Chapter 143: Triple Formation
The lines began to crawl across Panda's metallic body, forming patterns that looked like veins of living fire, glowing red-orange as they snaked through every joint and seam of steel.
Within seconds, the heat radiating from Panda's body surged violently. Fire chakra seeped through the cracks like molten magma, dripping and hissing as it touched the air, distorting the space around it in shimmering waves.
The temperature rose so rapidly that the surrounding sand began to blacken, then melt—slowly transforming into pools of translucent glass.
Souta gritted his teeth. He was struggling to maintain control over his three puppets, yet the fiery resonance emanating from Panda's core stormed through the chakra threads like a raging tempest, threatening to tear apart his own network.
And then—the explosion of heat erupted.
Panda's body unleashed a massive burst of flame, roaring outward like a dragon freed from its seal. The blast quaked the ground, the heatwave bending the air itself, forming shimmering ripples that warped the edges of the arena.
Shōnin, who was still restraining Panda's head with steel wires, immediately released them; the metal had turned cherry-red and began to melt at the ends. Tetsujun was thrown backward, planting his feet deep into the sand to stabilize his smoking body. Meanwhile, Sōtōken—its twin metal jaws still clamped onto Panda's leg—refused to release its grip, enduring a heat so intense that its surface began to warp and soften. Black smoke curled from Sōtōken's joints, yet the puppet did not retreat.
Masamichi raised his hand. His fingers moved with a precision so delicate it resembled a ritual dance—smooth, sharp, deliberate. The final seal was complete.
SNAP!
The sound of his finger snap triggered something.
"Combustion Mode!"
Masamichi's voice echoed across the arena like a divine command—not just to Panda, but to the air itself. In an instant, Panda's entire body ignited. It wasn't ordinary flame; it was an aura of fire that clung to the metal, swirling and pulsing like a living cloak of embers.
The heat was so extreme that the sand around them melted into bubbling glass. The arena walls began to crack under the pressure; even the air seemed to tremble, refusing to reflect any shape or shadow.
Makima narrowed her eyes, beads of sweat streaming down her temple despite her wind chakra barrier that pushed back against the heat. Pakura raised her arm to shield her face, her hair whipping violently in the updraft of searing air.
Tetsujun stood at the front, his crimson shield blazing. Each time a grain of molten sand touched it, a sharp pop echoed—tiny bursts of heat bursting like miniature fireworks.
And at the center of that inferno stood Panda—its metallic body gleaming with the ferocity of a war god reborn from the depths of hell. Behind it, Masamichi remained calm, composed, the puppeteer who had just awakened his own mechanical demon.
Souta clenched his jaw so hard that the tendons in his neck bulged. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of concentration coursing through every muscle. It was the kind of tension that felt like a bowstring drawn to the point of snapping.
His breathing grew heavy and sharp, his chest rising and falling in sync with the pounding rhythm of his heart. Sweat trickled from his temple, sliding down his cheek and falling onto the scorching sand below.
The droplets evaporated instantly, hissing faintly before disappearing into steam, their sound drowned by the metallic reverberations filling the arena.
"Makima, Pakura—fall back!" Souta shouted. His voice was hoarse yet unwavering, filled with grit and raw command. "I'm going to use everything I have!"
He pressed his fingers together, pulling three chakra threads taut from their tips in swift, precise motions. Sparks of blue lightning danced between his knuckles, weaving into complex, glowing sigils that shifted like a living web of energy.
"Triple Formation—Tetsujun Front, Sōtōken Flank, Shōnin Pierce!"
His words split the air like a war drum. In the same heartbeat, all three puppets moved in unison, their bodies synchronized by the perfectly tuned pulse of Souta's chakra.
Panda growled, a deep metallic rumble that vibrated through the air. Its massive, flame-coated fist pulled back, glowing brighter than molten metal before it swung forward with terrifying force. The punch tore through the atmosphere, unleashing a shockwave of heat that rippled across the entire training ground.
...
