Kaiser stood in the corner, suppressing a grin as the tower keeper's booming voice filled the room.

“Oh, so this is how you repay your master after all the time I spent nurturing you in the art of the sword? Huh? Switching mentors on the very last day we have together?! Betraying me for that short coward, of all people? Ungrateful brat!” Garba jabbed a finger in the direction of the village chief, his voice tinged with mock betrayal and genuine annoyance. His previous triumphant expression went down the drain because of what Kaiser had done, recently.

The village chief, hunched with a bow behind him was indeed shorter than the elderly swordsman due to the deference of their lifestyle, one was a chief of a village managing the settlement most of the time while the other is a tower keeper who has no significant responsibility in particular, except practicing swordmanship in the lonesome tower. Kai can't even fathom the tower's purpose for guarding the unmoving Boundary.

Although, the chief is unassuming, dwarfed elder, an air of quiet authority surrounding him, calm and collected despite Garba's mockery. He raised a single gray brow. His face, usually serious and reserved, now bore a sly smile. “Don’t be so dramatic now, Garba. And don't speak too harshly at the young man, don't forget his an honorable Player so stop questioning his decision if your teachings were… shall we say, lacking?”

“Lacking?!” Garba exploded, throwing his arms in the air. “This coming from a man whose bow skills consist of napping between shots?!”

“That’s called efficiency, you stiff-jointed relic,” the chief replied smoothly, not even bothering to look at his rival as he inspected his fingernails.

Kaiser leaned against the wall, enjoying the scene far more than he probably should.

'I never thought I'd see the day when Garba would lose an argument,' he thought, relishing the moment. His arguments with his mentor are mostly spoken by a clash of blades in which he obviously lost all the time. That's why he could never spite the damned geezer for all the troubles that problematic mouth of his brought him.

But this time, the chief was at his side. He came to visit the tower to personally inform Kaiser and his companions that the caravan had arrived, estimated to leave soon. However, his interest shifted to something else as soon as the two ancient relics met each other for the first time before his eyes. And judging by the tower keeper's and village chief brief greeting, it doesn't take a genius to see that they're more of an enemy to each other than friends.

That's when Garba winked at him, then proceeded to brag about how his disciple is inheriting his family's dying legacy. A Player at that! Even Intending to invite the village chief to watch their last practice to show Kai's excellent improvement under his guidance, probably to extract the chief's envy.

But Kai had other plans.

Without warning, he gave his mentor a taste of his own medicine by badmouthing his sword lessons in front of his rival and expressed his desire to learn the art of marksmanship from the chief under Garba's shocked eyes. Feeling betrayed and enraged for all his efforts was wasted on a treacherous brat.

Which in turn showered his mentor with shame. He even found out that the old swordmaster can actually blush!

Switching mentors might’ve been a spur-of-the-moment decision to get back at Garba for his recent antics, but now it felt like the best decision he ever made all week.

Though, the chief's unexpected sharpness caught him off guard. The man had always struck Kaiser as a timid grampa, but seeing him so animated while trading jabs with Garba was… enlightening.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Garba growled, jabbing a finger at the chief. “That kid is my disciple. I’ve molded him, trained him, bled for him—”

“And how did that work out for you?” the chief interrupted, finally turning to face Garba. His smile widened into something almost wolfish. “No offence, but it doesn't make sense for a swordman disciple to eagerly switch weapons of choice if the guidance is decent, not worse.”

“Are you saying my teaching brought no results at all!? Ha! Unbelievable, have your brain grown senile and forgotten the sight of my breathtaking swordplay?”

“You mean that funny dance? I haven't laughed in a while now, please, do show me those graceful movements once again."

The two old men glared at each other, the room thick with the tension of a rivalry decades in the making. They went on and on until Kaiser, Cia and Ariella eventually finished their meal while listening to the two argue for entertainment, which revealed more than necessary making it hard to eat without chuckling.

Eventually, the two elders throat run dry, forcing them to move on. Thanks to what he did, Kaiser's last sword lesson was gone, replaced by an unexpected archery which he gladly accepted.

