And, just like he'd expected, the sand had thrown every part of him into chaos, from his mind to his core and body.
But his core was nearly indestructible, and by virtue of his sin, his mind couldn't possibly be more chaotic, not as long as his runic scar existed.
The only thing without protection was his body.
"Argh, damn it all!"
And it hurt. Badly.
Uriel weakly looked up, his little pocket trembling repeatedly as he did so.
His gaze shook, and runes appeared in the depths of his ivory eyes. He peered into the flowing waves of the world's aether.
'The chaotic currents spread periodically, then gather into one concentrated point so chaotic it turns orderly, thus triggering the sands, causing an explosion of chaos that unleashes the waves…'
'When the chaos fully disperses, it gathers again, like a taut rubber band snapping loose.'
'When the plane is fat, order rules, and when the waves rise, chaos explodes… at an interval of around thirty minutes…'
