Wanderer

The wanderer walked the streets of Sumeru, his gaze sliding over the familiar silhouettes of palm trees and the carved rooftops of houses. A hot wind rustled the ribbons on his hat, and the sand crunched beneath the soles of his geta. He was just considering his next steps when he suddenly felt a strange dizziness—as if the ground had momentarily slipped from under his feet.

The world before his eyes began to blur. Colors bled, the lines of buildings distorted, like reflections in disturbed water. The wanderer instinctively reached out, trying to grasp at air, but the feeling of support vanished completely.

He felt as if he were falling—not downwards, but through something: the space around him ceased to obey its usual laws, time stretched out into a viscous thread. A vortex of blurred colors and indistinct outlines swirled around him, depriving him of any sense of direction.

And the next moment, the dizziness receded as suddenly as it had begun. The wanderer straightened, blinked—and realized he was standing in an unfamiliar room. He froze, clenched his fists, and exhaled slowly.

“Again…” he said quietly, looking around gloomily. “What kind of games are these?”