Panic surged through their minds, cold and unrelenting. Andy’s sobs cut through the silence, ragged and desperate. “We are dying… gradually,” he whispered, voice trembling as though speaking aloud would make it real. Newton’s chest tightened, breaths shallow, stomach coiling. The air itself seemed heavier, thick with the scent of fear and blood lingering from the previous fight.

  Edmond’s gaze fell on the pale, still body of Kael. Regret flashed across his face, sharp and fleeting, drowned immediately by something harder; survival, the ruthless necessity that ruled this place. “He begged for it,” Edmond growled, teeth clenched, jaw tight as the blood drained from his face, leaving it gray and rigid.

  Then his eyes darted toward his food, stomach growling in tandem with his rising panic. They were gone. His hands shook as he scanned the room, fists clenching, knuckles whitening. Students shifted uneasily under his glare, their eyes darting to one another, mouths tight with guilt or fear. And then Edmond saw them; Brian and Theo, shameless, tearing into what remained.

  Edmond froze, time stretching in his mind. His body vibrated with rage, every muscle coiled, trembling. “You are both dead,” he roared, voice tearing through the room like a whip. His legs lunged forward before his brain could catch up. The first swing tore through the air.

  Brian and Theo met him head-on, each movement stiff, precise, adrenaline hammering through them. Edmond’s fists collided with theirs, desperation in every strike.

  The impact thudded against bone and muscle, echoes bouncing in the cold hall. Each blow he landed seemed weaker than the last; the fight had sapped him, his strength dimmed from the relentless pressure of survival, from the last encounter.

  Newton surged forward, fear and urgency knotting his chest. “Stop it!” he shouted, but Stella’s grip yanked him back, unyielding. Her hands pressed against his shoulders, arm strong as iron, body solid. “Do not interfere. You will get hurt,” she warned, voice low, sharp as a blade. Newton’s body jerked under her control, the tension in his muscles coiling, then snapping in frustration.

  “Why?” he shouted, eyes wide. “Are we going to just watch ourselves die?” His voice cracked, raw, shaking with desperation.

  Stella yanked him violently, slamming him against the wall. Pain shot through his shoulder, chest pressing hard against the cold concrete. Her eyes burned with a cold, lethal intensity. “When will you understand?” she hissed.

  “This is not the world you were born into. This is not the world where Jesus exists. The only god here is the system. You either accept it, or you die, quick, like them.”

  She released him abruptly. Newton stumbled, gasping, chest rising and falling as though each breath would be his last.

  He stood alone, trembling, the metallic taste of fear coating his tongue. Brian and Theo continued their assault on Edmond, fists flying, sweat and blood mixing in the dim light.

  Edmond felt it then, a cold void in his stomach, his strength slipping away. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The fight had become instinct, survival overriding conscience. Yet slowly, inexorably, he stepped back, faltering, feet dragging across the floor as if the weight of what he had done finally struck him.

  Newton’s gaze wandered, caught in a memory that wrapped itself around his chest like chains. Home. His mother’s warm hands, Amalia’s smile tucked behind the locket in his palm. Fingers gripping the cold metal, he forced a brittle chuckle, chest tightening. “I wonder, how you are feeling right now?” he whispered, voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

  A hiss of air escaped him. “You must believe I am dead right now.” His mind reeled, each pulse echoing like a drum in his ears. Then, as if on cue, the stat overlay appeared again, glowing faintly on his wrist.

  NAME: NEWTON HILLS

  HUMANITY: 87

  STRENGTH: 95

  TOLERANCE: 20

  SPEED: 10

  NINJA SKILL: 0

  The numbers seared into his mind, digits sharp as blades. His breath caught. Each death, each choice to let violence consume the weak, chipped away at something deeper. Humanity. A meter he could feel, almost physically, draining with every agonizing moment.

  Newton’s hands shook as he stared at the glowing readout. Sweat dripped down his temple, clinging to the hair plastered against his forehead. Each beat of his heart felt louder, more insistent, reminding him of the cost. Blood. Pain. Death. Every choice he had made, every life slipping quietly into nothingness, lowered his humanity.

  A tug; small, almost imperceptible, pulled at his consciousness. He froze, ears straining. Something moved in the corner of his vision, a shadow stretching across the floor. The system was aware, watching, ready to respond. Zero. The thought struck like lightning.

