Jake woke up to find a note pinned to his pillow.
Morrison,
Meet me at the old lighthouse on the north beach at 0600. Come alone. Bring nothing.
- Garp
Jake checked the time: 5:30 AM. The old lighthouse was at least a twenty-minute walk from the barracks.
Great. He's already testing my punctuality.
He got dressed quickly—standard training uniform since the note said to bring nothing—and headed out. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the base. Most of the facility was still asleep.
The path to the north beach wound through a rocky area that Jake had never explored before. The old lighthouse came into view—a weathered stone structure that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Garp stood at its base, arms crossed, looking uncharacteristically serious.
"On time. Good." Garp gestured to the lighthouse. "This used to be an active navigation point. Now it's just a relic. But for today, it's your testing ground."
"What's the test, sir?"
"You're going to climb to the top of that lighthouse, light the beacon, and return to the bottom. You have one hour."
Jake looked at the lighthouse. It was tall—maybe thirty meters—but that shouldn't take an hour. "Sir, that seems... straightforward?"
Garp's smile was predatory. "Does it? Let me add some context. First: I've removed most of the stairs inside. You'll need to find alternate routes. Second: I've placed various obstacles throughout the structure. Third: the beacon mechanism is broken. You'll need to figure out how to light it with limited materials. And fourth—" He cracked his knuckles. "—I'll be hunting you."
"I'm sorry, hunting me?"
"Not to hurt you! Just to apply pressure. Every time I catch you, you lose five minutes from your time limit. Get caught too many times, you fail." Garp pulled out a pocket watch. "Your hour starts... now."
Jake ran.
He sprinted to the lighthouse entrance, his mind already racing through options. Garp's footsteps echoed behind him—not running, just walking with that same casual confidence that somehow made it scarier.
Inside the lighthouse, Jake understood what Garp meant about the stairs. The main staircase had been deliberately dismantled, leaving only fragments attached to the walls. In its place were various ropes, wooden beams, and makeshift platforms.
This is an obstacle course. He turned the lighthouse into a vertical obstacle course.
Jake grabbed the first rope and started climbing. His arms, still sore from yesterday's training, protested immediately. He ignored the pain and focused on moving upward.
A whistling sound made him look down. Garp had thrown something—it looked like a weighted bag. It struck the rope Jake was climbing, making it swing wildly.
"Five minutes gone!" Garp called up. "Too slow! Too predictable!"
Jake abandoned the rope and jumped to a wooden beam jutting from the wall. He scrambled across it to a different section, where a rope ladder led upward. Behind him, Garp was climbing with infuriating ease, not even breathing hard.
Don't think about him. Focus on the objective. Get to the top, light the beacon, get down.
The second level had a gap in the floor—a hole about three meters wide. Jake could see another platform on the far side, but no obvious way across.
"Problem?" Garp's voice came from below, closer than Jake expected.
Jake looked around frantically. There—a loose plank leaning against the wall. He grabbed it, tested its weight, and laid it across the gap. It wobbled dangerously but held.
He crawled across carefully. Just as he reached the other side, Garp arrived at the gap.
"Creative! But was it fast enough?"
Jake didn't wait to find out. He found another rope and continued climbing. His arms were screaming now, and sweat dripped into his eyes. The third level had a different challenge—the entire floor was covered in loose planks that shifted and creaked under his weight.
This is testing my awareness. Watch where I step. Distribute weight carefully.
He moved slowly, testing each plank before putting his full weight on it. Garp appeared at the level's entrance, and Jake expected him to charge forward. Instead, Garp just leaned against the wall, waiting.
Why isn't he... oh. He's letting me think this through. But the clock is still running.
Jake sped up slightly, accepting more risk to save time. A plank gave way under his foot, and he barely caught himself on a support beam.
"Heart rate management, Morrison!" Garp called. "Panic makes mistakes!"
Jake forced himself to breathe slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Stay calm. Think.
He made it across the unstable floor and found the next level—this one had actual stairs, but they were on fire.
Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be on fire?
Except looking closer, Jake realized it wasn't real fire. It was some kind of rope arrangement with red cloth that created the illusion of flames in the dim light.
"Visual deception!" Jake called down to Garp, who had caught up again. "You're testing if I believe what I see!"
"Very good! But you lost time figuring it out! That's another five minutes!"