The old chief always brought his bow whenever he ventured into the wilderness for obvious reasons, letting Kaiser practice on it outside the tower, under the bright sun.

Struggling to keep the bow steady as he pulled the tight string loaded by a single arrow, Kai mustered all his talent for aim and released it flying towards a nearby tree's bark. Luckily, it didn't miss the mark so much.

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"Fix your form, relax your shoulders, child. The bow isn’t a sword; it doesn’t respond to brute force, nor requires too much tension. Your target is usually far away when using a bow, so calm down, steady your breathing, remain composed and focus or else it'll shake, like what just happened." Said the chief in a hoarse voice.

Kai nodded before preparing to shoot again, as he did, he asked.

"By the way, how's the village doing?"

The chief didn't speak after a while.

"Good, there had been no new threats appearing since then. And again, thank you for uncovering that fiend." He let out a somber sigh, his eyes giving the young man a grateful look. "If not, who knows how many more lives would perish to hunt that wicked beast, our village had lost enough." Kaiser simply smiled in response, not wanting to press on due to the chief's grating throat.

However, the old archer added.

"I don't mean to hurry you, child. But before we continue, have you prepared all your luggage? We won't be coming back here ever again, most likely, so better make sure there's nothing left forgotten." He spoke like a worried grampa to him, miles different from the lighthouse keeper that seemed to enjoy torturing him in practice in this time for hours.

"Don't worry about it, all our luggage can fit in one bag, I'm certain we left nothing behind." Aside from his clothes and Cia, with a few cloaks belonging to Ariella, his sword, dagger and the armor he wore. They don't really have any other valuable possessions, because owning some in a small village that would be abandoned soon isn't ideal.

"I see... Then, have you thought about what you will do in the new settlement? I have some connections there, don't hesitate to ask me for help if you have difficulty settling in."

"Honestly, I'm a bit lost on what to do after we got there. However, I think we'll manage on our own, somehow. But I'll be sure to come knocking if I need help." He trusts Cia's words, and his not the kind to grab a hand the moment he sees one. Kai would rather rely on himself before asking others for aid if push comes to shove.

The archery lesson was brief compared to the other lessons he learned in the tower, lasting only a few hours yet seems so short due to his immersion in the new subject. After all, a bow is no less cooler and deadlier than wielding a sword. Stalking a target in the wilderness with a bow strapped behind, stealthy moving through bushes, launching swift arrows and killing his enemies from long distance without even knowing what hit them. That's how he imagined himself as a deadly marksman, but his still a long way there. By the end of it, Kai shot more arrows than he could count and grasped the very basics of Archery such as the right formation, breathing and shooting effectively, separating him from a first timer.

To not only be good at the blade but also master the bow would be an awesome feat, making him formidable in both closed and long range combat. Added the aesthetic of both weapons, boosting his desire to learn more... To be stronger, not to look cool in Ariel's eyes, definitely not.

However, as much as he loved to continue learning. Sadly, as all things should, his time in the tower had its end. Kaiser's days of training were over for the long awaited caravan is here, ready to take the villagers to a bigger world.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet, Kaiser slung the single, heavy bag over his shoulder containing all their belongings. His body is fresh straight out of the bath, clothes clean devoid of any stain as they stepped out of the tower for what would likely be the last time.

Kaiser paused at the threshold, glancing back at the weathered stone walls that had been both his temporary sanctuary and school, where learned valuable lessons he will never forget. The tower loomed, shrouded in the deepening shadows of dusk, a silent witness to countless hours of grueling training with his mentor. Stifled laughter, delightful meals and companionship he and the girls shared with the tower keeper in the fleeting moments of peace.

There was a pang of regret stirring in his wistful gaze. Truth be told, the lighthouse keeper was the cruelest teacher he ever had but also the closest. Kaiser originally intended to find Garba, to thank the old swordsman for his relentless instruction, for shaping him into someone stronger, for all his jokes and perhaps even apologize for his earlier act of mischief, if he felt like it. However, the old man himself had chosen not to see them off, his absence speaking volumes of his reasons. Whether out of pride, stubbornness, or something deeper, it didn’t matter now.

“Probably for the best,” Kaiser muttered under his breath, though the words felt hollow.

