The Titan Curse: A Shinobi’s Reign

Chapter 3: The Hunt for Worthy Subjects

The cold wind howled through the remains of Ishigakure, sweeping away the last embers of destruction. The titan, still kneeling before Kurozan, pulsed with dormant chakra, waiting like an obedient hound. The ruins were now nothing more than a testing ground, the birthplace of something far greater.

But Kurozan knew one truth: an army of one is no army at all.

His silver eyes scanned the horizon. He needed more subjects—shinobi, warriors, or even ordinary people who could be transformed into titans. But they couldn't be just anyone.

"Weak vessels shatter under power."

The first transformation had been a success, but that rogue shinobi had already possessed a strong body, battle-hardened through years of combat. If Kurozan wanted to scale his army, he needed to ensure that only those worthy of power were turned.

A plan formed in his mind.

Step one: Find a source of warriors.

Step two: Separate the strong from the weak.

Step three: Expand the Titan Legion.

There was only one place where the strongest of the desperate gathered—the Black Market Arena.

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The Black Market Arena – A Battlefield of the Forgotten

Far beyond the ruins of Ishigakure, hidden deep within the Land of Rivers, there was a place where the law of shinobi did not apply.

A place where renegades, missing-nin, mercenaries, and criminals gathered to test their strength.

The Black Market Arena was more than just a place of combat—it was a thriving underground empire, where warlords placed bets on blood battles, and desperate warriors fought for survival.

To enter, one needed either gold or strength.

Kurozan had no need for gold.

As he approached the entrance, two massive guards blocked his path. Their armor was thick, their weapons crude but deadly. The larger of the two stepped forward, glaring down at Kurozan with a smirk.

"This isn't a place for wanderers," the guard sneered. "If you've got no money, you better be ready to fight."

Kurozan smiled. "Oh? And what do I get if I win?"

The second guard laughed. "You? Win? You'd be lucky to leave with all your limbs intact."

Kurozan's silver eyes flashed.

Before either man could react, dark blue chakra exploded from his body, spiraling around him in a vortex of raw power. The guards stumbled back, their eyes wide with sudden terror.

And then, Kurozan spoke.

"I am not here to fight in your games." His voice was calm, yet it carried an unmistakable authority. "I am here to choose the strongest. Bring me your champions… or I'll take them myself."

For a moment, silence.

Then, with an uneasy nod, the guards stepped aside, allowing him entry into the underground coliseum.

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The Selection Begins

The arena was massive—an open pit surrounded by towering walls, filled with the stench of sweat, blood, and desperation. Above, wealthy warlords and crime lords sat in their luxurious booths, watching the battles unfold below.

Kurozan ignored them. His eyes were fixed on the fighters in the pit—men and women hungry for victory, for power, for survival.

He took a slow breath.

"This place is perfect."

The announcer, a wiry man with a scarred face, stepped into the center of the arena. "Next match!" he bellowed. "A challenger has arrived! A wanderer who claims he can choose our strongest!"

The crowd roared with laughter. To them, Kurozan was nothing more than a fool who would die for their entertainment.

A brute of a man, easily seven feet tall, stepped forward. His muscles were like boulders, his skin scarred from a lifetime of battle. "You want to test strength?" he growled, cracking his knuckles. "Then I'll break you in half!"

Kurozan didn't move.

Instead, he whispered one word.

"Kneel."

A pulse of chakra erupted from his body, unseen but felt by everyone in the arena.

The massive warrior's eyes widened as his body betrayed him. His knees buckled, his breath hitched, and before he could understand what was happening, he collapsed, bowing before Kurozan as if he were a king.

The crowd fell silent.

The announcer's mouth hung open. "W-What is this?"

Kurozan turned his gaze to the spectators. "Your champions are nothing," he said, his voice carrying across the coliseum. "But I do not need all of you. Only the strongest. Only those who deserve power."

He stretched out his hand, and behind him, the first titan arrived.

The ground shook as the towering, chakra-infused colossus stepped into the arena, its monstrous form radiating raw power. The gasps of horror from the audience were delicious to Kurozan's ears.

Some tried to run. Others simply froze in fear.

But Kurozan wasn't interested in the cowards.

He raised a single finger. "If you wish to live, stand your ground."

A handful of warriors—the strongest, the most fearless—remained still. Their eyes weren't filled with terror… but with hunger.

These were the ones he wanted.

He smiled.

"Let the real selection begin."

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