Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 28: New Rules

Seven days of blood and commerce had finally come to an end. Rei stood in the morning light, absently counting his remaining merchandise—two scrolls that had yet to find buyers. The memory of those three unfortunate souls still brought a satisfied smirk to his lips. Six million ryo for their freedom, plus another set of scrolls. Their IOU sat tucked in his gear pouch like a promissory note from hell.

Whether they actually had the money, or where they'd get it, wasn't his concern. Survival had a way of making people resourceful.

"Congratulations, you've passed," the monitoring jōnin said with barely concealed exhaustion. His eyes held the hollow look of someone who'd watched too many children die over the past week. "Wait over there for further instructions."

The gathering area buzzed with nervous energy. Shirakumo Hayama lounged against a tree with practiced nonchalance, while Uchiha Izumiyama stood rigid as a sword, his dark eyes scanning the crowd for threats—or rivals. When they saw Rei's team approach, conversations died. Word traveled fast in circles this small, and everyone knew about the "merchant of death" who'd turned the Forest of Death into his personal marketplace.

At three o'clock sharp, the jōnin's voice cut through the afternoon heat. "The second examination is now concluded."

Nineteen teams. Fifty-seven survivors out of the original hundred and fifty. Two teams arrived minutes too late, their curses and desperate pleas echoing off indifferent trees. The mathematics of mortality were simple and unforgiving.

Then he appeared.

Orochimaru materialized like something dredged up from nightmares—pale as bone, golden eyes gleaming with malice, dark hair moving in wind that touched no one else. The surviving genin followed him to an open-air arena surrounded by elevated platforms, where the true powers of Konoha waited like vultures at a feast.

"That's the Sandaime," someone whispered with reverent terror.

"The Hyuga and Uchiha clan heads are here."

"All the village leaders... what does this mean?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Rei felt the weight of those stares, but one gaze in particular made his skin crawl. Shimura Danzo stood beside the Hokage, his single visible eye fixed on Rei with unsettling intensity. When their eyes met, Danzo smiled—the kind of expression that belonged on a corpse.

What does that old bastard want now?

Orochimaru's voice slithered across the arena. "Congratulations on surviving the second examination. However, the rules for the final test have been adjusted. I believe you'll find the changes educational."

Before he could continue, a figure bounded into the arena with the subtlety of a natural disaster.

"Orochimaru, hurry it up!" Jiraiya struck a pose that belonged in a traveling theater troupe, all flowing white hair and dramatic gestures. "I've got research to conduct! The world of literature won't wait!"

His introduction was pure spectacle—hands on hips, chest puffed out like a peacock in mating season. "I am Jiraiya the Toad Sage, one of the legendary Sannin! You may address me as Jiraiya-sama!"

The temperature around Orochimaru seemed to drop several degrees. Being interrupted was one thing; being humiliated in front of the village elite was another entirely.

"Where's Tsunade?" Orochimaru's voice carried the promise of future retribution.

"Not interested. I'm only here as a favor to you. Can we get on with it?" Jiraiya's casual dismissal contained volumes of subtext that made the genin exchange worried glances.

A trembling voice from the crowd: "Excuse me, Orochimaru-sama... isn't the third test supposed to be individual matches?"

Orochimaru's smile could have frozen hell. "Change of plans. Originally, all three Sannin would serve as your opponents. Unfortunately, we're short-staffed. But don't worry—two of us should provide adequate challenge."

The silence that followed was pregnant with dread.

"Approach this examination with the intent to kill us," Orochimaru continued, his golden eyes reflecting light like a serpent's. "And prepare yourselves to die. You have one minute to decide. Step forward to participate, or withdraw and live with your cowardice."

He carved a line in the earth with casual ninjutsu, the groove seeming to smoke in the afternoon heat. Cross that line, and there was no going back.

Panic rippled through the ranks like wildfire.

"Two of the Sannin? Are they insane?"

"We have numbers on our side..."

"Numbers didn't help during the war. I heard Orochimaru alone killed thousands."

"What choice do we have?"

While others debated, Rei stepped forward without hesitation. The decision was simple—retreat meant admitting weakness, and weakness was death by another name.

Uchiha Izumiyama had been wavering until he saw his rival commit. Pride was a powerful motivator, and the Uchiha name carried expectations heavier than mountains. He crossed the line with gritted teeth.

