"Thanks be to His noble mercy."
As the Sister chanted this, the children, including myself, imitated her gesture by clasping our hands and offering prayers.
When the Sister finished praying and began to touch her plate, the children immediately stopped praying and began shoveling food into their mouths with spoons.
I was taken out shortly after collapsing in that room.
I'm convinced that what I saw at the end was a hallucination caused by drugs.
My memory is hazy, but there was a strange smell at some point, so they probably pumped in vaporized drugs at that time.
Their goal is to brainwash the children.
That's why I knew I could get out of that room, but even so, when pushed to my limits, my mind easily gave in.
I painfully realized that the human mind isn't as strong as one might think.
And the children here are already on the indoctrinated side. With a child's mind, it would be impossible to maintain sanity in darkness and hunger.
Among them are children who appear in the memories of the boy I'm possessing, so I assume they went through the same process as me.
The next step would likely be education. After brainwashing and implanting convenient beliefs, they'll use those beliefs to make the children do their dirty work. A natural progression.
By the way, I keep saying "boy," but the owner of this body doesn't have a name.
The "true name" given during the ritual right before I awoke would count as a name, but judging from how it sounds, it's probably not for everyday use.
I don't know if it's for religious reasons or adult circumstances that they don't give names despite the obvious inconvenience.
These children were gathered in a space surrounded by circular walls.
Light shines in from the sky.
It seems the timing of coming out from that dark room differs for each child, and those seeing this place for the first time looked around with interest.
"Now we will begin 'physical training.' Take a wooden knife."
Giving orders in a low voice is a robed man.
At his feet is a box containing more wooden knives than our number.
Are they planning to raise us as assassins?
As the number of children diminished, I picked up one of the remaining knives and noticed that the robed man and I made eye contact.
"...Get back quickly."
The voice was familiar. I think it was the unfriendly man who took me to the ritual.
I nodded slightly and returned to the group of children.
"Line up in a row. Then start practicing swings."
Following the experienced children, I move to an empty spot.
Then the man demonstrates the first knife swings.
"Keep your left hand behind you, or if you bring it forward, keep it at your chest. It gets in the way when swinging... And the basic posture when using a knife is this. Hold it in your right hand in a regular grip, with your elbow bent so you can stab at any time. Whether you swing or thrust, start from this posture and return to it at the end."
The man demonstrates various attacks from a practiced stance: thrusting, downward cuts, parrying, attacks from various angles.
"Start with thrusting."
"Yes!"
Of course, being an obedient child, I too follow his instructions and begin swinging the knife at empty air.
Even in my previous life's memories, I couldn't recall information about knife techniques, so I probably only ever held a kitchen knife.
So I swing the knife while recalling the man's movements.
For thrusting, I focus on moving in a straight line extending from my body.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Perhaps because of my light weight, just swinging my arm makes the tip of the knife waver.
Also, having a tail throws off my body balance compared to my previous life's sense.
So, when I swing my arm while being conscious of my tail's movement, it got a bit better.
In exchange for moving more carefully, my swing speed decreases.
The wooden knife is lightweight and sized to fit a child's hand, and the movements aren't that intense, but repeating them gradually builds up fatigue.
"Ah!"
The boy next to me drops his knife.
The knife, propelled by the thrust, scatters a bit of sand on the ground.
"...What are you doing?"
"I-I just dropped the knife, ugh!"
The boy who tried to explain was kicked by the man and rolled on the ground.
"Pick it up quickly."
"Ugh... yes."
The boy, dirtied with dust, picks up the wooden knife.
"Take your stance."
"...Yes."
He takes his stance with teary eyes.
"You're gripping too tightly. That's why you tire quickly. When holding it, focus on gripping with just your pinky and ring finger. Then, only put strength in your hand when stabbing or cutting."
"? Yes."
The boy, who expected a scolding, responds with a bit of confusion.
"Try swinging."
"Like this?"
"Put more variation in how you apply strength."
"Yes!"
As he practices under guidance, the unnecessary tension disappears from his movements.
Realizing this, the boy's eyes regain their light.
"...Never drop your knife, even if you die."
"Yes, sir!"
I see, it's unclear why, but dropping the knife seems to be his trigger.
The robed man nodded at the boy's response and walked away.
Listening to this instruction next to him, I swing my knife while recalling the man's words, and I can now swing with less effort.
As I focus intently on swinging, the man's footsteps stop behind me.
Wh-what is it?
"...Hah... hah... hah..."
"..."
Normally, one would stop swinging and ask something, or look back to check the situation, but unfortunately, this isn't a normal place.
If I stop swinging, I'll definitely get knocked down.
With this fragile body, getting hit without restraint could result in more than just a fracture.
"...Hah... hah... hah..."
As I continue swinging while internally nervous, the stopped footsteps start moving again.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a child being knocked down.
...Well. This isn't a pleasant world.
I'd been hoping to see outside, but at this rate, it seems like unauthorized exit might result in immediate execution.
Afterward, we continued to swing knives nonstop.
At the end of "physical training," after returning the knives to the box:
"...You there, black-haired snake-person."
"...Ah, y-yes?"
For a moment, I wasn't sure who he was calling, but since he was clearly facing me, I realized he meant me.
Apparently, humans with snake characteristics are a race called snake-people.
There are other children with scales on their faces or arms, or those with tails, but I'm the only one with a snake tail and black-mixed hair.
The man rummages in his pocket, and there's a metallic clink.
"Hold out your hand."
"? ...Yes."
I hold out both hands like a bowl, and the man places a single coin in my palm.
"Give it to the Sister at dinner time. You'll get meat."
I see, I see.
It's like a reward. Thinking this, I put it in my pocket, and I can hear people around whispering things like "So it's that guy today."
This reward coin has apparently been given out daily before.
As I put it in my pocket and trace the surface of the coin with my hand, I feel some symbols engraved on the surface. I don't know if this is currency with numbers engraved on the surface, or something like a "meat ticket" with characters engraved.
Imagining this coin being handmade by the man with "MEAT" carved on its surface, I suppress the laughter that rises within me.
"Next, we'll conduct 'qi control training' in the meditation room."
The man, saying this as if his job was done, leaves the training ground.
Contrary to me wondering what "qi control" is, the children seemed excited.