The slap to his face draws him back from the brink of sleep again, and his eyes snap open, but he refuses to vocalize his annoyance… if it could even be called annoyance at this point.

It was annoyance the first several times it happened, no doubt about it, but now? Now, there's an impending sense of desperation to it, one that makes this feel less like a simple training exercise and more like an actual attack on him. That's probably the point, though. What better way to prepare for enemy techniques than to experience them in a safe environment ahead of time?

"You can do better than that," he finds himself goading, voice fried and cracking unevenly after… however long it's been with no food, water, or sleep.

He may technically be exhausted, but he's still clinging onto enough awareness to notice the way Kolivan had retracted his claws to ensure Keith wasn't too hurt by the slap. It reminds him senselessly of a grown cat batting at a kitten in play, holding back to avoid really hurting it but thinking the kitten is learning to defend itself from attacks through the simulated act.

The enemy won't afford him the same care as Kolivan does, and he's not the clueless kitten who can't see that it's all pretend.

It's all a diet version of the real deal, not up to par with what he needs to learn to expect at all. It's giving him a taste at best. There's no push for him to reveal information, no attempt to seriously injure him, not even the possibility that they'll let this progress far enough to permanently harm him. He'll walk out of it exhausted, dehydrated, and starving, but they'll pop him down to the med bay and fix it immediately after. He won't be surprised if they also give him the rest of the movement off to fully recover, as though he won't need to push himself even harder on the tail end of a real experience like this when he really escapes.

It feels like a waste of so much suffering.

"Come on," he pushes. "Show me what it's really like."

His body disagrees with the sentiment, but if he's good at anything by now, it's overriding his body's signals. He spent the better part of a year alone in the desert with only himself to rely on and lasted well over a day during the Trials while actively engaged in combat. This is nothing.

Kolivan doesn't grace him with an answer. He doesn't do anything but watch to make sure Keith doesn't slip back toward unconsciousness. It's going on what might be thirty hours if he's judging based on his now thoroughly botched perception of time, and Kolivan hasn't spared a single word for him in that time, not while he babysits Keith, not when Keith goads, not when he switches out with another Blade so he himself can go rest before his next shift in the makeshift torture chamber.

The parade of other Blades has yet to feature one he knows, even in passing. Combined with the way Kolivan refuses to speak to him, it's to avoid giving him the simulated relief of being jailed with someone he knows, probably. It'd be effective on someone else, but Keith's been alone for most of his life. Just because he's had a couple short periods where he had a friend or… or a team, that doesn't mean he's forgotten how to be alone.

Maybe the roughest part is the swing from his now-typical properly portioned meals to absolutely nothing. It's not lining up with his one other experience with starvation, going from the paltry garrison rations to nothing. It'd been no walk in the park then, but it was more manageable somehow. At the time, he'd thought he'd just taught his body to hold onto nutrients more efficiently after all the years of inconsistent meals, but with the benefit of hindsight…

…he'd been starving based on his Galran needs already. The staples of his meals had hardly been suited for him, perfectly healthy for an all-human child but not so much for a half-carnivorous one.

For awhile, there's a quiet simplicity in distracting himself from everything else by focusing on the pain of the hunger, the way it feels like his stomach is trying to digest itself in its desperation.

But eventually, that gives way to the building nausea which is somehow an even worse distraction. It's all-encompassing and ramps up until it overrides everything else in its need to be his singular focus, but the discomfort of it doesn't do his mind any favors in the process.

This feels more like torture than the rest of the session has, even with Kolivan still holding back.

He can't think for shit like this, and he can't pin down what exactly is causing it. Even if he could, it's not like he's got a way to address it whether it's the lack of food, water, or sleep.

All he can do is surrender to it, let the untrackable time and unstoppable sensations take him under, interspersed only by the silent interruptions to his unintentional attempts at sleep.

It might be the fourth day when they let him go. At some point, his sense of time had faded away completely, so it's impossible to be sure until he can get to a data tablet or something.

There's no chance of that in the immediate aftermath.

There's a flurry of Blades around him, plying him with some kind of juice, thick and almost sickeningly sweet, before they urge him to his feet and lead him to the med bay with two larger Blades supporting him from either side.

Kolivan dismisses them from duty once they reach the med bay, but neither moves to leave.

"Paladin, you did well," one says after a moment of hushed back and forth.

"Blade, he means," the other corrects. "We look forward to serving together."

"He is both," Kolivan adds. "Paladin, Blade, not only will you be an asset to the cause, but we are eager to share a cause with you."

"Thank you," Keith answers, unprepared for the flattery and in no condition to process it in full. "I look forward to it too."

"You've come to the end of your required training. Take as long as you need to recover, but no less than the rest of this movement, and you'll need another satisfactory physical before beginning service."

Keith doesn't beat around it when he tracks Kolivan down the first day he's allowed to report for duty.

"I need to try again, and I need it to be more realistic."

"Paladin," Kolivan greets where Keith had skipped right over that pleasantry. "Our training has been refined over centuries to provide the necessary experience without inflicting lasting damage."

"I've been through worse and survived, Kolivan. If it's between training injuries and not knowing what to expect in missions, I'll take the injuries. I want to do it again. I want it to be more."

"You may be willing to take the suffering, but we are not willing to inflict it. You won't sway me on this. Don't think that your affiliation with Voltron will grant you special treatment here."

"I'm not asking for special treatment! I'm asking you to prepare me for what's out there!"

"And we have. If you're interested in learning more, many of us would be happy to sit down and discuss our field experiences with you, but you will not find anyone willing to torture you beyond what you've already experienced."

"Look, I appreciate what you're doing for me, but this isn't enough."

"Do you appreciate it? Do you appreciate that every one of these training sessions requires your teammates to take on the mental burden of bringing pain upon you? Do you understand the strength required to look your own ally in the eye as you intentionally harm them?"

"That's…"

…valid, he can't bring himself to admit.

"You sometimes act before you think. I knew this when I extended the offer to join us, and we understand it is a part of you to some degree, but you would be wise to work to improve this. When you critique our processes like this without considering why we do things the way we do, you alienate yourself from those who would aid you. You upset those who you should be building strong ties with. You do not want to one day be in the field and relying on the mercy of a complete stranger you've aligned yourself against in your rush to experience all there is to experience before your time."

It's quiet when Keith can't come up with an adequate response. He itches to find an excuse to leave, but none come to mind as the seconds tick awkwardly by.

Kolivan turns away to address empty space.

"Ask Antok if he's comfortable discussing his experience with captivity, but do not push the matter if he doesn't wish to share. And do not continue to ask myself or any others to harm you, or we will need to review your suitability for service. Please consider what you are asking of us going forward."