Gawain felt his senses sharpening, his mind growing clearer, and his control over his new body becoming fluid. He finally had the energy to turn his attention to the young girl still held by the knights nearby.
"So… what's her story?" he asked, eyeing the half-elf girl.
The girl had been doing her best to shrink into the shadows, hoping the Cecil family's focus on their "ancestor" would somehow lead them to forget the minor matter of a grave-robber intruding upon their sacred ground. But before she could find a chance to escape, Gawain's gaze landed on her, and she could only shrink further, putting on a pitiful look.
"I… I just wanted to hide…" she muttered, looking as innocent as she could manage.
"Hide?" Hetty immediately turned on her, eyes flashing. "Hiding involves sneaking all the way to the deepest chamber of the family crypt?" She looked to Gawain. "Ancestor, this is the lowly grave-robber who defiled your resting place and disturbed your slumber!"
Gawain blinked, turning his gaze back to the half-elf girl, an odd look crossing his face. "So… you're saying… you're the one who 'woke' me up?"
The unfortunate thief's face twisted with dread. If she could shrink her head down to her shoulders, she would have done so. Her voice came out in a nervous stammer. "I-I didn't do anything! I swear! I was just looking for a safe place to hide… then one thing led to another, and I sort of… crawled my way into the tomb. But I didn't touch anything!"
Gawain thought for a moment and, with surprising sincerity, said, "Well, thanks."
The half-elf thief's eyes went wide. "... Huh?"
Rebecca, Hetty, and the knights all exchanged baffled looks. "... What?"
"Ahem, you four can let her go now," Gawain said awkwardly, realizing his words had drawn confused stares. "It doesn't look right for four grown men to be holding down a girl. Doesn't quite fit the whole knightly chivalry thing… yes, knightly chivalry."
Hetty hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. "But Ancestor, she's a…!"
"I actually owe her for waking me from my slumber," Gawain insisted with a nonchalant wave. "Let her go. I don't mind, so why should you?"
With a resigned glance at Hetty, the knight Byron sheathed his sword and stepped back. The other soldiers followed suit, lowering their weapons. The half-elf thief glanced around, her relief evident as she cautiously rose to her feet.
"I mean… you're a senior family member, right?" she asked Gawain, her tone filled with disbelief. "So… you're serious about letting me go, right?"
Hetty's eye twitched, and it took every ounce of her noble composure to restrain herself from tearing into the impudent thief.
Curious, Gawain studied the half-elf. From his inherited memories, he could tell she was a mixed-blood elf. "What's your name?"
"Amber," she replied, blinking up at him.
"Amber?" Gawain echoed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "That does sound a bit like a forest elf name…"
Before he could continue, Hetty's voice interrupted them sharply, her tone tense. "Ancestor, forgive me, but this is not the time for idle chat. We're far from safe here!"
Gawain refocused, slipping into his new role more naturally. He turned to Hetty with a serious expression. "What's happening outside?"
"Monsters!" Rebecca spoke up loudly, unable to hold back her frustration any longer. "They're swarming in from Selindale and the mines! Our soldiers and guards have no chance against them—those creatures have probably taken over everything by now…"
"We did our best to resist," Hetty added, a faint pride in her voice. "Before the situation deteriorated, we managed to evacuate some of the townsfolk under Sir Philip's escort. But before the second wave of refugees could escape, the monsters destroyed the drawbridge. Rebecca and I fought alongside our men until the inner gate was breached, and only then did we retreat here."
Through their accounts, Gawain gradually pieced together the full story.
This place, he realized, was the ancestral land of the Cecil family, passed down through generations. Rebecca, the young girl who looked barely old enough to wield a staff, was actually the current lord of these lands. Despite her inexperience, she had organized a defense against the monsters. But the effort was ultimately futile—the creatures had overrun all defenses and ravaged everything in their path. After evacuating the first wave of survivors, Rebecca and her knights had been trapped in the castle, battling until their last stand forced them to seek refuge here in the crypt.
And that was when he, Gawain, had awoken—or, rather, taken possession of his new form.
The elegant woman, Hetty, was in fact Rebecca's aunt. But all these family connections held little meaning to Gawain—after all, whether they were ten generations removed or one, they were still his descendants.
