'I knew it...'

He really hates his mentor and his teaching.

As it turns out, that scheming old man had played him. Garba had slyly forced him into learning his family's sacred technique under the guise of teaching him swordsmanship. While not entirely a lie—the Dance of the Wind was a foundational combat style applicable to multiple weapons, including the sword. Just like what Garba had done to his battle art. Choosing a blade as his main weapon and honing his style to what it is now—it was also far from the full truth.

The revelation left Kai simmering in frustration. 'Of course, he had an ulterior motive.'

It's been his goal all this time!

Garba, in his desperation to preserve his family’s treasured style, had forced Kaiser into becoming the next vessel. Although, his mentor’s rationale was reasonable, harmless and above all, benefited both parties. Garba could not let such a legacy vanish, and Kai learned it free of charge. But understanding the logic didn’t stop Kai from feeling cheated.

'That geezer, it wasn't my fault he can't get a wife and have childrens to inherit it instead of forcing it onto me.'

He felt like he was scammed... But in a good way. Therefore, his conflicted.

In any case, Kai coped with it rather easily by focusing on the positive gains, acknowledging the benefits it gives. Garba’s Dance of the Wind wasn’t merely an esoteric performance. It was a powerful combat technique, refined to handle various weaponry, as well as hand-to-hand combat. Thanks to years of practice, Garba had refined his battle art around the blade, adapting its fluid and tribal movements into an unorthodox yet deadly sword style. If Kaiser could master the grueling sequences of the Dance of the Wind, he might one day reach the same level of adaptability.

'Still… I didn’t sign up for this,' he thought bitterly. All he wanted was to refine his swordsmanship—not inherit a full legacy.

It's like expecting a single homework but was dumped with an entire arduous project. Making his eyes twitched just thinking how troublesome it will be to complete.

But despite the frustration, Kai couldn’t deny that he hadn’t entirely wasted his time. His meditative practices had sharpened his mental clarity, improved his emotional stability, and heightened his focus. Without those improvements, he doubted he could have grasped even the surface level of Garba's teachings. The dance, bizarre as it was, had burned itself into his memory, becoming a living reference far more effective than any printed guide.

The old man did make sure it was burned hard and deep into that brain of his. Even going to the trouble of clearing his overthinking mind for the sake of shoving necessary knowledge.

And then there was the manual—the sealed book Garba had handed him. Coupled with his own vivid recollections of the performances, Kaiser had everything he needed to begin mastering the Dance of the Wind even if Garba was no longer around, his mentor's absence won't completely hinder his progress, which coinlined with his mentor's main goal.

'At least now I’m not walking into this blind…'

Garba, for all his manipulative methods, had tempered his student with purpose. The old man had carefully shaped Kai’s mind, grooming him to become the ideal candidate for their family art. Now, as the sole heir of the Dance of the Wind, the responsibility rested squarely on Kai’s shoulders.

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Still, he couldn’t help but groan internally. 'Damn it, I just wanted to learn how to use a sword, not a whole damn battle art!'

Fortunately, with his induction into the Dance of the Wind complete, Garba shifted gears to appease his student frustration. Since that day, Kaiser's schedule once again shifted to maximize his learnability under limited time. And his mentor finally focused on his wishes by training him with the sword.

'Finally, something I actually wanted to learn. Real swordsmanship!'

Though... the relief was short-lived.

His joy soon faded because compared to his previous days spent in meditation and watching. The new sessions were hell.

The meditation sessions were gone. The dance lessons he despised had been replaced by something he desired, but his mentor made it so that he will forever hate these days. Garba’s sword training sessions were grueling beyond anything Kai had experienced before.

Now, Kaiser had begun practicing the Dance of the Wind himself, the brutal reality of the art hit him harder than he had imagined. In the mornings, Garba would give him brief instructions, starting with the easiest steps that Kai had already committed to memory. But as it turned out, easy was relative, and memorization was nothing compared to actually performing the movements.

The moment he took his position and attempted the first formation, Kai’s muscles protested in agony. The ache gradually turning unbearable, and every attempt to execute the step properly only amplified the pain. His fibers tensed, constricted, and resisted the unnatural positions required by the art. Even his tendons weren't spared, stretched to their limits, teetering on the edge of snapping.

And, of course, his "helpful" mentor was there to make things worse.

Garba's so-called "guidance" involved pressing Kai’s body even further into the formations, disregarding his grunts of pain entirely.

“Endure it,” the old man barked, his voice devoid of sympathy. “It’s normal. Everything is fine.”

Kai can only groane, beads of sweat dripping down his face as his body trembled under the strain.

The worst part? This torment was just "one" freaking step, crudely performed and utterly devoid of the grace that characterized Garba’s execution. It didn’t resemble a dance so much as a series of forced, jagged movements that left Kai on the verge of collapse.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the thought of the dozen or so other steps waiting for him—each progressively harder and more punishing. If the simplest move was already pushing him to his limits, how was he supposed to survive the more advanced techniques?

And yet, his torment didn’t end there.

By the afternoon, Kaiser would transition from the grueling dance practice to actual swordsmanship training.

He has initially been excited at the prospect of focusing on the blade—something he wanted to learn from the very start. But any illusions of relief were shattered within minutes of starting. Garba’s sword training was no less punishing than the improved dance lessons, if not worse.

Because the damned old man beliefs were far different than normal instructors. In Garba's words, months of training was incomparable to a day of real battle, which is undeniably true. Therefore, using the excuse that they're short on time, choose a more intense method of teaching. He mixed practice with the intensity of a real battle, showing Kaiser demonstration of skills such as right ways of blocking and attacking before engaging in relatively real combat.

Oh, that's also when Kai learned that his Garba's first student...

'No wonder I feel like a sh*ting lab-rat... or a punching bag? slashing bag? Whatever, it hurts like hell!'

After demonstrations of skills his supposed to learn, Kaiser was plunged into a grueling procedure of attacking a fast opponent and blocking his mentor's blade. Windslayer didn't show mercy to an apprentice, but treated hi with the same cruelty as it will do to an enemy. Or worse, because the old man's blade's only aim is to make him learn through suffering, not death.

Struggling to stand up, exhausted and battered with healing cuts all over his half-naked body, Kaiser gazed resentfully, but mostly calmly at his mentor. No, calling him a merciless torturer was far more fitting than a considerate instructor. If there's anything Garba considers in his student, it's that, Kai had the ability to heal his wounds, giving him the luxury of being harsh in his method.

Like in realistic bloodshed, a misstep was paid by pain of a wound, blood and the chilling sensation of a merciless blade slicing one's skin, cutting the flesh beneath. By now, his student had experienced such dread more than a hundred times, which awarded to visible improvements of Kaiser's skills in exchange for torturous agony's.

With all the wounds he received, delivered by fists and blades alike and seriousness Garba is putting on tempering his defiant student. All that's missing is the real threat of death, for their training to replicate a true battle. Though, what he found strange about the kid is that, the brat doesn't seem to fear death at all.

Leaning on a wall for respite, Garba looked at the battered brat with dark amusement.

"Not even a drop of tears... You sure are a tough one, I'll give it to you. However, we've been at it for hours now, all you have to do is beg for mercy for it to be over."

Despite his messy state, Kaiser still had the audacity to smirk. Raising his sword, that hasn't touched the old man till now. E

Kaiser's gazed with unyielding determination, eager to make his mentor bleed before it end.

"You'll be the one begging for mercy, old hag."

Garba's sinister chuckle echoed through the capacious chamber.

In the end, it was the sun that fell first.