"Don't even think about running," Naruto's clone said, grinning lazily. "The flames from the Four Purple Flame Formation? They're real. They'll burn you to ash."
The Genin froze. A few instinctively stepped back. That smile—it wasn't warm anymore. It was the grin of someone who enjoyed the struggle.
"Alright," the clone continued cheerfully, clapping his hands. "From this moment on, your training camp officially begins. You can work in teams or fight alone—doesn't matter. Your only goal is simple: survive."
He brought his palms together. "Multiple Shadow Clone Technique!"
Boom!Boom!Boom!
In an instant, a small army of Naruto clones appeared—one for every single Genin present. The field rippled with chakra.
"These clones won't use strength above your level," the clone explained. "Their speed, power, and chakra output are all limited to that of a normal Genin. Your objective is to endure their attacks and stay standing."
He smiled. "If you can manage to defeat your clone? Training complete. You can rest—and if you perform well enough, you'll earn a personal session with the real me."
He raised his voice, the tone suddenly commanding. "Did you hear me clearly?"
"Yes, sir!" the Genin shouted back, their hearts pounding.
Good performance meant private training with Naruto himself. Just the thought sent a surge of adrenaline through the group.
"Then…" The clone raised his hand. "Begin."
And chaos exploded.
Swish—BAM!
Before most could even react, the clones blitzed forward. The first Genin barely saw the punch before it landed square in his gut. He folded in half and flew back several meters.
"Too fast!" someone yelled, blocking air. Another kick came from nowhere, knocking him flat.
Within seconds, the ground was littered with groaning bodies.
"This isn't Genin-level fighting!" one screamed between gasps.
"Oh, it is," a Jōnin observer murmured from outside the barrier. "The clones really are using Genin strength. But…"
He frowned. "…they're being controlled by Jōnin-level battle instincts. That's the difference."
The other instructors nodded grimly.
"These kids need this," Asuma muttered. "Pain is a good teacher."
"True," Kurenai said, though her brow furrowed. "But still… seeing this many clones is unnerving."
Guy chuckled nervously. "Ha! He's definitely not holding back."
They all knew how dangerous the Multiple Shadow Clone Technique was. It consumed insane amounts of chakra, so much that even elite Jōnin rarely used more than a few copies. Yet here stood Naruto—well, even his clone—controlling hundreds like it was nothing.
"How much chakra does he have?" Kurenai whispered.
"Too much," Kakashi muttered, half in awe, half in dread.
Inside the field, Naruto's clone barked orders like a drill sergeant.
"Get up!" he shouted. "Don't expect your enemies to show mercy! The world won't go easy on you just because you're weak!"
He pointed at a few Genin still writhing on the ground.
"If you can't stand up after one hit, you don't belong here. Go home. Take off your forehead protectors. Live an ordinary life—and pray a war never reaches you."
The Genin grit their teeth, trembling.
Naruto smirked. "What's wrong? Want an easy way out?"
He formed a hand seal, and a small opening appeared at the edge of the flame barrier—a literal crawlspace barely large enough for a person to squeeze through.
"There. A little dog hole." He sneered. "If you want to quit, crawl out. You'll be free. No pain, no effort, no pride. You'll just be the dog that ran away."
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then anger began to boil.
"Damn it…"
"I'm not crawling through that!"
"Let's go! I'm not a coward!"
Rage overcame fear. The downed Genin forced themselves to their feet, bloodied but defiant.
Naruto's grin widened. "Now that's the spirit."
The clones surged forward again.
This time, the Genin fought back. Their attacks were sloppy, desperate—but at least they were fighting.
For a few moments, it looked like they were adapting. Dodging. Blocking. Lasting longer.
Naruto's clone tilted his head, then snapped his fingers.
"Let's turn up the heat."
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
"Earth Style: Earth Spear!"
"Water Style: Thousand Needles!"
"Lightning Style: Thunder Senbon!"
The air erupted in a storm of jutsu. Fire roared, lightning crackled, wind howled.
Genin screamed, diving and rolling to avoid the barrage. The attacks weren't lethal—Naruto had perfectly controlled the output—but the pain was real. Bruises, burns, and shallow cuts piled up fast.
And just when they started to get used to it, the clones changed formation.
They stopped fighting one-on-one.
Two teamed up. Then three. Then four. Soon, whole groups were coordinating attacks—mixing elements, trapping targets, and striking from all sides.
The Seventh Training Ground became an absolute battlefield.
From the outside, the Jōnin stared at the swirling chaos in awe.
"Good god…" Asuma muttered. "It's like watching a warzone."
Kurenai nodded slowly. "This is what the Third War must have looked like… complete unpredictability."
Guy's eyes gleamed. "Incredible control. He's training them to think, to react, to adapt."
Kakashi's gaze was fixed on the clones. "And he's doing it flawlessly. Every move, every jutsu—precise enough to hurt, but never kill. That kind of control… that's beyond most elite Jōnin."
None of them were laughing now.
The chaos inside the barrier was pure madness. Smoke and dust filled the air. Genin shouted, stumbled, fought back. But Naruto's clones moved like ghosts—always pressing, always overwhelming, forcing them to think or collapse.
It was brutal. It was relentless.
And it was perfect training.
By the time it ended, every single onlooker—every instructor—knew the truth.
Uzumaki Naruto wasn't just strong.
He wasn't just talented.
He was the standard.
The future Hokage in all but name.
The first person of Konoha—the strongest of his generation.
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