"Come."
Quiet as they were, everyone, from Obito, to Toka, to the group of academy students watching from the sidelines. They all heard it.
The single word that left Lumian's mouth wasn't loud. It didn't carry a threatening edge, or some powerful chakra-backed roar like the nine-tales. No. It was soft. Calm. Measured.
But to Obito?
It sounded like a warning of foreboding....
"Something's wrong…" That thought thundered through Obito's mind, loud enough to freeze his momentum.
His right foot, already halfway through the motion of pushing off, halted. He grounded it, stabilizing himself instead of launching into the usual wild charge. His muscles tensed instinctively, sensing danger even when his mind hadn't fully processed it.
That wasn't like him.... Obito was always the first to rush in, headlong and fists swinging.
But this time? Something in Lumian's tone... something in his eyes, half-lidded yet disturbingly clear... killed that impulse.
Obito narrowed his eyes.
Lumian stood relaxed, arms at his sides, posture more fitting for someone waiting in line for dango than someone standing on a training field. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world.
A drop of sweat rolled down Obito's brow.
He hadn't even moved, and yet his instincts were screaming.
Obito tried to shake it off. "Tch... He's just bluffing. Trying to mess with me. That's all."
Was he confident in terms of raw physical readiness? Of Course.
Obito was confident he had the edge.
He'd seen Lumian's training sessions before—accidentally, of course. Passing by the training fields when he went to practice, sometimes catching glimpses of the guy doing sit-ups under the dawn of the sun, or jogging like a mad man panting like he was possessed.
Although, as encouraging as he was to his friend attempting to become stronger; Not once had he thought that Amon would surpass him. Or even become his equal.
What do you think went through his head at that time?
"Amon doesn't really have a strong body," he'd thought.
Sure, Lumian was persistent. Obsessive, even. But raw strength? Speed? Chakra control? His movements seemed… awkward. Inefficient. Like a puppet whose strings weren't quite in sync.
And Obito?
He was a Hidden Leaf shinobi. Uchiha. Born with power in his blood. He'd been training since the age of six. Hell, he had Sharingan potential and the dna of the bastard Indra buried in his DNA.
And while he might be a simple-minded idiot sometimes (even Rin said so, albeit kindly), that idiot came with a bottomless tank of stamina and a punch that could shatter rocks if he really wanted too.
Put all that together, and there was only one conclusion.
"He's a stamina freak."
Obito grinned—though it wavered for just a second.
On the sidelines, Toka crossed his arms. He knew Obito would win. Everyone did. This was a no-brainer.
Lumian had joined the academy barely over a month ago.
Obito? He was practically a veteran by comparison.
Toka didn't expect much from this fight. But as Lumian's instructor, he figured the kid needed to experience real pressure—to be reminded that being clever wasn't always enough. In the ninja world, guts and grit mattered too.
Still, something in the air felt... heavy.
Even the other students, who had all been casually placing their imaginary bets on Obito, had quieted.
Asuma, Kurenai, even Genma.... —all of them had that look. The one where something didn't add up.
But no one said it aloud.
Because it was obvious.
If this were a betting pool, 95% of the academy would've placed their money on Obito.
However...
They didn't know.
They didn't know that Lumian had access to a higher dimension, governed by a being so dreadful, so alien, that even those called "gods" whispered his name with caution.
They didn't know that in a twist of sheer cosmic irony—or maybe divine cruelty—Lumian had stumbled across a potion.
Not just any potion.
A gift born from the fragmented essence of the Creator, forged to mold a vessel of absolute physical might.
A potion that didn't just strengthen your body—it rewrote the rules of what a body could be.
How considerate, right?
In reality, everyone had it wrong.
So now, dear viewers, riddle me this:
What happens when someone blessed with the strength of an unknown god of this world, armed with powers with the potential meant to shatter reality's limits, is challenged by a well-meaning dunderhead in ugly goggles?
I'll give you three seconds.
Three… Two… One…
Ding!
Did you get your answer?
"...."
That's right you smart handsome models!
Obito was cooked.
. . .
The boy with the orange goggles shook himself out of his earlier hesitation and once again braced his back foot, preparing to launch forward.
"KACK!"
The sharp sound of dirt being kicked up echoed through the training field, followed quickly by the rapid thudding of sandals pounding the ground. Obito surged ahead, cocking his fist back, aiming straight for Lumian's stomach with a punch meant to end the match before it truly began.
"Ha ha! You thought you could bluff your way outta this?! Think again!"
He was within striking distance now. So close, his outstretched fist should have connected.
But Lumian didn't move.
No sudden shift. No parry. No counter.
Just... stillness.
Obito didn't care. He swung.
"WHOOSH!"
The punch sailed straight past Lumian—missing completely. Not even a graze.
"Eh?" Obito's eyes widened in confusion. He tried again, turning and launching a quick jab toward Lumian's waist.
Again, nothing.
Lumian had already sidestepped, letting Obito's momentum carry him forward.
Stumbling a few steps, Obito spun his head around in disbelief. Lumian stood a few feet away, hands still at his sides, posture utterly relaxed.
The sideline buzzed with shock.