The half-elf, Amber, meanwhile, was indeed a thief by profession, though her intentions hadn't exactly been to rob the crypt. She had, quite genuinely, sought shelter from the chaos above. Her skills as a rogue, however, were so refined that she had somehow managed to burrow all the way into the deepest chamber of the Cecil family tomb…
"So I wake up… to this?" Gawain muttered, rubbing his temples as he tried to come to terms with the chaotic state of affairs. "So you're telling me those monsters have taken over everything above? Leaving here means walking straight to death? And—just to clarify—what exactly are these 'monsters'?"
"My best guess is that they're a kind of lesser demon," Hetty said, though her tone held uncertainty. "But demons haven't been seen on the material plane in centuries, much less in numbers like this."
Rebecca gripped her staff tightly, her gaze hopeful as she looked at Gawain. "Ancestor… are you really powerless against those creatures?"
Gawain froze. "Me?"
"Yes! You're legendary as the strongest knight in Auns, even the entire northern continent!" Rebecca's eyes shone with admiration. "It's said you defeated the barbarian warlord Gulgur with a single strike…"
Gawain quickly sifted through his newly acquired memories and found himself taken aback. This body—Gawain Cecil—had been quite the legendary figure!
He was a hero of the Auns Kingdom's founding era, known as one of the earliest and greatest pioneers during the kingdom's formation. In the aftermath of the collapse of the ancient Gondor Empire, when humanity was thrust into chaos, Gawain Cecil had led one of the groups that fled the empire's ruins. He and his companions journeyed north, forging a new land from the wilderness and founding the Auns Kingdom.
He was young when he started—only fifteen—and rose to become one of the kingdom's Seven Generals, defending the southern border against the dark tides that threatened to swallow the land. Over a short but illustrious life, he had never known defeat.
But like a candle burning too brightly, his life was cut short at the age of thirty-five, dying heroically in one final battle against the dark forces.
The memories stopped there.
This was the life of Gawain Cecil—a hero, a knight, and a man of unyielding courage.
Gawain felt a twitch at his temple. He had possessed the body of a legendary figure!
He took a steadying breath, resisting any urge to be daunted by the realization. He was neither jubilant nor overwhelmed—his primary reaction was a sense of unease.
Rebecca looked up at him, her eyes shining with hope, while Amber, the thief, and even the composed Hetty watched him with silent expectation. They were all looking at *Gawain Cecil*, not the man he had once been.
He looked down at his hands—strong, calloused, and bearing the unmistakable marks of a warrior. But as for how much strength he could wield in this body… he wasn't entirely sure.
Yet, the uncertainty didn't last long, for Gawain's own memories surged forward, spanning thousands, if not tens of thousands, of years. Though lacking in specific knowledge, these memories held one invaluable asset—unshakable confidence.
Yes, he was intimidated by Gawain Cecil's legendary past, but dwelling on it wouldn't help his current predicament. Instead, he had to center himself and focus on the task at hand.
The source of his confidence was simple:
Long before the intelligent races of this continent had even learned to walk upright, he had been watching over this world.
These memories might not provide any immediate solutions, but they fortified his resolve. Now, all he needed was to gather his courage and find a way out of this.
Once he calmed himself, the beginnings of a plan started to form in his mind. Searching through Gawain Cecil's memories, he discovered a useful piece of information.
"Fighting our way out isn't realistic," he said, stroking his chin in thought. "I've been asleep too long to be certain of my own strength, and we don't know how powerful these monsters truly are. Our best chance is to find a way to evade them and reach safety."
"But the drawbridge was destroyed, and all other exits are blocked…" Rebecca replied, her expression falling.
Gawain held up a hand to stop her. "Underground. The Cecil estate was once part of the southern defensive line of the kingdom. There's a system of hidden tunnels beneath the castle, blessed by earth elementals to last a thousand years without collapse. The entrance to this tunnel network is below the castle."
Rebecca's eyes lit up with excitement. "There's a way out? Then what are we waiting for? Lead the way, Ancestor!"
Gawain raised a hand with a rueful smile. "There's one slight problem. I only know the way from the castle… not from here in the crypt."
Rebecca looked at him in surprise. "You've been here all this time and you don't know the way out?"
Gawain: "…"
The knights and soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. "…"
Hetty's face turned pale, and she felt her ancestor's patience was already being tested by her frustratingly naive descendant…