Whoosh, whoosh...
A sound of turning illusory pages arose.
Amidst the rippling subconscious ocean of the Spirit Realm, countless streams of information manifested onto the Book of the Spirit World summoned by Hathaway.
In the beautiful light golden eyes of the Golden Elf, the surging longing and emotions gradually subsided.
She slightly raised her eyes, browsing through the manifested information within.
"In the Western Continent, over five hundred years have passed..."
"To be more precise, it's been five hundred and sixty-three years and seven months since the Lost Island entirely disappeared from the Western Continent."
"Truly, a long journey indeed."
The Golden Elf's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"So—"
Her voice paused slightly.
Hathaway gently waved her hand, and the golden magical outline in the Astral Realm slowly faded away.
"Five hundred years have passed..."
"Are you doing well?"
