Chapter 2: Fateful Encounter (1)
The morning sun rose.
Kaiser gazed at it quietly.
For some reason, moments like this always made him nostalgic.
It reminded him of a time before he was Kaiser — before he was ever called the strongest.
A time when he woke before dawn every day to train. Back then, he had comrades too.
They used to sing songs about becoming stronger together, and there were days when they nearly died fighting monsters that, in hindsight, weren't even that strong.
He could still remember the feeling of laughter even with broken bones and bleeding wounds after slaying something powerful.
Perhaps the reason he still remembered those days was because, deep down, he was still human. Or maybe those memories were all that remained of his humanity. Either way, Kaiser still thought of himself as human — just someone who lived a bit longer than others.
Even immortality would eventually end someday. And when it did, would he die as a man… or as a guardian?
That question lingered faintly in his mind.
....
"This should allow you to walk around the capital without issue. But please, don't do anything that might draw attention from the nobles."
"I know. Still, it's impressive how castles never change — even after centuries. It seems they care more about grandeur than practicality, doesn't it?"
The structure wasn't inefficient, but there was a clear emphasis on beauty — ornamentation made to impress rather than to serve purpose.
Yet Kaiser didn't think that was wrong. Elegance, too, had meaning. Even if it seemed superficial, such things often carried unseen value.
To him, this royal castle — balancing splendor with practicality — felt like a sign of progress.
"…Everyone seems tense," Kaiser murmured.
"This mission is dangerous," Gazef replied. "Then again, since I became Warrior Captain, none have been safe. But this time… there's a real chance I won't return alive."
"So, you believe the nobles are plotting something to get rid of you — a commoner they despise?"
"You're quite right. It seems I've earned their hatred."
Kaiser's eyes wandered — and soon found a young man training alone in a corner.
A blond boy, armored, repeating the same movements over and over, the clinking of his armor echoing in the courtyard.
Servants and guards passed by, whispering mockingly, but the boy never stopped. His form was rough, his breathing uneven, yet his resolve was clear.
"That boy…"
"Ah, that's Climb. Like me, he's of common birth — now serving as a soldier in the palace guard. He's the personal escort of Princess Renner."
"I see… So the princess must care for him deeply. A commoner serving as a royal bodyguard — he must be exceptional. In my day, one could be executed simply for looking at a noble the wrong way."
"Haha… yes, times have changed. He's a good lad — determined, steadfast. Unfortunately, despite all his effort, he hasn't shown much progress."
Had he never met Kaiser, Gazef might have believed Climb had simply reached his limit.
But having witnessed Kaiser's overwhelming strength firsthand, Gazef knew better — limits were illusions.
And so, every time he watched the boy train, his heart ached with pity.
Climb trained harder than anyone.
He was earnest, disciplined, and desperate to grow stronger — yet still, he stagnated.
Yes, compared to the average soldier, he was far superior — perhaps even stronger than Gazef's own elite warrior unit.
But beyond that… he could not advance.
"Kaiser?" Gazef called softly.
Kaiser smiled faintly and approached the boy.
Climb sensed the presence and stopped, panting slightly as he turned. Upon seeing the unfamiliar man beside Gazef, he bowed with polite precision.
"You must be Warrior Captain Stronoff's guest. Do you need something from me?"
His movement was disciplined, his manners forced but practiced — the result of effort.
As a commoner, he probably hadn't known much about noble etiquette, but it was clear he'd learned diligently, for his mistress's sake. Renner — though Kaiser had never met her — must have been blessed indeed, to have earned such genuine loyalty.
"I was simply impressed watching your training," Kaiser said. "My name is Kaiser."
"Kaiser…? Like the legendary warrior of old? If you're a guest of the Warrior Captain, you must be quite skilled."
Kaiser chuckled. "Who knows. I used to think I was strong… but there are probably plenty out there stronger than me. The world is vast, after all."
"Yeees…?"
Before?
Climb blinked. No matter how he looked at him, Kaiser appeared to be in his late teens — early twenties at most. So what exactly did he mean by "before"? Was it just a joke?
Climb thought perhaps he should have laughed politely at that.
"Training's good and all…"
Kaiser pressed gently on Climb's shoulder. Climb froze — Eh? He hadn't even seen Kaiser move. By the time he realized it, Kaiser was already behind him, kneading his shoulders.
The speed was unreal — so fast that Climb hadn't even perceived him disappearing from in front of him.
"If you push yourself too hard, you'll wreck your body. Trust me, from experience — practical combat teaches you far more than endless practice."
"You're absolutely right, sir. They say that if you gain one from training, you gain ten — or even more — from real battle."
"In that case," Kaiser smiled faintly, "how about a sparring match, Climb?"
"Eh?"
"Don't worry about being seen. No one will notice anyway."
Climb looked around nervously.
Whoooom— Something shimmered around them.
When Climb cautiously reached out, his hand touched what felt like a solid, invisible wall. A barrier…? Kaiser must have created it.
Climb turned pale, staring in disbelief.
"Now, no one outside can see us," Kaiser said casually. "To them, we'll just look like we're standing here talking. And if you lose, no one will be able to spread rumors like, 'The princess's bodyguard lost to some nameless wanderer.' You wouldn't want that, right? Just a bit of consideration on my part."
"…You're truly remarkable, sir. As expected of Warrior Captain Stronoff's guest. Are you a magic caster, by any chance?"
"I can handle basic magic," Kaiser replied lightly, "but I'm a warrior first and foremost. I use a sword."
Before Climb could even blink, Kaiser was already holding a wooden practice sword.
Climb, startled, raised his own training blade. He swallowed hard. The barrier surrounding them wasn't normal — it not only concealed them but emitted a strange illusionary effect.
