It seemed simple at first. No, if we’d started with this from the beginning, it would have been far more tolerable. Kenji had started to properly train me. Gone, for the most part, were the brutal, constant battles, replaced now with long, tedious lessons.

Some days would be filled with lectures on anatomy, while others would be spent locked into tense positions to train my body. I was also learning how to wield a number of weapons, from swords and spears to guns and bows, as well as using my body itself as a weapon.

What Kenji taught me could not be qualified as martial arts; instead, he instructed me on exactly how to use my body’s strength, how to maintain my stamina, and, most importantly, the most efficient methods to eliminate an enemy.

There was no “wax on, wax off” bullshit with Kenji. Just cold, calculated methods of murder.

Aside from this, I was also trained in various academic fields, from medicine to chemistry, and anything else that could be useful in combat. I was also learning how to survive the outdoors. Fuck, I was basically turning into a super-boyscout. Kenji should have started giving me badges.

In my situation, I should have been pleased that I was dying less. That there was less pain, less tension. To any reasonable person, this should have been an enviable position to be in compared to where I had been before. But I was so incredibly, stupidly, out-of-my fucking mind bored.

This was torture. Just when I’d gotten used to the bloodshed and pain, the moment that it had even started to thrill me, all of a sudden, I’d been dragged into a world of tedium. Fucking Kenji. He knew exactly what he was doing.

But I bided my time. I learned. If I was going to kill Kenji, I had to. What he was teaching me, after all, was how to kill him. So I suffered through the boredom and learned. Months passed, and Kenji still never spoke to me about anything other than the curriculum that he’d curated for me. The occasional question about who he really was or where we were was always entirely ignored.

Not that I was surprised. Nothing had changed, really. I was still being punished. Kenji was still tormenting me, just in a different way than before. And of course, I didn’t forget my hatred for him in the time he spent teaching me.

Stolen novel; please report.

Many more months passed.

With each day, I became more proficient in the art of killing. The curriculum had also been amended, and I was learning large-scale battle tactics. As I became integrated with my new routine, my mind started to free up some space to reflect. Something I was yet to really consider was why I was here. It was a difficult question; there were too many bizarre variables.

Kenji was obviously involved. Was he the culprit that had brought me here, though? Or another victim of it?

As much as my role was to kill him, was his role to instruct me? I wasn’t sure. He was certainly in a better position than I was, from what I could tell. Besides, where was he going when he left this place? Fuck, there’s no point in thinking about it. All of these questions and no fucking answers. I kept studying.

How long had it been? Much more time had passed, and I was incomparable as a combatant compared to before I’d started training. My body was tempered and muscular, and my mind was always sharp and clear. Had it been years, now?

Since I’d first arrived, I’d tried to keep a rough estimate of how much time had passed. It had most definitely been at least a couple of years. Even so, I’d yet to put even a scratch on Kenji. How many more years would it take for me to kill him?

I looked over at Kenji. He was observing my stance, ready to strike if I so much as quivered.

“Alright, release.”

I relaxed my body, ready for the next instruction.

“Sit down.”

I sat. Gone were the days where I would rebel against him. It got me killed many times during the beginning of my training, when my head was still hot with rage, unable to focus on anything except my escape through Kenji’s death.

Now, though, my patience had grown. I knew my limits. Kenji would die by my hands, but it wasn't time yet.

“This kind of training is no longer effective.”

Well, I definitely felt the same. Every muscle in my body had been strengthened to their prime, and I had mastered every element of the fighting skills that I’d been taught.

“We’ll move on to something more advanced today. But first, I think it’s time to tell you a little more.”

What? Holy shit, was Kenji finally going to stop bullshitting me for a second?

“This is where we are.”

Kenji squatted down and drew a circle in the sand.

“It’s called the Black Box.”