The ledger of survival

Rain had left the campus slick and shining, neon lights refracting off puddles into sharp, liquid fragments. Inside a quiet corner of the student lounge, Aarav and his three companions sat apart from the noise, yet the energy of the college flowed through them like an invisible current. Conversations around clattered with trivial gossip, but Aarav's mind was elsewhere, always elsewhere, tallying movements, calculating outcomes, weighing probabilities.
Vihaan leaned back, swirling the lukewarm coffee in his cup, eyes flicking to Aarav with a mix of curiosity and caution. "But… why did all these groups even form in the first place?" His question was simple, but in the context of Aarav, it felt almost dangerous—like dropping a pebble into a pond that might ripple into chaos.
Aarav's gaze sharpened, and for a heartbeat the room seemed to shrink around him. He spoke slowly, deliberately, each word a scalpel carving the air. "It's natural."
Vihaan blinked, expecting a pause, a fluff of explanation. But Aarav wasn't done. "Think carefully," he said, voice cold, measured, like a blade sliding over stone. "There are two constants in every corner of this world, everywhere. Always. Without exception."
His companions leaned in without realizing it. Aarav's presence was a magnet, his calm authority forcing attention even without demand.
"Wherever there is good, there will be evil. And wherever there is evil, there will be good. Balance exists, whether you see it or not. But here…" Aarav's voice dropped slightly, almost a whisper, and yet it carried like a storm gathering strength, "the balance is skewed. Evil outweighs good. Seventy… thirty. Seventy percent corruption, ambition, arrogance, cruelty… and thirty percent virtue barely scraping by. A fraction. But that fraction… can survive if it understands the rules of the game."
Vihaan frowned, struggling to grasp the depth behind the numbers. "Seventy… thirty? That's… that's a lot of evil."
Aarav's lips curved slightly, not a smile, not warmth—but an almost imperceptible mark of recognition. "Exactly. That's why the world works the way it does. Look at those in power—the rich, the influential. Do they obey the rules? No. They behave as though the world revolves around them. Why? Because seventy percent of the world allows them to. Alone, one person might resist, might even strike. Realistically? Surrounded by thirty people acting as one, all hungry for dominance… you can't fight them. You can't escape. Not without allies. Not without strategy. Survival requires calculation, not courage."
The words hung in the air, dense and deliberate, pressing down like the calm before a storm. Aarav's companions exchanged uneasy glances, not because they disagreed, but because the truth was undeniable.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes scanning the room as though every gesture, every whisper, every unguarded motion was a data point to be logged. "That's why groups form. Fear. Survival. People don't band together because they want to—they do it because alone, they will die. It's not ideology. It's not loyalty. It's instinct. Cold, brutal instinct. The moment you understand that… the moment you stop pretending otherwise… you start to see the pattern."
There was a pause. The lounge buzzed around them, oblivious to the subtle gravity Aarav radiated. Yet even in that noise, he was counting, measuring, cataloging. Every idle word, every movement of the body was a vector in a vast equation he alone could read.
"And rankings," Aarav continued, his voice smooth but deadly precise, "are simpler than people think. Power doesn't come from friendship, or clever words, or empty threats. It comes from action, from dominance, from the willingness to see the world as it is and bend it to your will. Strong? You rise. Weak? You fall. Top and bottom, predator and prey, nothing more complicated than that. Just look at the Forsaken. That's all it is. Pure, predictable. Brutal."
Vihaan opened his mouth, but no words came. The truth was too sharp, too immediate. Rishi and Ishaan sat still, absorbing the cold logic, understanding the invisible forces shaping the world around them. Aarav's words weren't guidance—they were revelation.
In Aarav's mind, the campus wasn't a school. It was a stage. A battlefield. A ledger where every heartbeat, every glance, every shift of weight mattered. Alliances were contracts written in movement and consequence. Betrayal was currency. And he—he was both observer and executor, silently writing the script as others stumbled through it, unaware.
He thought of Yuvan, the Forsaken leader, and the arrogance that had cost him more than he knew. That pride, that hunger to dominate, would be his downfall. Kiaan of Vortex of Sins, patient, calculating, the kind who let others act first… he was a variable, interesting, dangerous, but readable. Every leader, every faction, every student in this campus was a piece on Aarav's board. And he… he had already begun to play.
Vihaan broke the silence finally. "So… groups aren't about friendship or loyalty. They're… survival."
Aarav's eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked to him. "Survival, power, dominance… and fear. That's all. Everything else is decoration. The world doesn't reward virtue. It rewards results. Those who understand the ledger… survive. Those who ignore it… vanish."
He tilted his head slightly, voice lowering to a whisper meant only for those who truly understood. "And once you see the ledger… once you see the invisible threads connecting everyone, you realize one thing. Most people aren't alive. They're walking patterns, predictable, blind. They will betray themselves, just to feel strong for a moment. And when they do, you don't strike blindly. You wait. You observe. And when the moment comes… you harvest the consequences."
Rishi shivered, not from fear, but from the cold clarity in Aarav's words. There was no moral lesson here, no heroic platitude. Only truth, harsh, precise, and undeniable. Aarav's mind worked like a trap—calculating ten moves ahead, cataloging weaknesses, predicting reactions.
"The world is seventy percent evil," Aarav continued, his voice almost contemplative now, "and that is why groups exist. Because alone, even the good die. They need numbers. They need coordination. They need protection. But numbers mean nothing without strategy. If you are careless, if you let pride guide you, you fall. Simple as that. The strong rise, the weak are crushed… and the ledger records everything."
He rose, stretching, every movement deliberate, a predator pacing. The campus around them moved, oblivious, unaware that the balance of power was being quietly rewritten in a corner lounge, by a single mind that never rested, never forgot.
"You'll see it happen," Aarav said, almost casually, "and you won't understand it until it's too late. Someone will make a mistake, someone will expose themselves, and the consequences will come. Fast. Brutal. And clean."
Ishaan swallowed. "And… Nullvein?"
Aarav's lips barely curved. "Nullvein doesn't exist to fight randomly. Nullvein exists to correct imbalance. To act where others fail. To harvest consequences. That is all."
For a long moment, the three sat silently, absorbing the rhythm of his words, feeling the weight of the vision he painted: a world of patterns, a world where emotion was predictable, where pride was weakness, where one mind could control the currents of chaos if it was patient enough.
Aarav looked out the window, past the wet streets and flickering lights, thinking of the memory that drove him—the hospital, the water, her body, the bullet. That wound, that searing injustice, was the furnace forging his mind into a weapon. Every action of Nullvein, every step on this campus, was measured, precise, a calculated move toward a singular truth: the one who took her life would pay. In full.
"And that," he said finally, almost to himself, "is why I will never be weak. Not here. Not anywhere. Because survival, power, and fear… are the only truths. Everything else is illusion."
Outside, the campus continued unaware, footsteps echoing on wet pavements, whispers of gossip drifting through corridors. But inside Aarav's mind, the ledger was complete, the first moves planned, and the pattern set.
The world was seventy percent evil. And Aarav… would bend it to his will.