The intensity of the flash grenade knocked the kid out as he inadvertently stared directly into it. His kind’s weakness to magic could have also contributed to its effectiveness as it was a flash magic, not chemical reaction.

Thus, when the kid finally regained consciousness, he was still dazed and trying to get his bearings. How long was he knocked out? Where was he? What does the Croc want with him? He tried to get the answers to all of those questions as he groggily raised his head.

But when he saw the same Croc, he quickly opened his eyes and became completely alerted as adrenaline pumped into his body, caused by escalating fear. The imposing Croc had a dark bronze scale color on most parts of his body, with parts, such as around his eyes and his tail, were lighter in color, or green. He wore a rather long skirt, which obscured his legs, yet was made to accommodate his thick tail. His scaly chest was kept bare except for an ornate necklace hanging over his chest and what looked like a choker. He wore more jewelries than fabric, with a pair of wrist braces and arm braces made out of some metal that was not valuable like gold or silver. The necklace he wore was made less from metal and more from animal parts such as teeth and feather, adorned with some browned leaves and branches.

His stocky, but muscular, build did not give anyone the suggestion that he was, in fact, a mage. The kid remembered witnessing conjuring a wooden staff out of thin air and cast a spell that knocked Jacques’s revolvers out of his hands. The kid was completely out of his element against the Croc, both because of his imposing build and because he was a mage. The combination of those two facts were enough to convince the kid that the Croc was not an enemy he wanted to engage with.

He must escape by relying on stealth. The Croc did not seem to notice him waking up as he was busy looking out of the window intently. Without taking any chances, the kid quickly identified a door nearby and dashed on all fours, relying entirely on his light rodent feet to keep his noise down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the Croc with a gruff voice.

Suddenly, bright, rope-like strands appear out of thin air and wrapped itself around the kid’s legs, tripping him. More bright strands appeared and forced his hands behind him, wrapping around his wrists expertly, binding him. He could no longer move his arms when the wrist binding was connected to the collar he wore, pulling his arms up and forcing him to straighten up his back. The connection was completed when the bright strand connected to the bindings on his ankles that slowly shortening, forcing him into a hogtie position and completely immobilizing him. His long, fleshy tail, the final part of his movable limb, was tied to his legs. He could no longer move, only struggle in place like a captured animal.

The Croc was not as kind, either. After the kid was securely bound, he grabbed the kid by the leather straps around his head and glared at him with killing intent. The kid was scared. The Croc looked like he could easily bite his head off.

“Never would I thought you’d be here, skulking around like a rat you are,” said the Croc with a deep, menacing growl. “Scammed more people to do your dirty works, eh? Guess after five years, your skills have improved.”

Scammed? Those two saved him! The kid would say this if it wasn’t for his lack of voice. He wanted to shout, but all he could let out was a croaked voice. The Croc did not even notice this.

“Save your voice, Asran,” said the Croc. “In fact, don’t say anything, because I won’t listen.”

Asran? No, that’s not his name. He had another name, one that, again, could clear the misunderstanding if the kid had a voice.

The Croc’s clearly out for blood and refused to listen. He could’ve killed the kid for some misunderstanding that would not be resolved unless Jacques and/or Raine could come and made everything clear. The kid hoped that the claw he gave Jacques could lead them to him in no time.

Unknown to him, the Croc had already realized that he could not stay hidden for long. Peering out the window, he could see the two people that chased him looking around confused. The Loup was holding an amulet that let out a subtle green light. A mage would know that a spell was active based on observations alone, but an experienced mage would know that it was a tracking spell, and it would lead them to the Fa’ar in no time.

But the Croc anticipated this. He made sure the room was sealed from any attempts, be it physical or magical. With the room blending in neatly among the dilapidated buildings, it would take a while before the two could even find him. Of course, just in case one of them happened to glance at the window and found him, the Croc moved away from the window and returned to the kid he mistook as Asran, who stopped struggling and glared at the Croc, trying to act tough. The Croc only needed a deep, rumbling growl to unsettle the kid, causing his ears to droop.

“Now, then,” said the Croc. “Since I unexpectedly caught the ringleader, maybe it’s time you tell me where Senesin Kestal is. You may not have a price on your head, but he is, so cough it out, Asran.”

Senesin Kestal was their target, too. The Croc thought the kid knew something since he mistook him for this ‘Asran’. The kid became panicked, knowing that without his voice, the Croc would think he was trying to act tough. As he feared, it did happen.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Kestal’s not gonna help you, Asran, so where is he?”

The Fa’ar kid did not know what to do, and he was further demoralized when the Croc, concluding that asking nicely would not give him what he wanted, grabbed his collar and with a growl, shouted, “Where is Senesin Kestal?! Start talking, or I’ll break your leg!”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The kid was trying. He was genuinely trying! He would think that the sudden rush of adrenaline and the fearful situation could give him the push to start talking, but all he could do was let out a croaked voice. The Croc clearly could not understand this, or rather, he did not think that the kid was mute.

“Make it easy on yourself, you rat bastard! Is he really that worth losing your leg for? Maybe you’ll change your mind when I feast on your leg instead!”

This time, the kid realized he was in grave danger. He started struggling frantically, while trying to let out something that wasn’t a squeak or a croak. He needed to do something. Anything!

