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An equally casual left foot would raise slightly above the fallen man's head before resting easily atop it, forcing his skull back into the stone with subtle force. It would only be after his foot would raise into the air, and brought back onto the side of the man's head that it would become obvious that his force had changed significantly. Blood would instantly splatter all around the stone in which the man's head rested. His body would fall limp. Any sign of life that had once been there to prove that life was still existent would vanish. The sword in his hand would fall to the earth, and the weight of his shield would rest on his body, visible weighing his body down even further. The lack of emotion after the clearly heard 'crack' would send the crowd into a frenzy of fear that the men on the floor with this monster had felt since his entrance into the arena. Families would begin to shuffle out of their seats, cutting passed those with enough courage to stick it out, and tell their friends sometime later. Women would cover their eyes, and men would hold their lips to prevent any nausea from becoming something a bit more severe.

Removing his foot from what could have been a carcass, Kurai's foot would reach solid ground once more. His pace had decreased tremendously, and while it would appear to be the fact that he had taken a casual stance, it would instead be due to the new composition of his body. The rest of the men would continue to pretend their defeat, staying earth-bound for fear of having the same fate as their comrade. However, the three men which would remain could only do their best to prevent the same possibility from occurring. The crossbowman, being the closest, would quickly attempt to re-arm himself with another bolt. Thrusting his hand into the small sling at his side, he would begin to fumble through the casing in an attempt to find the closest steel bolt that he had. Of course, by the time that his fingers would hit the cold, and assuring metal that composed the bolt, he could feel a sharp sensation in his chest. The crushing weight would begin to course through his body. Starting in his sternum, it would quickly begin to invade his lungs, and then stomach. The sound of crushing bone would ring into his ears, followed by the blinding pain that would reduce his vision to blackness. His feet would raise from the earth as Kurai's closed fist would smash gravely into the torso of the man's thorax. However, the blow was far from normal, the simple movement hiding the incredible power behind it. The flimsy body of the crossbowman would become evident as it would soar through the air in a charismatic demise, lasting for seconds before landing brutally against the ground, and sliding nearly to the opposite side of the arena.

The swordsman would allow the defeat of his comrade to appear more as an invitation than a denial. Viewing the punch as an opportunity to attack, the man would rush into the range of his blade, holding it high above his head as his shield would raise to his torso in an attempt to stop the same blow from affecting him. However as the blade would come down onto Kurai's shoulder, quickly bouncing back in a show of it's inadequacy, it would be the sudden surge of lightning that would shoot sharply into the forehead of the unarmored man that would quickly surprise him. His body falling limp would hit the ground in an instant, leaving one man left to combat the young man.

This would place the men in a position that was far from appealing. Their cackles had transformed into trembles, and their confidence into cowardice. It would do them no good, whatsoever, as the blade would finally reveal its form to them. As if a bare mistress thrusting herself into a newlywed, this blade would thrust itself into the eyes of these men. They did everything they could to appear unaffected, and yet they knew that this weapon was as magnetic as the warmth of a woman. The dismal color of the Chuunin's attire would remind them of the shadow in which he was birthed, as well as the darkness that would erode their spirits, all coming from him. Despite there remaining a total of eight of them against his one, they could steel feel that the odds had not allowed them a sufficient advantage. This would appear to double as this enticing blade would raise into the air. The majority of them would prepare for an attack. Having either their shields, spears, mace or swords prepared, it would do little to protect them from what it was that about to happen within the next instant.

As the blade would thrust into the air, it would find a quick home within the hand of the previously downed spear man. With no tip, the cleaver would be reduced to a laceration. However, with the force behind this blow, his laceration would find a magnificent advancement in the form of pure decapitation of the man's hand. With blood leaping into the air, the audience would join in a massive gasp, and the occasional shriek. The hand which had drawn the blade from it's scabbard would quickly begin to meet the ninja's other hand as they would cooperate in an enticing dance of hand seals that would instantly react in the form of an incredible reaction. As his garb would dance in the reaction of both his naturally created chakra, as well as the static originated from the technique chosen, these eight men could see that their opponent was more than a malicious man, but instead a man of evil ability.

"Denkou... Kyouzou." He would almost whisper as his hand seals would complete, the final seal sitting silently underneath his chin.

"Who the hell is that?" One of the many members of the crowd would blurt out to the crowd, as if surfing for some sort of sarcastic answer.

Of course, his intentions were far from sarcastic. As his lips would press against each other in a meaningless delight, his chin would tuck into the course of the air as he would please himself with a resourceful glint of humor. Of course, no one would be capable of answering him, and no one would be capable in indulging themselves in his seditious outburst. A begging plea would break out from one of the men in the arena as he would thrust his spear into the air, aimed to course Kurai's exposed flesh. He was prepared to act against him in a violent way, and it was evident. He had been promised freedom by the men who had placed him here. While he was unsure of his abilities against a ninja, he was sure of his devotion to freedom. He was sure of his devotion to his brothers in arms. He was sure of his ability to make a situation like this positive. Currently, his pros outweighed his cons, and he would be able to make good of this skirmish. If no one else would survive this encounter, it would be him. As the sun would finally lose it's peak, hiding behind the stark mountaintops of this village, the nightfall would immerse the men in what would appear to be a never-ending darkness. Within an instant they would be immersed into pitch black. No lighting, nor comfort would support them. They would be reduced to the mystery of what could happen in the next moments, and if they would survive them or not. Of course, within that instant, it would take another for the lights of the arena to flicker on, and for these men to realize just who it was that they had been doomed to meet on the battlefield.

