Gawain awoke to find himself in a pitch-black, cramped space, surrounded by the faint scent of decay. As he reached out, fingers brushing against the cold stone walls, memories of drifting above an unfamiliar land for eons slowly returned. For tens of thousands of years, he had existed as a bodiless spirit, an invisible observer of time and space, with only his thoughts for company. The endless solitude had nearly erased his sense of self.
But today, he felt something new—touch. He had finally acquired a body, a physical form.
Yet, this “container” felt ominously wrong. Though he longed for a body, he hadn’t expected it to come in the form of something sealed in a coffin. How he came to inhabit this vessel was a mystery, but he knew one thing for certain: he was currently entombed in a burial box.
With a bitter laugh, he realized his journey as a “complete” traveler across worlds would begin by clawing his way out of a grave—not exactly the rebirth he’d imagined.
Using all his newfound strength, Gawain struggled to push open the heavy coffin lid. His unused muscles ached and strained, but the sensation of real, physical power thrilled him. After several attempts, he finally dislodged the stone cover, letting a thin ray of light pierce the darkness.
“At last… a glimpse of the world again.”
