The Challengers Who Dare Face a Storm
The proctors exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of uncertainty pressing against them. This was not the same Rock Lee they had known. Something had changed, something beyond mere training or technique. This was reincarnation, rebirth into something beyond human limits.
One of them stepped forward, his voice hesitant. "Hold."
The match had barely begun, yet already the balance of power had been shattered. Gaara, the unchallenged prodigy of the Sand, stood frozen, his sand twitching unnaturally as if resisting his own commands. His breathing was slow, measured—but there was tension in his frame, something that had never existed before. Doubt.
The proctor's voice carried through the uneasy silence. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, we must verify the validity of this match before it proceeds any further."
The crowd murmured in confusion, some booing, others whispering in hushed tones. Even the Kazekage (Orochimaru in disguise) remained still, his expression unreadable behind the mask he wore.
Neji frowned, his Byakugan still active, attempting to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. Lee's chakra network did not conform to human anatomy. His power pulsed and expanded like a living storm, refusing to be categorized by anything Neji had ever studied.
The proctor straightened. "To ensure fairness, Rock Lee must first face a team of three Genin hand-picked for this match. Their objective is simple—survive."
Lee did not respond. He did not object. He simply waited.
From the opposing side of the arena, three figures stepped forward.
The first, a Taijutsu user from Kumogakure—Reika of the Iron Fist. A brutal fighter trained in high-speed combat, known for breaking enemy defenses with raw force.
The second, a Genjutsu specialist from Kirigakure—Tsuyoshi the Mirage. His illusions were rumored to be so potent that even Jonin had fallen to them in battle.
The third, a long-range Ninjutsu fighter from Sunagakure—Haruto, the Sand Sniper. Capable of launching deadly attacks from afar, manipulating the terrain to his advantage.
They stood together, their gazes locked onto Lee with varying degrees of caution and disbelief.
"This is a formality," the proctor continued. "Once this match is completed, the official bout with Gaara will commence."
Lee exhaled.
Lightning flickered around his form, dissipating into the wind, leaving only silence in its wake.
The proctor raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Reika was the first to move. She dashed forward, her speed impressive by normal standards, her fists glowing with chakra reinforcement as she closed the gap between them. A direct assault—bold and decisive.
Lee did not move.
Not until the very last moment.
The instant before Reika's fist would have made contact, Lee was gone.
Her strike cut through empty air, a powerful gust following in the wake of her missed punch.
Her instincts screamed at her to move—
Too late.
A sudden shockwave split the ground beneath her, cracks spiderwebbing outward from where she stood. She barely had time to react before a force unlike anything she had ever felt struck her from behind.
There was no sound. No warning. Just impact.
Her body blurred through the air, flung across the battlefield as if she had been struck by an unseen force of nature. She crashed into the stone wall on the far end of the stadium, her form barely visible beneath the dust cloud that followed.
The audience gasped.
Even before the dust settled, Lee was already moving again.
Tsuyoshi, the Genjutsu specialist, had seen enough. His hands flew into seals, his chakra surging.
"Fool," he muttered. "No one can outrun an illusion."
He clapped his hands together, the air distorting around Lee as a phantasmic world erupted into existence.
The battlefield shifted.
The sky darkened into an eerie shade of crimson, the ground beneath Lee transforming into an endless void.
Illusions layered upon illusions, a perfect technique. A trap that even Jonin struggled to break free from.
But Lee did not stop moving.
He did not falter.
He did not hesitate.
With a single pulse of his dōjutsu, the entire illusionary world collapsed.
Tsuyoshi's breath caught in his throat as his technique unraveled before his eyes, the genjutsu shattering like glass as reality reasserted itself.
Lee had never even acknowledged the illusion to begin with.
His body moved through space like an unstoppable force.
Before Tsuyoshi could even form another hand sign, a sudden pressure pulled the air from his lungs.
Lee had not struck him.
Lee had not even touched him.
The mere force of his presence had paralyzed him.
Then, in an instant, he was gone.
Tsuyoshi's world blurred.
He did not remember what happened next.
All he knew was that one moment he was standing, and the next he was on his back, staring up at the sky, unable to move.
The crowd had fallen into complete silence.
Only one remained.
Haruto, the Sand Sniper.
The long-range specialist gritted his teeth. He had spent the entire battle preparing—laying out traps, setting up chakra-based projectile formations that could lock down any opponent from a distance.
It did not matter how fast Lee was.
There was no outrunning the unavoidable.
With a swift movement, Haruto activated every single trap at once.
Hundreds of chakra-infused projectiles erupted from the arena floor, converging on Lee's position from every possible direction.
No room to dodge.
No space to escape.
A perfect kill zone.
The stadium held its breath.
And then—
The air cracked.
Lightning surged.
The very wind itself shifted.
The moment before the projectiles struck, Lee vanished.
Not with speed.
Not with motion.
But with something else entirely.
Something beyond the comprehension of those who watched.
And then—he reappeared.
Directly in front of Haruto.
The Sunagakure Genin's eyes widened in horror.
Lee did not raise his fist.
He did not launch an attack.
He simply looked at him.
And that alone was enough.
The pressure of Lee's gaze—the overwhelming force of his existence—was enough to bring Haruto to his knees.
His mind blanked. His body refused to move.
Haruto gasped for breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his muscles refusing to respond.
For the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to stand before something divine.
The battle was over.
The proctors did not speak.
The audience did not cheer.
No one moved.
And yet, even as the dust settled, the tension in the air remained.
Because everyone knew—
This was only a preview of what was to come.
Lee turned, his blazing dōjutsu reflecting the now-silent crowd.
Without a word, without hesitation—
He set his sights on Gaara.