Every session was relentless, a brutal mix of physical agony and mental fortitude that tested Kai far beyond his limits. Mornings were consumed by the torturous Dance of the Wind, a grueling routine that left his muscles quivering and his body aching in places he didn’t even know existed. Afternoons brought no reprieve, either, only another brutal rhythm of sword practice—if that could still be described as "practice" instead of torture.

Compared to the hellish routines now dominating his remaining time in the tower, Kaiser found himself longing for the peaceful monotony of meditation—or even the frustration of watching the senile swan perform the disturbing dance. No one can blame him, though, because his previous routine was heaven in comparison to the hell his going through now.

From dull monotony to excruciating hardship—how had it come to this?

Who could have guessed that he would find himself yearning for those quiet mornings spent alone in an empty room, grappling with his thoughts? Or even for the maddening hours of watching an old man contort himself into the ugliest swan he had ever seen, moving with a bizarre mix of grace and absurdity?

Life truly was unpredictable. One day, you’re bored out of your mind; the next, you’re praying for the chance to be bored again.

'Why does this feel worse?' he often wondered, though deep down, he already knew the answer.

It felt worse because it "was" worse, nothing changing that fact.

Then again, isn't this what he yearned for? The hard training he expected instead of tedious hours spent on meditation and watching. Funny how he longed for something only to regret after receiving his desired outcome.

His days were now a relentless assault on his body and mind. Muscles screamed in protest as they were pushed far past their limits. Tendons stretched dangerously close to snapping, and bones groaned under the strain of impossible positions. All this to master the absurd steps of a dance that felt more like an exercise in self-destruction.

And Garba? The old man only increased the difficulty day by day, ignoring Kai’s groans and protests. It was as if the grizzled mentor took a perverse delight in pushing him closer and closer to breaking point.

There were even moments—rare but real—when Kai screamed. For someone with as much mental fortitude as him, that was no small feat. Yet, those subtle cries of agony only seemed to amuse Garba, who would chuckle and dismiss them as “part of the process.”

Despite all this, Kai found himself making shockingly little progress in the Dance of the Wind. No matter how hard he tried, his movements remained stiff and awkward. It was no surprise, really; his body needed time to adapt to the demands of the technique. The process was slow, grueling, and often disheartening. Still, he can't help but feel something isn't right in his advancement in that lesson.

Fortunately, there was a glimmer of light amidst the darkness. If his progress with the dance was dismal, his improvement in swordsmanship was anything but.

By now, the once-chaotic swings of his blade had become more refined. His stances felt firmer, his movements more deliberate. The realistic simulation of Garba’s brutal training which is more like an endless battle had honed his instincts, making him sharper and faster than he had ever been.

The clang of steel rang through the training ground as Kaiser, drenched in sweat, struggled to keep up with his mentor’s relentless assault. Garba’s blade moved like a blur, striking with precision and force that made it impossible for Kai to mount any semblance of a counterattack. Not like he actually can land an effective counter at the swift old man who never planned to go easy on him.

Kaiser was holding his sword tightly, his knuckles whitening as he barely managed to block or deflect the old man’s strikes. But despite his best efforts, Garba’s overwhelming skill meant every exchange ended with Kai either being disarmed, thrown off balance, or outright sent sprawling onto the floor. What's worse, is that, every mistake he made cost him another wound, sending pang on his nerves.

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“Not bad, not bad!” Garba grinned, twirling his blade as he watched Kai scramble to his feet yet again. His voice carried a tone of amusement, but also genuine praise. “You’ve got tolerance, boy. Most would’ve given up by now.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Kaiser muttered through gritted teeth, adjusting his stance. His legs felt like lead, his arms trembled from exhaustion, and the muscles in his shoulders screamed with every movement. Yet he refused to stop, his determination keeping him upright even as his body begged for rest.

The next bout began without warning, Garba’s blade cutting through the air with a speed that Kai could barely follow. He raised his sword just in time to block a strike aimed at his side, but the force behind it jarred his entire body. Before he could recover, Garba twisted his wrist and sent Kai’s blade flying out of his hands, following it up with a swift kick to his stomach that sent him stumbling backward.

Kai landed hard, coughing blood as he clutched his stomach. “F*ck, do you ever take it easy, old man?” he wheezed, glaring up at his mentor.

Garba chuckled, offering him a hand. “Why should I? Life won’t take it easy on you, brat. But if you’re asking... why not go a little lighter on yourself, huh? You’re trying too hard to match me blow for blow. I admit you made significant improvement despite the short time, but do mind your own health. Kaiser, even if your body could regenerate over and over again, I doubt the same ability will heal your mind. Just begged, lad. And I'll let it end earlier today.

