"HAHAHAHA—You're fucking strong, Oceannus! Aaah—This is so damn annoying, why isn't there any booze here?! Fighting alongside heroes, singing at the top of our lungs, and guzzling fine liquor—that's the best kind of life, isn't it?!"
Despite not having touched a drop of alcohol, Francis Drake was already acting as though she were drunk, raising hell on the deck.
"Boss, please calm down already. The other ships have all started fighting, and we—" First Mate Bonney was practically in tears as he hurried over to dissuade her.
"Then hurry up and fire the cannons! Stop dawdling around here!" Drake kicked Bonney away.
Meanwhile, aboard the Argo, Jason had finished his little breakdown and entered the exhausted lull after his burst of excitement.
"Ahh, Medea. I can't go on..."
Jason looked like he was about to die, lying blissfully and peacefully in the arms of a thoroughly disgusted Medea.
"Oceannus, my great senior, and Heracles are both here. I'm just too happy..."
Atalanta was about to lose her mind, especially with Artemis and Orion over there making her eyelids twitch uncontrollably.
"Medea, stop minding that lump of garbage!"
She drew her bow, called out to Medea with listless irritation, and fired an arrow.
"[Phoebus Catastrophe](Phoebus Catastrophe)!!!"
A rain of swords fell from the sky. Around here, Atalanta was somehow the only one actually doing her job.
Oh, and David too. He was temporarily standing aboard the Argo as well.
A mischievous smile curled at his lips as he glanced at Atalanta, who stood beside him recovering her magical energy.
"Well, while it may be somewhat strange for someone in my position to appear in the Temple of Time, there's nothing wrong with a father evaluating his own child, is there?"
Several stones hung from a cord, which he spun around in