Then, a ripple of shod relief swept through the room. Gasps and whispers broke out among the remaining partits, their tension releasing in an audible wave. Some had barely processed Ibiki’s words, still staring bnkly, while others couldn’t hold back their emotions any loheir relief alpable, flooding the room in a wave that was almost tangible.

  Naruto leapt to his feet, pumping his fist in the air. “Yeah! I k!” he shouted, his voice ringing out with the pure, urained joy of a child who had just been told they could py for one more hour. His enthusiasm echoed off the walls, causing several others to chuckle despite themselves.

  Beside him, Sakura slumped forward, burying her fa her hands as she let out a relieved sigh. The fight had drained her, but now, in this moment, she felt the weight of the test lift off her shoulders. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have stayed, but she had made it. The wave of relief washed over her like a warm breeze on a cold day.

  Sasuke, ever posed, simply crossed his arms and leaned ba his chair. His face was unreadable, but there was the fai hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. It was subtle—barely a twitch—but it was there, as though he’d known all along that the test would break no one in this room but the weak. He was never ed, never questioning. He had passed this test long ago, long before anyone had ehis room. He had seeorm before, and it did nothing to faze him.

  Kuro’s gaze shifted slightly, watg the small drama unfold around him, but his posture didn’t ge. He had not been swayed by the tension in the air, and now, iermath, he wasn’t ied in the reas of his peers. What mattered was the result. He was calm. He was steady. He had passed, like always, and now the rest was just noise. He could hear it, but it did not move him.

  Reika gnced ain, catg his eyes for just a moment before looking away. The subtle reassuran his gaze was all she needed. She wasn’t sure what she had expected—perhaps something more dramatic, more triumphant. But the simplicity of it was what made it perfect. It wasn’t about the loud cheers or the gasps of disbelief. It was about remaining still and steady whehing around you seemed to fall apart.

  And just like that, the room had shifted. The storm had passed. And now, the remaining challengers stood on the precipice of something much bigger. The first challenge had ended, but the trials ahead promised to be far more dangerous. And they would face it together. The clock was tig again. The real test was about to begin.

  ---Xero let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. The sound seemed to hang in the air for a moment, punctuating the surreal calm that had settled around them. His eyes sed the room, lingering on the faces of the other partits, eae processing the gravity of the situation. Some still looked stunned, others unsure if they should be relieved or fearful for what would e . But Xero’s gaze was fixed on Kuro, who sat with his usual unfppable posure, the er of his lips twitg in the fai of smiles.

  “So that’s it, huh? No wonder you were so chill,” Xero muttered, the words tinged with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He leaned back against his chair, his hands still ruffling through his hair as if to try and make sense of the entire ordeal. It wasn’t just the exam, it was the way Kuro had ha—so effortlessly, as if it were all just another day at the office. Xero couldn’t help but wonder if Kuro even broke a sweat.

  Kuro stretched zily, his back arg as his arms extended above his head in a fluid, rexed motion. There was no sign of tension in his body, no trace of ay. It was as if the world around him had slowed to a crawl, and he, in his infinite ess, had simply adjusted to its rhythm. He leaned ba his chair with an ease that only he could pull off, his eyes zily sing the room with a detached amusement.

  “Told you there was nothing to worry about,” he said with an easy smile, his voice smooth, almost pyful, as if he were expining a simple cept to a child. His gaze flicked back to Xero, log with his for a brief moment. The silent fidehat radiated from Kuro was impossible to ignore, like an unspoken promise that, in his world, the chaos had no hold over him.

  Xero snorted, shaking his head, but the sound was light—amused rather than frustrated. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Don’t let it go to your head.” The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, but it cked its usual bite. There was no venom behind it now, no edge. Instead, it was almost a form of relut admiration, as though Xero couldn’t help but aowledge Kuro’s skill, even if it irked him a little.

  But despite his sarcastie, there was a hint of genuine gratitude in his voice, barely perceptible but unmistakable. The kind of gratitude that only showed up when you realized you had been in the presence of somethiraordinary, but it didn’t quite sink in until after the fact. It was as if, in that brief moment, Xero had e to terms with the fact that, despite his own cleverness, Kuro’s calm was something beyond prehension.

  Kuro simply chuckled, the sound warm and effortlessly charming. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m far too humble for that,” he teased, knowily how Xero would react. There was a light in Kuro’s eyes, a pyful spark that hi deeper yers of thought—yers that Xero knew better than to try and pry into.

  Xero rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Mr. Humble Genius." His posture softehe tension in his shoulders ebbing away, the heaviness of the exam slowly lifting from his chest. He g Kuro again, the earlier awe repced with a more plicated emotion—something close to respect, tempered with an uanding that, despite everything, they both had their roles to py in this world of trials.