The chunnin exams went on around him, and yet he didn't seem to care. Of course he didn't take part in the activity. A true assassin doesn't rely on... onluck to aesthetically increase his strength. He refused to join in to this silly little tournament. It was seventy percent luck and barely ten percent skill. The last twenty percent was knowledge. The luck was attributed to who you were matched with, the rule you were given, and the area you fought in. It was purely luck. You could be given someone weaker than you to fight against, or stronger. Perhaps your opponent was having a bad day, or a particularly good one. Maybe the rule was detrimental to one of the two than it was to the other, or the terrain worked against a single of the ninja. Luck, luck, luck...

Yes, the idea of tournaments of any kind was idiotic at best. Calais thought it barely showed your true skill. Sure, it showed a part. Cal couldn't take that away from the winners. They had strength, at least. They were competent enough. Too many variables involved, however... He would rather do it the longer, more accurate way. Missions and by the Kage's decree. It still wasn't the most full proof option, but it's better than a tournament. Calais laughed softly, a disturbing sound, touched with a hint of malice. He was smart enough. No, he wasn't the smartest ninja in the village- Maybe not even the smartest genin. However... He was smart enough. Just knowing- About yourself, about your opponent, about the environment. If you were smart enough to act on the knowledge you possessed, your fights got roughly twenty percent easier.

And this was why instead of engaging in these meaningless battles he was splayed out on the hill, books of ancient civilizations and mythology scattered around him. There must have been at least a dozen of these things in total, and he had spent the last few days doing nothing but absorbing the information. His blade, Katoptris, lay at his side. He was nervous at first about commissioning it to get created, hoping he wasn't tampering with things he shouldn't. The idea of the weapon was taken directly from one of his texts, one on wartime weaponry. A ceremonial weapon of sorts, it was more a badge of honor than a dangerous tool of slaughter. He was drawn to it, however, and in turn he sent the schematics to the private blacksmiths of his clan.

He knew he'd put it to good use, and he almost felt prideful at it's creation at that moment, the reflective bronze showing him the clear sky above him.

Katoptris wasn't the reason he was here, though. Sure he was happy about his new weapon, or at least, content. The point wasn't weaponry, though. It concerned his jutsu and his bloodline. His mother was- scratch that, is- a very prominent ninja in the art of summoning. Kuchiyose, it was called. A rare technique in the fact that not many took it up. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to pull off, and he respected his mother for getting as far as she did with it. She even had a fulfilled contract with the ninja hawks, and they had served her numerous times on her missions.

Cal was attempting something a little different, drawing on the power of utilizing kuchiyose in his blood. It wouldn't be the first time someone summoned a creature outside of a contract or made their own, he was sure. It was much more draining, though. He had to use his own chakra, form and control it, maybe even give it a conscious if he could. He had to pour his spirit into what he was bringing into existence... And it was such an exciting thought. He just needed a base. Something to pull from.

And that's where the ancient myths come in. Gods of all different kinds, all different rulings. Ancient Gods, at that. They couldn't have ever existed, were likely only folktales, of course, but so? Calais was aiming to construct a summoning that didn't exist. He wanted to engineer a true creation of his, and his alone. A ninja animal, a contract, wouldn't do that for him. So he studied, and studied, and practiced. Oh the practice. His reserves of chakra were still recovering from the strain he's placed on his body. He thought he might have finally perfected the formula, the algorithm, to get this to work.

A single image had burned into his brain, and he was determined to have this invocation complete this time. The Goddess Sekhmet- Not exactly a minor God of the ancient times, but a stable one all the same. A good stepping stone. The Goddess of lions, bloodlust, plagues, diseases... The original Eye of the kind of Gods, the sun God, Ra. Or Amun-Ra, if you'd rather. Sekhmet was straightforward rage and slaughter. Not the style of an assassin, but simple enough to work with.

Calais got to work once more, sighing in preparation. He pushed the mess of books away from him, forming a rough circle. Katoptris in hand, his eyes close, handseals formed around the dagger, and muttered. "Kuchiyose, the Art of Summoning; Invoking Sekhmet, Goddess of Plague and Warfare." Hieroglyphics, the language of the ancient people, crude drawings in different shapes, glowed around his space of existence. They varied in image, depicting many different figures. They emitted such a bright yellow light, shining just enough that Cal had to send out thanks to the universe that he had his eyes closed.

Instead of ending in a final flash of dramatic lighting, it dimmed so abruptly that Calais had to open his eyes. All the hieroglyphs flitted off the ground like stickers that had been caught by the wind, converging and merging at one point in the air a few feet from him. A glowing body of something feline stretched out and the light from the hieroglyphs faded, replaced by a wilder kind. The creature seemed to be made from golden flames, the shape of a lioness formed from these very flames. Calais' heart stopped, and he instictively stepped back. He began to perspire, and his breathing became shallow- He was sure he had made a mistake, that after all this work, he had failed and now his worst fear had come to- No.

He blinked quickly, his head tilting to the side, and inhaled. There was no smell of flames. Straightening up, he felt no heat. After a few moment's hesitation, he stepped forward and placed his hand in the faux-fire. As he had expected, he wasn't burned. The creature was merely made to look like it was molded out of flames, and that let Calais relaxed. It took a second for a dejected sneer to creep up from his mouth. This... This was the great Goddess Sekhmet? After everything he put together, after all these days of study and training, THIS was what he created? Sure, to anyone else, this would seem like an accomplishment. Cal knew better, though. It didn't have a conscience. He felt no link with it. All he had to show for his work was a flaming lioness made of pure chakra. A feat nonetheless, but Calais felt no sense of pride. It was merely a prototype, he assured himself. With more research and time... He'd perfect his work.

For now, he'd have to settle with what he had, and released the summoning with a sigh. His features drawn and sunken, Calais slumped against a tree. He needed his rest, and he figured he deserved it.