Now it was time for Arthur to consider the pairings for the finals.
The bracket, with him facing Sasuke, held no surprises. He knew, with a certainty bordering on premonition, how each battle would play out, who would emerge victorious, and who would ultimately clash in the climactic final duel.
Sasuke had graduated from the academy as the number one student, impressing experienced shinobi like Kakashi with his skills. He was adept at taijutsu, able to hold his own against multiple opponents, and was incredibly fast, surpassing other techniques known for speed.
Not only did he have the Sharingan, but it was particularly potent in Sasuke's case, noted to be stronger than his older brother Itachi's.
Arthur had never faced a Sharingan user, let alone an opponent with such a powerful dōjutsu. In his fight, he would have to ensure he didn't get controlled by Sasuke's genjutsu, something that could affect him with mere eye contact.
Beyond combat prowess, the Uchiha possessed a sharp intellect. He consistently achieved top grades and was highly observant, analyzing techniques and formulating tactics on the fly.
His sudden plans often put himself or his allies in danger, but they also proved successful, earning admiration for his analytical skills from esteemed shinobi.
Arthur was certainly going to formulate something before their fight. That's why he had chosen to speak to Asuma before leaving.
At the edge of a ravine in the afternoon, Arthur could be seen resting.
He was alone as his thoughts turned to a technique he had been meaning to practice: the Flying raijin.
While a promising technique, it was by no means simple to learn. Yet its potential benefits and strategic advantage were too compelling to ignore. He was not going to pass up the chance to learn it.
Rising up, Arthur deemed today to be safe to train it.
He approached a tree and began recalling the basic formula that needed to be implemented first. It was easy to remember, so he pulled out a pen and drew the formula on the tree bark that resembled the second Hokage's.
Setting to work, he then delved into the theoretical framework of the technique, piecing together the correct steps for execution.
First, he practiced chakra flow exercises, striving for the precise control necessary to manipulate space-time. This proved taxing since space-time ninjutsu was quite rare, allowing the user to manipulate the fabric of reality.
What he understood about it was that it had its own unique 'dimensional void' that was connected through a great amount of chakra. The chakra itself was what allowed practitioners and objects to travel between them.
So Arthur sat cross-legged, eyes closed. Sweat beaded on his brow from intense concentration.
To achieve the first step, he had to warp his chakra to the formula and then release it to the desired destination. His mental gaze soon traced the chakra pathway from his body to the tree as he felt a faint recognition.
Relaxing, he visualized the chakra forming into a vast void. Next, he focused on a single point, a pinpoint of swirling chakra in the center of the connection. Trying to compress it inward, his chakra drained layer by layer.
Too much of it had been, ending his training there for the day.
This technique was indeed too advanced for him to learn. Or rather, too time-consuming.
He wasn't a prodigy like Hashirama or Kakashi, nor did he possess a legendary Kekkei Genkai. But he was Arthur, a Christian whose nose was buried in spiritual philosophy to understand all things. And if there's one thing he had, it was patience.
Hours later turned into days.
Throughout his training, his clothes were soaked in sweat from pure chakra exhaustion. He had experimented with different formulas, analyzing the results and refining them with each failed attempt.
It was frustrating. The complexity of the technique and the sheer amount of chakra it demanded pushed him to the limits of his endurance.
But he persevered, fueled by the desire not to be trapped in this world forever.
As more time passed, eventually the swirling point became an invisible portal. He focused his on it until he mentally saw the portal in his mind. Then with a final push, the portal flared.
When he opened his eyes, he saw his orange jacket had gone missing. The jacket had been lying beside the tree, exactly where the formula was!
He had done it. A small but significant breakthrough.
Arthur couldn't help but be content. It wasn't perfect; the distance was minimal, barely a few steps, and the chakra expenditure was enormous for just a single piece of clothing. But it was a start after his weeks of effort.
The following days were dedicated to refinement. He practiced and practiced until he managed to teleport his entire body.
Once it was finished, he began teleporting progressively longer distances, analyzing his chakra flow to the seals. He also incorporated physical conditioning exercises, recognizing the need for enhanced stamina to sustain the technique's demands.
This is how taxing the technique was: Minato, who could perform it regularly several times a day—both in and out of battle. Yet Arthur could barely go one day after having his chakra immediately drain.
One would think that Arthur was just weak. But in truth, after Minato taught the technique to three of his guards, it still took all three of them at once just to execute it.
Another day later, Arthur's progress, though slow, was becoming steady. He learned to compensate for the chakra drain by strategically channeling his reserves.
An orthodox flow was developed during the initial formation, minimizing wasted movements and maximizing efficiency based on measurements of the formula, the distance, and himself.
Teleporting himself had been a monumental feat, but he still needed to learn how to teleport other objects by themselves.
Placing a smooth, white pebble on the ground, he focused his chakra. Then the familiar, invisible portal materialized. As it opened, a sliver of white vanished—not the entire pebble, but a small chip from its corner.
Partial success. Not unexpected.
Next, he procured a small cricket. The invisible portal opened a few inches above the insect. The cricket, unaware of its impending interdimensional travel, continued chirping. He tried to phase the insect through it but found it remained stationary.
