The air came easier out here, with the suffocating walls behind him. He contented himself to lay on his back in the grass, taking in the wayward breeze as it whipped through the leafy trees. Nothing else saw fit to intrude on this glade, save for Vissitri.
[That bad, huh? Come, tell this Big Brother what troubles you.]
They were still in the valley basin, surrounded by sky-piercing mountains. When he heard the native-born locals liked to call it Milowix's Finger, he began to think they had some masochistic tendencies—who, other than they, would want the constant reminder? Though, perhaps they felt safer by diminishing the name's power through use.
"It's truly bizarre..." his eye searched the caustic window above, "Not now. I'll tell you all about it once we make some tracks."
Quintin didn't recognize the area. For all he knew, they were weeks away from PanQuil; not that he wished to go back there. At best, the cliffside town had become a hotbed for directionless intrigue. Or at worst, an open mineshaft just waiting for his naive return. Thinking about it further, the Elucidators likely had concerns over Cramie's disappearance as well. In that case, only one course of action remained to him.
Vissitri padded over to the prone figure in the grass. [We won't make any tracks from down there. Don't you think it's time to get up?]
"I suppose there's no helping it," he patted down his robe in a practiced manner, "Happen to know a way out of here?"
Vissitri knew the circumstances, of course. Knew how precariously the situation sat, because of his identity as a wanted man. It didn't escape Quintin, his pursuers might think he died because of or alongside Cramie. But the endless possibility present in magic brought doubt that the idea could sustain a lasting impression.
[Seeing as I'm not your chauffeur, and you probably don't want the master spelunker title... That just leaves one other way by foot, through Drake Tail Pass.]
According to Vissitri, the trail began a bit further North. When they left the caves, they wound up hours away, in the opposite direction from his first day of travel on Whorrl. And that was the direction of the Drake Tail Pass. From here, it wouldn't take them long to get there.
With the sun reaching out for mid-day, Quintin thought of his master's words. Two years. He had two years to gather strength, and figure out a solution for the spread of corruption in Sozzelrift. All while trying to avoid the notice of his well-equipped adversaries. In that case, the farther away he journeyed, the greater his assurances on concealment became.
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"Then let's do it. There's no way I can just stand around, waiting to be found. It would only be worse now, after what happened..." He trailed off, not quite ready to reveal the jumble of details.
[I won't demand an answer yet. Just know, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can help.] Vissitri jumped from bough to bough, leading the way on, [I mean, how bad could it really be? It's not like you became an evil mastermind overnight, intent on destroying all of Whorrl or something, right? Si-Si.]
"Absolutely not!" Quintin said without thinking, "I didn't want for any of this to happen..."
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The chirruping of birds and insects through the pockets of foliage livened up their silent advance. It seemed to be late Spring or early Summertime. Hours passed by, Quintin spent them dispatching beasts that showed up to fight for experience points. Speaking of, when he defeated Cramie, she hadn't given any. He had his theories on that, but nothing proven by facts.
If it didn't count because he used the Syringe, then what of Carlenno? He had used the [Wand of Dispersal] there, and it had counted. All he could think about were the missing [Levels] he should have. Mostly, he just thought the fight had been deadly enough to deserve something. Though the memory did leave an indelible imprint, nothing would be the same after.
Given Vissitri's presence, these questions could be resolved. With that in mind, he gave voice to it, "So, do you have any idea why experience wouldn't be given for defeating monsters?"
The question gave Vissitri pause as he stopped to consider it. [That depends on whether the system agrees or not. Deep down, can you really say you defeated said monsters? If you also disagree, then it's even more unlikely that the system will reward it. Not always, sometimes the system counts something the user hasn't considered. There's also a lack of participation that can result in nothing. Like with the 'Star Sucker' before, fairly certain you didn't get anything for that too, right?]
The little lime made a great point. Deep down inside, he didn't believe he had defeated Cramie, and wouldn't until he took care of the Glyph she transformed into. With Carlenno, he fully considered it his victory. This aspect of conviction must stem from a nebulous place. Otherwise, those with an unwavering sense of self would never lose out. He also had that unwavering conviction in himself, but not to the point of claiming undue credit like others might.
"I see. So in that case, my own convictions play a role in the calculations made by the system?"
Vissitri leapt from a nearby branch to his shoulder. [Yes and no. The system has its own rules to play by. But in such cases where the outcome is too close to call, your own inner 'faith', for lack of a better word, might tip the odds in your favor.]
It seemed that this might apply to more than just kill contribution. Perhaps, even the skills and abilities given out were a reflection of desire and inner faith. The system acknowledged that by furthering optimal growth with convictions in mind, every time the potential for it existed. If that was true, then the idea of being targeted by something may very well be a paranoid delusion of his.