The others followed like sheep, driven by peer pressure and the fear of being seen as cowards. Only two teams withdrew, slinking away under the weight of disappointed stares. No one mocked them—sometimes wisdom looked like cowardice to those too proud to see the difference.

"Excellent," Orochimaru hissed as the minute expired. "Let us begin."

"Scatter!" Rei barked, leading his team away from the main group toward Jiraiya's position.

The arena was an oval of death—three hundred and twenty meters at its longest point, one hundred and seventy at its widest. Barriers hummed with barely contained chakra, trapping fifty-three genin with two apex predators. Seventeen teams plus their executioners.

The division was almost even—nine teams surrounded Orochimaru, eight faced Jiraiya. Perfect balance, if you ignored the vast gulf in power between hunters and prey.

"Ha! Only eight teams?" Jiraiya's laughter was cut short as a barrage of steel and explosive tags filled the air. "Sneaky little brats!"

"Ranji Shigami no Jutsu!" ( Wild Lion's Mane Technique )

His white hair transformed into steel needles, intercepting the projectiles in a symphony of metal and thunder. Through the smoke and chaos, his voice carried a note of genuine appreciation.

"Not bad! But underground is always safer!"

The warning came too late. A Hyuga clan member's Byakugan saw the chakra signature moving beneath their feet, but Jiraiya's Doton: Shinjū Zanshu no Jutsu (Earth Style : Double Suicide Decapitation Technique) was already in motion. Two genin disappeared into the earth up to their necks, their screams muffled by soil and shock.

But Jiraiya wasn't finished. The real target had always been the Hyuga with the active Byakugan—the one who could track his movements. Hyuga Rankiri spun with desperate grace, his Gentle Fist strikes as precise as humanly possible , but Jiraiya's combat experience spanned decades. Four perfect strikes met four casual deflections before a kick sent the Hyuga flying twenty meters.

Rei watched Rankiri's trajectory with clinical detachment and helpfully stepped aside, allowing the boy to crater into the arena wall. Mercy was a luxury he couldn't afford to display.

Shadow clone, Rei noted, his Sharingan picking out the telltale chakra disturbances. The real one's still underground.

On the opposite side of death's stage, Orochimaru faced nine teams with the casual indifference of a god observing ants. He didn't move, didn't speak—he simply looked at them, and nine genin froze like prey before a predator.

Killing intent wasn't just a technique; it was a window into the abyss of a killer's soul. These children, for all their training, had never stood before someone who'd ended thousands of lives. The weight of that malevolence crashed over them like a tsunami of liquid terror.

ANBU operatives materialized to collect the paralyzed victims, their movements efficient and clinical. Some traumas left marks deeper than any physical wound. These nine would carry Orochimaru's presence in their nightmares for the rest of their shortened lives.

Only when the field was clear did movement return to the remaining combatants. The Ino-Shika-Cho formation had positioned themselves perfectly, their Shadow Imitation technique binding Orochimaru's shadow to Nara Shikakusa's will.

"Got him!" Shikakusa's voice cracked with desperate hope.

"Ninjutsu : Human Bullet Tank!" Akimichi Jiro became a living boulder, rolling toward their immobilized target with crushing momentum.

The impact was anticlimactic. Instead of flesh and bone, Jiro found only earth and disappointment. The mud clone crumbled under his assault while the real Orochimaru materialized behind them, Yamanaka Jiro dangling from one pale hand like a broken doll.

"Jiro!" Shikakusa's composure shattered completely. The three had been inseparable since childhood—brothers in all but blood. The thought of losing Jiro to a sadist's whim was unbearable.

"Relax," Orochimaru's voice carried dark amusement. "He's served his purpose admirably." With almost gentle care, he tossed the unconscious boy beyond the barrier. "One chance was all you deserved."

Before Shikakusa could react, Orochimaru's arm began to change. Flesh became scales, fingers became fangs, and humanity became something far more dangerous.

"Ninjutsu : Hidden Shadow Snake Hands"

The technique was unmarked because it needed no introduction. Death wore many faces, but this one belonged entirely to Orochimaru.

As serpents of chakra and malice raced toward their targets, Rei felt a familiar thrill course through his veins. This was what he'd been waiting for—not some mundane test of skill, but a glimpse into the true nature of power.

The real examination had finally begun.

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20 Chapters of Naruto : Blazing Legend

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