By now, the number of human scum who had died at his hands outnumbered his fingers. It wasn’t an achievement he was proud of, nor one he despised. In the cruel reality of this world, survival demanded a brutal acceptance of violence, a harsh truth he had learned the hard way, each lesson carved deeper by multiple deaths.

But he could sense Garba’s concern went beyond Kaiser’s past encounters. The old man was worried about the villagers’ safety, if ever Kai had killed one of them. After all, it was Garba who vouched for him and his companions, and if any harm came to the villagers because of that, Garba, as the supposed guardian would have conflicted opinion towards him, regardless of his status as a Player.

Kaiser shrugged, trying to ease the tension. "Just a few bandits, nothing much. Why?"

Garba’s tense expression softened, though a flicker of caution remained. "Good. I just needed to be sure, lad. Another reason I ask is because I see you’ve already crossed the hardest part of combat—accepting the need to kill, no matter who or what stands in your way. For someone so young to have that resolve... it’s commendable." He sighed, a faraway look in his eyes. "Most people spend years struggling with that burden, if they ever manage it at all. That’s why few pick up a weapon in the first place. Not everyone has the heart for it. I still remember my cowardly peers, talking big and mighty until the time came to prove it. In the end, they either died a fool’s death or abandoned their swords."

He glanced down at his own blade, the elegant Windslayer, tracing a finger along its edge with a look that seemed almost reverent.

"Know this, Kaiser," he said, voice steady. "When you decide to wield a sword, you must be prepared to take a life. If you can’t commit to that, set down your blade now and walk away. I won’t waste time mentoring a fool destined to die an idiotic death."

If only the old swordsman knew that his young disciple had already done what he described—and would likely do so again for he can't die, anyway. On the bright side, he supposed Garba was lucky.

‘Old man, if only you knew dying is beneath your current student,’ Kaiser thought, suppressing a smirk as he focused on Garba’s speech once more.

"Every battle is a dance of life and death, Kaiser. Its creatures are locked in a struggle to kill each other, and those who survive are simply the better killers.” His gaze sharpened, meeting Kaiser’s. “If hesitation doesn’t plague you, then I trust that when you strike, you’ll strike true. It save us a lot of trouble, too. I don’t want to be wandering the wilderness looking for some unlucky souls just to ‘temper’ your heart, better yet, an outlaw. Though, even then, it’s yet to be seen if you truly have what it takes to be a warrior."

Fortunately, there was no need for that—Kaiser had already stained his hands red, albeit unwillingly at first. That brutal reality had tempered his mindset, pushing his swordsmanship forward by leaps and bounds. Despite never undergoing formal training, he had faced enough real battles to develop instincts sharper than any drill could provide and a hardened heart honed by merciless reality - something a mere training in an enclosed, secured environment could never hope to give. Practice was one thing, but actual combat was another. As someone who went through a hellish war against the bandits, Kaiser knew that better than anyone else.

A man might train for a hundred days, yet still fall to someone hardened by the raw, unforgiving truth of survival. There are no restraints, assurance and kindness in war, just pure determination to kill one another and those who are fortunate enough to have survived either rise as tempered warriors or a broken man.

Still, although an actual battle's enlightenment outweighs secured training, both sides had its own benefits and only by reaping both could a truly formidable warrior be born. Take the Hunters leader, Alfred, for example.

Kaiser raised a hand.

"So... Now that I've heard plenty of that. Can we practice some moves now?" He said, a hint of impatience touching his tone.

Kai was really eager to begin practicing real swordsmanship, to know how to properly swing a blade, shift between offense and defense and swiftly maneuver his blade as if it were his own limb. Which can only be achieved through relentless practice, an expert guidance from a master would make it more efficient and effective in lesser time but greater progress. With an elderly swordmaster help, hopefully, Kai could finally abandon his crude way of handling a sword out of pure instinct, replaced by fluid technique of someone who had understood the underlying fundamentals of wielding a blade.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

However, the old master isn't to be interrupted.

"Sshhhh! Quite, brat. And don't even think about talking back to your teacher when his instilling valuable knowledge in that naive brain of yours." The old man clicked his tongue, leaving Kaiser disappointed.

'More explanations, huh. Fine, I could listen here all day.'

Garba cleared his throat, tapping the pommel of his sword with a practiced hand as he once again began. "Now, Kaiser, let me tell you something every warrior worth his salt knows. A blade isn’t just a tool; it’s an extension of your soul. You must respect it, feel its weight in your hand, listen to the song it sings as it cuts through the air. And don't get me started on footwork! A true swordsman is rooted like a tree yet agile like the wind. Every step is deliberate, each shift in balance precise. Fail to master that, and you’re as good as skewered."

Kaiser nodded, though, if memory serves him right, didn't the old man said something similar earlier? But that's fine, elderly people are bound to make mistakes at times. However, he really preferred to swing his sword right now, rather than just listen about it. Then again, that's his mentor speaking, Garba knew what his doing.

