Akira had long since realized the drawbacks of simultaneously controlling a large number of human puppets during battle.
As a traditional puppet master, the mechanism of control revolved around chakra threads—an extension of one's chakra that injected life into the puppets. Within each puppet, the chakra formed an artificial chakra network, mimicking the human meridian system. This network allowed a puppet to move with autonomy, to a degree, and even execute some of the puppeteer's techniques if sufficiently advanced. Yet, it was always a limited autonomy, a shadow of real power.
But the fundamental limitation was chakra. Controlling multiple puppets drained immense amounts of it. Akira had seen it firsthand. During his battle with the legendary Chiyo, he had managed to field several human puppets at once. But without infusing them with copious amounts of chakra, they were barely effective, relying on mechanical weapons and inherent physical prowess rather than any real ninjutsu.
It was then that the flaw in Sasori's legacy became clear to him. Yes, Sasori had famously controlled one hundred puppets at once, a feat spoken of in awe. But what good were they, when each was no stronger than a well-armed chunin? Like Naruto's shadow clones, they spread his power thin. Quantity did not equal quality.
That changed when Akira discovered the Gelel Stone.
The fusion of science and sorcery within the Gelel Stones—ancient, crystalline repositories of living energy—breathed new possibilities into the art of puppetry. Sasori's transformation into a puppet, powered by such a stone, was the proof. The Gelel Stone didn't just store energy; it generated it by converting nutrients, acting as a living engine.
Akira envisioned a puppet army unlike anything before. What if every puppet had its own Gelel Stone, its own power source? No longer mere extensions of the puppeteer, these puppets could become independent warriors.
The plan began to take form. His technique with Magnet Release, inspired by watching Boruto's adaptations, allowed him to wirelessly control his puppets without chakra threads. But now, the goal wasn't even control. It was autonomy.
The first obstacle was metabolic. Puppets had no functioning biology. Unlike Puppet Sasori, they couldn't naturally convert nutrients into energy. However, the nutrient solutions Akira had created—specially formulated for Sasori's Regeneration Core—contained what the Gelel Stones needed.
In fact, to Akira's surprise, the conversion rate was better than that of a living human body. The Gelel Stones responded eagerly to the solution, likely due to their plant-like origin. It was as if the energy of ancient forests flowed once again through their crystalline veins.
The second obstacle was deeper. These puppets weren't designed to channel the energy of a Gelel Stone, nor could they integrate it into their existing systems.
But Akira, in his visionary madness, found the answer in artifice and mimicry. He didn't need to make the puppets absorb the stone's energy directly. He would give them a new heart.
By using his wood clones, which shared a fragment of his chakra, he could create Regeneration Cores similar to Puppet Sasori's. These cores, designed from scratch, would house both the Gelel Stone and a synthesized meridian system that simulated the workings of a living body.
Each puppet would be reborn.
They wouldn't need chakra threads, nor Akira's constant guidance. The chakra flowing from the Regeneration Core would carry with it a sliver of Akira's consciousness. Not enough to give them full will, but enough to follow commands, act autonomously in battle, and function in coordination.
Outside the ruins, Akira surveyed the towering wood clone that had grown from his earlier experiment. Its trunk shimmered with an inner light, rich with chakra. The tree heart—the dense, powerful core of the clone—would be his source.
Previously, he had harvested a piece nearly a meter high to power Puppet Sasori's core. Now, he needed a hundred smaller cores. Each one didn't need as much chakra, just enough to fuel thought and coordination.
He extracted a piece three times larger than before, knowing it would more than suffice. Its chakra density was immense, though still only a fraction of the whole clone's reservoir. The rest of the clone, standing tens of meters tall, remained untouched.
Then the real work began.
With a thunderous pop, Akira summoned 100 shadow clones, each assigned to build a Regeneration Core shell. These weren't just containers. They were intricate constructs, carved with micro formations, geometric seal arrays, and chakra channels finer than spider silk.
He redesigned the old blueprint—shrinking the structure, streamlining the formations, and allowing space to embed the Gelel Stones directly within the core. The nutrient solution pathways were aligned perfectly to bathe both the core and the stone, feeding their synthetic lives.
But the true genius lay in the focus of the chakra pathways.
Akira reallocated the energy. Less was spent on brute movement; more was funneled into cognitive mimicry—an artificial consciousness. Not a true soul, but a flame of intelligence. Enough for combat, coordination, even tactics.
One by one, the tree heart was carved, divided, and fused with the shells. Sealed tightly with barrier tags and chakra threads, each Regeneration Core was a masterpiece. A heartbeat in crystal and wood.
The final step took place in his underground lab, lit by chakra lamps and humming with the energy of creation. The human puppets, 100 in total, stood in long rows like fallen warriors awaiting rebirth.
Each one was carefully opened, the old mechanisms restructured, the core implanted, sealed, and integrated.
By the time the last puppet was completed, less than half a day had passed. An impossible feat made real through genius, shadow clones, and Sasori's legacy.
Akira stood before his new army. 100 puppets, each equipped with a Gelel Stone, a Regeneration Core, and a fragment of his will.
His eyes lingered on the sealing scroll where Arui's puppet form rested. "Soon," he whispered. "There will be 102... and many more after that."
