Morning crept slowly into the academy.
The corridor outside the dorm rooms remained quiet, washed in pale light that slipped through the narrow windows. Most students were still asleep. The previous day had drained them completely.
Inside one of the rooms, Brian lay on the upper bunk, one arm hanging over the edge. His breathing was slow and heavy.
Theo slept on the lower bunk, curled halfway toward the wall.
The room smelled faintly of sweat and dust.
Then came the knock.
Soft.
Almost polite.
Neither of them moved.
A few seconds passed.
The knock came again.
This time louder.
Theo stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
Then the knocking changed.
It became firm.
Sharp.
Whoever stood outside the door was no longer patient.
Brian’s eyes snapped open.
He stared at the ceiling for a second, confused.
Then the knocking came again.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Brian groaned and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk.
“Who could that be?” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.
He dropped to the floor and rubbed his face.
The knocking continued.
Brian walked toward the door, scratching his head as he moved. He grabbed the handle and pulled it open.
Then he froze.
Standing in the corridor was Maxwell.
For a brief moment Brian forgot how to breathe.
The events of yesterday flashed through his mind. The rebellion. The humiliation. The moment when hundreds of students had walked away from Maxwell.
Yet none of that seemed to matter now.
Maxwell stood there exactly the same.
Tall.
Still.
The same cold confidence radiating from him like heat from a fire.
His eyes settled on Brian calmly.
Brian instinctively straightened.
His head dipped slightly.
A small bow.
Behind him Theo had already climbed out of bed.
The moment he saw who stood at the door, his posture changed.
He stood upright immediately.
Even Dave, their quiet bunkmate who had been tying his shoes near the corner of the room, stiffened.
Fear flickered across his face.
Maxwell stepped inside slowly.
The air in the room seemed to shrink.
“Get out of the room,” Maxwell said.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
Dave nodded quickly.
“Yes… yes.”
He grabbed his jacket and rushed toward the door. His shoulder brushed against Maxwell as he squeezed past him.
Dave didn’t dare look back.
He practically ran into the corridor.
The door slammed shut behind him.
The sound echoed through the small room.
Silence followed.
Maxwell turned slowly.
His gaze moved from Brian to Theo.
Then back again.
“I need to know something,” he said.
Neither of them spoke.
Maxwell stepped forward.
“Are you still with me?”
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Brian tilted his head slightly.
“Of course I am still with you,” he said.
His answer came quickly.
Too quickly perhaps.
Maxwell’s eyes shifted to Theo.
Theo hesitated for half a heartbeat.
Then he nodded.
“I am still with you.”
Maxwell watched them carefully.
He didn’t just listen to their words.
He studied their eyes.
Their tone.
Their posture.
And he saw it.
The crack.
Their loyalty had been shaken.
Yesterday had done damage.
Maxwell understood something very clearly in that moment.
If he wanted them back completely, he needed to give them something.
Something solid.
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Something powerful enough to rebuild their faith.
Slowly, he lifted his wrist.
The blue glow of the system screen flickered to life.
Brian and Theo both leaned forward instinctively.
Numbers appeared on the screen.
Maxwell held it up where they could see clearly.
“I have fourteen,” he said calmly.
The number glowed on the screen.
CPD POINTS: 14
Theo’s eyes widened slightly.
Brian stared at the screen longer.
Maxwell lowered his wrist again.
“I only need one more.”
He paused.
The silence stretched deliberately.
Then he continued.
“Soon I will be leaving this place.”
Brian’s gaze sharpened.
He folded his arms slowly.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
Maxwell smiled faintly.
It wasn’t a warm smile.
It was the kind of smile a man gives when he already knows the outcome of a conversation.
“Because,” Maxwell said softly, “I have chosen you to be my successor.”
For a moment Brian simply stared at him.
The words echoed inside his mind.
Successor.
Then something changed in his expression.
His smile slowly spread.
His imagination took over immediately.
He pictured it.
Walking through the academy halls with dozens of students behind him.
Boys and girls flanking him on both sides.
Students bowing their heads as he passed.
Food being brought to him.
Hands massaging his shoulders while he ate.
Girls competing for his attention.
Power.
Authority.
Control.
Brian’s smile widened even more.
But the fantasy lasted only a few seconds.
Another thought entered his mind.