The Croc was not serious. He may look like he could be eating anything, including people, but he only ate animals. While it was true that the line between a beast person and an animal was blurry, with the only thing separating them was a beast person’s sapience, the Croc did not wish to make it even worse for his kind.

But this Fa’ar was the same rat that he had been hunting for years. There was no mistaking it. His tail was cut off at the end and his right ear was split into two. He was shorter than most Fa’ars, and his eyes hid a rather unpleasant quality that only someone with a lot of secrets and a lot of plans could possess. That, or someone who had scammed and betrayed so many people and managed to live to talk about it.

Well, he was out of luck. The Croc caught him. Senesin Kestal was just a side job, as he believed the chameleon-type Lizan could lead him to Asran. Since Kestal was in trouble, he would be trying to find Asran, his ‘partner’, not knowing that he must’ve been screwed over by the same rat he had under him. He just asked for Kestal so that he could get both and be done with it. A little bonus wouldn’t—

He heard a sob. That was strange. He thought no one else was in that abandoned room. He looked around, thinking he scared a child who snuck in before them. When he couldn’t find one, he was going to call when he looked down.

The Fa’ar he had in his grasp was crying. His tears started to pool underneath his head.

The Croc was taken aback by this. Was this one of his tricks? He always knew Asran had a way to draw sympathy or be charismatic enough to convince the Croc to work with him. However, the Croc couldn’t feel any of those with the Fa’ar. He was…genuinely crying, looking miserable, scared, and most importantly, surrendering.

The kid gave up on trying to scream or speak. He knew it was useless, so all he could do was cry. He should’ve act brave and not make a fool out of himself, but what else he could do? It was all he could do whenever he got a punishment. Acting tough would only lead to more pain than the one he was already subjected to. The kid was broken and traumatized after five years of torture and humiliation, all while at the same helpless situation. Somehow, he was glad that the Croc did not rip whatever clothing he had for a bit more decency. The collar and the muzzle were a coping mechanism as he couldn’t escape the life he hated. Worse, he was mistaken by someone who the Croc clearly had a vendetta with. How could anyone mistake him for someone else was beyond him, but Fa’ars…well, that’s what Fa’ars deserved.

The Croc, however, started to doubt if the Fa’ar he had in his grasp was Asran. He mistook another Fa’ar with his target before. He could be mistaking this one, too. They all look the same to him, especially if they had black fur. He did not want to take chances, but then he remembered that the Fa’ar was already secured; he couldn’t possibly be able to try anything else.

Then he realized that he was grabbing on the kid’s collar, something Asran clearly did not had. He soon noticed how the rat person was sobbing, scared, but was unable to say anything out of fear. All he could do was stare with his black eyes before he closed them, giving up and relaxing his body, apparently to accept his fate.

The Croc did not need any more confirmation. He sighed and said, “Fuck”, knowing that he was wrong. For the third time.

“Hey, uh…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” said the Croc. “I wasn’t going to eat you.”

The kid didn’t reply.

“Look, uh…let me get you to sit so we can sort this out,” said the Croc. His demeanor changed when he realized that he had traumatized the Fa’ar. Somehow, despite his hatred to their kind, he couldn’t bear to see one crying or being vulnerable.

The bindings that forced the Fa’ar into a hogtie position were released, but not the bindings on his wrists and ankles. Nevertheless, it was far more comfortable than before. The Croc then said, “I don’t want to take any chances. Tell me something. Who are you?”

No reply.

“Are you Asran?”

The kid shook his head vigorously.

“Should have been the first question to ask. Goddamn it, Karkas. Since when did you become an asshole?”

Returning to the still traumatized, and given up, Fa’ar, the Croc said, “When I remove the bindings, I suggest you don’t try anything stupid, alright?”

The kid did not need to be reminded of his situation. He vigorously nodded. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the bindings were gone. The sudden freedom took the kid by surprise. He was tempted to just bolt out of the door in panic, but he wouldn’t dare, not when the Croc could easily bind him again.

“Tell me who you are.”

The kid wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. Good thing he was now freed from his bonds so he could at least try to explain his captor. He made gestures, pulling his round ears and pretend to carry a gun to shoot.

Karkas, fortunately, was not that dense. He then confirmed it when he said, “You can’t talk?” and the Fa’ar nodded. He also knew what the Fa’ar was trying to tell.

“So, that Loup is someone you travel with,” said Karkas. The kid nodded.

“And the human with Felinari ears and tail.” Also a nod.

“Right. I suppose I’ll straighten things out with them about the misunderstanding. Hopefully they would listen. But first, I need to find Senesin Kestal.”

The kid, knowing that the Croc might know Kestal better, overcame his hesitation and tapped on the Croc’s imposing face. When he turned to the kid, the Fa’ar pointed at him, then at himself, before clapping his hands together.

“You want us to work together?” asked Karkas. The kid nodded.

To his disappointment, he said, “I know you mean well, Fa’ar, but I’ve been screwed over by Fa’ars so many times I can’t trust them anymore. Good thing they’re all easy to deal with. Asran’s the real problem. Hopefully, you won’t add to that problem. Still, I’m sorry for the mistake. Get back to your friends.”

The Fa’ar tried to tell him that he, too, was hunting down Kestal, but it was impossible to explain, not without a voice. Maybe it would be better if he led the Croc to Jacques and Raine.

He soon changed his mind when he realized that there might be a chance it would not end well for all sides, especially when he became intimidated with the Croc’s deep, rumbling growl.