It didn't take a genius to understand what was happening.
He was running at speeds so staggering he would have been able to cross entire continents of his planet in mere days or hours, and yet he wasn't making any distance at all.
Granted, this could simply be because the dimensional space was just that large. Uriel didn't believe it to be so.
No, more accurately, he knew that was only part of the truth.
The sand.
It was shifting as he ran and moved, reacting to every single fluctuation of aether and force he produced, constantly rolling and folding beneath his feet.
It was as if he had been running on a treadmill for hours, rooted in place, yet somehow travelling countless meters along the way.
The desert was constantly moving, and to move alongside it was to remain static; and to remain static was, paradoxically, to move.
But the issue was that…the desert was moving in a way that pulled him away from where he sought to go.
As long as he travelled on land, he was stuck.
