"Just give this old man… five years! I will definitely succeed!"
Elder Doctor gritted his teeth and made a firm, almost military-like pledge.
"Good!"
Abyss slammed the table.
"Then it's settled! Elder Doctor, you are in charge of the Mother Worm Project! All other departments will provide full cooperation!"
The digestion crisis had, for now, found its solution.
The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly lightened.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Abyss asked casually:
"Oh, right—how's the research progress on Lord Lantern's vomiting?"
Dr. Buck immediately straightened. "I was just about to report that, Your Majesty!"
"Because the probiotics are so efficient, Lord Lantern's natural vomiting frequency has indeed dropped lower and lower—almost nonexistent in recent years."
"But!"
He shifted tone, pride flashing in his eyes. "We have successfully developed a special Den Den Mushi — the Vomit Mushi!"
"This creature can send targeted signals of nausea and dizziness directly to Lord Lantern's neural center, forcibly inducing a vomiting reaction!"
"After countless experiments, we can now precisely control the intensity and duration of each episode!"
"I officially announce—Lord Lantern's vomiting response is now completely controllable!"
A round of enthusiastic applause erupted throughout the room.
Even the knights, who didn't understand a word of the science behind it, clapped just as loudly.
This was another monumental breakthrough.
Abyss nodded, visibly pleased.
Everyone in the Stomach World was bound by the absolute Oath; their loyalty could not be doubted.
Now that both entry and exit were under control…
A thought long buried in Abyss's heart began to stir.
It was time—time to go out and see the world again.
A few days later, everything was ready.
On the special isolation platform of the Second Stomach Research Institute, a custom-made, streamlined, corrosion-resistant capsule quietly awaited departure.
Its hull was constructed from the newly developed ultra-corrosion-resistant alloy, its smooth surface gleaming coldly under the lights.
Abyss stood before the capsule as scientists made their final checks.
For this expedition, he had chosen to bring Hawkman Tucker.
As an aerial unit, Tucker's mobility would be invaluable once they reached the outside world.
"Wear this properly."
Abyss tossed him a pure gold ring.
"If we ever need to return, flip the ring to reveal the gold. Its glow will guide Lord Lantern to find us."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Tucker accepted it solemnly and slipped it onto his finger.
The two of them climbed into the capsule.
The hatch sealed shut, and the interior lights came on.
"Initiating vomiting procedure!"
Dr. Buck's voice came through the Den Den Mushi:
"Your Majesty, please prepare. Ten… nine… eight…"
Abyss drew a long breath.
Sixty-five years…
"…Three, two, one—initiate!"
Buzz—
The special Vomit Mushi emitted a low infrasound frequency, inaudible to human ears, but one that resonated with Lord Lantern's nerves.
The next instant, the world lurched.
"Rumble—"
The entire Stomach World trembled violently—as if struck by a magnitude-twelve earthquake!
The checkpoint gate opened, and the capsule was launched upward by a massive contractile surge, shooting rapidly through the esophagus!
Abyss and Tucker could only feel their surroundings spinning madly.
Whoosh—!!!
A torrent of yellow-green gastric fluid burst from Lord Lantern's colossal mouth like a celestial river breaching the heavens, cascading down onto the sea below!
The capsule, carried within that torrent, was flung high into the air before crashing into the ocean with a thunderous splash.
The hatch popped open.
The salty sea breeze rushed in.
Abyss stood, breathing greedily.
Blue sky. White clouds. Sunlight. Sea.
After sixty-five years, he finally saw the light of day again.
The sun was dazzling—he instinctively squinted.
A ninety-year-old soul in a twenty-five-year-old body, he felt disoriented, almost dreamlike.
"Your Majesty, are you alright?"
Tucker asked, wings spread wide as he scanned the area vigilantly.
Having only entered the Stomach World days ago, Tucker naturally didn't share the same depth of emotion about seeing daylight.
"I'm fine," Abyss said hoarsely, shaking his head.
He gazed around.
The vast blue sea stretched endlessly, and bits of debris expelled alongside them slowly sank into the waves.
Sixty-five years… What has the outside world become?
Tucker adjusted the record pointer. "Your Majesty, the nearest island is in this direction."
"Let's go."
Abyss nodded.
Tucker transformed fully into his hawk form, carefully lifted Abyss onto his back, and soared upward!
The strong wind whipped against Abyss's face as the sea fell away beneath them.
Flying freely through open sky—this feeling was utterly different from being trapped within a stomach.
Abyss stared into the vast blue expanse, lost in thought.
Sixty-five years of isolation. Five years of planning.
By some strange impulse, he reached into his coat and pulled out an old, weathered Den Den Mushi.
It was the first-generation model, recovered from that pirate ship so long ago—and he had kept it all this time.
Now, free from Lord Lantern's internal shielding, the Den Den Mushi stirred to life once more.
Abyss's fingers trembled slightly as they dialed the number etched in his memory for sixty-five long years.
Bururu… Bururu…
The busy tone rang in his ears—each ring pounding against his heart.
Sixty-five years… Could it still connect?
Was the person on the other end still alive?
His heart pounded; his hand shook.
Click.
The line connected.
"Hello? Hello?"
The Den Den Mushi mimicked an old, wrinkled face. Its voice was hoarse and frail, carrying the slow tone of age.
Abyss opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His throat felt blocked, his breath caught.
Sixty-five years of longing, loneliness, and struggle—all of it surged within him, threatening to drown him.
"Hello? Can you not hear me?"
The old man's voice wavered with confusion, ready to hang up.
"Wait!"
Abyss finally found his voice. It came out deep, trembling with suppressed emotion.
"Abel! It's me!"
"Abel, it's me! Your brother—Arefati Abyss!"
The other end of the line fell completely silent.
Then—bang!
The sharp sound of something shattering echoed through.
This was followed by frantic, uneven gasps, and finally—an incredulous, almost broken scream:
"Are… are you kidding?!"
That name! The name of the brother he had thought lost to the sea sixty-five years ago!
That voice! Though steadier and deeper, the tone and rhythm—undeniably his brother's!
But how could it be?
He, Abel, was ninety-six years old now—frail and nearing death.
And his brother, who vanished at twenty-five…
If he were truly still alive—he should be ninety as well!