Gen leapt back, twisting mid-air into a hand-sword seal. His feet hit the ground the moment the seal locked.
Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!
His chest swelled, then a golden-orange torrent roared from his mouth. The flames compressed into a fireball three meters wide, rolling forward with a blast of heat.
Orochimaru didn't move. The Kusanagi flashed, its blade wrapped in blue chakra, lengthening as it came down. One slash split the fireball cleanly in two, the extended sword forcing Gen to dodge.
With no chakra feeding it, the severed fireball unraveled into harmless heat. Orochimaru let the flames wash past, retracting the sword and swallowing it back into his throat. His face was almost bored.
The gap between Kage and jōnin was vast. Even an Uchiha jōnin, he thought, couldn't threaten him.
Then his eyes narrowed.
He sprang back, just as a pair of hands erupted from the earth.
Gen burst out of the ground, three shuriken already spinning through the air. Orochimaru was mid-leap with nothing to brace against, but his body bent unnaturally, neck twisting, waist folding, and every shuriken missed by inches.
They were nothing but decoys. No reason to reveal Homies yet. To an average shinobi, wires might explain them. But not to Orochimaru, whose soul and senses were razor-sharp.
The real attack came as both Gen and his shadow clone finished their seals.
Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation!
Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!
Wind fed fire, and golden-orange waves surged toward Orochimaru, deepening to gold under the sustained boost. The range was a third of Madara's, but the temperature burned higher.
Gen's fire training had been about heat, not size. Shuryu's flames had given him a standard no ordinary ninja had.
The Heat and color is as follows; Dark red flame, around 600 degrees Celsius. Deep red flame, around 700 degrees Celsius. Orange flame, around 1000 degrees Celsius. Pure orange flame, around 1100 degrees Celsius.
Golden orange flame, around 1200 degrees Celsius. Golden yellow flame, around 1300 degrees Celsius. Golden white flame, around 1400 degrees Celsius. Pure white flame, around 1500 degrees Celsius.
Feeling the heat bite at the air, Orochimaru's expression tightened. Water style could smother it, but the sheer temperature made earth style a poor shield. And lightning style? Useless.
A teacher couldn't lose face.
Hands flashed. Black sigils rippled out along the ground.
Summoning: Rashōmon!
The earth buckled, and a towering red gate with a snarling demon mask burst upward. Its fanged maw swallowed the flames whole.
Job done, the Rashōmon dissolved in white smoke. The once-green grass of the training field was ash and black earth.
Wind Style: Wind Net!
From the smoke's edge, Gen's clone unleashed crossing bands of compressed wind, weaving a giant hunting net. The haze cleared—empty. Only trees stood, their trunks carved with deep crosshatch marks.
Not in the sky, then…
Both Gens shifted immediately, moving in constant arcs.
Below, Orochimaru tunneled through the soil, his failed strike already forgotten. Bulges in the ground raced toward Gen, encircling him.
The bulges burst. Snakes, green, black, brown, thick as barrels, exploded upward from every side.
Fire Style: Dust Concealment Technique!
Both Gen and his clone spat spheres of fire mixed with scorching dust. The burning grit rolled outward like a gray tide, clinging to everything it touched.
The snakes writhed, hissing in pain as dust scorched their scales. One by one they burst into smoke.
Hidden underground, Orochimaru's grin was sharp. Dust Concealment—rare, high-temperature, and troublesome. The dust heat masked Gen's body temperature completely, blinding snake-vision. No stealth strike possible.
Fine. Ninjutsu, then.
Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!
With Orochimaru's Kage-level chakra behind it, the wind roared like a hurricane. Sand and stone tore across the field, and the hot dust blew away in seconds.
"The test ends here," Orochimaru's voice carried over the gale. "Come out. I recognize you."
Two figures emerged—one from the ground, one from the trees.
"Heh… camouflage too. And a wide ninjutsu spread." Orochimaru's pale face curved in a rare, genuine smile. "Fire, wind, earth… even without the Sharingan, you'd be called a genius."
Gen's strength wasn't yet Kage level, but among jōnin he stood out and he was young.
With training, he could cross that threshold. If he could be brought fully to Orochimaru's side, he would be an invaluable asset.
It was worth investing more.
Then the Gen in the open burst into smoke. Two explosive tags clattered to the ground.
The real Gen stepped from the shadows, a shade paler than before; just a chakra drain.
"The number of jutsu I know still can't compare to you, Orochimaru-sensei," he said. "Plenty left to learn."
He pocketed the tags carefully. They were expensive.