we are supposed to be, a thousand years ago. We were a tool of war for the Nuremnians, not cannon fodders. I can’t believe how much of history was altered by those who wished to enslave us. This is why I said you don’t know everything. Or rather, anything at all.”

“But how? Asran, I fought with mages before. Magic hurts us!”

“Magic, yes, but this is different. This is a form of ‘magic’ our ancestors created, to serve the Makers’ purposes. In Fa’ari we called it Sentet. In Common, it is—”

“Death Wish,” said Narati.

“In modern times,” retorted Asran. “Yet not that far from the truth. Anyone practicing this magic has a death wish. I, for one, had it, until I learned how to harness it.”

“Asran, anything called Death Wish is not something to be trifled with!” Narati shook his head. “Ah, sadase! Why?! This world is already broken! Why are you trying to make it even worse?!”

“You talk too much,” declared Asran, who by this point started to become annoyed by Narati. Then, in Fa’ari, he said, “(Save your soft-hearted attempt to convince me for someone else!)”

Asran held out his arm as green energy started to form in his hand. Narati dropped on all fours, anticipating the same green flame. When he shot it, he would dash forward and score a hit, knowing that his profile was low enough.

To his surprise, the flame did not appear. Instead, the room was filled with sparkling dust that reflected the light. Narati suddenly coughed and felt his body getting weaker. He started to lose his strength, unable to lift his heavy axe, as Asran walked towards him. Narati, however, was aware enough to prevent Asran from thrusting his right-hand dagger into Narati’s stomach, though it was a losing battle. Asran’s strength was unusual for a Fa’ar. Narati was unable to stop him so he tried to bend out of the way.

The dagger grazed his unprotected stomach as Narati’s strength failed him. Narati moved away, but dropped on his knees as he felt his body getting weaker and he lost the feeling on his legs. Asran, on the other hand, stood over Narati, both daggers held together for a coup de grace.

“(Sorry, child),” said Asran, his voice deep and menacing, different from it was a moment ago. “(But you are out of your league!)”

Narati already knew that the moment he saw the monster Asran had become. He thought he could be much help. Instead, he knew he should’ve just stick as a support instead of thinking that he could fight someone head-on like Raine or Karkas. Without his weapons and his grenades, he was useless. He was clearly out of his league.

But that did not mean he was out of options. He knew he had one more weapon he could use against the monstrous Fa'ar, but it must succeed. Otherwise, he would really be out of options

With renewed determination, Narati grabbed Jacques's revolver and quickly aimed towards Asran. He remembered to arm the weapon before firing. Asran, surprised, was unable to move when Narati fired a bullet into his stomach. The shot managed to break Asran's concentration, enabling Narati to recover. Yet, it was merely a temporary respite. The spell Asran cast started to take the toll on Narati's body. It was only his determination to survive that kept him going.

He only hoped that Asran did not have any more trick up his sleeves or Narati would surely be overwhelmed. Narati may have more tricks, but he doubt they would compare to a Fa’ar who could use magic.

Asran, on the other hand, secretly knew that Narati destroying the contraption worked to his detriment unless he could convert more mana into Aether. It was made worse by the fact that he still had enough strength to pull out a revolver and shot Asran with it. Sentet magic was Aether-based and was destroying his body the moment he started casting one. The degradation was delayed by Aether. Being a Fa’ar, Asran found that continuous exposure to Aether would mutate his body further. Over time, the initial sickness would turn into something more, including immunity to said Aether. The shot to his stomach, however, threatened to ruin all that progress.

He never thought he needed to contend with a stubborn Fa’ar. He’s not supposed to be someone to be concerned about, but for some reason, his determined look and his refusal to accept the fact irked Asran. He felt intimidated by a young Fa’ar who wore a worn-out leather collar and who’s clearly still vulnerable to Aether. He should have been incapacitated by it; he was barely exposed to Aether if compared with Asran. What kind of strength he possess?

As intrigued as he was in learning more about Narati, there was no point in having a conversation with Narati when his body was breaking up. This sense of urgency gave Asran the boost he needed to fight back and to assure himself. He still had the upper hand.

Glaring at each other, both Fa’ars readied their weapons and dashed towards one another.