And the strength of it… he could tell from just touching it. To create such a thing so effortlessly, and yet claim not to be a magic caster…?
Instinct screamed at him — this man was dangerous.
Not just strong — extraordinary.
Perhaps even equal to Gazef himself.
"Then…" Climb said, steadying his stance, "…please teach me, Sir Kaiser!"
"As much as you like."
Climb lunged.
Kaiser didn't even move. He didn't raise his guard, didn't assume a stance — he simply stood there. Climb hesitated for a heartbeat but pressed forward, refusing to underestimate his opponent. He swung with full force—
CLANG!
Something invisible repelled his strike. The impact sent him stumbling backward, crashing onto the ground.
What just happened?
He lifted his head — Kaiser was standing there with the same gentle smile, completely unmoved.
"Have you ever heard of the term 'growth limit'?" Kaiser asked quietly.
"Growth… limit?"
"Yes. Whether human, demi-human, or any other race… hmm, it's a bit hard to explain. Think of it this way — every living being is born with a ceiling, a point beyond which they cannot grow. For humans, that limit is especially low. The more they train, the less efficient their progress becomes. Other races often surpass their limits far more easily — until they, too, reach a wall they cannot cross."
"I see," Climb murmured bitterly. "You're saying… I've already hit that wall. And that I should stop forcing myself beyond what I can do."
He gave a faint, self-deprecating smile.
Some people might have taken offense to Kaiser's words.
But Climb didn't.
Instead, he quietly accepted them — with a hint of gratitude. Deep down, he had suspected as much. At some point, no matter how hard he trained, no matter how desperately he fought, he had stopped improving. Despite working harder than in his youth, his progress had slowed.
He'd begun to feel it — that unyielding, invisible wall called fate.
Perhaps Kaiser only wanted to help him understand reality — not to crush his ideals, but to give them direction.
"No," Kaiser said calmly. "I'm not telling you to stop working hard… I'm telling you to change direction."
"Direction?"
"Yes. The growth limit — it's like a wall. One that can't be broken, and one far too high to leap over."
"A wall."
"There's a way to surpass that immense wall."
"...!? W-What kind of way!?" Climb asked, eyes widening.
Kaiser smiled faintly.
"You fight as if you're going to die."
He said it with a look that seemed to ask, 'Impressive, right?'
Climb's expression twisted awkwardly. Staring at Kaiser's proud face — the face of someone who clearly thought he'd just said something profound — made it impossible to retort with, 'Well, that's obvious!'
Seeing Climb's reluctant expression, Kaiser chuckled.
"Ah, right now you're thinking, 'That's such an obvious answer,' aren't you?"
"N-No! Not at all, sir— I mean… my apologies."
"You're an honest kid," Kaiser said, amused. "Too upright, actually. I worry you'll snap one day if you keep pushing yourself like that. If you're going to protect someone, you'll need a bit of flexibility — some adaptability."
At those words, Climb immediately thought of Princess Renner.
As her bodyguard, strength alone wouldn't suffice. He had to be mindful of his surroundings, to read the moods of nobles and courtiers, to navigate politics — skills he wasn't exactly good at. What Kaiser said was, in truth, right on the mark. People often told him he was too stiff, too serious — though no one had ever said it so bluntly before.
"Let's put it this way," Kaiser continued. "Imagine two people with the same growth limit. One, like you, devotes himself entirely to training — pushing himself to exhaustion every day. The other goes out into the battlefield, fights monsters, sheds blood, and constantly faces death."
Without realizing it, Climb found himself listening intently — as though a teacher were imparting some profound lesson.
"If those two met again a year later and fought, who do you think would win?"
"…The one who went to the battlefield, I suppose," Climb answered.
"Their growth limits are the same," Kaiser said. "Their potential was set from the moment they were born. So why do you think the second one would win?"
"Because of… experience, maybe? The kind of… indescribable edge that comes from surviving real battles. I think there's a lot you gain there that can't be learned through training alone — even if it's far more dangerous."
"When you're on the brink of death," Kaiser said softly, "your senses sharpen. The will to survive draws out strength you didn't know you had. Do it enough times, and the shackles people call 'the limits of the body' start to loosen."
"Then what you're saying is…"
"If you spend a few years fighting like a madman — bleeding, nearly dying, over and over — that so-called growth limit can be overcome."
With a snap of his fingers, the barrier shattered. Sound from the outside world flooded back in.
"Well then, keep training hard," Kaiser said with a casual wave as he turned to leave.
Climb stood frozen, staring at his retreating figure.
Then the realization hit him.
What Kaiser had just suggested was, essentially, "Go fight to the death for a few years straight."
Climb clenched his fists, screaming inwardly—
"That's insane!"
Kaiser glanced back briefly, smiling at the sight of Climb holding his head in frustration, then walked off to rejoin Gazef.
He never disliked people who worked hard — he respected them. But sometimes, he thought, effort alone wasn't enough; one needed direction. So he had given the boy a little nudge — and it hadn't been a lie.
After all, back when he was weak, that was exactly how Kaiser himself had grown stronger.
Every battle he fought had been a brush with death.
Every mistake could have cost him his life.
Whether it was luck or misfortune, his opponents had always been stronger than him.
It had been a long, long time since he'd felt that edge — that desperate clarity at death's door.
"Hey, Gazef," Kaiser said suddenly, turning serious.
"About those imperial soldiers you mentioned — the ones attacking border villages."
"Yes?"
"I'm coming with you."
He didn't know why — only that something in his gut told him he had to go.
A strong, unmistakable feeling — the kind that came only once in a lifetime.
A feeling of fate.
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