Inside the teachers' cabin, six instructors had been assigned to evaluate the students' answer sheets. Leading the team was Akimichi Takuma, the head examiner and homeroom teacher of the sixth-year elite class.
As he reviewed the third sheet out of seventy, one of the instructors spoke up.
"Takuma-sensei, out of seventy, only ten students failed. As usual, most of them struggled with the five written-response questions — the ones where they had to explain the reasoning behind their actions."
Takuma gave a silent nod and returned to his work. Despite being the head of the team, he was still responsible for reviewing every single sheet — a task far more demanding than that of his colleagues. It was due to the new evaluation process upgraded some years ago.
The evaluation of academy graduation exam sheets followed a strict three-step process. First, each answer sheet was randomly assigned to one of five academy instructors for initial grading. Once marked, the same sheet would then be passed to a second instructor for cross-verification. Finally, the head instructor, Takuma-sensei, would personally review the sheet for any discrepancies.
This system was designed to eliminate favoritism and nepotism, which had become a concern in the past. To ensure neutrality, at least two civilian teachers were included in every grading team—preventing clan-backed instructors from secretly passing undeserving students.
Years ago, the Third Hokage introduced a policy that rewarded clans for producing more active shinobi. The more graduates a clan contributed to the ninja forces, the more benefits they received—ranging from mission priority to elemental crystal grants. While this system initially boosted recruitment and training enthusiasm, it also gave rise to unethical practices. Some clans began manipulating exam outcomes to increase their numbers and secure more resources.
In response, the Hokage enforced this three-step grading system across both standard and advanced classes to preserve the academy's integrity.
After ten minutes, Takuma completed the evaluation of all seventy answer sheets. Holding a few papers in his hand, he addressed the team.
"Fail these eight students," he said firmly. "As for the two whose sheets are on my desk—pass them. Their answers were strong overall, though their written explanations lacked clarity. Still, they demonstrated a clear grasp of the curriculum and the required protocols. That's what truly matters."
He paused, then added, "We're not training scholars here. They don't need to recite definitions word for word. What matters is whether they understand the core principles and can apply them in real scenarios—these two showed that."
The other instructors picked up the two sheets in question and reviewed them carefully. One belonged to a child from the Uchiha clan; the other was a civilian student. After rereading the responses multiple times, they nodded in agreement—Takuma's judgment was sound.
Seeing their approval, Takuma continued, "Be more attentive during evaluations. The Hokage has made it clear—we are not to deny someone the right to become a shinobi simply because they struggle with written expression, so long as they understand the essential protocols."
He handed the failed sheets to a nearby teacher. "Send the unsuccessful students back home."
In Class 2-C, one of the instructors stepped inside and addressed the room in a composed voice. "Listen carefully. I will now announce a few names. If your name is called, please come with me."
He read from the list: "Shoji… Hotaru… Kenichi…... and the last name—Kazama. If anyone here matches these names, step forward."
One of the students, Kenichi, stood up nervously. The teacher verified his admit card and identification, then motioned for him to follow. The same procedure was repeated in other classrooms as the instructor collected the remaining students.
Once all eight students had been gathered, the instructor informed them of their results and instructed them to return home.
Though the announcement could have been made in front of the entire class, the academy had long abandoned that approach. In earlier years, students who failed would often break down—crying, pleading, or causing disruptions that affected the rest of the class. To preserve the dignity of the individuals involved and maintain the learning environment, the faculty adopted a more discreet method: informing those who did not pass in private, away from their peers, to avoid unnecessary emotional outbursts and discomfort for the successful candidates.
Shortly after, in Class 2-C, another instructor entered and instructed the students to follow him. All fifteen stood up and silently followed, eventually arriving at the academy's main training ground. The scene before them was noticeably different from what it had been that morning.
The field had been transformed—circular tracks had been marked out using chalk powder, and various obstacles had been strategically placed across the course. Kazeo scanned the setup and narrowed his eyes.
'An obstacle course? Wouldn't that be too easy for us?' he wondered.
A moment later, one of the instructors stepped forward, addressing the group with a measured tone.
"Welcome, future shinobi. Congratulations on passing the theoretical examination. What lies ahead is a test of your physical capabilities. You will each run seventy laps on this course. Each lap spans five hundred meters and includes several obstacles."
"You are strictly prohibited from using any movement-enhancing jutsu to increase your speed. Anyone caught doing so will be immediately disqualified from this year's graduation cycle. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask."
The students remained silent. Most appeared confident—relieved, even. For many, this seemed like a straightforward task. However, a few older students—those in their fourth or fifth year—wore tense expressions. The format of the second exam had changed this year, and that uncertainty weighed heavily on them.