His eyes narrowed.
He looked at Maxwell carefully.
“There must be a catch,” he said slowly.
Maxwell didn’t respond.
Brian stepped closer.
“That kind of offer doesn’t come without a price.”
The smile on Brian’s face faded completely now.
“What do you want in return?”
Maxwell nodded slowly.
“Of course there is a catch.”
He folded his arms behind his back.
Then he said nothing.
The silence stretched.
It filled the room.
Brian felt the tension pressing against his chest.
Theo shifted slightly beside him.
Even the air felt heavy.
Brian’s muscles twitched.
Finally Maxwell spoke again.
“I want that bitch called Stella dead.”
The words dropped into the room like a stone into still water.
Neither Brian nor Theo spoke immediately.
Brian exhaled slowly.
“The girl won’t be an easy target,” he said.
His mind was already running through the possibilities.
“She moves with friends now.”
Maxwell nodded.
“Yeah.”
His expression didn’t change.
“But lure her to the dark corridor at night.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Leave the rest to me.”
Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
He began analyzing the idea piece by piece.
Stella trusted people.
Especially those who had fought beside her.
A message.
A warning.
Something urgent.
Yes.
That might work.
Brian’s lips curled slowly.
“I think I know how to achieve that.”
Maxwell smiled.
That cold smile returned.
“Good,” he said.
“That is all I need from you.”
He stepped forward and extended his hand.
Brian looked down at it.
For a moment he hesitated.
Then he grabbed it.
Their hands locked firmly.
“Do not forget,” Maxwell said quietly.
“Bring her to me tonight.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“And you will become my successor.”
Brian’s smile returned.
This time it was sharper.
Colder.
“Consider it done.”
That morning, they returned to class.
The hall still carried the dull ache of yesterday’s challenge. Some students walked stiffly, their muscles sore from climbing. Others wore bandages around wrists and ankles. A few empty seats reminded everyone that not all injuries had been light.
Newton sat quietly near the middle row. Samuel dropped beside him with a slow groan.
“I think my ribs hate me,” Samuel muttered.
Stella slid into the chair on Newton’s other side. She stretched her arms forward, wincing slightly.
“Next time,” she said, “remind me not to jump from walls.”
Newton gave a small smile but said nothing.
At the front of the room, the metal doors slid open.
The robot walked in.
Its movements were precise, mechanical, each step producing a soft metallic click against the floor. In its hands was a large basket.
The students straightened almost immediately.
The room went quiet.
The robot stopped in front of the class and placed the basket on the desk. Its metallic fingers opened slowly, then it tipped the basket forward.
Objects spilled across the table.
Small glass vials.
Metal syringes.
Packets of white tablets.
Tiny capsules sealed in clear plastic.
A faint chemical scent spread through the room.
The students leaned forward.
Newton watched silently.
The robot raised its head. Its blue optical lens flickered once.
“MEDICAL TRAINING,” it announced.
Its voice echoed across the hall, flat and emotionless.
It picked up a thin silver syringe.
“This,” it said, holding it up for everyone to see, “is a rapid clot injection.”
The robot turned the syringe slightly so the students could observe the needle.
“In the event of heavy bleeding,” it continued, “this injection slows blood loss and stabilizes the body for up to fifteen minutes.”
Samuel whispered under his breath.
“Fifteen minutes to run.”
Stella elbowed him lightly.
The robot picked up a small black capsule.
“Pain suppressor.”
It dropped the capsule back onto the table with a faint click.
“This drug temporarily blocks pain receptors in the nervous system. Side effects include dizziness, delayed reflexes, and temporary vision distortion.”
It paused.
“As Ninjas,” the robot continued, “you may be injured in the enemy zone.”
The room grew still.
“You must administer first aid to yourself.”
The robot began picking up the items one after another.
“Blood stabilizer.”
“Muscle recovery compound.”
“Nerve shock suppressant.”
Each item landed back onto the table with a quiet sound.
The students watched carefully.
The robot lifted a packet containing three tiny blue tablets.
“Pain suppressors must not be abused.”
It turned its mechanical head slowly across the class.
“Excessive intake may cause internal organ damage.”
Samuel leaned slightly toward Newton.
“So,” he whispered, “use only when dying.”
Newton didn’t respond.
The robot continued its demonstration.