The gripped spear in this man's hand would find itself crushing the stone beneath them all in a fit of fear. Long black hair would fall gracefully to the earth as well as he could feel his life slipping from his skin. The loose clothing that was accustomed to this land would invite a chill breeze that would linger in his nerves. His fingertips would continue to grow colder, despite their sudden interest in his stomach, and the warmth of the blood that he would attempt to trap within his abdomen. Pale brown eyes would begin to grow paler as he would stare into the, almost translucent, eyes of his soon-to-be killer. He was a bit taller than the spear man, but as he looked up, it was clear that his attention would soon depart the young man, and instead focus on the thereafter. His eyes could no longer see the present, but instead the future that he would soon be forced to face. His knees falling to the earth would support his minuscule weight temporarily, before his body would fall quickly against the same stone in which his spear rested, as well as the dark kunai which had been used to impale the young man.

An awful silence would develop across the vast numbers of filled seats. The cushion of curiosity would envelope them, and their tongues, dripping from the tease of a taste that would be blood. While originally subtle, two massive doors would slowly creak open to reveal nothing but an anticlimactic collection of shadows that would mute any suspicion that a man stood behind the fortress doors. With the light as dim as it was, the shadows would stretch from each individual as if to reveal each of their thin, black souls. An army of old, brown eyes would stare into the abyss as the criminals would wait for their opposition. Each gripping their respective weapons as if there was a the slightest suspicion of fear. Of course, they would never admit to it. But these men, all dressed in normal attire ranging from kimono and sandals, to t shirts and shorts, knew that their demeanor was fall from calm. However, there was one among them who could honestly depict his emotions, and fear had nothing to do with it. A long black coat would float to the back of his knees as his bare hands would rest tightly against the tips of two katana at his waist. His eyebrows, black and bushy would stare intently at the shadows, taking a few steps forward as a method to comfort his men from what it was that would soon release itself from the mysterious threshold. The silence of the arena was ghastly to say the least, but it would appear to almost intensify as the looming darkness would quickly vanish. While the darkness would remain, anyone capable of seeing would no longer pay much attention to it. While the ominous darkness would remain, it would be two slits, glowing gold in the abyss as if a beast watching its prey. Behind these shadows, an untold terror would house itself, two eyes staring directly at the man whom had once considered himself untainted by fear. His lips, chapped and dry would slowly muster a squinted frown, his brow burying into his eyes, quickly followed by his mangled, dark hair. Staring into the eyes of what they could only assume was a demon, their next step would be one driven by both precaution and horror. However, their emotion was empathized by the crowd. Was this really going to be a man? Or had the Raikage decided to try something a bit more... horrific?

"Kagimaru, Buu. Shoot whatever the hell that thing is before it gets any closer." The leader would spout out, his arm flailing towards his subordinates and then back towards the shadowed enemy.

Tattered bandages would cling to the bony arms of the immobile shinobi. A ninja was nothing without his legs, which meant that he would be nothing for quite some time. A shell of a man, his eyes had glazed over by the nonstop pain that would course through his body. The medics had done all that they could, but for now, only time would tell just how much better he would become. After all, the medics stationed in the exams were supplementary until the ninja would make it back to their respective homes where they could retrieve proper care. However for now, he could see that the trip, leaving Iron country would consist of him staring into the sky while the ninjas around him would carry him, and themselves from tree to tree, leaping hastily through the wooded areas as to avoid any means of ambush. Despite being in a friendly environment during the exams, there was no alliance outside of the samurai compound. They would have to make it home as hastily as possible, especially with their most powerful ally reduced to... nothingness.

The air was growing warmer, and the chill of seeing their mountains would be refreshing to say the least. Lightning Country was on the horizon, and the range, reduced to various shades of blue in the foreground bode well enough. They were almost home!

/exit to lightning country!

With his backpack hugging snugly against the back of another man Kurai's head would hang closest to his chest as one of the many Kumogakure ninja who had failed the exams would push him steadily across the bridge. He had been the farthest of them all, and yet appeared to be a commoner within the crowd. No one spoke of his success, and no one spoke of his defeat. It was as if the trip had been a simple scouting venture. Many of the genin who walked along this bridge would remain so, and many would advance. The times had changed during their departure, to a degree that they would be in shock to discover. A new kage, fallen allies, new enemies, the differences were astounding, and yet to this man, his eyes gazing eternally into his own lap, he could see only what was in front of him: his body. Broken and battered by an encounter with a dragon, he could only stare. His weak, and feeble frame had failed him once more, and this time there was something more than just his pride at stake. Losing wasn't uncommon to the young man, but to lose to such a degree. It was as if the gods had chosen this week to be their most ferociousness. It was time to go home and claim what little spoils of war that there were left to claim. Armed with nothing more that further aspirations, they would once more be within the embrace of the mountains, and once more within the frigid gaze of the white sky. Kumogakure called to them, and they would be foolish not to oblige.

Although as the samurai would stare passed the children who bore their village on heir backs, Kurai's deadened gaze would spark to life for a short second. Staring straight ahead, his lips would slowly curl into a grin, something highly unlikely to see from the mummified young man. While his lips would barely move, and his chords would strain themselves in their silence, his words would nevertheless spew a lesson from his parched, cold lips.

"A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery." His whisper would trample into the ears of the man directly behind him, a shinobi whose name he had forgotten some time ago. "Masumi of Kirigakure... I am a man of my word."

/exit