"Found it at last. You're sure that's the place?"
Artoria, wearing Minato's face, gave a 'gentle' smile to one of the Ten Rings members beside her. But the man only grew more terrified—just moments ago this 'demon' had worn the same smile while slaughtering his comrades. Now he feared that if her mood soured she'd wipe him out too; that would be tragic.
"Mental suggestion."
Having got the information she wanted, Artoria used one of the minor magecraft tricks passed down by Master. She hypnotized the fellow into believing they'd been ambushed and only he and one 'badly injured' companion survived—her ticket inside.
Bang!
Chakra flared within her, and in an instant the likeness of Minato vanished, replaced by a scruffy, blood-stained-bandaged, green-tinged middle-aged man—the appearance of one of the Ten Rings she'd killed. Disguised like this, Artoria gave a disgusted glance at the dazed victim of her mental suggestion, slung an arm over his shoulder as if on the verge of Death, snapped her fingers, and the man snapped awake.
"Hold on, brother, we're almost there."
The guy noticed nothing odd and joyfully hauled his 'buddy' toward the Base for urgent treatment. He never saw the conspiratorial grin hidden from his sight.
Artoria's plan moved like clockwork. She slipped inside the Base; though the leader would have loved to kill this 'freeloader,' too many eyes were watching and he couldn't afford to lose his men's loyalty. They dumped Artoria in a corner to die—no one would waste precious water or alcohol on a goner in this hellhole.
A while later someone came to check whether she was dead yet, conveniently letting her swap identities. She used a transformation on the corpse to take her place, then roamed freely—right past Tony's cell. Two quick mental suggestions turned the guards into statues. Slipping into a blind spot of the cameras, she saw the nearly completed Mark i.
"Should be about done. This Shadow Clone is almost out of Chakra—hurry up, big brother."
Checking that Tony still looked healthy, Artoria sighed inwardly; she hoped he'd move soon.
She found the control room and, unnoticed, used a program on a USB to blind their surveillance. Tony's little preparations would now be invisible—one headache less for him.
With that she hid herself, waiting for Tony to act; she doubted it would be later than tomorrow night.
"Suit up."
The clone's job mostly done, Artoria's real body stood in an empty training ground attempting to summon her armor. A bright-silver, solemn and sacred plate sheathed her from head to toe. A magecraft water-mirror formed a full-length mirror; seeing the familiar shape, she brushed the helm and, at a thought, helm and breastplate dissolved into motes of light. The look was even more familiar now. Thanks to recent meals her chest had grown outrageous—its bounty enough to shame any confident woman into seclusion.
"Holy Lance Rhongomyniad."
After admiring that ample 'heart,' Artoria focused on calling the holy lance. Only after great effort did she manage a mere phantom. She had to give up; any further and not only would the lance fail, her armor might collapse as well.
"Still too weak—my mental strength isn't enough."
Dispelling the armor, Artoria blushed to find her clothes eroded away by mana, leaving her stark naked. Within Master's inherited memories she instantly understood: her mana control was lacking, and—more importantly—her mental power.
"Keep training."
Draping herself in a Shroud of Saints, she told Saturday to bring fresh clothes, changed, and went back to training with Shadow Clones.