Chapter 1 – The World Stops
The battlefield was quiet.
That silence was wrong.
For weeks, the Third Great Ninja War had roared without pause. Explosions, screams, and chakra clashing in the air like thunder. But now—stillness. Even the wind seemed afraid to move.
Kakashi stood frozen, his kunai trembling slightly in his hand. A moment ago, his squad was preparing to face an enemy ambush near the Kusagakure border. Now… those enemies were on their knees, shaking. Not from fear of him—but from something else.
A shadow covered the valley. Dark. Heavy.
Then he appeared.
Floating above the field, wearing an old red armor, hair like flowing ash, and eyes that burned with something colder than fire—Madara Uchiha.
"Stop fighting," he said.
No shout. No anger. Just calm, like an order from a god.
Chakra flared across the land as if the earth itself had heard him.
Behind him, bodies began to rise.
From the smoke, four figures stepped forward—Hashirama, Tobirama, Hiruzen, and Minato. The Hokage. Eyes empty. Faces silent.
"N-no way…" one Iwa shinobi stammered. "That's the First Hokage…"
Kakashi's heart pounded. These weren't illusions. Not puppets. These were real. Orochimaru's reanimation jutsu, twisted. Taken.
Madara raised one hand. The sky split open—not literally, but inside everyone's minds.
A glowing symbol appeared midair. Lines of chakra formed a spinning ring, then a cube, then a glowing grid. Text in a language nobody could read.
Then it spoke.
"Tournament protocol initiated. Combat regulation activated. All shinobi ranked genin and above are now part of the system."
The voice didn't sound human. Not alive. Not machine. Something in-between.
"Starting today," Madara said, "the world will fight differently."
Orochimaru, hidden in the trees, smiled. "So… you took it further than I dared."
Madara ignored him.
"All nations will participate. You may not hide. You may not run. One versus one. No team play. No war. No death in the early stages. But all chakra—will be earned."
He looked directly at Kakashi.
"Those who lose will live. But they will be empty."
Then he looked to the crowd—Leaf, Sand, Stone, Mist, Cloud—every force frozen in awe and confusion.
"The system watches everything. You will fight, or you will be erased."
Suddenly, light erupted. A beam of chakra scanned across the land like a pulse. One by one, shinobi began glowing with markings—symbols etched into their arms, chests, faces. Seals, but alive.
Kakashi grunted, holding his chest. The mark burned.
In a small forest clearing, far from the warfront, a young blond boy sat alone, knees tucked to his chest.
"W-what's this…?" Naruto winced as the mark glowed on his hand. He didn't understand. He didn't fight in wars. No one wanted him near the battlefield. But somehow, he was marked too.
The system had chosen him.
Somewhere else, deep in the mountains, Itachi Uchiha opened his eyes. Quietly. Without emotion. His mark glowed like a slow burn across his palm.
In the Sand Village, Gaara looked down at his hand as the system burned into his skin.
Darui. Temari. Chojuro. Kurotsuchi. Even Orochimaru himself. All marked.
It had begun.
Back on the field, Madara floated higher.
"The first round begins in 24 hours," he said. "You don't have to trust me. You don't have to like it. But you will fight. And when only one remains standing… I will meet them."
He didn't laugh. He didn't smile.
He vanished.
The system remained, floating overhead like a second moon—watching.
Kakashi let his kunai drop. "This… isn't war," he whispered.
"It's worse," said a voice behind him.
It was Obito. His Sharingan already glowing.