The students repeating the exam for the second or third time were particularly serious. They had learned the hard way that nothing at the academy was ever as simple as it seemed. If the exam had truly been easy, they wouldn't be here again.
Seeing no raised hands or questions, the instructor gave a final nod. "Very well. Line up according to the numbers marked on the track. The exam will begin at the sound of my whistle."
Within a minute, all students had taken their positions on the track. At the sound of the whistle, they began running in unison. Their movements were steady and confident—after years of physical conditioning at the academy and, for many, additional training at home, this level of exertion was easily within their limits.
By the time they had completed sixty laps, a quiet sense of relief began to settle over the group. Most were convinced they would pass with ease.
But then, without warning, another whistle pierced the air. In an instant, the entire scene shifted.
The students suddenly found themselves standing precariously on narrow wooden planks extended over the edge of a steep cliff. Half of each plank was suspended in open air, while the other half remained balanced on a rock ledge. Worse still, their feet were tied to the planks, restricting their movement. Beneath them, nothing but a dizzying drop met their gaze.
Confused and terrified, the students screamed as panic overtook them. Moments ago, they had been running freely toward the finish. Now, they crouched and clung to the planks in fear, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. The once orderly training ground was filled with cries of confusion and terror, as none of the children understood the nature of what had just happened.
From the observation area, five instructors stood watching with faint smiles, their expressions calm despite the chaos.
'Let's see how long it takes them to break the genjutsu and resume the race', one of them thought, arms folded. 'Kurama Genji really is a genius. No matter how many times I witness it, it's still unsettling how easily he can manipulate so many minds with a single whistle.'
While the other teachers seemed amused, Genji himself wore a far more serious expression. His gaze was fixed on a single student.
'That boy…' he narrowed his eyes. 'He broke the illusion in six seconds. I cast the genjutsu when all of them were mentally locked onto the race—none of them should've had the awareness to reject it that fast. Is his control over genjutsu disruption really that sharp?'
Intrigued, Genji formed another seal and cast the genjutsu again. But once more, it was dispelled—this time in less than five seconds.
'Interesting', he thought, eyes narrowing further. 'And he's not from the Uchiha or Kurama clans. I didn't expect to find someone with such a natural affinity for genjutsu resistance outside those bloodlines.'
-----
A few minutes earlier, Kazeo had started the race alongside the other students. As he navigated the course, he thought to himself:
'This isn't hard at all. Just a few standard obstacles… kinda feels like playing Subway Surfer.'
'But it's starting to get boring—the patterns are repeating every lap. If I want first place, I should probably start pushing myself now.'
He picked up his pace and quickly surged ahead, overtaking several students until he reached third position. He maintained that placement steadily, deciding to hold back just enough to reserve his full speed for the final lap.
But as he completed his sixtieth round, a sharp whistle echoed across the field. Without warning, the world around him shifted.
He was suddenly standing on a narrow plank extending over a cliff—half suspended in the air, the other half barely balanced on a rock ledge. His feet were tied to the wood.
"What the f*ck?! How did I get here?! Shit… if I fall from this height… will I even survive—"
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the scenery snapped back to normal. He was once again on the training field—crouched on the ground with the other students, all visibly shaken.
'A genjutsu', Kazeo realized, narrowing his eyes. 'And to think I actually believed this exam was going to be easy.'
'Still... I need to train more against illusions. The fear of falling gripped me before I even suspected it was a jutsu. But…'
he glanced down at his hands. 'My training over the last four years must be paying off. Whether it's the strength of my soul or the weekly mental exercises, my mind broke the illusion on its own.'
Kazeo didn't move. Remaining crouched like the others, he observed his surroundings carefully. Most students were still screaming or clinging to the ground, overwhelmed by the lingering fear.
'I should probably scream a little too', he mused. 'No reason to draw attention. I'll get up and run once two or three others break out of it first.'
'Sure, I could start now… but that would only reveal that I can dispel genjutsu faster than most. Right now, only the Hokage and that Uchiha ANBU know about it. Best to keep it that way—the less people know about it, the better.'
His thoughts were interrupted as the genjutsu washed over him a second time. Once again, he found himself standing above the same cliff. But this time, he kept calm.
'Tch. Not again. I won't fall for the same trick twice.'
Focusing his chakra, Kazeo consciously disrupted the illusion and returned to reality.
A few seconds passed. He noticed two students rising to their feet and preparing to resume the race. Taking the cue, Kazeo stood up as well and began running again.
As Kazeo completed yet another lap, he noticed that most of the students had now broken free from the genjutsu. A few, however, had collapsed from the mental strain and were quietly escorted off the field by instructors.
