Madara caught the kunai mid-flight with the slightest flick of his fingers, his gaze unwavering from the horizon. Slowly, deliberately, he pivoted, his sharp, piercing eyes locking onto the figure behind him.

"You… dare strike from behind?"

His voice was low, calm even as he dropped the kunai to the ground with a soft, metallic clink, his chakra surged outward, a suffocating pressure that forced even the most daring warrior to hesitate. His gaze cut through everything, sharp enough to pierce armor and will alike. Yet… you are no weakling, no simple man flaunting strength for show.

"Pathetic. A woman… believing she could fell me."

There was a venomous mockery in his tone, a deliberate belittling, as though the very thought of a female challenger was an affront to his unrivaled might—a triviality, beneath the scope of his true power, not even worthy of the respect a warrior might grant an equal.