Chapter Six – Echoes of the Past
The northern winds whispered through the towering trees, their rustling leaves singing the song of an ancient world long forgotten. The road stretched ahead, winding like a lazy river toward the horizon. It was a familiar sight—endless landscapes, changing ever so slightly with each passing day.
Yet, for the first time in centuries, it felt different.
Gilgamesh walked in step with the group, his golden eyes half-lidded in quiet contemplation. He was a man who had ruled civilizations, commanded armies, and stood atop the world itself. And now, he was here, walking the same roads as a wandering mage, an apprentice, and a warrior still learning his own strength.
And it did not bother him.
In fact, it was… refreshing.
Ahead, Frieren glanced back at him. "You're quiet."
"I have always been quiet," Gilgamesh replied smoothly. "It is others who fill the silence."
Stark scratched his head awkwardly. "Yeah, but it's kinda weird. You've got this… I dunno, presence? Even when you're not talking, I can still feel you there."
Fern nodded slightly, adjusting her glasses. "I agree. Even when you're not saying anything, it's like the air shifts around you."
Gilgamesh let out a quiet chuckle. "An old habit of kings."
Frieren hummed in thought. "You don't act like a king."
"No?"
She shook her head. "Not like the ones I've met. The human kings are usually obsessed with power or legacy. They're loud about their ambitions."
Gilgamesh's smirk was almost imperceptible. "Because they are mortal."
He glanced at her, his gaze like polished gold. "For them, every moment is fleeting. Their power, their rule, their very existence—temporary. That is why they cling so desperately to it. But for those like us, who live beyond mortal lifespans… legacy is meaningless."
Fern frowned. "Is that why you slept? Because you thought everything was pointless?"
Gilgamesh was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"Not pointless," he said. "Just… inevitable."
Frieren's grip on her staff tightened slightly. She understood those words more than she cared to admit.
Gilgamesh noticed. His eyes lingered on her, as if studying something deeper than just her expression.
But he said nothing.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward the distant mountains. "There is a settlement up ahead, is there not?"
Frieren nodded. "A small village. We were planning to restock supplies there."
"Good," Gilgamesh murmured. "Perhaps the past will leave its mark there."
The others exchanged glances.
"What does that mean?" Stark asked.
Gilgamesh smiled faintly. "The world forgot me once. But I wonder if fragments remain."
And with that, he walked ahead, leading the way.
For the first time in ten thousand years, he was stepping into a world that no longer remembered him.
But that was about to change.