Jake was running out of time. He burst through the fake fire barrier and found the final climb—a straight vertical shaft with only small handholds carved into the stone. At the top, he could see the beacon chamber.
His arms were rubber. His fingers were cramping. And Garp was right behind him.
Come on. You've been in this world for a month. You've survived boot camp, combat training, and swimming with sea monsters. You can climb one lighthouse.
Jake gripped the first handhold and pulled himself up. Each movement was agony, but he forced himself to keep going. One handhold. Then another. Then another.
Garp grabbed his ankle.
"Caught you!" Garp announced cheerfully. "Another five minutes!"
But Garp also didn't pull him down. He just held Jake's ankle for a moment, then released it.
He's not trying to make me fail. He's testing if I'll give up under pressure.
Jake kept climbing. His fingers slipped once, twice, but he caught himself each time. Finally, his hand reached the edge of the beacon chamber, and he hauled himself up and through the opening.
The beacon chamber was circular, with windows all around and the beacon mechanism in the center. As Garp had warned, it was clearly broken—the lens was cracked, the fuel reservoir was empty, and several gears were missing.
"You have fifteen minutes left!" Garp called from below. He wasn't following Jake into the chamber. "Light the beacon with what you have available!"
Jake looked around desperately. What did he have? His uniform, his boots, his belt. That was it. And scattered around the chamber were various items Garp must have left—a flint and steel, some dry wood, a bucket of water, a coil of rope, and a small mirror.
Okay. Think. The beacon is meant to create a visible light. The mechanism is broken, so I can't use it normally. But I can create light another way.
He grabbed the dry wood and started arranging it in the beacon's housing. Using the flint and steel from his previous survival training, he struck sparks until the wood caught fire.
Smoke immediately began filling the chamber.
Right. Smoke. That's a problem.
Jake grabbed the bucket of water and doused part of the fire, leaving just enough flame to create light without overwhelming smoke. Then he grabbed the mirror and positioned it to reflect and amplify the light.
It wasn't as bright as the proper beacon, but it was visible. Through the windows, Jake could see the light reflecting off the water below.
"Beacon lit!" he called down.
"Confirmed! Now get down here! You have ten minutes!"
Ten minutes to descend what took me almost forty to climb.
Jake looked at the rope coil. An idea formed—stupid, dangerous, but potentially fast.
He tied one end of the rope to the beacon housing, testing its strength. It seemed solid. He wrapped the other end around his waist and approached the shaft he'd just climbed up.
This is insane. Garp would probably approve of insane.
Jake took a breath and jumped into the shaft, letting the rope catch his weight. He used his feet against the walls to control his descent, basically rappelling down without proper equipment.
He dropped faster than he'd climbed, his palms burning from rope friction. At the bottom of the shaft, he untied himself and ran for the unstable floor level.
This time he didn't test each plank—he ran across, trusting speed to carry him before planks could collapse. It worked, barely. He heard wood cracking behind him but didn't look back.
The gap level—he grabbed his plank and tossed it aside, then took a running leap. He hit the far edge hard, rolled, and kept moving.
Garp appeared on the stairs below, blocking the main route.
"You're committed now, Morrison! Show me what you've learned!"
Jake didn't slow down. At the last second, he jumped—not at Garp, but at the wall beside him. His foot hit a protruding stone, and he used it to launch himself past Garp, sliding down the rope he'd used earlier.
His hands screamed in protest but he held on, dropping rapidly. He hit the ground floor with a painful thud, rolled, and scrambled to his feet.
Garp was laughing above him. "THIRTY SECONDS LEFT!"
Jake sprinted for the lighthouse exit. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, but he pushed harder. The doorway was ahead, sunlight streaming through—
He burst out of the lighthouse and collapsed on the sand.
"TIME!" Garp announced, appearing in the doorway behind him. "Forty-nine minutes, thirty-seven seconds! You made it!"
Jake lay on his back, gasping for air, every part of his body either hurting or numb. "Did I... pass?"
"Pass? BWAHAHAHA! You exceeded expectations!" Garp sat down beside him. "I thought you'd take the cautious route, play it safe. But when you were running out of time, you took risks. Smart risks, calculated risks, but risks nonetheless. That's what I wanted to see."
"I think... I'm dying..."
