“Direct hit!”
“Taking a Great Fireball Jutsu head-on…
even a Chunin would be severely injured, right?”
“That Ryuha is done for.
Setsuna-kun went way too hard, but that’s the ninja world for you.”
A buzz of discussion rippled through the stands.
Many girls even covered their eyes, not daring to watch the impending carnage.
Setsuna Uchiha stood where he was, panting slightly, a victor’s cold smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Hmph.
Pathetic.”
He turned toward the proctor, speaking with arrogant confidence.
“Teacher, you can announce the results now, right?
Even if I accidentally killed him, it was only because he was too weak—”
*Whoosh—*
A gust of wind blew past, slowly clearing the smoke and dust.
The entire arena fell dead silent.
The once-clamorous stands seemed gripped by an invisible giant hand, choking off every sound instantly.
The smile on Setsuna Uchiha’s face froze.
Fugaku Uchiha’s eyes snapped open, his Sharingan activating instantly as he glared intently into the center of the ring.
“This is…”
Where the dust cleared, the ground was scorched into a massive black crater.
Yet right in the middle of that crater, Ryuha Uchiha still stood.
Not a single edge of his clothes was scorched; not even a speck of dust clung to his plain-glass spectacles.
He held his sword in one hand, its tip angled toward the ground.
His posture was as relaxed as if he had just strolled out of a casual gathering rather than survived a life-and-death battle.
“Th-This is impossible?!”
Setsuna’s pupils contracted violently, and he cried out in disbelief, “My Great Fireball Jutsu clearly hit you!
That heat, that concussive force…
Why are you completely unharmed?!”
Ryuha Uchiha looked up, gazing at Setsuna through his lenses with a trace of pity in his eyes.
As if he were looking at an ant struggling in a downpour.
“Did you truly hit me, Setsuna-kun?”
Ryuha’s voice was gentle, echoing across the open training grounds.
“Or perhaps…
everything you saw was merely an illusion born of what you wished to see?”
Saying this, Ryuha felt an odd wave of excitement.
Turns out he really was a bit of a chuunibyou after all.
“An illusion?
Stop playing tricks!”
Infuriated by that pitying look, Setsuna flushed crimson with humiliation.
“If you didn’t die the first time, then die again!”
Setsuna roared, pulling four shuriken from his pouch with explosive tags tucked between his fingers.
“Manipulated Shuriken Technique: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet!”
He hurled them with force.
The shuriken traced uncanny arcs through the air, sealing off every escape route for Ryuha.
The burning fuses of the explosive tags hissed.
However, a bizarre scene unfolded.
In the eyes of all the spectators—
Ryuha Uchiha didn’t move at all.
He simply stood quietly where he was, even slowly sheathing his sword.
But in the eyes of Setsuna Uchiha—
He saw Ryuha suddenly transform into a colossal black ink dragon, lunging at him with its gaping maw wide open!
“Aaargh!
What kind of monster is this?!”
Setsuna screamed in terror.
Although kids matured early in the Ninja World, he was still just a ten-year-old boy.
The shuriken originally aimed at Ryuha somehow swerved uncontrollably from his hands, plunging viciously into the empty ground nearby!
*Boom!
Boom!
Boom!*
The explosive tags detonated across the empty dirt, sending soil flying everywhere.
Immediately afterward, Setsuna began frantically weaving hand signs, dodging, and throwing punches at thin air.
“Stay away!
Stay back!”
“Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Jutsu!”
“Why won’t you die?!
Why?!”
Like a madman, he rolled and leaped across the flat ground.
Unleashing chakra-draining jutsu one after another against the empty air.
Great Fireball Jutsu, Phoenix Sage Fire, and even an unrefined Dragon Flame Jutsu…
His chakra poured out as if it cost nothing, yet every attack hit empty space or exploded right at his own feet.
“Wh-What is going on?”
The proctor’s mouth hung open, oblivious even as the clipboard slipped from his hand.
“Setsuna was caught in a Genjutsu?
But Ryuha clearly didn’t weave a single sign, nor did he make eye contact!”
A Sharingan Genjutsu had to be triggered through direct eye contact.
This was an ironclad law of the Ninja World!
Of course, the still largely unknown Izanami was an exception.
In the stands, Fugaku Uchiha’s face was as dark as a storm cloud.
His Three-Tomoe Sharingan spun frantically, attempting to see through Ryuha’s chakra flow.
*No trace of hand signs…
and the chakra flow is completely steady…
This isn’t a Sharingan Genjutsu.*
Waves of shock surged through Fugaku’s heart.
*A technique that plunges an opponent into complete madness and thoroughly blinds their senses…
What on earth is this?*
In the center of the arena.
Ryuha Uchiha gently pushed up his glasses, watching Setsuna Uchiha pant heavily, his chakra almost entirely drained.
Under Kyoka Suigetsu’s “Complete Hypnosis,” Setsuna’s five senses—
sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch—were all under Ryuha’s absolute control.
Setsuna believed he was fighting a monster; in reality, he was merely matching wits with thin air.
“It’s about time to end this,” Ryuha muttered softly.
He quickly closed in on Setsuna Uchiha.
Not wanting to reveal Shunpo, Ryuha merely used Spiritual Pressure to accelerate.
By now, Setsuna was on his knees, supporting himself with both hands on the ground.
Sweat soaked his clothes, and his eyes were bloodshot and filled with terror.
“Ha…
ha…
Did you finally…
die…” Setsuna looked at the phantom monster he had “killed” before him, letting out a manic chuckle.
“Where are you looking?”
A gentle, warm voice rang out abruptly beside his ear.
Setsuna’s whole body stiffened, and he turned his head mechanically.
Meeting his gaze was Ryuha Uchiha’s clean, handsome face, still wearing a faint smile.
Along with the cold tip of a scabbard pressed against his throat.
“You lose, Setsuna-kun.”
Setsuna’s pupils dilated instantly.
The massive psychological shock combined with the exhaustion of drained chakra struck him at once.
“M-Monster…”
His eyes rolled back, foam bubbled at his lips, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The entire arena was deathly silent.
There was only the rustling of wind through the leaves.
Everyone looked on with eyes meant for a stranger—or rather, a monster.
Staring fixedly at the seemingly harmless youth in the center of the field.
Sheathing his blade, Ryuha turned toward the stunned proctor and offered a slight bow, his etiquette flawless:
“Teacher, is the examination over?”