Chapter 144: The Three of You Have Passed
But Tetsujun had already intercepted the attack first. The massive kugutsu took a heavy step forward, raising its colossal steel shield high. Souta's chakra surged rapidly through the lines, fortifying the shield's metallic layers.
CLAAANG!
The clash erupted — raw power against absolute defense. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, scattering sand and shards of stone like bullets fired in every direction.
The chakra vibrations traveled from Tetsujun's shield into Souta's chakra threads. His body trembled slightly from the backlash, yet he held firm, redirecting the pressure toward his other two kugutsu already awaiting orders.
Sōtōken, the metal wolf, still had its jaws locked around Panda's leg. Its grip tightened, the metallic fangs creaking as the chakra within doubled in intensity. From Sōtōken's joints, bursts of white steam hissed out — a clear sign that its internal engine was hitting the limit. Its barbed tail spun like a drill, wrapped in crackling lightning chakra, before smashing into Panda's knee with a dull, brutal thud.
BRAM!
Panda's leg shifted; the joints shuddered violently, throwing the massive construct slightly off balance — for just a fraction of a second.
And in that very fraction, Shōnin appeared.
A small shadow darted forward from behind, barely visible between the quivering heat waves. Shōnin's eyes gleamed a sharp electric blue, his pupils burning like embers within a mist of chakra. His claws, sheathed in blazing crimson chakra, sliced through the air with a short, savage roar.
His strike pierced the narrow gap between Tetsujun's shield and Panda's body.
BLAAAAAR!
A crimson explosion erupted at the point of impact. The mingling surge of chakra and heat from Panda's burning body burst outward in a flash of searing light — like a thunderbolt igniting in the heart of a sandstorm.
The shockwave swept across the training hall, shaking the earthen walls and hurling waves of heat into every face present. Makima's and Pakura's hair whipped violently in the wind; Souta's cloak flared backward, and sand spiraled upward, forming tiny vortexes that spun fiercely around them.
Sparks of red-golden chakra scattered in the air like a storm of radiant embers — mesmerizing and deadly all at once.
Masamichi stood from afar, his robe fluttering gently in the heated wind. His expression remained unchanged — cold, sharp, utterly calculated. As the blaze began to dim, he slowly lifted his hand. Just a little — but enough. Enough to make his three students halt instantly.
Everything stopped.
No more clashing steel, no echoing thunder of impact — only the faint hum of dissipating chakra, fading like the final breath of a dying storm.
Black smoke coiled and drifted at the center of the arena. The residual chakra current whispered faintly, brushing away the haze of ash still hanging in the air. From within that murk, the silhouette of Panda gradually emerged — kneeling in the middle of the field.
Its armored body was cracked, scorched in parts, thin wisps of smoke escaping through the seams of its joints. Panda's eyes still glowed, though dimly now — no longer fierce with rage, but calm, steady, like embers that refused to die.
Masamichi observed the scene for a long while. His gaze was sharp yet deep — not judging the outcome of a battle, but the growth of the souls behind it.
Then he exhaled softly and let the faintest smile curve his lips — barely noticeable, but enough to warm the air that had moments ago burned with fire.
"Well done," Masamichi said quietly, yet his voice carried weight, echoing across the now-stilled chamber. "The three of you... have passed."
Souta slowly lowered his hand. The chakra threads at his fingertips began to fade, one by one, vanishing like wisps of smoke carried away by the wind.
He let out a long, shuddering breath. His chest rose and fell heavily, his body swaying slightly under the toll of exhaustion. Yet behind his half-closed eyes, there gleamed a faint light — the glow of fulfillment, of a true Kugutsu-shi who had just surpassed his own limits.
Pakura lowered her shoulders, folding her arms with a weary smile. There was pride in her gaze — quiet but unmistakable. Makima stepped forward, placing a hand on Souta's shoulder with a soft pat. Her small smile was warm, genuine, and filled with relief after such a relentless, punishing test.
Amid the lingering heat and swirling wisps of smoke, the three of them stood side by side — no longer mere candidates, but young shinobi who had just crossed the threshold separating trial and real battle.
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