A small collection of ruby-red collars sat in the trampled grass. A nameplate hung from each leather choker, connected via metal rings. Their not-so-secret identity shone under the sun in black-gold lettering. Who needed enemies with a pet name like Squiggie or Hamtrap?
On the flip side, a familiar name stared back at him like a rainbow in the hellscape.
Property of Cramie Niddel.
The weight behind her authority held taut their spectral leashes, undiminished even in death. A continuation of the Elucidator's dogged pursuit for the whereabouts of Nyathamon. And most recently, the disappearance of their enforcer sent to figure it all out. Without a doubt, the hunt remained strong. Whoever took command over her pets had the brains to make this speculative move.
In all likelihood, the same person held sole responsibility for sending Cramie into PanQuil after him. A mastermind who did their best work in the shadows and made moves within the general context of the world. Just as he wanted to know who they were, so too did the mysterious individual look for him. The big difference being, Quintin had no desire to actually meet the figure. If such an occasion ever came, he would turn and flee with all his might. Ultimately, a person who could call on Cramie Niddel to do their bidding must be extraordinary.
Vissitri's curiosity peaked, but upon reading a dog tag, he turned deathly serious. [Not good! That domineering soul is bad news. We need to hightail it before she realizes what you've done. Hurry!]
"About that- she won't be showing up here or anywhere else, ever again for that matter." He laughed awkwardly while scratching his cheek.
Vissitri untensed, but still looked around in paranoia. [Really? If her pets are here, that means she's taking them out for a walk. Crap, I should've seen the connection sooner! Collars- of course that's what it would mean...] he mumbled something about begging for food as he trailed off in worry.
"Yeah, so remember how some stuff happened down in the caverns, well..."
In an otherwise silent clearing, he retold the events of his solo adventure. A harrowing tale of brutal fights against the goblins, and even deadlier creatures within the ruined underground city. The majority of his problems stemmed from an over-reliance on the unknown. Whether he understood the tools he used or not, there was little question regarding his lack of strength.
In the end, that shortcoming caused a chain reaction of critical failures. Deep down inside, he knew that Cramie had forced his hand. If his passion for life was any less, he may not have used the terrible syringe, instead succumbing to defeat. As a result, the Glyph of Corruption had cost his master everything to contain.
"So- this is the part where you tell me I'm a monster, right?" Confiding in Vissitri like this took a lot.
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He tried hard to solve his own problems. However, with the current trend of things, Quintin had a real need to get better acquainted with his options.
He didn't have to wait long for a response. The pettable verdict came almost immediately, [I know a bit about monsters, and you do not belong to them. No, you just ran into bad luck after finding some success in the dark places. You're still an idiot, but at least you had good intentions. It's just unfortunate how Cramie forced a decision like that onto you.]
The unexpected reply surprised him. Not because of its harshness, but rather the opposite. The carbuncle had been thoughtful, more considerate than the usual happy-go-lucky attitude of everything else.
Quintin let the shock show on his face. "Y-Yeah-"
His next words were interrupted by Vissitri. [We'd have a serious problem though if you didn't want to clean up the mess. It's good that you know these things can't be left to fester.]
"Speaking of cleaning up my mess, do you have any better ideas? I confess my best plan up til now is... a bit lacking, to put it nicely," Quintin added sheepishly.
[Is your idea just to keep getting stronger? It's not the worst idea, given how unique your skills are. You should be able to devour nearly anything with them, and enough experience.]
Vissitri paused for a moment in consideration.
[The problem is, what if two years is just an estimate and not an accurate time frame? In the unlikely event that you're not personally ready, it's best to have as many options open as possible.]
Up til now, he was operating under the two-year impression his master left behind. It never occurred to him to question the window of opportunity given by Bilal. Though, what if Vissitri was right? Not to mention, two years where? Here or back on Earth?
Quintin looked at the wise, devilish fox with apparent confusion. "This might be a strange question, but how many months are in each year?"
The response came point-blank and hit him straight in the guts. [Twenty months, thirty days apiece. Five for each season.]
Only now did he realize his master's wisdom. Bilal didn't specify, because ultimately it was an estimation; between twenty-four at the low end, and forty months on high. The convergence of two worlds in one message. Now more than ever before, he believed his master originally came from Whorrl. Dragons were celebrated and awe-inspiring in Earth's storied existence. Though, the closest thing to them in reality were the dinosaurs.
[Why do you ask?] Vissitri continued.
"Because I just realized you're right, it is an estimation. So what do you think? Is there anywhere we can go to get help?" Once Quintin made up his mind, he never hesitated to advance in line with his thoughts.
Vissitri perked up at the question. [One problem at a time. Let me think about it for awhile. Just go complete your quest. Who knows, maybe that power you crave is hidden on the other side of one.]
+***+
The second Dragonkin controller fell down dead amongst the trees.
This one attempted a daring escape once it became clear how ineffectual attacking was. Unlike the previous, it made quick use of all the collared beasts to act as meat shields for his retreat. Even with them in the way, it only took Quintin a bit more elbow grease to catch up and end him too.
With the revelation of what his master's words meant, he forgot everything else. Going onward to the third beast camp, the protection offered by {Prismatic Shell of the Unassailable Body} silently fell away into nothing.