Kaiser smacked the offered hand away and stood up on his own, dusting himself off. “You know what, change my mind. I don’t need you to hold back.” he said defiantly, picking up his sword, readying for another exchange. “I didn't manage to cut you yesterday, but don't think you're so lucky this time, Gramps!”

The old man’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with approval. “That’s the spirit! But remember, tolerance is only half the battle. You should strike your opponent, too. Come on, brat. Don't bore me now.”

Garba took a step back, raising Windslayer again. “Now, once more. And this time, don’t just endure—think. Show me you’ve got more than stubbornness in that thick skull of yours!”

Kai grit his teeth, forcing his aching body to move into position. His muscles protested, his breath came in ragged gasps, but his mind was sharper now. Every clash with Garba was a painful lesson, yet each one also carried a glimmer of understanding.

If this was what it took to improve, so be it.

The clang of steel echoed once more, and the grueling duel continued.

Once again, by the end of it, Kaiser was left sprawled on the floor dyed in red by his own blood. Alone and gasping for air as crimson liquids flowed backwards into his wounds which gave no pleasure as it healed. His self restoring ability had received multiple praise from the old man, even though in reality, was far more miraculous than a simple self-healing as it appeared to be. But an unnerving immortality, deeming him incapable of ever dying under mortal injuries. Then again, it never spared him from excruciating agony, another reason why it's both a blessing and curse.

The red sun was leaving down the horizon, gracing the capacious chamber with the last of its dimming glow of scarlet rays. Alone and battered once more at the end of the cruel lesson, Kaiser's eyes are emotionless and weary, dulled by pain as it stares blankly at the high ceiling, devoid of any warmth it usually has.

Was Garba too harsh this time? No, the fault wasn’t his mentor's. It was Kai himself who had urged him, demanded even, that the training be harder, crueler. All the while playing the role of the unyielding student, feigning strength and resilience while his body crumbled under the relentless onslaught.

Only when his alone did Kaiser let it show. How excruciating those blows and cuts are to the point it's numbing him. But that's fine, this is exactly what he wanted deep inside.

Why?

Because it's making him stronger. He had long yearned for power, not for some selfless, heroic reasons or anything, but something more personal that he never told anyone.

Kai never had the best childhood as an orphan at a young age, whether he liked it or not, life had been a struggle. Putting him under constant pressure by the bills of living and violence he stumbled upon to make a living, there were even days he went to the streets to beg for pennies, so that he won't die in starvation before pension arrives.

To be looked down upon, be spat at, ridiculed and disdained. All of which showed him his own inferiority.

But those days were behind him.

The hunger he once felt for food had transformed into a hunger for power—a gnawing, insatiable desire that drove him forward, no matter how much pain he had to endured. He would never let himself be weak again. He would never again bow his head to anyone. He would never plead.

However, the strength his searching for isn't in his hand, yet.

Lately, Kaiser had been thinking of what would it mean to truly master the Dance of the Wind, to embody its impossible elegance... Combined with the primal brutality of Zara’s bestiality he acquired?

Kai could already imagine it, a warrior of unrelenting adaptability, wielding the flowing grace of Garba’s swordsmanship with the savage ferocity of Zara’s combat style. A predator. Unstoppable. Unforgiving.

And that's not adding his immortality. The unyielding, unrelenting ability to take any blow, suffer any wound, and rise again, and again. Giving him the luxury of sacrificing defense entirely, trading flesh and blood for victory without hesitation.

What kind of monster could such a fusion create? A being that thrived on pain, that adapted to every opponent, that struck with the precision of an artist and the savagery of a beast.

Could anyone stop such a creature?

Kai didn’t know. But he intended to find out. No, he would become that Beast, someday, and no one would stop him. He would endure. He would suffer. He would break a thousand times if that’s what it took.

As the last rays of the sun slipped below the horizon, leaving the chamber in darkness, Kaiser slowly sat up. His body fully healed as he willed.

He stood up, stretched his restored bones and muscles. His previous temperament returned to his expressionless face as he gaze outside through the window. He yawned, before grumbling under his breath.

"...One last day of this. Tomorrow, huh. Its finally time to move to the city. I wonder if I'll meet Gabriel there? That guy owed me a big favor, I'll make sure he pays If that his is still alive... Maybe Paul and Aron are there too? I really missed those bastards."

A whole week had already passed since they arrived at the village. The Caravan are expected to arrive tomorrow.