Chapter Seven – The Nameless Village
The village was small.
A simple place, nestled within the northern woods, its wooden houses sturdy against the harsh elements. The people here were quiet, their lives routine—farmers, hunters, and merchants who had long accepted the simplicity of their existence.
But the moment Gilgamesh stepped onto the main road, the air shifted.
People turned. Their instincts whispered of something beyond comprehension.
They didn't know why, but something about him felt ancient.
A blacksmith, hammering away at a forge, froze mid-strike. A merchant, counting coins, forgot his numbers. A child, playing in the dirt, stared with wide, unblinking eyes.
It was the presence of a king.
Gilgamesh ignored the stares. He had walked among mortals before. This was nothing new.
Frieren, Fern, and Stark followed behind him, the weight of his presence making them feel like outsiders in their own world.
"They're staring at us," Stark muttered.
"No," Fern corrected. "They're staring at him."
Gilgamesh stopped in front of an old woman tending to a small garden. Her hands were wrinkled, her hair silver with age. Yet, when her gaze met his, a flicker of something ancient sparked in her eyes.
"You…" she whispered.
Gilgamesh turned to her. "Do you remember me, old one?"
The woman's breath hitched. "Not me," she said. "But… I've heard the stories."
The others stiffened.
Frieren stepped forward. "What stories?"
The old woman's gaze never left Gilgamesh. "Tales from my grandmother… and her grandmother before her. Stories of a golden king who once walked the world. A ruler of a lost kingdom, whose name was erased by time itself."
Her hands trembled slightly. "They said if he ever returned… the world would change."
Silence fell over the village.
Frieren glanced at Gilgamesh. He was unmoved, as if hearing his own legend from the mouth of a stranger was merely a mild curiosity.
But there was something sharp in his gaze.
As if he, too, was realizing that not everything had been erased.
The old woman swallowed hard. "What… what do you seek, golden one?"
Gilgamesh tilted his head slightly. "I do not know," he admitted. "Perhaps… a reason to remain awake."
The woman hesitated. Then, slowly, she bowed.
The other villagers, seeing this, did the same.
One by one.
A quiet, wordless acknowledgment.
They did not know who he was. But their souls remembered.
Frieren watched as the golden king simply stood there, watching the mortals bow before him.
And for the first time since they met, she wondered—
Had the world truly forgotten him?
Or had it merely been waiting for him to return?
These chapters expand on Gilgamesh's presence, building intrigue around his forgotten legacy while keeping the pacing and tone in line with Frieren. His impact on the world is subtle yet undeniable, and the mystery surrounding his awakening deepens. Let me know if you'd like any refinements or the next chapters!