“What did the sage say we were sailing into?” The first mate asked.
“A Temporal Storm, whatever that is,” The pilot replied. The wooden ship creaked and groaned against the waves. “Alls I know is if it is a storm, the wind should’ve picked up by now.”
“He said it wasn’t a rainstorm, but a something about time.”
“Like, it’ll be lunchtime before breakfast?” The pilot checked the position of the sun with his instruments and frowned. “That’ll make navigation difficult.”
“I think it’s a bit bigger than that,” The first mate said, as they sailed past the giant robot.

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