With a breath, he summoned the feeling of command. Like a general directing legions, he focused his chakra, linked to the wood clone and through it, to the hundred Regeneration Cores.
His mind was the hive.
"Transform," he said aloud, his voice echoing across the chamber.
One by one, the Gelel Stones lit up with an eerie blue glow. Energy surged through the puppets, and they began to shift. Plates retracted, weapons emerged, chakra vents hissed with steam.
The transformation was breathtaking.
And Akira smiled.
His puppet army had awakened.
Some of the hundred human puppets now shimmered with crackling lightning, others blazed like living torches engulfed in flame. A few whipped up fierce gusts of wind with every movement, while others radiated raw elemental pressure—an orchestra of destructive phenomena, each unique and terrifying. Their physical forms also began to twist and evolve in response to the subconscious creativity of their master, Akira.
From towering werewolves and hulking bear-men to winged bird-people and slick-scaled fish-hybrids, the puppets transformed into creatures that represented all facets of land, sea, and sky. Some even morphed into bizarre forms that defied reason—a monstrosity with the wings of a hawk, the torso of a man, claws of a tiger, and the head of a grinning shark.
Akira blinked, stunned by the surreal army before him. "Did... I imagine that?" he murmured to himself. He hadn't even realized his subconscious was so full of such strange creatures. As he looked upon the row of abominations, it felt like he'd stepped into a twisted retelling of Journey to the West.
A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. I really have become the Mountain King... and these are my little demons.
But appearance wasn't everything. Akira turned his attention to studying the new abilities that these puppets had manifested. Their elemental expressions were no longer just cosmetic—each puppet now held the potential to wield powerful techniques with a degree of autonomy.
While Akira immersed himself in tests and analysis, far away in Konoha, the Third Hokage was embroiled in tense discussions. The shadows of war stretched over the village once again. Intelligence had warned of the Land of Lightning's growing aggression, but the full extent of their mobilization was still unknown.
The aging Sarutobi Hiruzen sat in silence for a moment before turning to his aide. "How many idle shinobi do we have available in the village?"
The aide replied, "Only a few hundred. Most of the shinobi recalled from the Wind Country have already been redeployed to other frontlines. A few are still on minor missions, but they can be summoned urgently."
"Do it," said the Third Hokage with a grave nod. "Recall them all. Even with a thousand ninja, we must avoid direct conflict with Cloud Shinobi until we understand their numbers. We can only afford to hold the border for now."
The other elders nodded, acknowledging the plan's logic. But then came a slow, dismissive scoff.
Danzo stepped forward, arms crossed. "Still clinging to your passive ways, Hiruzen?" he sneered. "We know the Cloud's troop distribution. If they're active in the Land of Rice Fields, then their main village must be vulnerable."
Danzo's eyes narrowed. "Now is the perfect moment to strike. Gather our forces at the Hot Water border. Crush their forward battalion, and then send a team to hit the Cloud's headquarters. End the war before it truly begins."
Sarutobi frowned. It was bold—reckless, even. Such tactics were not Konoha's way. And Danzo's proposal reeked of political posturing. The man had always coveted the Hokage's seat.
But to deny him outright might fracture the high council. Hiruzen stroked his beard and feigned approval. "Yes, a strong offensive could indeed end this swiftly..."
Danzo raised an eyebrow. The agreement was too smooth. And sure enough, Hiruzen continued:
"...but we lack the manpower for such a maneuver. Our main forces must hold the line. The Land of Rice Fields cannot be left unguarded. And if the enemy notices our absence, they could strike Konoha directly. Unless, of course, your Root has forces to spare?"
Danzo's eyes flashed with irritation. "They're all engaged in vital global operations. I can't recall them."
"Pity," said Hiruzen smoothly. "Then we proceed with the defensive plan."
Checkmate. The council murmured their agreement, and Danzo fell silent, beaten once again by Hiruzen's political finesse.
Meanwhile, Akira returned to the village just in time to receive another urgent summons. As he arrived at the assembly grounds, he was greeted by the sight of several hundred shinobi, many of whom looked exhausted. Some had barely returned from previous missions.
A smirk crossed Akira's face. "Well, at least I'm not the only one being overworked."
Before long, Might Guy, Yugao Uzuki, and Hayate Gekko arrived, all showing signs of fatigue.
Yugao rubbed her eyes and groaned. "No rest? Again? This is getting ridiculous. Can't the village rotate someone else for once?"
Hayate chuckled wearily. "War doesn't care about nap time."
Might Guy, ever the optimist, stretched and grinned. "Youth doesn't rest! Every mission is a chance to burn even brighter!"
Akira shook his head with a laugh. Despite the fatigue, camaraderie helped.
The puppet army he had just completed would be a game-changer.
Suddenly, a thought struck him like lightning. Why not build a village of my own?
He blinked, stunned. The thought had come unbidden. A sixth great ninja village... my own forces... my own rules.
Was it crazy? Perhaps. But in a world constantly teetering on the edge of chaos, maybe what the world needed wasn't another piece in the old game, but a new board entirely.
His eyes sparkled with conviction. "Why not?" he whispered to himself. "Why not become the Sixth Shadow?"