It showed them how to open the vials.
How to inject into the arm.
How to seal wounds with emergency foam.
One by one, the students nodded as the robot explained the advantages and disadvantages of each drug.
Newton watched everything.
He memorized the movements.
The robot finished by returning the items into the basket.
“LECTURE COMPLETE.”
The room released a quiet breath.
Chairs scraped the floor as students began standing.
The doors slid open.
Lunch time.
The restaurant hall buzzed with voices.
Students crowded around food stations, grabbing trays, bowls, and cups. The smell of hot soup and grilled meat filled the air.
Newton sat with Stella and Samuel at a small table near the window.
Samuel was already halfway through his meal.
“I swear,” he said between bites, “food tastes better when you almost die first.”
Stella laughed softly.
Newton pushed his food around the tray.
His mind was elsewhere.
The restaurant doors opened again.
The noise shifted.
Maxwell walked in.
A few students glanced up.
Then they looked away.
Nobody stood.
Nobody bowed.
The difference was sharp.
Yesterday, the entire hall would have risen to their feet the moment he stepped inside.
Now, chairs remained planted.
Voices continued.
Forks scraped plates.
Maxwell stopped at the entrance for a moment.
His eyes moved across the room.
He saw everything.
The silence.
The indifference.
The lack of fear.
A few boys and girls still walked behind him, though fewer than before. They stayed close, trying to keep the old image alive.
Maxwell began walking.
Slowly.
His boots tapped against the floor.
He scanned the faces.
Some students looked down quickly.
Others didn’t bother.
His jaw tightened slightly.
But he said nothing.
He moved past several tables and continued toward the back of the hall.
Newton noticed him for only a moment.
Then he returned his attention to his tray.
The restaurant noise continued.
Evening began creeping across the academy grounds.
The sky dimmed slowly beyond the tall academy walls.
Students drifted through the corridors, heading toward dormitories, study halls, and training rooms.
Brian stood near the edge of one corridor.
His arms were folded.
He watched the hallway.
Students passed him occasionally, but his attention remained fixed ahead.
Then Maxwell appeared.
He walked calmly through the corridor.
Their eyes met.
No words.
Maxwell simply nodded his head once.
A small movement.
But the message was clear.
Brian’s stomach tightened.
He nodded back.
Maxwell continued walking without slowing down.
Brian exhaled slowly.
“It is time,” he breathed.
His hands felt cold.
He rubbed them together briefly.
Then he began walking.
The evening crowd had gathered near the female dormitory wing. Groups of girls stood chatting near the corridor entrance.
Stella stood among them.
She was speaking with two girls while leaning lightly against the wall.
Brian slowed his steps.
His heartbeat began to rise.
He swallowed.
This was easy, he told himself.
Just words.
Nothing more.
Still, something twisted in his chest.
He walked closer.
His palms felt damp.
Then he spoke.
“Hey Stella, there is trouble.”
Stella turned immediately.
Her expression shifted the moment she saw his face.
“What is it?”
Brian forced urgency into his voice.
“Your friend, Newton, is in trouble. He has been cornered by some boy.”
Stella’s eyes widened.
“What?”
Her body straightened instantly.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Panic had already crept into her voice.
Brian pointed down the corridor.
“Come.”
Then he started running.
Footsteps echoed behind him almost immediately.
Stella followed.
They moved quickly through the academy halls.
Past empty classrooms.
Past silent training rooms.
Their footsteps echoed loudly now.
Brian’s breathing grew heavier.
Stella stayed close behind him.
They turned a corner.
Then another.
The corridors grew darker.
The lights here were dimmer.
The air felt colder.
They kept running.
Finally, they reached the shadowed passage near the old training wing.
Brian slowed.
Then he stopped.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
Stella stepped beside him, looking around.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Her voice bounced faintly off the walls.
Brian didn’t answer.
Stella turned again.
But Brian was no longer there.
The corridor stretched behind her.
Empty.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Brian?” she called.
Her voice echoed through the dark hallway.
Nothing answered.
A faint chill crept across her skin.
“Brain!” she called again.
Still nothing.
She looked around slowly.
The silence pressed closer.
“But he was just at my back a minute ago.”
She was returning when a blade cut through her back.
“Aaahhhsshh!” She screamed. But she turned there was no one. Just darkness.
