Fighters and spectators alike dispersed to the various stalls, restaurants, and stands throughout the city. Arthur himself found refuge in a secluded room. The absence of noise was a welcome change; it was here he could gather his thoughts and review the recent activities.
The walls of the small room were lined with monitors displaying various camera feeds, capturing every corner of the arena and its surroundings. Wires snaked around the floor as they connected to mainframes live-streaming the event.
Arthur moved through the technical setup, unplugging several cables and carefully extracting the data from the system. He had learned long ago the importance of preserving valuable information.
Sitting down in front of an old television, he began the transfer process. 'First, I need to ensure everything is safe,' he thought. He inserted a flash drive into the television, and the monitor opened the footage files.
One by one, the videos transferred, allowing him to later review the details of each match, including the interaction among the fighters. As he watched the progress bar fill, he couldn't help but think how the data will provide invaluable insights into their techniques and weaknesses.
Once finished, he turned his attention to the bigger monitors, flipping through camera feeds that offered glimpses into the outside of his closed chamber.
Each screen displayed different areas of the village where the fighters roamed, granting him a perspective on their interactions without their knowledge.
He clicked on a feed that showed several familiar faces. The camera focused in on Naruto, who was animatedly harassing Santa Yamanaka while other Leaf ninjas chuckled at the banter. There didn't seem to be any tension in their conversation.
What was notable was how the clanmates were treating the main character. Naruto, as many understood, was heavily ostracized. Yet what Arthur was seeing was a boy exchanging stories and laughing brightly within the crowded streets.
"You're not stronger than you think!" Naruto exclaimed with a shrill laugh. "I mean, seriously, did you even train before coming here? You're going down!"
Santa shook his head in amusement and said, "You're full of yourself, Naruto. I know what I'm capable of, and I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you."
The surrounding Nara clan members nodded, deep in thought. Some remarked, "He may not seem like much, but Santa's not a pushover; you shouldn't write him off so quickly."
'How incompetent of them,' Arthur thought, still focused on the feed as he scanned for William's whereabout.
To his disinterest, he noticed that William was not by Naruto's side but instead was seated at a nearby restaurant with Jada, whom he had clearly developed a soft spot for.
The two were not alone; Fū and Margaret had joined them. William sat there as the females chatted about their hair and makeup. Arthur couldn't help but furrow his brow at what he perceived as weak behaviour from someone supposed to be a man.
Or perhaps it was naïve—how could William justify spending time listening to females talk about their looks rather than focusing on more important matters?
"This guy's more pathetic than I imagined," Arthur scoffed to himself, moving the monitors until he found another feed.
This one featured Chen. The fighter practiced his footwork, stretching and executing various air kicks to stay warm. It was evident that Chen was taking this competition seriously.
That drew Arthur's interest. He rhythmically tapped on his arm, pondering Chen's movements.
'I've already seen the Leaf Dragon technique. You're wasting your time…'
Arthur recalled the moment he observed Chen's taijutsu skills during previous matches—flashes of agility, powerful strikes, and clever counters. But for all of Chen's prowess, Arthur could see the flaws inherent in his style.
There was no doubt in his mind he could devise a counterattack should Chen choose to unleash his signature move.
Arthur's focus sharpened when Lars' feed appeared. The fighter had exited the arena in search of food. Though a strong one indeed, the Tekken fighter also had his physiological needs.
'Something seems to be distracting him,' Arthur observed.
He watched Lars peruse a local stall laden with delicious food options. However, as intriguing as Lars was as a fighter, Arthur knew what would happen next. The Raikage had taken notice of him; alongside Darui, the two approached Lars—likely to extend an invitation to join the ranks of their village.
"He'll refuse," Arthur said, voicing his deduction, knowing Lars' personality.
A character like that preferred independence over belonging, and this was a chance he would inevitably decline. Arthur understood that quality; after all, he had chosen to stand apart from others himself.
In contrast, Arthur observed the other defeated Cloud ninjas. Their expressions showed they were tad ashame and disappointment after the earlier matches unfolded.
Not all had the luxury to stay, however—comrades like Atsui and Samui opted to return to their village and train harder, leaving the country behind as they sought self-improvement. Omoi, on the other hand, was enamoured with the prospect of continued observation, seeking insight as he contemplated his own growth.
As Arthur continued to monitor the various feeds, his arms crossed and trained eyes deeper in thought, he found himself agitated. The data he had collected thus far wasn't sufficient. He could see the talent and potential among these fighters, but he also recognized a mismatch in the tournament's design.
"What a waste," he said, watching the fighters socialize, heal, and strategize in ways that seemed far too relaxed.
Many of them were limited in what they could and could not do. And what he desired was to maximize their potential without raising alarm.
The question had to be asked: what was he truly gaining from this endeavour?
Then a thought struck him. 'What if…' he began, pondering the implications of the idea, 'they be allowed to use their chakra?'
The absence of jutsu in this taijutsu-only tournament reduced the fight to tactical skills and brute strength while missing out on the strategies that chakra manipulation could offer. Allowing fighters to employ their chakra would create a battlefield that truly reflected their abilities.
