An ancient three-masted sailboat was navigating through a tumultuous storm in the sea.
It was not fast and its displacement was lacking. With the weather and the sea looking like a cataclysmic scene, the sailboat was like a withered leaf separated from its tree. However, regardless of how the typhoons rampaged or how terrifying the waves were, it continued sailing peacefully without any signs of tilting.
Alger Wilson stood on the empty deck as he looked at the massive waves that resembled mountains. His thoughts were a mystery.
It's going to be Monday again… he muttered silently to himself.
It was the day belonging to Earth Mother, the beginning of a series of waxing and waning.
However, it meant something different to Alger. It belonged to a mysterious existence forever enveloped in grayish-white fog.
At least I haven't been reduced to a madman… He stopped looking around as he gave a self-deprecating chuckle.