With a sigh, he ended the technique.
The entire day was spent experimenting, undeterred.
He tried leaves, losing only the dried, brittle edges to the void. He attempted teleporting a kunai but ended up materializing only the handle, the blade stubbornly refusing to follow.
Each failure was met with the same calm acceptance. He wasn't surprised; these were complexities he knew he'd face.
As the day ended, Arthur wasn't at all discouraged. In fact, he felt content. He had failed more times than he succeeded, yet with each attempt, his control grew a fraction stronger and his understanding of the technique became clearer.
Another day passed.
He held his hand out, palm facing up. A lone ladybug crawled across his finger.
This time, as the portal came into existence, the ladybug was affected. It was swallowed whole.
Silence.
Had it worked? When Arthur looked, the ladybug resumed its leisurely exploration exactly where his formula was.
Success, finally. It wasn't perfect; the distance was small, but it was a complete teleportation nonetheless. Not a single part of the ladybug was left behind.
The complications of space-time ninjutsu were slowly yielding their secrets, and Arthur was patiently unlocking them one step, one experiment, at a time.
The next afternoon, as he attempted to teleport across the entire training ground, he managed to make it through. Yet his entire chakra reserves dropped to near-zero again. That made him stop his training, wasting valuable time.
In the days that followed, he benefited from being patient.
He used simple meditation, grounding himself and focusing his chakra. Forming the portal was the straightforward part. The real challenge lay in manipulating the portal itself.
So he picked up a pebble labeled 'A' and carefully positioned it within the portal's boundary. As he released it, the pebble vanished without a single noise, reappearing on the other side as a perfect replica, whole and intact.
Next came pebble 'B.'
This time, Arthur focused on compressing the portal by a fraction. The moment the pebble touched the edge, it sputtered and fragmented.
A shower of tiny pebbles rained on the other side, some whole, some reduced to dust.
A failed attempt. He'd overshot the mark, squeezing the passageway too tightly, causing the pebble to break apart during transit.
He tried again with pebble 'C,' imagining the portal as a flexible membrane—allowing more space for it to pass through.
The result? Only a portion of the pebble materialized on the other side, the rest dissolving into nothingness mid-transit.
Frustration wasn't felt. He understood. He'd made the portal too loose, causing the pebble to disintegrate during the teleportation sequence.
Now that he had no more pebbles around that were large enough to work with, he pulled out a bottle of water.
Teleporting liquids was notoriously tricky, requiring precise control over the portal's form to prevent spillage or, worse, a ruptured container.
He focused intensely, seeing the portal as a smooth, uninterrupted channel. As he dipped a finger into the water and used the technique, a thin stream of water arced gracefully through the seal, landing on the tree's trunk.
Success.
Perfecting this simple feat ate up another two days of his time.
Teleporting wasn't just about creating a gateway; it was about controlling its size, shape, and stability. It was like sculpting a tunnel through air, ensuring it was strong enough to handle the object passing through without collapsing or distorting.
The procedure was delicate, and Arthur came to understand why every ninja wasn't equipped with it. Intense focus was required to bend the fabric of the space he sought to manipulate.
From the first day he started, he'd made extremely slow progress. And he was by no means going to stop. The finals were around the corner, so he needed to be prepared at all costs.
Plus, if he were to learn this technique—just by a little bit more—he would be acquiring his first real S-rank jutsu. Ninja often took years or even decades just to learn one. And from what he'd seen at the preliminaries, the player's learning curve had far exceeded his.
Should he not learn this technique in time, he would undoubtedly be considered the weakest one among the others.
Some time later.
As the last day of his training arrived, Arthur stood at the top of a hill. He raised his hand, holding a kunai that glinted in the sunlight, channeling his chakra through a seal close by.
With a practiced motion, he hurled the kunai down toward a tree. Eyes flashing, Arthur then suddenly disappeared, only to reappear beside the tree.
Cling!
He caught the kunai as if it had never left his hand. Then he calmed himself by closing his eyes, trying to ensure that his chakra remained steady from that trip. When he opened them again, he verified the distance he had traveled from the hill: 200 yards (182 meters).
This was the farthest distance he had ever traveled while in motion. He had come a long way.
However, he wasn't nearly as fast with it as Tobirama. Neither could he spam it constantly like Minato. But with each teleport and with each refinement of his technique, he was becoming a player capable of rewriting the narrative and shaping his own destiny.
For the remainder of the day, he used his remaining reserves to practice quietly. Then nightfall came, so he returned to see someone had replied under the note he left on his door.
This scrap of paper was addressed to the other players, written by him, and stated he was undergoing solitary training in preparation for the finals.
Three players had written something.
Jada: 'You're leaving us for a month?! I thought we had something special. Lol. All jokes aside, be careful. We're here for you!'
Margaret: 'Train all ya want. No one's stronger than me!'
William: 'Keep it up. I'm gonna train hard, too. See you when you get back. P.S. Don't let Sasuke discourage you. I lost, but I think I can get him next time.'
The paper—his desire to be left alone—was a fabrication. The truth—the real reason for his departure—was that he was going to venture out of the Leaf Village once he made enough strides with the Flying raijin.
Now the time had come.