The second day of conscription began with a sight that genuinely surprised Lock. Crowds from every corner of the underground district had gathered, filling the space around the rings until there was hardly room to move.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of eyes burned with intense, almost predatory anticipation as they locked onto him. It was as if the entire underground had come to challenge the man who'd crushed all expectations yesterday.
Lock smiled faintly.
"With this many people, it looks like today's going to be another… satisfying day."
Behind him, Oluo, Eld, Gunther, Petra, and Ymir exchanged uneasy looks. There was nothing "warm" about the atmosphere they felt—only a chill.
They pitied the reckless fools below. They had no idea what kind of monster they were about to face. Lock's strength couldn't be measured by common sense.
Stepping onto the platform, Lock raised his voice so everyone could hear:
"I won't waste time explaining the rules again. The conscription trials begin now!"
He then leapt down to Arena No. 1, his designated battlefield.
Ding! "The host does not falter under the gaze of thousands. Leadership +1!"
Lock ignored the system message, though he couldn't deny that something inside him was changing—his presence growing heavier, more commanding without him realizing it.
Petra, watching from the platform, frowned slightly.
Why… does he remind me of the Commander for a moment? No, I'm overthinking it.
Meanwhile, the duels began in earnest.
The underground district was home to tens of thousands, and no matter how many warnings circulated, there were always those too bold—or too foolish—to listen. Small teams of five rushed the ring, hoping to overwhelm Lock through numbers and advance immediately.
Their hopes were shattered again and again.
"Hey… what the hell? He's actually like they said!"
"This is insane! He's dropping them with a single punch!"
"We can't beat him. Better aim for ten consecutive wins somewhere else."
"Agreed. We're not suicidal."
But then, a different set of voices rose above the fearful chatter.
"No, no, no—you're thinking too small! His strength has limits. He can beat ten, twenty, thirty… but what about a hundred? Two hundred?"
"Exactly. Victory comes to those who take risks. Look at the other arenas—has anyone else managed ten wins in a row? No!"
"So stop whining and wear him down. Take turns and kill his stamina!"
"I'm actually getting excited at the thought of breaking him…"
Encouraged—or manipulated—by this kind of talk, those who had been preparing to retreat stopped. They began forming teams again, planning to challenge Lock in waves.
Of course, no one was stupid enough to rush in first. The early challengers would take the brunt of Lock's strength. So, for a brief period, no one volunteered until the Military Police overseeing the trial began threatening to eliminate anyone who refused to fight. This forced weaker groups onto the stage.
The results were predictable.
They were demolished—flattened, tossed out of the ring, and eliminated before they understood what had happened.
It wasn't that Lock wanted to deny them a chance. They were simply too weak to meet his standards.
On the platform, Petra and Oluo were busy organizing records and registrations. Watching Lock tear through challengers endlessly, Oluo muttered helplessly:
"Tell me again—why does the Captain keep giving himself more work? Wouldn't it be easier to just supervise from up here?"
He, Eld, and Gunther had quietly changed how they addressed Lock after last night's conversation. His position and aura were shifting, and they had all noticed.
"That's exactly why your combat skills never improve," Eld said dryly. Inwardly, though, he sighed at Lock's tactics. Lock wasn't simply showing off; he was deliberately stirring the crowd, provoking them to challenge him to push the trials forward.
Eld couldn't help but pity the applicants who took the bait.
In five-on-one battles, Lock's current strength was overwhelming. Even his comrades, who had been with him constantly, couldn't guess where his true limits lay. How could these random fighters hope to wear him down with rotation tactics?
Probably only Captain Levi could give him a real fight now, Eld thought. The same thought crossed the minds of Oluo and Gunther as well.
The recruitment continued like clockwork. Lock fought relentlessly, his power and presence growing sharper with each battle. His abilities were improving faster than during any daily training—because here, he was tested under real pressure.
The opponents, desperate to pass, held nothing back.
Ironically, none seemed to realize that if they actually succeeded, Lock would become their direct superior—a terrifying prospect in itself.
By day's end, Lock had not lost a single match. His endurance, willpower, and ability to withstand attacks had grown noticeably, as had his overall combat ability.
Yet the "Thousand Enemies" objective remained incomplete. There were simply too many opponents, and even Lock couldn't end battles fast enough with only two hands and two feet.
Worse, as the hours wore on, even though Lock feigned exhaustion to draw out more challengers, fear eventually overcame bravado. Fewer dared to step into the ring.
That day, thirty recruits passed the assessment. Nearly half of the challengers were eliminated by Lock himself, while others were judged by performance. With his keen eye, Lock could easily identify talent and potential.
Over the next several days, Lock, Petra, and the others continued recruitment. By the sixth day, the operation was complete:
Two hundred and eighty qualified recruits were chosen. Under the watchful eyes of the entire underground district, they ascended the stairs toward the surface—a one-way journey that marked a new chapter in their lives.
For those left behind, it was a bittersweet sight. Their neighbors, once trapped beside them in the darkness, were now climbing toward the light.
As Lock was about to disappear from view, a voice suddenly rang out from the crowd:
"Captain Lock, will you come again?!"
He paused and turned back, meeting the sea of eyes fixed on him. Their gazes were filled with something unfamiliar to this place—hope.
Lock grinned.
"Yes."
Then he turned and walked away.
A beat of silence passed.
And then, the underground district erupted into cheers.
Lock had given them something no one else ever had: a real chance.
---
A/N: New Fanfic Is Out " Naruto: I'm Boruto Uzumaki"
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San