Fists ran into fists.

  The first punch landed with a dull crack against bone. The second came from behind. Then another. And another.

  The hall erupted.

  Wooden chairs splintered under impact. Metal trays clattered across the floor. Bodies slammed into tables and slid down them. The sound of wood striking flesh echoed again and again.

  The new students tried to hold formation.

  They failed.

  They were outnumbered.

  And their bodies still carried the weakness of two weeks without proper food. Their legs were not steady. Their arms burned too quickly. Their lungs tightened before the third exchange.

  Maxwell’s boys moved like a unit.

  They had space.

  They had strength.

  They had eaten.

  Brian drove his fist into someone’s jaw, but three more hands grabbed him immediately. A wooden sword struck the back of his knee. He dropped. Another blow caught his shoulder. He roared and tried to rise again, but weight crashed onto him from both sides.

  Theo swung wildly, catching one boy across the temple. For a second he stood alone in a small circle of space.

  Then the circle closed.

  A belt whipped across his face.

  He staggered.

  Samuel attempted to shield Newton’s side, but a punch drove straight into his stomach. Air exploded from his lungs. He bent forward and a knee met his face.

  Newton threw one clean punch. It connected. He felt the impact travel up his arm.

  Then someone hit him from behind.

  His vision blurred.

  Hands grabbed him. One twisted his wrist backward. Another shoved him to the ground. His cheek struck the cold tile. A knee pressed into his spine.

  The fight lasted minutes.

  It felt longer.

  Soon they were all down.

  Pinned.

  Brian’s face was pressed to the floor. Theo’s arm was twisted behind his back. Samuel lay on his side, chest heaving, blood running from his nose.

  Newton struggled once more.

  The knee on his back pressed harder.

  He stopped.

  The room went quiet except for heavy breathing.

  Maxwell stepped forward slowly, adjusting his sleeves as if nothing had happened.

  He scanned their faces one by one.

  “I will forgive those who would kneel.”

  The words settled over them.

  The pressure on Newton’s back eased slightly, enough for him to lift his head.

  Around him, eyes shifted.

  Brian looked at Theo.

  Theo looked at Samuel.

  Samuel’s gaze flicked toward Newton.

  Who would kneel first?

  Newton’s eyebrows widened.

  His mind screamed at him to bend.

  To end it.

  To reduce the pain.

  Just kneel.

  But another thought cut through.

  If he did, if he lowered himself first, if he bowed while the others remained down, he would never stand beside them the same way again.

  He would see it in their eyes.

  Traitor.

  His throat tightened.

  No one moved.

  Seconds stretched.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Stella growled from somewhere behind him.

  The words cracked through the silence like a whip.

  Maxwell’s lips pressed together.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “You have all just signed your death warrant.”

  His voice did not rise.

  It sharpened.

  He gritted his teeth.

  “Give them ten lashes each.”

  Belts slid from waists.

  Leather hissed through the air.

  The first strike landed on Brian’s back.

  The sound was sharp.

  He flinched, jaw clenching so hard his teeth scraped.

  The second came down on Theo’s shoulder.

  He sucked in a breath but did not cry out.

  Newton felt the first lash cut across his back like fire. The pain bloomed instantly, spreading in a burning line. His fingers dug into the floor.

  He swallowed it.

  Another strike.

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  Another.

  Leather split skin.

  The room filled with the rhythm of it.

  They did not scream.

  Not one of them.

  They swallowed it.

  Bit their tongues.

  Tasted blood.

  Counted in silence.

  By the tenth lash, Newton’s vision swam. His back felt flayed open. Sweat and blood mixed beneath his shirt.

  Then it stopped.

  Belts were buckled again.

  Maxwell stepped closer, crouching slightly so his face was level with Brian’s.

  “I will release you,” he said calmly. “But two days is all you have to decide. Whether you will bow to me or die.”

  He stood.

  Turned.

  Walked away.

  His boys followed.

  The weight lifted from their backs.

  The new students lay there for a few seconds longer, breathing hard.

  Then slowly, painfully, they pushed themselves up.

  Newton’s arms trembled as he rose.

  His back screamed.

  “We should have knelt,” Samuel breathed, voice thin.

  Stella turned to him sharply.

  “And then what?” Her eyes were wide, unblinking. “Be his slave after then?”

  Samuel said nothing.

  Newton had no answer either.

  They moved back toward the sleeping quarters in silence.