  Zero humanity. The worst possible outcome. The unknown hung over him, heavy and suffocating, an invisible noose tightening around his chest. His stomach twisted. What would happen if it reached zero? Would he cease to be human? Or worse, would he survive, stripped of empathy, compassion, the ability to feel anything but the relentless need to fight?

  Brian and Theo’s blows finally ceased. Edmond collapsed to his knees, groaning, chest heaving, face pale and streaked with blood and sweat. Newton didn’t move. He stood, trembling, staring down at the aftermath of chaos. His friends, his enemies, the lives around him, all reduced to raw survival, raw pain.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, clinging to his nostrils. He could hear the shallow breathing of the wounded, the subtle creak of the building settling under their weight, the distant drip of water somewhere in the shadows. Every sensory detail was magnified, each sound a pulse of tension, each movement a potential threat.

  Stella’s shadow fell across him once more. Silent, watchful, unyielding. Newton’s legs shook, knees weak, and yet he did not fall. His fingers twitched, gripping the locket as if it were a lifeline to something more human than this brutal world. The system pulsed faintly, a subtle hum vibrating through the floor, the air itself seeming to acknowledge his thoughts.

  A single, ragged breath escaped his lips. Humanity: 87. Still above zero, still clinging to the edge of something that resembled morality, compassion. But only barely. Every choice, every moment, every life lost or spared was a weight on him, heavier than the bricks of the walls pressing around them.

  Newton’s eyes flickered toward the fallen Edmond, toward the corpses of the innocents, toward Brian and Theo panting heavily, hands shaking, and he realized the cost of survival was more than flesh. It was the slow erosion of self, the subtle loss of what made him human. And yet, in that terror, in that knowledge, a spark remained.

  A spark that would not be snuffed out. Not yet.

  He exhaled slowly, shivering, heart still hammering, mind racing. What would happen if it reached zero?

  He didn’t know. But he understood now, with bone-deep certainty, that this world was unforgiving, and every choice mattered. Each action, each inaction, carried a cost. And if he wanted to survive, he would have to pay it, and maybe more.

  The metallic hum of the system pulsed again. The numbers glowed faintly, almost mocking him. Humanity: 87. Strength: 95. Tolerance: 20. Speed: 10. Ninja Skill: 0. Each digit a dagger, each statistic a measure of his existence.

  Newton swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the locket. Something tugged at him again, subtle, insistent, like a reminder that he was being watched, that every decision had consequences beyond what he could yet see.

  He forced himself to straighten, shoulders squared despite the trembling, chest rising with a newfound resolve. One life at a time, one choice at a time, he would navigate this world. He would survive. And he would learn what it truly meant to be human in a world ruled by the system.

  For that day, soberness returned to the students. It did not arrive gently. It came like cold water thrown on their faces. Kael’s body had been dragged away, but his absence still lingered in the room like a smell that refused to leave. Nobody said his name. Nobody looked at the spot where he had fallen. Yet everyone knew.

  Edmond lay against the wall, half-conscious. His face had swollen beyond recognition. One eye was completely shut, the other barely open. His lips were cracked. Dry. When he tried to swallow, his throat clicked.

  He had not gone to the clinic. Everyone knew why. Five Ninja coins. Five coins meant food. Five coins meant days of survival. Five coins meant life.

  But still, he didn't even have it.

  So he stayed there, barely breathing.

  Nobody helped him. Nobody wanted to spend their coin.

  Nobody wanted to be the next one to die. The students behaved. They moved less. They spoke less. They avoided eye contact.

  Their stomachs twisted and growled, but they endured it. Hunger had become familiar. It lived inside them now. It whispered. It clawed. It waited.

  Newton watched them from the corridor. His wrist glowed faintly.

  Ten.

  Ten Ninja coins was all he had left.

  Phil sat beside him. His own wrist glowed weaker.

  Two.

  They both saw each other's numbers. They both understood.

  They said nothing.

  Around them, the others had nothing. No glow. No hope. Just empty wrists and emptier stomachs.

  Morning came slowly.

  Nobody slept well. The students gathered in silence. They sat on the cold floor, backs against the wall, knees drawn close. Their lips had lost color. Their eyes had sunk deeper into their skulls.

  A stomach growled loudly..Then another. Nobody laughed.

  Brian sat among them. His eyes moved.

  Watching.

  Calculating.

  He licked his dry lips. “Why should we all die now when Newton still has ten Ninja coins?” he asked.

  His voice was not loud. It did not need to be. Heads turned.