Genma's bamboo stick almost dropped from his mouth. "What the…" he muttered, gripping it tighter as he narrowed his eyes.
He glanced to the side. "Hey guys… didn't Amon just join last month?"
Asuma frowned, arms folded. "Yeah... This isn't what I expected at all."
Anko, by contrast, was grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes glinted with something wild—interest, maybe.
"He's not bad at all," she whistled. "If Obito's no slouch, and Amon's keeping up like this? He might have been hiding his power."
Back on the field, Obito's teeth clenched. His pride stung more than his missed punches.
"Don't get so cocky!" he yelled, charging again.
This time, he had a plan.
He'd bait the sidestep. Right when Lumian moved, he'd stop mid-charge and launch a kick into his ribs.
Only, Lumian didn't sidestep.
As Obito's punch neared, Lumian moved forward—but not to attack.
He bent his knees.
And then—
He flipped.
A smooth front flip, right over Obito's head.
"What the hell?!" Obito gasped.
"KSHH!"
He skidded to a halt, digging his foot into the dirt and turning sharply to face Lumian—just in time to see him land effortlessly, a playful grin tugging at his lips.
Then Lumian rushed forward.
Obito panicked. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing for a punch.
And the punch came—fast and straight.
But it never landed.
Lumian halted the punch just inches from contact, then smoothly pivoted his weight to the side.
A second later—
"WHAM!"
A crushing side-kick slammed into Obito's ribs.
Spit flew from his mouth as he staggered backward, a burst of pain flaring in his side.
Too fast. Too strong.
Obito barely had time to think.
The watching students' mouths hung open.
Even the wind paused.
And Lumian?
He hadn't even broken a sweat.
. . .
Obito panted heavily, one hand clutching his side where the pain still flared hot and sharp. His eyes, wide with disbelief, remained locked on the boy in front of him.
Lumian hadn't changed.
His expression was calm—too calm, in fact. A faint, almost playful smile still curved his lips. With a deliberate motion, he raised one hand, palm facing up, fingers relaxed but steady.
He pointed it straight at Obito.
"Do you yield?"
The words weren't mocking. If anything, they were polite. Considerate, even.
That only made it worse.
Obito grit his teeth and forced himself upright, pushing through the dull ache pounding in his side. He took a shaky breath, then settled into a low fighting stance.
"Hell no!" he barked.
And with that, he charged again—like a bull on fire.
Same plan. Same energy. Same wild heart.
It seems that Obito didn't learn that the Shonen main character way of charging into a fight again and again is simply not the best idea in this situation.
Which is why it wasn't going to work.
Not this time.
Lumian watched him come, eyes half-lidded, pulse steady.
When Obito was just inches away, ready to throw his punch, Lumian made his move.
He leapt—spinning twice mid-air, the motion fluid and gravity-defying, like something out of a wuxia film. His shirt flared with each turn, light catching the arc of his movement like he was slicing through the world.
On the second spin, he drew his leg back—
And with ruthless precision—
"WHAM!"
His foot smashed into the side of Obito's head.
The sound echoed through the field like thunder. Obito's body twisted unnaturally in midair, the momentum carrying him clean off his feet.
Then he dropped.
Thud.
Flat on the ground. Eyes unfocused. Motionless.
He didn't even have time to cry out.
He was unconscious before he hit the dirt.
Lumian landed as gracefully as he'd taken off. Feet lightly touching the ground, knees bent slightly to absorb the impact. Not even a stumble. Not even a breath out of place.
He stood still for a moment.
Then bowed—clean, respectful, deliberate.
Not arrogant. Not smug. Just… calm.
Like it was only proper to do so.
Silence reigned.
No one said a word. The crowd, once certain of Obito's easy victory, sat frozen in disbelief.
Genma's bamboo stick finally slipped from his mouth and fell into the dirt.
Asuma's brow furrowed deeply, a flicker of serious thought crossing his normally chill demeanor.
Anko, meanwhile, let out a low, impressed whistle.
"Hoooooo~" she breathed. "Okay, that was sick."
On the sidelines, Toka blinked slowly.
His mouth had opened as if to speak minutes ago… but no words had come out.
He glanced at Obito, still down. Then back to Lumian, who stood patiently, eyes serene.
Right. He was the referee.
Toka raised his arm, voice finally catching up to the moment.
"Winner!" he declared, loud and clear.
"Amon Tsuchi!"
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(*Author's note:
And the academy tournament has concluded! Apologies for not posting yesterday, I was tired from doing an outside event and was exhausted after coming home that I didn't feel like writing.
Also, I watched the Crunchyroll Anime Rewards!
Lets just say, that I didn't like some of the results....
Like how the hell did Ninja Kamui win!
I don't really have an opinion on Solo leveling winning over Frieren. I mean I didn't really watch Frieren so I wouldn't really know if it really was better than Solo. However, I do admit that Frieren deserved the win since, it was Season 1 of Solo leveling rather than Season 2. If it was Season 2 it might've possibly been debatable.
Although Rezero did win so..... Yeah!
. . .
Anyways.... thanks for reading this book!
Make sure to leave any comments and a review on the book!
Thank you..... and POWER STONES!!!!!!!!)