Now, obediently seated on the floor in his blood-stained clothes, Kaiser grappled with what his instructor insisted was an important lesson—though it felt far more like a punishment. To him, watching Garba’s strange performance was like staring directly into the horrid sun, a task equally uncomfortable and blinding in its bizarre glory.

But after experiencing the terrifying mastery of Garba’s blade firsthand, Kaiser held no doubt about his mentor’s guidance. Garba wouldn’t be dancing in front of him, bare and unashamed, without good reason. After all, who would want to subject themselves to such scrutiny?

'Not me.' he thought, forcing his eyes to stay open, resisting every urge to look away from this disturbing display as he tried to analyze Garba’s movements, per his mentor's orders.

As his instructor had said, more like forced into the ear of his bloodied student, that Kaiser already had the heart and qualifications to become a proper swordman. He could stand his ground and strike with the intent to kill, and he had an unusual resistance to pain, a resilience that freed him from the limitations most humans faced in battle that separated born warriors to citizens. His mentor seemed convinced that, with this temperament, Kai could survive the battlefield…

Though, if only Garba knew: Kai would survive even if everyone else perished. He would be left standing, whether he liked it or not.

Still, despite these strengths, Garba had pointed out that Kaiser’s skills were lacking. His fighting style barely scratched the surface of true swordsmanship both offense and defense. Sure, he knew how to swing and thrust a blade to attack and how to lift it in defense, but that was merely swordplay’s surface. Feints, transitional movements, efficient footwork, proper grip, utilization of blind spots and many more in which Kai had no knowledge of, let alone, fluency to execute in real battle.

There were much to improve.

Garba, who had nothing to do with his old life in the tower would have loved to teach his problematic yet amusing lad everything he knew. It's been so long since he had this so much fun. The old man was ready to pour his knowledge into this rough, sometimes irritating but undeniably promising student.

However, time was running out. The migration was drawing near, and soon the service caravan would arrive to escort the village to a larger settlement. Kaiser, as a young man without established roots, would have to leave with them and there would be no time to continue training on the dangerous road ahead. Garba couldn’t abandon his tower, either; it was his lifelong duty.

So, with no other choice, Garba had decided on an option that would favor both; by passing down his family’s sword style, a rare and cherished legacy that would have otherwise perished with him. It's ending with his life, anyway, so why not pass it to a promising young man who had a bright future ahead. A Player, at that!

Dance of the Wind, they called it—a name that had echoed through his lineage. The style consisted of hundred of flowing moves that, when woven together, resembled an elegant dance.

And now, stripped of all his shrouding robes and outer garments, Garba was performing the dance. He wore only a cloth to cover what needed covering, his old, weathered body exposed for his student's reluctant observation.

Kaiser was surprised when he first saw his mentor’s physique that was undeniably aged, skin stretched loosely over sinew and bone, but beneath the wrinkles, faint muscle lines could still be seen, hinting at strength and endurance preserved over years of training. Garba’s frame, though frail in parts, was still lean and capable of straightening his posture with ease. In fact, it wouldn't surprise him if Garba could lift a considerable amount of weight despite his age.

But all awe evaporated when the old man began his dance in the middle of the chamber.

The swordmaster’s performance, reserved for Kaiser's eyes alone, was… jaw-dropping, to say the least—though its oddity left him at a rare loss for words.

When Garba had told him he would be demonstrating a foundational sequence that formed the core of his swordsmanship. The style he personally experienced, Kaiser’s hopes had soared. He was eager to see the magic behind his master’s blurring strikes and elusive movements, to catch a glimpse of the path that could transform him into something more than an average swordsman. To acquire Garba's terrifying yet graceful technique. But those hopes were swiftly crushed as he watched the strange display before him.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

His mentor's “dance” was something else entirely. It was like a surreal blend between a ballerina’s grace and the primal power of an ancient tribal ritual. The moves seemed erratic, almost chaotic at first glance, as if stitched together by randomness. And yet, they were performed with a serene grace, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next, like a swan gliding across water—if only it "were" a swan, or a poised dancer performing these steps. That would have been breathtaking.

The setting almost lent itself to beauty: With the sun falling near the horizon, warm beams of light streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow that filled the chamber, illuminating Garba at its center like an ethereal spotlight. In a different world, it would have been mesmerizing, the kind of rare performance that left a deep tranquility in the audience’s heart.

If only.

But fate, it seemed, had offered Kaiser a different reality. Instead of a graceful ballerina in white with charming figure and face, he was watching a half-naked, saggy old man in the place of that swan, leaping and twisting in ways that felt more disturbing than inspiring.

His almost in tears, covering his mouth with a hand as he somberly shook his head by the wrongness of it all. Also, to refrain himself from puking his guts out as the old man spins with his arms up, showing his. Um, armpit.

