Many have failed. But those who succeed live longer and pass that strength on to generations. That too has been seen, albeit not so regularly as ones who evolve to become more efficient at avoiding predators.

"You would have me flee a while longer, then?" Elidibus questions. This time he manages to stand his ground. Yet the fear drifting in the air and offering a tantalizing crumb to the hungry hunter, tells of Emet-Selch's success.

A pity it is, that he, just as Elidibus, would never be able to feel satisfied by what may be drawn. A watery tea, an airy, dry bite of something with little nourishment. Such is the fear one can draw from off-worlders. And why it is so much better to focus one's efforts on the native mortals of this reality.

But here and now, it may simply add an ache of frustration and impetus to further provoke the prey in hopes of actually obtaining a proper bite.

It's foolish indeed to have any hope that Emet-Selch would have a purely altruistic motivation right now. Yes, both would likely want to find a solution from their predicament, drawing this out longer so that perhaps it could be found. But like a double-edged blade, Elidibus knows giving quarter would be as much akin to a game of coeurl and rodent... cloudkin rather. It would be better if he were to flee on his own terms rather than the one Emet-Selch dictates.

He had kept his weapon in one hand. And just as Emet-Selch steps out of the darkness fully, yet without much chance to adjust to any shift in light, the darker tip of the weapon is thrust to the ground. Elidibus sends a surge of power to the upward, lighter tip, causing it to radiate a blinding burst of light.

He will already be in flight - running, not truly flying, well before the flash has faded.

Let the hunt begin.