So he was caught in yet another cycle. He encroached infinitely closer to annihilation. In yet another “global” skirmish. An eternal fight for the fate of the world. Men who may or may not have known better than him drawing blades and blood. He would be forced to pick up his sword and strike. Bodies would fall, his included, though he would always be the one to get up.
The sled-master drew closer with each stumbling frozen step. The coffin he dragged- An omen- A hint at an inevitable conclusion. The body inside was not his. Not now at least. Perhaps he was far too morbid for his own good. Perhaps there were three corpses here. The sled-master was withdrawn, shielding his sight by staring at a bare sun. He refused offers of sanctuary and food and spoke quickly and was off wandering back to wherever he was from- There was no home to return to. Despite the ferocities of this land he would return to a well-ish mannered world. He would die there, and the world would be all the worse for it. 
He could not live as one with the peoples of this world, nor among them, nor separate. He’d draw himself close to people and would be rejected. He’d draw himself away from people and they would encroach. It was curious. It was all just like play with particles- Blips of energy and people- Smashing together and running from each other and no matter the force they could never truly live together or as one. He had entrenched himself so thoroughly in the world, like slashing a map he left scars, the world (eagerly and properly) reciprocated. It would never be the same. He sought rest yet a new conflict crept closer, he could see it, like watching the spinning walls of a hurricane on a shore. He sought isolation yet people forced themselves on him. He wanted to be alone, yet he had a son. He had willingly extended his heritage- His blood- Though not his will. Even the one closest to him, be it by space or blood or mind, still secluded himself. He could not connect. His life still held strong, but he felt as if his soul was leaving his body. A doom crept across him, one far too intrusive to be stopped by mere flesh. It was like a ghost walked this world. Something which should not exist wandering about, each action soon to be erased and forgotten. A void which extends far beyond a minor splice of time.