  The hallways felt longer now.

  The walls closer.

  Samuel, Brandom and Newton entered their room together. The beds were arranged in two rows. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and iron.

  Newton stepped to the doorway again.

  He scanned.

  One room.

  Two rooms.

  The third room from theirs.

  The door was open.

  Maxwell was inside.

  Newton’s blood ran dry.

  Maxwell reclined on his bed like a king. Two boys knelt at his feet, pressing into his calves. Another stood behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders carefully.

  Maxwell’s eyes were half closed.

  The boys’ faces were tight.

  Resentment flickered there, sharp and restrained.

  But their hands did not stop.

  Newton stared.

  The sight burned into him.

  “He must be a horrible person,” the thought crossed his mind quietly.

  As if sensing it, Maxwell’s eyes opened.

  He turned his head slowly.

  Their gazes met across the corridor.

  Cold.

  Direct.

  Newton’s chest tightened.

  He looked away immediately.

  His heart hammered.

  Back in the room, he sat on his bed without speaking.

  The silence between them was heavy.

  Then blue light flared.

  A familiar glow cut through the air.

  SYSTEM NOTIFICATION.

  NEW TASK: SIT ON THE FLOOR AND MEDITATE FOR THREE HOURS.

  REWARD: 1 CPD POINT AND 2 NINJA COINS.

  The words hovered before fading.

  Without hesitation, they slid off their beds and onto the floor.

  Cross legged.

  Back straight.

  Eyes closed.

  The room fell quiet except for breathing.

  Newton inhaled slowly.

  Exhaled.

  His back burned with every small movement. The lashes pulsed in dull waves beneath his shirt.

  He focused on breathing.

  But his mind did not stay still.

  His mother’s face surfaced first.

  Amalia.

  Her hands in his hair.

  Her voice calling his name.

  The memory tightened his chest.

  Then water.

  The ship tilting.

  Screams.

  Cold waves swallowing everything.

  The sinking.

  The choking darkness.

  He saw the moment he had awakened here.

  This strange world of numbers and commands.

  The brutality.

  The corridor of nails.

  The belts cutting into flesh.

  The way Maxwell’s eyes had looked at him.

  Everything moved through him like a storm.

  He tried to steady his breathing.

  Tears slipped down without warning.

  They fell onto his hands, onto the floor.

  He did not wipe them.

  Time stretched.

  Legs went numb.

  Back throbbed.

  Thoughts rose and fell.

  Three hours felt endless.

  Then the blue light returned.

  SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:

  TASK COMPLETED. ONE CPD POINT AND TWO NINJA COINS HAVE BEEN TRANSFERRED.

  The glow faded.

  Newton exhaled sharply, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time.

  He pushed himself up slowly.

  His muscles protested.

  He climbed back onto his bed.

  The ceiling blurred slightly as exhaustion pulled at him.

  Within seconds, sleep claimed him.

  Meanwhile, that night, Stella did not sleep.

  The room was quiet except for the soft breathing of the others. Moonlight filtered through the narrow window, cutting pale lines across the floor. She lay on her back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling as if something was written there.

  Maxwell’s voice replayed in her head.

  Two days.

  Bow.

  Or die.

  She turned to her side slowly. Her back ached from the lashes, but she barely reacted. Pain was background noise now.

  “I know how this works,” she told herself silently.

  She had seen it before. Not here. Not with coins and robots. But power was power everywhere.

  Maxwell would not rush.

  He would squeeze.

  He would make examples.

  He would humiliate them in public. Strip them of pride piece by piece until bowing felt like relief.

  “Maxwell will bully us until we bow or die.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  She bit her lower lip, tasting iron where the skin had already cracked.

  “I have to move fast.”

  Her fingers curled against the thin blanket.

  “I have to play his game better than him.”

  Across the corridor, in another room, Brian and Theo were also awake.

  Brian lay flat on his back, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the darkness. Theo lay on his side facing the wall, restless.

  “You know that Maxwell wasn’t joking, right?” Brian said quietly.

  Theo did not turn.

  “I guess he is going to kill us all,” he hissed.

  The words did not sound dramatic.

  They sounded calculated.

  Brian rolled onto his side, facing him now.

  “We do not have to die with the rest of them.”

  Theo turned slowly, raising his head from the pillow.

  “What do you mean?”

  Brian’s gaze held steady.

