I knew that things would change the moment I chose to follow him. Well, not like I had much of a choice anyway.
But what I didn't expect was the endless training. If we could keep track of time, maybe it had been over a year by now.
I still vividly remember our first fight, our first training session.
"Get into that stance of yours once more."
I hesitated for a moment, wondering why, but chose to remain silent and comply.
"Now, fight me with everything you've got." He smirked, like he was provoking me.
Without hesitation, I rushed forward, throwing a straight left jab aimed at his head, shifting my body to maximize the damage.
And yet, without moving from his position, he effortlessly dodged. He lifted his right arm, planted his palm on my shoulder, and pushed me off balance while delivering the same treatment, a straight left jab to my face. I couldn't even react.
Nino was fast. Faster than I expected.
His movements were fluid, precise, calculated. The strike, the dodge—he had read my move perfectly, countering it with ease. And he did it all without wasting a single unnecessary movement.
It was all perfectly planned, executed in one seamless motion, as if he had done this a thousand times before.
Then, another punch came straight for my face. I barely had time to react as his fist stopped inches from my nose. I twisted, dodging on instinct, but his knee was already rising toward my ribs.
I gritted my teeth, throwing my arms up just in time to block. The impact sent a dull ache through my bones, but I held firm.
"Not bad," Nino mused, stepping back with that ever-present smirk. "But you rely too much on instinct. That'll get you killed."
I straightened, rolling my shoulders. "Instinct's what kept me alive."
He chuckled. "Kept you alive? Sure. But it won't make you stronger. Also, look at where you are now."
I hated to admit it, but he was right. I had fought my way through life with brute force and survival instincts. I had never trained properly, never refined my technique. And Nino, he moved like someone who had mastered the art of combat.
"Again." I took my stance.
Nino tilted his head. "You're stubborn. I like that. It'll make training fun. We won't get physically injured here, but you'll still feel everything as if you were."
He lunged. This time, I focused. I watched his shoulders, his hips, the subtle shift in his weight. He feinted left, but I caught it, I saw through the deception.
I ducked under his sweeping kick and countered with a jab to his ribs. It connected. Barely. But it was something.
Nino grinned. "Good. You're learning."
We fought for what felt like hours, though time meant nothing in this void. Each exchange brought me closer to understanding him, his movements, his style. He was powerful, no doubt. But more than that—he was in control. Every attack he threw, every block he made, it was as if he already knew the outcome before it happened.
And yet, he never went all out. He was holding back.
"Who are you really?" I asked, panting between breaths.
Nino simply smiled. "Just a guy stuck in the same void as you."
"Bullshit."
His smirk widened. "Maybe. But does it matter?"
I clenched my fists. "Yeah. It does."
Nino sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You ask too many questions. But fine. I'll give you something."
He took a step closer, his presence somehow heavier than before. "Strength isn't just about power. It's about control. Strategy. You fight like someone with nothing to lose, but that's not strength—that's desperation."
His eyes gleamed with something unreadable, as he spoke once more "Real strength? Real strength is knowing when to strike, when to hold back. When to destroy… and when to build."
His words hung between us, weighty and deliberate.
I frowned. "And what about you? What kind of strength do you have?"
Nino's grin didn't fade, but something darker lurked beneath it. "The kind you don't want to see."
For the first time since meeting him, I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
Nino stretched, shaking off the moment. "Anyway, lesson's over. You're improving, but you're not ready yet."
I narrowed my eyes. "Ready for what?"
He gave me a knowing look as he smirked. "You'll see"
Since then, time had passed. My technique had improved. I could now go toe-to-toe with him—at his weakest. Yet even his weakest was enough to wipe out entire groups of people effortlessly. And still, I knew he was holding back, by a huge margin that is.
"Hey, kid."
I opened my eyes. "Yes?"
I remained in my meditative stance, legs crossed, arms resting at my sides. He had taught me how to meditate, and it had helped keep my sanity and hopes intact.
"Get ready."
I looked up at him. "For what?" Another fight? Another lesson? I didn't mind, one more wouldn't hurt.
"To leave."
My breath hitched. I stared at him, processing his words. "You know how to leave? You figured it out?"
Nino turned, walking a few steps before pausing. "Well, I have an idea. But it's not easy. And once we're out… things will change."
I exhaled slowly, clenching and unclenching my fists. "Let's do it."
Nino glanced back, his smirk still intact. But this time, there was something else
behind it. Amusement? Curiosity? Or a dark plan lurking in his mind?
"Alright then," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's get out of here.."
"Follow me, kid." So I did, and we walked.
"Still remember where you came from?" he asked.
I opened my mouth, but no answer came. "No. Why would I? And how could I?
It's been so long, and everything looks the same."
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You're more useless than I thought, brat."
What… Did he just call me a brat? That was new coming from him.
"Heh. First time calling me that," I remarked.
He looked me dead in the eyes. "What, you don't like the new nickname, brat?"
Ah. We were going to be here longer than I thought.
And so, we argued for some time before finally reaching our destination.
"We're here," he said, proudly looking at… nothing. Just pure emptiness. The same endless void we'd been trapped in all this time.
I frowned. "What do you mean 'here'? Everything looks the same."
"Look, I need you to do me a favor. I'm going to throw you super high, and once
you come back down, tell me what you see."
I turned to him, utterly confused. "Huh?"
But before I could process anything… I was already flying.
"That bastard…"
I soared upward, cutting through the void like a shooting star. The weightlessness was disorienting, but I forced myself to focus. I looked up,
searching for anything unusual. And then I saw it.
A crack in the void.
"Huh?" My breath caught in my throat. Why was that there?
Then, gravity took hold, and I fell. "Wait… if I can feel punches, how bad is this impact going to be?"
Bracing for the worst, I curled up, waiting for the inevitable pain. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then-
"How long are you gonna keep monologuing, brat?"
I hesitantly peeked up. Nino stood over me, arms crossed, smirking.
"You don't feel pain from the void itself, you know that, right?"
Realization struck me like a slap to the face.
How could I have forgotten? When I first arrived here, I tripped and fell… and felt nothing.
It all made sense.
"So? What'd you see?" Nino asked, clearly expecting an answer.
"A crack… I saw a crack."
At that moment, his expression shifted. He looked up and laughed—a deep, satisfied laugh.
"Oh yes… my escape point."
He turned back to me, eyes glinting with excitement. "Get ready. You're flying again."
Huh?
And just like that, I was once again soaring through the air.
"If you could just jump this high yourself, why'd you make me do it first?!" I shouted down at him.
He only grinned. "Because it's more fun this way!"
And so, we ascended toward the crack, heading for whatever lay beyond. A place unknown to both of us.