Just as they reached the sixty-eighth lap, another illusion swept over them.
This time, the ground beneath their feet began to sway and buckle unnaturally, simulating the effect of a violent earthquake. Students staggered in confusion—some stumbled into one another, while others lost their footing entirely and fell to the ground. Panic rippled through the group.
But several students, including Kazeo, had anticipated the possibility of a second genjutsu. Within ten seconds, they dispelled the illusion and resumed running.
Kazeo once again employed the same strategy as before—waiting until two other students began moving before he followed suit. It was a calculated effort to avoid drawing attention to his rapid genjutsu resistance.
As planned, he increased his pace during the final lap, breaking into a swift sprint. Seeing him take the lead, the two students just ahead of him—one of them a boy from the Inuzuka clan—pushed themselves harder in response.
In the final stretch, just ten steps from the finish line, the Inuzuka boy surged forward with a sudden burst of speed, overtaking Kazeo and claiming first place by a narrow margin.
Kazeo crossed the line a second later, finishing in second place. A faint, bitter smile played on his lips. 'Dammit... I was careless. I should've pushed harder earlier. That finish was mine to take.'
Soon after, the race came to an end. Twelve students were disqualified—some due to fainting mid-course, others because they took too long to recover from the genjutsu illusions.
Once the commotion settled, the instructor stepped forward and addressed the remaining students. "Congratulations to those of you who passed," he announced. "Fifty of you remain. Now, prepare yourselves—your next test will be…"
--------
At the same moment, in a vast marble hall shrouded in darkness, a meeting was underway. The hall resembled a throne chamber—grand and imposing. On the elevated platform, a man sat on a majestic throne of obsidian and bone, exuding authority and cold indifference. Before him, seven figures knelt, their foreheads touching the cold marble, five stairs below the throne.
With a disinterested expression, the man on the throne asked, "So... is the task complete, Isamu?"
One of the kneeling figures flinched.
Isamu, a tall, broad-shouldered man, raised his trembling head slightly. Sweat glistened on his temple despite the chill in the air. "N-No, my lord. We searched the entire continent, but…found nothing. Not even a trace of the anomaly. I accept full responsibility. Please punish me—it was my incompetence."
The man on the throne leaned forward, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "I gave you six years… and that seal. And yet you return with empty hands?"
Isamu clenched his fists, forcing calm as he lowered his gaze. "Forgive me, my lord. I distributed the seal you created—capable of sensing powerful souls within a hundred meters—to leaders of every major and minor hidden village. We still receive occasional reports of minor strong souls, and provide compensation seals as instructed. But nothing close to what you described. We even attempted to replicate your creation to widen our net, but our understanding of Fuinjutsu… is nothing compared to yours."
The man's tone grew colder, laced with disappointment. "And now you are asking for more seals? Do you understand what they cost to make?"
Isamu nodded solemnly. "I do, my lord—you use strong souls… as fuel. I know they are limited. But without more, it could take decades to find the one we seek. If I may request—grant us more time… and allow us to expand our search beyond this continent."
A silence stretched long enough to feel like a blade on the neck.
"I told you," the man said, each word heavy, "the anomaly is in this continent. Are you doubting my words?"
"Never!" Isamu shouted, slamming his head to the floor. "I would never doubt you! I have overstepped. I deserve punishment."
The man slowly stood from the throne. The hall darkened further as if responding to his presence. "Then you know the price of failure."
He turned to another figure. "Jiro."
A short, elderly man with sharp eyes rose and bowed deeply.
"You will lead the search now. Three years. That's all I will give you. Use the groundwork Isamu laid... wisely."
Jiro smiled faintly. "I accept, my lord. I will not disappoint you."
Behind him, Isamu silently reached into his storage ring, pulling out a ceremonial blade. Without hesitation, he brought it to his neck and drew it across in one swift motion. Blood sprayed, followed by a brief silence.
A pale, ghostly mist rose from the fallen body and drifted toward the throne. It spiraled around the man before merging into his chest. A faint glow shimmered and then faded.
Jiro's spine stiffened. Even after all this time, I still can't comprehend Lord's powers... He's truly worthy of worship.
"I place my trust in you, Jiro," the man said, voice echoing through the silent chamber. "Don't waste it."
"I won't… my lord."
"Good. Clean this up and bury him in the graveyard. He may have failed, but he served me faithfully for ten years. Dismissed."
The remaining five stood and bowed with Jiro. With swift hand signs, they cleaned the blood and sealed the body away. The great hall fell quiet once more.
[ A/N:- Thank you David Lawson for joining patreon.
Patreon:- StoryTeller_314
]