The ship soared across the skies for days, cutting through endless shifts of weather—blazing sunlight that turned the horizon gold, moonless nights that shrouded them in deep shadows, storms that lashed their vessel with howling winds and sheets of rain, and snowfalls so thick it seemed the world itself had been buried under silence.

Inside the ship, the crew moved like a single heartbeat. Dhyāna, seated cross-legged in the map room, traced his fingers along the parchment, eyes half-closed as if sensing the location with more than just sight. “Sir,” he said, his voice resonant and calm, “we’ve arrived. This is where he resides.”

Ryūjin stepped forward, his presence as commanding as ever, though the years had carved sharper lines into his face. His gaze swept over the map and then lifted to the horizon beyond the ship’s prow. The air around him seemed to hum, charged with energy. “Good. I can already sense it. The power is like a beacon, aye? And he’s not alone. He’s built a crew, just like ours.”

Freddie’s eyes sparked with excitement, the young man’s grin cocky. “Aye, boss, a whole band of ‘em. Let’s show ‘em what legends look like, shall we?”

Evee, leaning against the ship’s railing, nodded, her expression serious. “We’ve fought too many battles to let some upstarts think they can stand toe-to-toe with us.”

Hawk’s voice came from the shadows, a hint of a smile beneath his mask. “This isn’t just any battle, though, is it? If the rumors are true, this will be our greatest challenge.”

Ryūjin’s eyes narrowed, the crimson aura he’d long since mastered flickering at his forearms like embers. “DORAAAHAHAHA! Let ‘em come, Hawk. The storm they’re facing isn’t just wind and rain—it’s the fury of a man who’s carved his name into the bones of history.”

Dhyāna’s gaze shifted to Ryūjin, his expression unreadable. “Remember, power is as fleeting as breath. Choose your steps wisely, sir.”

The ship dipped below the clouds, revealing a fortress carved into the mountainside, banners flapping like wings in the morning wind. Figures moved below, silhouettes against the stone, ready for what they knew would be the clash of titans.

As the ship cut through the skies, each adventure etched itself into the hearts of the crew. Years turned into decades, and the battles they fought became tales whispered on the winds. Now, a century later, those legends partying, their bodies weary but their spirits unbroken.

The ship was filled with laughter and the clinking of tankards. Ryūjin, now 100 years old, sat on his stone chair, Age had hollowed his cheeks, and his hair, now pure white, hung in thin waves. He was frail, a shadow of the colossus he once was, but his eyes still burned with that old fire.

Freddie, now a man seasoned by years of battles and adventures, raised his tankard. “To the boss, the storm, the legend that none could match!” His Scottish brogue still as thick as ever, now tinged with a touch of nostalgia.

Evee, her face lined but still sharp and fierce, leaned over to Ryūjin, a smirk playing on her lips. “Ye’re too stubborn to die, old man. Even sickness couldn’t claim ye.”

Ryūjin let out a laugh, raspy but deep. “DORAAAHAHAHA! I’m not done, lass. Not ‘til I’ve seen ye all drink me under this table, aye?” He coughed, a hacking sound that silenced the room for a moment, before his smile chased the worry away.

Hawk stood at the edge of the room, his mask gone but the sharpness in his eyes still keen. “Even now, sir, you command this hall as if it were the sky itself.”

Dhyāna, still poised and calm after all these years, poured another drink, a rare glint of amusement on his face. “Perhaps power is fleeting, but legacy… that stays.”

Ryūjin’s voice, weakened but filled with resolve, echoed in the hall. “Aye, lads and lasses. We might be battle-worn, sick, or old, but the tales they’ll tell… they’ll whisper our names long after the stars forget the sky.”

And so everyone on the ship laughed, drank, and told stories, the echoes of their past roaring with life even in their twilight years.

And now we finally see what Eleo group is up to.The path ahead was dense with towering fungi, their glowing caps casting a soft, eerie light over the group as they trekked through the underbrush. Eleo bounded ahead, his ears perked with excitement, while Timmy led them cautiously, eyes darting to every shadow. Tony shuffled behind, the clatter of his skeletal feet on the moss-covered ground punctuating the silence, and Kenji walked with measured steps, eyes as sharp as ever. Olorun brought up the rear, a slight smirk on his face as he watched his companions.

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Timmy’s voice, small but steady, broke the silence. “Guys, I think we’re almost there. The path leads straight to world 2.”

Olorun exhaled, his brows furrowing. “Finally. Feels like we’ve been chasing this place for ages,” he said, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

Timmy glanced back to Eleo, Tony and Kenji, his face puzzled. “Hey, where did those mud clones of yours go? You know, the ones that looked like of you guys ?”

Eleo’s eyes widened, his whiskers twitching in surprise. “We had clones?!”

Olorun stifled a laugh. “Ya, and you guys kept muttering ‘Huh huh’ like a bunch of freaks.”

Kenji rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “As long as we don’t meet those copies again, I couldn’t care less.”

Tony’s sockets seemed to brighten, and he chuckled dryly. “Oh, but wouldn’t that be interesting? Another Tony, and I don’t get the pleasure of a good old fight. What a shame.”

They trudged on until Olorun’s keen eyes spotted something unusual up ahead. He stopped, one arm raised. “Wait… Look. A house.”

The group’s eyes followed his gesture to a small, crooked hut nestled among the roots of an ancient tree. Through the window, they saw a hunched figure stirring a bubbling cauldron, a thin wisp of smoke curling from its mouth. Olorun’s eyes narrowed as he whispered, “I think I know that old hag.”

Kenji smirked, a rare flash of amusement crossing his usually stoic face. “What, Olorun? Did you have sex with her once or something?”

Eleo’s eyes widened innocently, and he tugged at Tony’s bony arm. “Tony, what’s ‘does sex mean?”