"Gods... I think my brain is being fried." He muttered under his breath.

But no, he couldn’t look away, no matter how much his mind protested. As ridiculous as it felt to watch, he knew this was a rare opportunity. This bizarre ritual was somehow the bedrock of the swordsmanship that had awed him mere hours before. Whatever it was, this was his future—the style he had to learn and memorize to become the warrior he aspired to be.

Garba leaped once more, landing effortlessly.

This was the future of his swordmanship.

Kaiser took a deep breath, forcing his focus back to Garba’s strange, flowing movements.

Coincidentally, the dancer was in a position men's would have intensified their focus on a certain spot, as if to peer through the clothing. But in the reality of his circumstances, Kai can only imagine a traumatizing view beneath that garment, making him pray it won't come off nonstop.

No matter how unsettling, he would commit every awkward step to memory.

Still, it was difficult... His hands were unknowingly searching for his sword, probably to cure his screaming mind, prompting the subconscious defensive mechanism to lash out again for the sake of saving his memory from corruption!

Kaiser found himself wishing to start another duel with a master swordsman rather than watch this horrid display.

'Wha-what did I do to deserve this...?'

He didn't know. It's just that, fate is unforgiving, at times.

The old swan kept dancing, unbothered by his student struggling reaction. Seemingly lost in the motions of his own style as he performs his wrongly elegant display.

Kaiser gritted his teeth, fighting back the strange urge to laugh at the sheer absurdity of his situation. The corruption was making him mad. But he kept watching, no matter how strange it felt, deep down, he knew that he was seeing something he’d never see again. In contrast to his memory begging to wipe this horror out of his mind.

Eventually, before they knew it. The "marvelous" performance was over and the sun was beginning to disappear.

"It was going to be dark soon." Garba muttered, looking at the window. After taking a breathing, he walked towards his student to check on Kaiser's analysis.

Letting the audience see the dancer closely.

However, the old man frowned, seeing the blank expression on his disciple's face. As though his brain had shut down at some point. He didn't even react when he approached.

"Brat! Don't tell me you've been spacing out in my entire briefing!"

He gave the young man a slap, waking him up from his reverie.

Kaiser, back to reality, can't seem to remember what just happened. Then, his eyes widen seeing his nightmare, I mean, his mentor.

Scratching the back of his head, Kai smiled wryly.

"Ahh, what? Oh, of course I've been watching. By the way, you said Windslayer was given by Doubl-, ahem, the Great "He", I can't help but notice Dance of the Wild has similarities with Windslayer, did it come from the "Him", too?"

Garba smiled proudly, happy that his foolish disciple was starting to understand the greatness of their ancestral Player.

"Good question, lad. That's the most decent thing I heard from your sharp tongue today. I'll have you know, Doubleyu, ef, e, doubleyu was the greatest swordsman that had graced Greenland" he sighed, "Until he disappeared from this land, sadly."

Kai can't really get used to hearing the guy's absurd name.

"Wait, does that mean Windslayer is his sword? Then... did your great, great, great grandpa, or grandma stole it? It wasn't passed down to your family at all!"

"Shut it, brat. Yes, Windslayer is from the great "He" but it wasn't his personal sword. His main blade are far more magnificent than Windslayer. It was said to once burn down a quarter of the forest with one swing, and the reason why Bakar didn't dare go against him. Furthermore, if you think that simply mastering Dance of the Wind would get you at his level, think again!" Garba crossed his arm. "Legends stated that Doubleyu, ef, e, doubleyu, swordmanship utilize the four elements. His moves flowed like the wind. The blazing sword he wields is capable of melting irons, while his mighty muscles are as tough as the earth yet as fluid as water. Just imagine how magnificent that kind of swordplay is!"

True, Garba's elusive style inspired by Dance of the Wind is already chillingly awing. Let alone, a swordplay combined with all four elements which can also be translated as having an overpowered flaming sword, robust body backed with flowingly fluid technique of a great swordman.

'Wait... Wind, fire, Earth and water?... WFEW? Wtf?! What is "He"? A diehard fan of a baldy?'

He coughed, before asking softly.

"By any chance. Your Player ancestor... is he bald?"

Garba raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by the question.

"...How did you know? Wait a minute... I see what you're doing. Brat, don't change the subject, did you get the moves or not?!"

Kaiser's smile froze, then avoided his mentor's gaze as he stuttered.

"Yeah, about that..."

The old man sighed in disappointment before giving his disciple an encouraging tap on the shoulder. Grinning, he reassured him in a carefree tone.

"Worry not, my dear student. We still have a few days together. And don't think too much about it, not everyone could memorize it on the first try. Be thankful, brat. I'll be sure to dig it in your memory." He laughed, prompting the stiffed young man to follow down stairs.

Garba's words didn't assure him at all. Looking up, Kai prayed for mercy for his eyes.