"You're fine! Just tired!" Garp offered him a water canteen. "Let me tell you what impressed me. You adapted. When I caught you on the rope, you switched routes. When you hit obstacles, you improvised. When you ran out of time, you got creative and fast. That's what Marines need to survive."
Jake drank deeply, his hands shaking. "What was the point of all this? The lighthouse, the obstacles, everything?"
"To show you something important." Garp's voice became serious again. "You're going to face situations where planning fails. Where your safe strategies don't work. Where you have to take risks or die. Today proved you can do that. You won't be a frontline fighter—that's not your path. But you can survive when things go wrong. And that's more important than most people realize."
Jake sat up slowly. "You're saying I'm good at improvising?"
"I'm saying you're good at surviving. That's a rare talent." Garp stood and offered his hand. Jake took it, and Garp pulled him to his feet. "Tomorrow I leave. You'll go back to regular training. But remember what you learned these three days. Physical awareness, tactical thinking, and the ability to adapt under pressure. Those skills will keep you alive."
They walked back toward the base together. Jake's legs felt like they might give out at any moment, but he kept moving.
"Morrison, can I ask you something?" Garp said.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are you really so afraid? And don't give me the 'I'm just being cautious' answer. There's something deeper."
Jake thought about how to answer without revealing the truth. "I've seen what this world can do, sir. I've read the reports, heard the stories. I know how many Marines die every year. How many people are killed by pirates, sea monsters, natural disasters. This world is fundamentally dangerous, and I'm just... aware of that. Maybe too aware."
"That's not wrong," Garp said quietly. "This world is dangerous. More dangerous than most people realize. But here's the thing, kid. Being aware of danger and being controlled by fear of danger are different things. You're right on that line. These three days were about pulling you back from the fear side."
"Did it work?"
"Ask yourself. Are you more or less afraid than you were three days ago?"
Jake considered it. He was still terrified of this world. But he'd climbed a booby-trapped lighthouse while being hunted. He'd swum with sea creatures. He'd faced challenges and survived. The fear hadn't gone away, but maybe it had become... manageable?
"Less afraid," Jake admitted. "A little."
"That's enough for now. Fear keeps you careful. Too little fear makes you reckless. You're finding the balance." They reached the main base. "Go rest. You've earned it. Training resumes as normal tomorrow."
"Thank you, sir. For everything."
Garp waved dismissively. "Just don't waste what you learned. And Morrison? One more thing."
"Sir?"
"Whatever you're really running from, whatever made you this afraid—you'll need to face it eventually. Can't run forever in a world this small."
Before Jake could respond, Garp walked away, heading toward the officers' quarters.
Jake stood there, processing those final words. Does he know? Can he tell I'm not from this world? Or is he just that perceptive?
He'd never know for sure. And maybe that was better.
Marcus found him a few minutes later. "Dude! I saw you leaving early. How was your final test?"
"I climbed a lighthouse while being hunted, improvised a beacon, and rappelled down without proper equipment."
"That sounds amazing!"
"That sounds traumatic."
"Those are the same thing!" Marcus laughed. "Come on, let's get food. You look like you're about to collapse."
In the mess hall, the four advanced trainees compared their final tests. Jenkins had gone through a brutal combat gauntlet. Davis had navigated a dangerous obstacle course blindfolded. Marcus had been dropped on a small island and had to survive for several hours with no equipment.
"Garp's training methods are insane," Jenkins said, but he was smiling. "But I learned more in three days than I thought possible."
They all agreed. Despite the terror, the pain, and the exhaustion, Garp's training had changed them. They were better Marines now—or at least better equipped to survive being Marines.
That night, Jake lay in his bunk and realized something: he'd survived three days of training from one of the strongest people in the world. Not just survived—excelled, in his own way.
Maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can survive this world after all.
It was a small spark of confidence. But it was something.
From below, Marcus's voice drifted up. "Hey Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"You know what I realized today?"
"What?"
"You're braver than you think you are."
Jake didn't respond. He wasn't sure he agreed. But he appreciated the thought.
Tomorrow, regular training would resume. Eventually, he'd graduate boot camp and get his posting. The real test of survival would begin.
But for now, he'd take the small victory: he'd survived Garp.
And if he could survive Garp, maybe he could survive anything.
Maybe.