  “We could bow,” he said. “Ask to be his right hand man. He rules this place and we could rule with him.”

  Theo’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  He rubbed his chin, wincing when his bruised knuckles brushed against his skin.

  “The rest are going to see us as traitors.”

  Brian’s lips curved faintly.

  “And so what?”

  He shifted closer.

  “Since when do you begin to care about what others think of you?”

  Theo stared at him.

  Then a short laugh escaped him.

  “That is true,” he muttered. “They can think whatever they like.”

  Silence returned.

  But it was not the same silence as before.

  It was heavier.

  Charged.

  The next morning, before the blue light of any notification appeared, Brian and Theo were already up.

  They moved quietly, careful not to wake the others.

  The corridor outside was dim.

  Maxwell’s room was three doors down from Newton’s.

  They stopped in front of it.

  Brian lifted his hand and knocked.

  Once.

  No response.

  Theo glanced down the hallway.

  Brian knocked again.

  Harder.

  The sound echoed sharply.

  Still nothing.

  Brian’s jaw tightened. He raised his fist and pounded the door with force.

  The door flew open violently.

  “Who is that idiot?” Maxwell growled.

  He stood in the doorway shirtless, eyes dark with irritation.

  Then he froze.

  Recognition flickered.

  “You!”

  His voice dropped into something colder.

  Without hesitation, Brian dropped to his knees.

  Theo followed a split second later.

  Their knees struck the hard floor.

  “We have come to bow under your authority,” Brian said, lowering his head.

  For a moment, Maxwell did not speak.

  He looked at them carefully.

  Measured their posture.

  Studied the angle of their shoulders, the tension in their necks.

  Theo’s heart thundered so loudly he was sure Maxwell could hear it.

  Why is he quiet? Does he think we are lying? he thought.

  Seconds stretched.

  Then Maxwell’s lips slowly parted into a smile.

  “Come in,” he said.

  Theo instinctively shifted to rise.

  Brian’s hand shot out and pressed him back down.

  Stay down.

  They moved forward on their knees.

  Crawling.

  Into Maxwell’s room.

  The floor was polished. The air smelled faintly of cologne and metal oil. The bed was larger than theirs. Neater.

  Maxwell stepped aside, watching them with open interest now.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, crossing one leg over the other.

  “Alright,” he said. “I see your loyalty.”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “But to enjoy my protection, both of you will have to pay for my food with your Ninja coins for the next two weeks.”

  The words landed heavily.

  Ninja coins.

  Brian and Theo exchanged a quick glance.

  Two weeks.

  Five points per meal.

  Three meals a day.

  The numbers began to add up in their heads.

  They both knew it would cost a lot.

  Maxwell noticed the hesitation immediately.

  His smile thinned.

  “It is either you spend it,” he said calmly, “or you will still have to die, leaving it behind.”

  The silence in the room tightened.

  Theo swallowed.

  Brian’s fingers curled slightly against the floor.

  Another glance passed between them.

  A choice.

  Coins.

  Or blood.

  They lowered their heads together.

  “We will do as you instructed.”

  Maxwell leaned back again.

  “Good choice.”

  He waved his hand dismissively.

  “You can leave now.”

  They bowed once more, foreheads nearly touching the floor.

  Then they rose slowly.

  Brian hesitated at the door.

  “One more thing, your highness.”

  Maxwell’s expression darkened instantly.

  “What is it?”

  Brian turned fully toward him.

  His posture was straight now.

  “I want to be your right hand man.”

  The air shifted.

  Theo felt it.

  Maxwell did not answer immediately.

  He stood from the bed and walked closer.

  Slow.

  Deliberate.

  He stopped inches from Brian’s face.

  His eyes searched him.

  Studied him.

  Measured his ambition.

  “You are bold,” Maxwell said quietly.

  “But being my right hand man is what you earn and not get.”

  Brian did not drop his gaze.

  “Tell me anything,” he said. “I am willing to do what it takes.”

  Maxwell tilted his head slightly.

  “Are you sure you can do what it takes?”

  Brian nodded once.

  No hesitation.

  Maxwell’s voice lowered.

  “Even if it will be against your friends?”

  The question hung between them.

  Heavy.

  Sharp.

  Theo’s breath caught.

  Brian did not look at him.

  He did not look back at the corridor.

  He kept his eyes locked on Maxwell’s.

  The room felt smaller.

  Warmer.

  Maxwell waited.