Bully Lord In the Chunin Exam (NarutoVerse)

Kuro tilted his head, unaffected by the noise. His expression was one of mild amusement, almost as if the sound was nothing more than a passing nuisance. "It's clever, though. Disorient and conquer. That's the goal." He crossed his arms, observing with detached interest as the battle unfolded.

Xero, however, didn't flinch. He stood tall, his grin widening as he began to laugh, loud and carefree. "That's it? A little noise?" His voice cut through the screeching sound, his body relaxed and unfazed as he took a step forward, almost as if the attack had no effect on him whatsoever. "I've lived through screams louder than this!"

His confidence was maddening, almost like a force of nature. He stepped forward again, his movements almost reckless in their abandon, and yet, every step felt like it was calculated for maximum chaos. His blade swung lazily at first, but then it gained speed—each movement faster and wilder, as if he were dancing with the fight itself. He wasn't just reacting; he was embracing it. Every swing was full of ferocity, like a storm that couldn't be stopped.

The Sound ninja's confidence faltered as Xero advanced, his every movement growing more unpredictable and more terrifying. Xero wasn't following any pattern. He was like a wild animal, attacking from every angle with no care for his own defense. It was as if he had no plan—except for one: to overwhelm his opponent with sheer, unrelenting force.

Before the clash could escalate further, however, a voice boomed through the room, slicing through the tension like a blade.

"That's Enough!"

The voice echoed with authority, like a thunderclap in the midst of a storm. The Sound ninja froze, his concentration shattered by the sudden interruption. The high-pitched sound from his jutsu faltered, fading away as the control of the situation slipped from his grasp.

Xero didn't move. His grin never faltered, and his eyes locked onto the source of the command. The air itself seemed to freeze as his blood hummed with the excitement of battle, not wanting to stop but forced to by the undeniable power of the voice. 

The sheer authority in the voice slammed into the room like a wall, suffocating every ounce of tension in the air. **The Sound ninja froze mid-attack, his wrist contraption inches from Xero's blade**, as if time itself had stopped to take a breath. Xero, too, halted in his tracks, his grin fading just enough to reveal a flicker of genuine surprise, before slipping back into something more neutral. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lowered his sword, the sharp edge swishing through the air as if it were reluctant to rest. 

**All eyes snapped to the source of the voice.** From the entrance door of the room, a man stepped forward. His presence hit like a freight train—quiet, but deadly. His head was bald, gleaming under the dim light, and his face was a roadmap of battle scars, each one telling a grim story of pain, survival, and violence. Every line carved into his skin whispered a history far darker than anything in this room. He wasn't just a man; he was a *force*—something that bent the very air around him to his will. 

Behind him stood several other shinobi, each one cloaked in an aura of authority that made the room feel even smaller. They moved with a chilling calmness, their gazes unwavering, as though they were the final word in anything that happened here. **The room held its collective breath, a heaviness pressing down on every competitor.**

It was Ibiki Morino, the proctor for the first stage of the Chunin Exams. His eyes, black and cold as the depths of an abyss, scanned the gathered group, his gaze lingering on the Sound ninja and Xero. **It wasn't a look of mere disapproval. It was the kind of stare that made you feel as if your very soul was under review.** 

"This isn't the battlefield," Ibiki's voice cut through the air, low and grating, like gravel grinding against bone. **His words were calm, but the underlying menace was impossible to miss.** "If you want to fight, wait for the exam. But if anyone breaks the rules again..." 

He let the words hang in the air like a loaded weapon, and for a moment, it felt like he could make the entire room collapse under the weight of his threat. **His eyes flicked over to the Sound ninja, then back to Xero. The chill in his gaze was enough to make even the most hardened shinobi feel like prey.** 

"I'll disqualify them on the spot." The words dropped like the snap of a bone breaking, final and unforgiving. 

The Sound ninja's bravado melted away, his spine straightening with a jerking motion as he stepped back, swallowing hard. His earlier cockiness was nowhere to be found, replaced by a kind of raw, trembling fear. **He wasn't scared of losing. He was scared of the very idea that Ibiki could make him vanish from the exam with a mere flick of his hand.**

Xero, however, didn't seem phased. With a dramatic flourish, he sheathed his sword, the *click* of the scabbard locking in place echoing through the room like a mockingly casual bell toll. His grin returned, wider this time, as if the threat didn't even faze him. "What a buzzkill," he muttered loud enough for Reika and Kuro to hear, his tone dripping with sarcasm. **He was a man who thrived on chaos and bloodshed, and this interruption only seemed to make him more entertained than annoyed.**

Kuro leaned closer to Reika, his voice barely a whisper but carrying a weight that didn't need to be heard by anyone else. "Looks like the fun's over—for now." **His eyes never left Ibiki, though, as if silently acknowledging the terrifying possibility that this man could stop the fight in the blink of an eye.**

Reika nodded, but there was no humor in her expression—only quiet calculation. **Her eyes were sharp, focused on Ibiki like a hawk sizing up its next meal.** "He's not someone to mess with," she muttered, her voice carrying the weight of experience. She didn't just *feel* the danger; she knew it. 

Ibiki's presence alone was enough to make the entire room tighten with unease. The way he stood, the way he commanded the space around him—it was as if the very rules of the Chunin Exams bent to his will. His casual threat wasn't just a warning. It was a promise. And in this world, promises made by men like him were not to be taken lightly.