Tony cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “Ah, well, my boy, it’s… something I’ll explain when you’re older.”

Olorun’s voice cut in, sharp and irritated. “No, you idiot. That’s the hag who gave me this.” He lifted the small, enchanted bag at his waist.

Kenji’s smirk turned into a knowing nod. “Ah, right.I remember You sold half your soul for that thing, didn’t you?”

Olorun clicked his tongue. “Ah ah ah—tiny, infinite-sized bag. Get it right.” He shrugged. “Not like anything bad’s come of it… yet.”

Timmy’s eyes were wide with worry. “Olorun, hags are clever, highly magical beings. They delight in causing suffering and their powers grow when they collect souls. They could have masked minions, illusions, even hostages.”

Olorun met Timmy’s gaze, his expression half-serious, half-amused. “I know, little one, but I’m not letting an old crone keep my soul on a shelf. It’s mine, and I’m here to take it back.”

Eleo’s brow furrowed as he spoke, “But… you just said nothing bad’s happened to you. Why risk it?”

A small, dangerous smile played on Olorun’s lips. “Because, Eleo, I don’t like owing anyone anything, especially not a hag.”

With that, he strode up to the door and knocked, each tap echoing in the quiet. The creaking door swung open, revealing the hag’s wrinkled face, eyes glinting like coals. Her voice was a hiss. “Ah, it’s you. What do you want, boy? Our deal was sealed.”

Olorun leaned against the frame, folding his arms with a practiced air of nonchalance. “I want my soul back, old lady. Hand it over.”

The hag’s cracked lips curled into a wicked grin. “Your soul? No, no, dearie. You sold it to me, fair and square. Besides, what would a beautiful woman like me do without a keepsake like that?”

Olorun’s laugh started low and grew, rolling out in a burst of deep, infectious sound. He doubled over, tears in his eyes. “Ahahaha! A beautiful woman, you say? Good one, hag.”

Kenji glanced sideways at the others, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This is going to be interesting.”

Tony sighed, the creak of his bones audible. “As always, it seems we’ve stumbled into another mess. Brace yourselves, guys.”

Timmy swallowed hard, shifting nervously. “This might not end well…”

Olorun stood up abruptly, his towering frame looming over the cracked stone floor of the dimly lit chamber. A fierce look of determination flashed in his eyes as he slapped his face, clearing the last remnants of confusion. His voice, deep and resonant, carried a steely resolve. “Enough games. Give me my soul back, old woman. You won’t like what happens if I have to force it out of you.”

The old hag, hunched over with wild, silvery hair falling in tangles around her lined face, met Olorun’s eyes with a smirk that revealed her yellowed teeth. The shadows in the room seemed to flicker as she spoke, her voice cracked but sharp. “Oh, you think you’ve figured it all out, do you? Go on, boy. Take a look under your pants.”

Olorun’s brow furrowed. “Under my pants?” He glanced down at the dusty floor, still not grasping her meaning. “What are you talking about, you crone? There’s nothing but your filthy floor here.”

The hag’s grin widened, eyes glinting with mischief. “No, fool. Under your pants.”

Before Olorun could react, Kenji stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Without warning, he yanked Olorun’s pants down. The sudden chill against his skin snapped Olorun out of his confusion as his hands instinctively moved to cover himself. “HEY! What in the—” The words died in his throat as he looked down.

Silence blanketed the room, save for the faint creaking of the old wooden beams above. Olorun’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then the reality hit him like a punch to the gut. “What... NO WAY. IT’S GONE!” His voice cracked with shock, reverberating off the stone walls.

Timmy, who had been cautiously watching from the corner, took hesitant steps forward, his tiny eyes wide as he peered up at Olorun’s anguished face. He swallowed, his voice trembling. “Oh my goodness... It really is gone.”

Tony, ever the composed figure, adjusted his cufflinks, his expression a mixture of sympathy and restrained amusement. “I must admit, this is... unprecedented,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Eleo, unable to hold back any longer, burst out laughing, the sound high-pitched and contagious. Kenji smirked, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. “This is the funniest thing I’ve seen in years,” he said, half-chuckling.

“Enough!” Olorun’s voice boomed, cutting through the laughter. His face was a storm of embarrassment and fury, eyes locked onto the hag who stood across the room, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “What kind of twisted trick is this?”

The old hag tilted her head, the lines on her face deepening as she spoke with an air of practiced nonchalance. “You’re a simple man, Olorun. I knew you’d come looking for your soul, so I decided to take something else first. Something that would really get your attention.”

Tony sighed, placing a skeletal hand over his eye socket as if massaging away a nonexistent headache. “Predictable yet disturbingly effective. You truly have a knack for the theatrical, madam.”

The hag’s eyes flicked to Tony, and for a brief moment, her expression softened into something almost flirtatious. “Why, thank you, handsome skeleton. Even after all these years, it’s nice to hear a compliment.”

Tony’s other hand shot up in a gesture of refusal. “No, no. Let’s not make this any more bizarre than it already is.”

Olorun clenched his fists, the tension in the room thickening. “You’ll pay for this,” he growled, his voice a mix of fury and mortification.

Eleo, wiping tears from his eyes, couldn’t resist adding, “Hey, old lady, why’d you steal his thing? I mean, it’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

The hag’s laugh was low and eerie. “Because a man like him can only be humbled in one way: by taking something he values, yet takes for granted.”

Kenji’s smirk faded, eyes narrowing with newfound understanding. “You knew he’d come for his soul and planned all of this ahead. You’re more cunning than you let on.”

The hag bowed her head, a mocking gesture. “It’s not just magic, boys. It’s foresight. Now, Olorun, let’s see if you’re as brave without your... pride.”