There was a marked difference between the act of piloting and the act of flying.

Both held a certain thrill, a sense of elation at soaring free in the air, the sky spreading out in every direction and the ground far below. Neither was necessarily a lesser accomplishment than the other, but like running a race and driving a car there was a completely different feel to it, the direct sense of exertion, the immediacy and effortless control of doing it yourself versus the detached feeling of harnessing something, mastering a force greater than yourself.

Miles' new sigil blurred the lines between the two to an almost uncomfortable degree. All the precision and immediacy was there, but gone was any feeling of exertion or restraint as he soared the skies, too high above for the trivialities of the world below to bother him, too fast for the things that roamed the skies to keep up with him and with all the exhilaration of personal achievement. He had bypassed the town, barely catching sight of Cosmo and the Creams arriving safely as he roared by overhead at well over the speed of sound. He had soared over tainted grounds and infested lakes that had given him such trouble before. Even the clouds above were tempting targets that sometimes seemed close enough to fly up and touch, though he'd kept enough presence of mind to keep his attention firmly on the ground and more mundane concerns despite the temptation.

But at the same time as he felt the wind in his fur, felt his tails hum, Miles very much had that sense of being at the helm of something far beyond himself. Something that, like so many of his tools and weapons, seemed to draw part of its energy from something boundless and indifferent to the theft - assuming it wasn't simply an act of cosmic noblesse oblige from the very things he had aligned himself against.

...Well, he'd still use it, of course. Miles devoured his cake again. It might be psychosomatic, but he swore it helped him move faster, and if speed mattered tonight then he'd need all he could get.

He soared past the massive wall of the catacombs to find his worries well-justified.

The corruption had passed the wall.

Miles dropped low, angling his tails beneath him to shred through thorns as he skimmed across the surface, casually shredding a spitter in a flurry of rainbow flames without slowing.

The rarest commodity, something he'd barely seen beneath the earth and never realised the importance of while he was there, its newfound importance belying its humble nature...

Sand.

Miles hit what used to be the beach with a cry of irritation already on his lips. He was too late. Bathed in Ulnah's radiant glow the purple sands of the beach extended as far as the eye could see. The dark waters of the ocean were a sickly purple hue themselves and showed no sign of life in their depths.

"Hope you're good at holding your breath."

Taking a deep breath, Miles accelerated into the water, momentarily displacing a surging wave behind him before he dropped beneath the surface, the same tireless spinning of his tails that propelled him through the air serving the exact same function to drive him through the murky deeps.

Hopefully he wasn't going to run into any orcas, though generally speaking they'd probably be a little on the unrecognisable side if he did. He swept a greenflame torch low, illuminating a bottom of the ocean as grim and lifeless as the beach above.

Was this pointless? Should he be trying to sweep around the coast? Scour the countryside and the undercaverns for a pocket of sand sheltered from the corruptive elements around it? Could he even be sure one existed?

Ten seconds. He kept moving, not even bothering to try any kind of search pattern. If it spread from the shore into the ocean then he might find the edge of the contamination. If it spread from the ocean then it didn't matter where he looked.

At least he had enough light to see by, even if the only thing to see was the sand rushing by below. Ulnah kept up with ease, her gossamer wings flapping as easily through water as they did in air, though Miles suspected she was, like the great horrors she had spawned from, as unaffected by them as they were by solid stone and earth.

Twenty seconds. How far had he come? Was that a storage chest? He hardly had time to stop and check at this point. At least "pressure" apparently wasn't a concern in madworld. Water didn't act even remotely like water in many ways, though that did mean he had no idea how deep he was. Should he surface? He could ascend quick, but not as quick as he could in the air, and he had to be at least eighty feet deep by now.

Twenty-five seconds. Didn't really have a choice now, he'd have to- wait. There, a tiny dot of pale yellow amidst grey and purple. Miles surged towards it, lungs burning. Sand. A single tiny patch of sand. He scraped at it to no avail, fingers simply distorting its grainy surface without managing to liberate a single grain.

Well that was madworld for you. He pulled out his drill, stabbing it into the surface and tearing into it just as he might for solid earth. Was it pure? Already tainted? Questions were fading as bubbles exploded out of his mouth. Dark spots danced in front of his vision as he swept everything into his hammerspace and struggled upwards, the endless black above showed no sign of giving way to air. Ulnah peered at him curiously in his desperate ascent, making no attempt to help as she watched.

He breathed. Foul liquid invaded his lungs, barely registering on his feebly struggling mind, still awake even as he died by virtue of the madworld logic, still spinning his tails that didn't burn even though he had no oxygen to feed them. He spasmed, still ascending, coughing out liquid even as he struggled not to breathe in more, harder and harder to stay conscious.

He erupted from the surface mid-spasm, a spray of glittering water drops spattering down around him as he spiralled uncontrollably through the air, straining to pull air into lungs and cough out liquid at the same time…

And his vision cleared, mind regained some of its clarity as he righted himself, spinning his tails to hover above the surface once more. Thanks to madworld's "glass half empty" principle, simply drawing in fresh air had refreshed his lungs instantly. And even if it left his body and head both throbbing painfully from the damage oxygen deprivation had wreaked upon them, what was a little brain damage when he'd found some sand on the beach? Things were finally looking up!

Light reflected off the water as the sun peeked from behind the shore. Miles glanced up to watch the first rays of dawn as he discarded handfuls of tainted sand back into the depths below so as to not risk tainting what he had found.

But the sky remained dark. The dawn never came.

The sun, only its blazing orange corona visible in the black sky above, was completely obscured by the moon in a total solar eclipse.

And then the monsters came.