The old man pressed on, unbothered. "And then there’s the grip. Oh, don’t think it’s as simple as holding it tight! Hold it too loose, and the sword will fly out of your hand at the first clash. Too tight, and you’re liable to crack your own wrist with the recoil. The secret, boy, is knowing when to relax and when to clench. It’s about harmony between hand, wrist, and blade—more of an art, really."

"Now, let’s talk about defense," he continued, raising a finger as if lecturing a classroom. "The block and parry aren’t the same. Blocking absorbs the blow, takes it head-on, which can wear you down if you’re not careful. Parrying, on the other hand, diverts the force, redirects it like water slipping off a rock. And it’s not just about the arms, Kaiser! A true parry uses the whole body, and you must learn to move with the enemy’s strike as if you’re anticipating it. If you think you’re just standing there, blade up, waiting for their swing, then you’re already dead.”

'That's... Interesting.' he thought halfheartedly.

After a while more of silently listening, Kaiser found himself fighting to keep his eyes from drifting off. He shifted his weight, his fingers itching to actually hold his sword. Why?

'I take it back, this is starting to get boring.' Was his most honest opinion.

Because Garba just keeps on launching into yet another lecture about stance, weight distribution, balance, timing, enemy ires movement, body language and so on. At first, his brain was doing fine absorbing the flowing information, then little by little, the words coming from the geezer's mouth started becoming plentiful and complicated without signs of stopping or giving him time to rest. Kai attempted voicing, only to be shut down by his engrossed mentor. Leaving him no choice but to continue listening. Eventually, it reached the point that his teaching began floating past Kai’s ears in a blur. Each topic seemed to last an eternity, yet only a mere trinket managed to enter his brain.

'My head... I think... it's fried...'

Meanwhile, the old geezer kept on pouring water as his student drowned, too absorbed at the lecture they were having to consider his poor disciple's state of mind. Living alone in the tower sure takes its toll, more so on an enthusiastic elder. Only in rare moments like these could he let his itchy mouth run loose on a topic he specialized in.

"And don't even get me started on the mindset. A warrior isn’t some reckless fool charging in headlong. No, you have to keep calm, focused. The battlefield is chaos, but a good fighter keeps his mind clear, anticipating his opponent's every move. Now, some brash swordsmen will tell you it’s all about aggression, about raw strength, but that’s only half the truth. Strategy, boy, that’s the real key. You need patience, foresight…”

Kai tried his best to keep listening, nodding at what he hoped were the right moments, but his gaze had already started to wander toward his sword, resting unused by his side.

“…and let me tell you about angles,” Garba continued, eyes alight with fervor. "Every strike has an angle, every counter a precise arc. A half-inch off, and you’re either too weak or too slow. You’ve got to feel the flow of the fight, match your movements like a dance. The sword isn’t just something you swing around like a club, Kaiser. No, you have to…”

Kaiser’s patience began to fray, his hand twitching with the urge to actually do something. How much longer would this go on? He coughed, hoping Garba might take the hint, but the old man was in full lecture mode now, hands gesturing animatedly.

“Timing, balance, rhythm—these are what separate true swordsmen from amateurs. Now, remember, when your opponent goes for a feint, don’t be so easily deceived! Train your eye to recognize the real strike behind the trickery. It’s all about reading the small signs, those subtle hints in the shoulder or the flick of the wrist…”

Kai sighed quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his mind now wandering far from Garba’s relentless “lessons” to the actual practice he had been hoping for. By now, his mind absorption ability was completely overloaded and shut down. This is why he never became a top grader despite having a better intellect than most, his brain just isn't suited for learning complicated and long papers.

He yearned for excitement and action!

"And speaking of strength, did I ever tell you about grip exercises?” Garba asked suddenly, grinning as if this was the revelation of a lifetime. Kaiser really wants to rebuke that he already talked about grip ."Why, back in my day, we trained our hands till they were strong enough to crush rocks! Yes, rocks! Now, perhaps we don’t have time for that today, but tomorrow, you can bet…”

Kaiser stared up at the window, praying for mercy. Hours had already passed! And Eve is nearing yet their sh*ty one-sided lecture's end are yet to be reached.

'What's the point of these, anymore.' He wined internally, losing grip of the purpose of their training. That said, Garba had lost sight of their reason, too busy on blabbering to pay his student's concerns any mind. Kai can't blame the old man's behavior because Garba was a chatterbox at heart in a lonesome tower, his enthusiastic character differs him from the average bag of bones. Garba didn't even notice his sole listener aren't paying attention anymore.

Watching the totally engrossed old man spouting sh*ts nonstop, a stupid idea entered Kaiser's mind. His a rational person most of the time, but when stupidity strikes, even a genius would willingly fall at the height of morons.

'I wonder... Is my mentor even a swordsman worth my time?'

Well, many rumors said so. But right now, only by personally testing it would he be convinced.

'Welp, screw it. This is freaking boring!'

After that, Kaiser let his intrusive thoughts win for the first time in a long while. A crooked smile cracked his bored face.

Then... Kai pulled his blade to a sudden swing, its aim?

The blabbering Garba.

Worst case, he'll die. But that's fine, after all, Kaiser is... Well, Kaiser. Though, he might really regret this stunt, really, really bad.

But that's for another time.