This would indeed be a shift, and he knew that it was possible to produce on such short notice. Battles would become explosive and creative, forcing competitors to think beyond physical force. The dynamics could also represent true skills.
With that thought settled, Arthur set to work, gathering more research and data on the fighters he had captured on camera.
He needed to prepare for a proposal for the next round, one that would elevate the tournament into something worthy of the attention it was receiving from dignitaries.
As the last of the videos uploaded to his secure storage, he formed a plan in his mind. The higher-ups would first need to be spoken to. Afterwards, the format of the tournament would need to be slightly altered.
Satisfied with the surveillance footage captured and his vision solidifying in his mind, he turned off the screens. He then retrieved a notebook from a hidden compartment in the room. What he needed to do was craft a set of new regulations, ones that would reform the tournament without dampening its purpose.
The stakes were already high, but he would raise them even further, manipulating not only the fighters' abilities but also their motivations.
As he scratched down his plan, he considered every implication. And just like that, the new rules were laid out.
Rule one: no tailed beast chakra shall be permitted. To prevent overwhelming clashes that could jeopardize the audience's safety and cause serious property damage, this was not allowed.
Rule two: chakra-enhancing items are restricted, ensuring that fighters rely on their innate abilities and training rather than on external boosts. This will encourage authenticity in their performances.
Rule three: outside assistance will be strictly prohibited—the focus must remain on the individual fighters to promote fairness.
Rule four: no techniques ranked above b-rank will be allowed. High-ranking techniques often overshadowed the combatants' true capabilities, diminishing the event's purpose of displaying talent and ingenuity. Then there was also public safety.
Rule five: there will be no overpowered or unidentified techniques that may threaten the structural integrity of the arena. Security for both fighters and spectators is paramount; anything deemed catastrophic in a fight could endanger what Arthur had worked for.
Rule six: genjutsu and fuinjutsu are allowed—these techniques can create dynamic battles, adding layers to the fighters' approaches without the risk of more destructive jutsu.
Rule seven: no healing techniques. As if it wasn't obvious, this will safeguard the competitive environment, preventing one participant from gaining an undue advantage through sudden recovery. Additionally, it will prevent a prolonged fight.
And the last rule, rule eight: if a fighter gets trapped in a technique that impairs them from fighting, or if they cannot escape a technique within a designated time frame, they'll be disqualified.
Arthur observed his writings to ensure their quality. But with this shift in structure came the need to invigorate the audience's excitement. A bigger prize would do just that. So, he decided to increase the cash reward from one million ryō to one and a half million ryō.
Rolling up the notebook, he pocketed it and altered his appearance with a quick transformation technique, taking on the guise of John Belford.
As he walked toward the structure where the feudal lord resided, he had nothing to worry about. He and this country's feudal lord were at a mutual understanding when it came to who was in charge. And because of the illusion around said feudal lord, Arthur was able to easily manipulate things.
"Good day, my lord!" the man greeted upon seeing Arthur. "I was not expecting you! What brings you here during the intermission?"
"The tournament," Arthur replied in an uncaring tone. "It needs adjusting…"
It didn't take long for him to paint a picture of the change. The feudal lord saw how the stakes were raised and how the fighters would be aspired to continue.
"And the rules, my lord?"
Arthur laid out the new tournament rules concisely, explaining their significance. He made sure this man understood how the changes would foster fairness while allowing the fighters to perform to the best of their abilities.
"I see, I see, my lord! By implementing these changes, we cultivate a true champion to arise—both for their virtue and skills!"
"A million and a half ryō for the prize," Arthur reminded, ignoring the feudal lord's strange praises. "This needs to be announced immediately, understood?"
"Yes, my lord!"
Upon leaving, the feudal lord swiftly began organizing the changes. The man rushed forth, shouting for aides and scribes to prepare for the notice. All these were within Arthur's power because he not only controlled this tournament, he inadvertently controlled this country.
As the intermission was coming to a close and the news began to spread, the spectators eagerly filed back into the grand arena. It was a very quick turn of events, one that many of them were very keen on witnessing.
Things hadn't even started, and yet many of them were engrossed in discussions about the announcements they had overheard outside. Just about everyone wanted to see how the fighters would now be able to use chakra and the implications that came with it.
When the Mizukage and the Raikage heard it, they decided to stay for the remaining matches. Only the Raikage was upset enough to go and speak about how the first round should be repeated.
Of course, he wasn't going to have his way.
Those fights had already been concluded, and Arthur had no more interest in those who couldn't first prove themselves with their fists. More so, he already understood some of their capabilities. Out of the ones who were eliminated, like Omoi and Kasuga Nara, he had gathered enough intel on them.
"What do you mean you want to allow my fighter to use chakra?!" the Raikage screamed at the tournament regulators. "And what are these rules? Just who is responsible for this?!"
"Please, lord Raikage," a feeble man who was just a referee begged. "He technically isn't even your fighters; they were selected by the—"
"I've heard enough!" he yelled, storming away. Darui and Omoi were left apologizing for their Raikage's behaviour.