  Theo, sitting beside him, chuckled softly. It was an ugly sound. Dry. Empty. “And you think anybody will willingly spend their coin on you?”

  Brian shook his head slowly. “We won't be begging him,” he said. His fingers curled. “We will force him.”

  Theo’s eyes sharpened. He leaned forward slightly. “Even if we spend twelve Ninja coins,” Theo said, thinking aloud, “it will only be enough for six plates of food.”

  Brian nodded. His voice dropped. “That is where only the strong will eat.”

  He paused.

  “And the weak won't.” The words hung in the air.

  Heavy.

  Theo smiled. It was not a kind smile. “But you know Stella will resist.”

  Brian’s jaw tightened. “Not when we stir the entire students against them.”

  Theo stared at him. Then slowly, he grinned..“You are truly a genius.”

  They slapped palms..The sound echoed. Too loud. Too final. “Let's do this.”

  They stood. Their legs trembled slightly. Not from fear. But from hunger.

  Slowly, Brian and Theo approached the others. “Hey man!” Brian said.

  Brandom looked up. His eyes narrowed immediately. His body tensed. “Have you come to cause me trouble?” Brandom asked. His voice was hoarse. “I do not have anything you can forcefully take.”

  Brian raised both hands. “Relax man! I came for peace.”

  Brandom stared at him. Suspicion filled his face. Brian and peace had never existed in the same sentence.

  “What do you want?” Brandom asked.

  Brian smiled. It did not reach his eyes. “Why do we have to be hungry when we can make Newton buy us food?”

  Brandom’s brows pulled together. His fingers rubbed his chin. “What do you mean?”

  Brian stepped closer, and lowered his voice. “I mean if we all rise against him, he would have no choice.”

  He gestured around. “All of us.”.He leaned closer. “We can all share.”

  He swallowed.

  “Even if it is one spoon per person.”

  Brandom said nothing. His throat moved. He imagined it.

  Food.

  Even one spoon.

  His stomach clenched painfully. His resolve weakened: slowly. Very slowly.

  He nodded. “I am in.”

  Brian smiled wider.

  They moved on..One by one. Student by student. They whispered. They persuaded. They reminded them of hunger. They reminded them of pain. They reminded them of death.

  And one by one, they agreed. Not because they were brave, but because they were starving.

  They had no choices left. Hunger had already begun killing them. This would only speed things up. Or delay it.

  Even if it was for a moment. It was enough.

  Newton stood inside the restaurant with Stella and Phil. The smell of food filled the air. It was torture. And comfort all at once.

  Newton stared at his plate. This was his only meal today. He knew it. He ate slowly, and carefully.

  Trying to make it last.

  Phil did the same. Stella ate in silence. Her eyes moved constantly.

  Watching. Always watching.

  Newton lifted another spoon.

  Then:

  BANG

  The door burst open. The sound slammed into the room.

  Newton froze. His spoon stopped halfway.

  They entered. All of them. Students flooded into the restaurant. Their faces were hollow. Their eyes were wild.

  Some held broken chair legs. Others held metal trays. One held a glass bottle. Their hands trembled. Not from hesitation from hunger.

  Brian stepped forward. His shadow stretched long across the floor. “Newton,” he called.

  Newton turned slowly. His chest tightened immediately. He did not need words. He saw it in their faces. Something had broken. Something dangerous, and final.

  Brian stopped a few steps away. His voice came out calm. Too calm. “Buy more food with the rest of your coin,” he said.

  He paused.

  His eyes hardened. “Or you die.”

  The words landed like stones.

  Newton’s heart slammed violently against his ribs. His fingers went cold. His legs weakened. He imagines himself days later. Weak. Crawling.

  He swallowed.

  “But..” his voice cracked.

  He forced it out. “But I will have nothing to eat when I get hungry.”

  Theo stepped forward. His face twisted. “I do not care.” His voice rose.

  “Why should we die when you and your friends live?”

  Murmurs rose behind him. Angry murmurs. Hungry murmurs.

  Newton’s ears rang. His breathing quickened. His mind raced. Spending the coins means starving later. But refusal means: die now.

  His fingers trembled violently. His chest rose and fell. He looked at their faces.

  Brian. Theo. Brandom. All of them.

  Desperate. Empty. Dangerous.

  He turned slowly. His eyes found Stella. She stood still. Watching, and waiting. He whispered.

  “What should I do?”