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The spectator stands were eerily silent.
Deaths had occurred on this battlefield before—more than once.
So even if both of these fighters died in the arena, the audience wouldn't have been this shocked.
But now, in just a single exchange, they had witnessed a life-or-death struggle. A chilling dread crept up their spines, unrelenting.
"How… how did it come to this?"
Mei Terumī covered her mouth, her eyes burning.
Zabuza spoke coldly, "Perhaps he believes this is the best outcome. More importantly, it's about resolve."
He had no desire to fight someone like this to the death. Even if he won, it would affect his performance in the next match.
Kisame's brow furrowed deeply, a surge of madness churning within him—but he quickly suppressed it.
These two were fighting so desperately that even if they made it to the final round, they'd likely be spent.
Taking out two opponents in one match—that was the true value of this battle.
"Hey, Mangetsu, what kind of guy is he?" Raiga gripped Mangetsu's arm tightly. "That was suicide, wasn't it?"
"Hey, calm down. Isn't the match just about who falls first?" Mangetsu replied. "The one who falls dies; the one left standing lives. Isn't it that simple? After all the battles we've been through, you should know this. Besides, if she can't even get past this hurdle, she wouldn't last long in the 'Seven Swordsmen' anyway."
Raiga glared at him. "You talk like you've seen real war."
"Honestly, just judging from this match alone, I'd put my money on Midorima. People have to make different choices depending on the situation. Right now, he's fighting with the intent to die. If the Seven Swordsmen had been like that back then, maybe things would've turned out differently."
"You looking to die?" Raiga snarled.
That battle had been an absolute disgrace to him.
"Relax, I'm one of them now." Mangetsu propped his chin on his hand, watching the match.
He hadn't initially expected Midorima to climb high enough to challenge the Seven Swordsmen—his real goal had just been to mess with Igawa Bu.
But after over half a year of relentless training, Asachi Midorima had actually become a shinobi capable of standing among the Seven Swordsmen candidates. And the scariest part? He was originally a medical ninja.
The next Tsunade?
It wasn't impossible.
If he continued down that path, the title of Seven Swordsmen might eventually hold him back.
So rather than hoping for Midorima's victory, Mangetsu had wanted to see his attitude.
And in this match, he had seen exactly that.
Ameyuri coughed violently, blood spraying from her lips with each hack. Her abdomen was drenched in crimson.
"Tch… should've saved the best for last." She tore off a sleeve and wrapped it around the wound. "Never thought you'd be this ruthless."
"At the very least, I'm not at a disadvantage now, right?" Midorima used medical ninjutsu to heal his wound while his [Catalytic Chamber] rapidly activated his cells. The injury closed up at a visible rate.
"Cheap trick." Ameyuri scowled.
Who the hell healed themselves mid-battle?
"You do know my primary role is as a medical ninja, right? If you knew that, you should've realized what my best move would be." Midorima gently touched his wound. "Medical ninjas are already at a disadvantage in fights like this. Healing is one of the few advantages I have."
"Thanks for the reminder. I won't give you any more time to patch yourself up." Ameyuri's hands flew through a series of seals, and behind her, an immense surge of lightning chakra gathered.
Midorima formed his own seals, water-natured chakra pooling in his mouth before he spat out a high-pressure orb.
"Suiton: Suijinheki!" (Water Style: Water Pillar)
"Raiton: Raijū!" (Lightning Style: Lightning Beast)
The two jutsu collided midair, erupting in a deafening explosion. A thick mist of vapor filled the battlefield.
Midorima hadn't expected the direct clash of lightning and water to obscure his vision, preventing him from closing in on Ameyuri. He had no choice but to rely on water-style attacks from a distance.
Then, a thunderous roar split the air, growing louder—like the furious howl of a beast.
"Raiton: Raikō no Tora!" (Lightning Style: Raging Lightning Tiger)
The sky darkened as blue lightning flickered ominously within the mist. Suddenly, the vapor itself seemed to detonate, merging with the crackling electricity.
The once-blue lightning tiger now burned gold, charging straight for Midorima.
"Suiton: Suiryūdan!" (Water Style: Water Dragon Bullet)
A massive vortex of water chakra spiraled upward, forming a colossal dragon that slammed into the lightning tiger.
For an instant, the sky itself seemed to shatter, the shockwave reverberating across the arena.
Many spectators collapsed into their seats, terrified that the collision of these two techniques might spill over and strike them.
Mei stood up, eyes locked on the battlefield.
This match was far more intense than the last one. She had always assumed Midorima's skill level was, at best, on par with an unserious Zabuza. But after witnessing this fight against Ameyuri, she realized he might not lose to Zabuza at all.
Just a year ago, he had been nothing more than a medical ninja… What the hell had he gone through?!
Zabuza and Kisame, meanwhile, wore grim expressions.
They were beginning to understand the brutality of the Seven Swordsmen selection.
Both of these fighters had the strength to reach the final round—yet they had been pitted against each other in the very first match of the second stage.
Seeing Midorima survive her attack, Ameyuri didn't hesitate. She drew her sword, lightning chakra coiling around it once more.
That first exchange had seemed like a mutual near-death strike, but Midorima had already healed himself, minimizing his injuries. Meanwhile, her wound continued to bleed.
The longer this dragged on, the worse her position became.
With the strategy of ending this quickly now clear in her mind, Ameyuri ignored her dwindling chakra reserves. After unleashing "Raikō no Tora," she raised her sword high.
Lightning chakra gathered above the blade, and as the golden tiger dissipated, a bolt of lightning crashed down where it had vanished.
Having learned from their first clash, Ameyuri remained vigilant, watching the smoldering crater. She refused to believe Midorima was unharmed—or that he had lost the will to fight.
Sure enough, a shadow soon burst from the dust.
Ameyuri grinned. She could see it—Midorima's arms were mangled, his legs streaked with blood. Her jutsu had struck true.
Now, it was time for their final clash.
Midorima shot toward her using "Wave Riding," moving at blinding speed.
Ameyuri fired off several lightning orbs, but none connected. Resigned to a decisive strike, she formed hand seals, her body wreathed in crackling electricity.
"Lightning Armor."
The technique would shield her from attacks while enhancing her own. Gripping her sword, she blocked Midorima's frontal assault—but the sheer force sent her skidding backward.
Then, in an instant, Midorima was before her.
The relentless barrage of high-level jutsu had drained her. Under the weight of his sword strikes, she faltered—until, suddenly, her blade was knocked aside, leaving her defenseless.
"It's fine. With Lightning Armor, I can still counter—"
The thought barely formed before Midorima's sword slashed horizontally across her abdomen.
A surge of wind chakra enveloped the blade, scattering her lightning armor.
Before she could react, he struck again.
Blood sprayed.
Ameyuri was sent flying five, six meters—then collapsed, motionless.