With my new appearance perfected—and yes, I admit it, I'm adorable—I could finally return to something productive. Beauty handled. Vanity satisfied. Time to get back to work on reshaping the universe.
And with the power of the Shadow Clone Jutsu, combined with my practically infinite chakra and the monstrous physical strength granted by my Ōtsutsuki bloodline, I didn't hold back.
I created fifty clones at once.
Not flimsy Naruto clones.Not unstable, chakra-starved ones.But perfectly solid, durable, near-limitless copies of myself—each with multiversal intelligence and the ability to operate independently.
The room filled with versions of me, all identical, all beautiful, all extremely dangerous. A small army of god-brains.
"Alright, girls," I said to… myself. "Let's get to work."
And they scattered.
Because I had several major projects active at once, and they all needed progress:
Project 1 — The Permanent Elimination of SCP-682
An absolute nightmare. Even for me.
I assigned ten clones to analyze every death method ever attempted, every biological sample, every metaphysical scan, every reality-based observation. With Ōtsutsuki chakra, Rick Prime's knowledge, and an entire council of my own minds, we could finally crack the puzzle.
If anything could kill that overgrown lizard, it would be me.
Project 2 — Advancement of Energy Weapons
Another cluster of clones received the task of perfecting my next generation of laser weaponry. Not crude blasters—true Star Wars–tier armaments, enhanced through a fusion of chakra manipulation, exotic matter engineering, and SCP-based materials.
Beam weapons that didn't just burn—they erased.
Project 3 — The Death Star Initiative
My true headache.
And my biggest triumph.
A space station the size of the moon, already half-constructed above Mars, where our main shipyards stretched across the terraformed red planet like shining webs of steel and light. Mars had been ours for decades—green, alive, and industrialized under the Foundation's quiet guidance.
But the Death Star?That required something this universe lacked:
Kyber crystals.
So I was making our own.
A kyber-equivalent energy core—stable, self-sustaining, and strong enough to channel a planetary-scale superlaser that could, theoretically, damage a Celestial. Because if the MCU had taught me anything, it's that giant space gods love showing up uninvited.
This wasn't a weapon for conquering planets.It was a weapon for protecting ours.
Twenty clones were stationed on Mars, constructing frameworks, reinforcing alloy layers, designing reactor cores, and refining the energy focusing structures needed for a beam of that magnitude.
The Death Star wouldn't just exist—it would work.
And it would terrify anything stupid enough to threaten us.
My clones darted through portals, labs, dimensional labs, fabrication bays, and simulation chambers. I stood there watching them disperse like silver-haired stars, a little proud and a little amused.
Most leaders had assistants.I had fifty versions of myself.
Honestly?
Leadership has never been easier.