With a heavy sigh, he let his gaze linger on the tower one final time, as if trying to etch every crack and shadow into his memory. For all its hardships and frustrations, it had been home once, one of the nicest ones he had.

But now, it was time to leave.

Turning away, he joined Ariella and Cia, their silhouettes illuminated by the fading light. With every step, the tower grew smaller behind them, its presence fading into the horizon as they walked toward an uncertain future.

Some time later...

The creaking of old wooden stairs echoed as the old keeper climbed to the highest floor of the tower, his footsteps slow, deliberate, and heavy with the weight of years gone by. On one hand, he clutched a crude but sturdy mug filled with strong liquor, sipping it as though it were the finest tea, on the other held a hanging lantern. The bitter burn rolled down his throat, but tonight, it offered little solace.

Reaching the top, he emerged into the open chamber where the ancient lantern stood—a relic of a forgotten age. Its glass panes were etched with time and mystery, its brass frame tarnished by countless storms.

It was time to ignite its bright flames, like he always did for whatever reason the Player, "WFIW" believed in.

As he prepared to light it, his gaze drifted beyond the tower, drawn to the distant warm glow in the darkened forest.

There, in the heart of the woods, the only nearby village he had known for so many years was alive with light and laughter. Where a simple farewell festival was being held, a final gathering to bid goodbye to their old home before the caravan whisked them away to a better home, safer and offered more opportunities unlike this rural land. His disciple was among them, too. That treacherous, tolerant, tough bastard, whimsical brat. Stubborn, shameless, timid, and yet maddeningly unpredictable—a young man with more heart and promise than he would ever admit aloud.

Thinking of that brat, the memories of their days together played unbidden in his mind: the relentless training sessions, Kaiser's sly comeback, endless complaints and rare but genuine moments of gratitude. Garba chuckled softly, shaking his head as a faint smile tugged at his lips. For an old man who had spent decades in solitude, those days had been unexpectedly lively.

For a moment, a flicker of longing crossed his expression. Perhaps he could leave too, come with them instead of being left alone. Join the others and trade this cold, desolate tower for the warmth of community. But just as quickly as it appeared, the thought withered.

“No, this old bag of bones is too old for that.” he murmured to himself, his voice low and hoarse.

He couldn’t leave.

This tower was more than a home; it was his legacy, his purpose. It stood as a sentinel against the Boundary, that strange and unsettling horizon where reality itself seemed to fray. His family had guarded this place for generations, each Warden honoring the Player who had built it and passed down the sacred duty. Garba was the last of them now, and he would die as his ancestors had—keeping the watch.

His gaze shifted toward the Boundary. The fake horizon pretending real and genuine but always failed by the sense of unease it gives to those that stared at its wrong surface. Even now, its presence was as disquieting as ever, an unnatural edge to the world that no mortal eyes could truly comprehend. He had always questioned its purpose. The Boundary had remained unmoving, passive, a silent anomaly that seemed harmless so long as it was left undisturbed. Why, then, had they spent centuries guarding it? Even built a Warden for it? If not for the great "He" demanding it personally from his distant ancestors, no one would upheld such seemingly meaningless duty.

It didn’t make sense, especially this bright light beside him.

After igniting the blinding light, Garba sipped from his mug. At that moment, his attention was caught by a disturbance in the Boundary. He stared at the eerie barrier's rippling surface, barely noticeable waves was spreading around a certain point below. Nothing new, really. At first, he dismissed it as nothing unusual. He had seen such faint disturbances before—subtle, fleeting patterns like ripples on a pond. But tonight, the ripples were deeper, more pronounced, as though something stirred beneath.

A frown creased his weathered face. Setting down his mug, he stepped closer, his boots scuffing against the stone floor. His eyes, dulled by age yet sharpened by experience, narrowed as he traced the origin below.

And then... he froze.

The mug slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor and spilling its contents. Breaking the silence of the cold night.

His heart pounded in his chest, a surge of dread and revelation coursing through him.

"...So that’s why," his trembling lips whispered, the words barely audible, shaky.

Finally, in his family's last generation of Warden. He found out why the Player built the lighthouse for.