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The fleet returned along the route it had come, heading back toward the misty border. Perhaps because the massive entity known as Holy Land Island had sunk, the surrounding seas were far from calm. The ocean's mirror-like surface constantly rippled with dense, overlapping waves like fish scales, while bizarre phantoms flickered endlessly within the thick fog around them—leaving many on edge.

Yet even after they had covered half the journey, no truly threatening entity emerged from the mist.

The Spirit Body Sail hung high overhead, its ropes occasionally creaking softly as their angles shifted. Thin mist flowed across the deck of the Lost Homeland, and Agatha's figure appeared faintly within it as she walked through the fog.

She was inspecting the "environment" around the Lost Homeland. At that moment, both the scenery of the real dimension and that of the Spirit World were reflected in her eyes. The surrounding mist differed somewhat from when they had arrived, and the Spirit World itself seemed faintly restless. Though it did not appear likely to affect the Lost Homeland, she remained concerned and heightened her vigilance.

The others had gathered in the ship's cabin, where the captain was speaking with his followers about the Abyssal Deep Sea.

Before the crew he trusted, Duncan did not conceal what he had experienced in the Abyssal Deep Sea, including the content of his conversation with the Abyssal Lord.

Morris sat beside the long table with a pipe between his lips. Wisps of smoke drifted through the air, seemingly betraying his unsettled state of mind. After a long while, the old scholar finally set down his pipe and muttered with a complicated expression, "I've seen many unbelievable things in my life, but never anything like this. The creator of this world actually invited you to take over