Throne of the Ghost Emperor (Danny Phantom X Naruto)
Chapter 78 - 26

Chapter 78 - 26

Chapter 26: "Crafting Like a Boss (When You're Basically a Magic Ninja Iron Man)"

In which Naruto channels his inner tech gremlin, builds enough firepower to shame a superhero, and gives Danny his first taste of ghost-slaying swagger.

There are a few signs that you've hit your physical limit. One: when your arms feel like spaghetti noodles that've been left in the strainer too long. Two: when even blinking feels like an extreme sport. And three? When you start seeing sparkles even though no one's throwing glitter.

I had all three.

The moment I left Star safely behind her mansion gates—where rich people probably had spa bots and backup IV drips for post-party "tiredness"—my body started shutting down faster than an old laptop after a Windows update.

I barely made it a few blocks on my bike before I considered just... letting gravity do its thing. But then he spoke up.

"Congratulations on your first job as a hero. I am very satisfied with the performance. With more practice, you can do it better and at an easier pace."

I blinked. Then blinked again.

"Wait, was that... praise?"

Naruto's voice wasn't scolding, sarcastic, or full of his usual "embrace the pain" cryptic nonsense. No, this time it sounded... proud. And let me tell you, that hit harder than the plank I'd smacked that ghost-possessed guy with.

I smiled—a wide, goofy, lopsided thing that made my already sore face hurt more. But I didn't care.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I'd done something good. Not just "oops-I-sorta-saved-my-friends-from-an-accidental-explosion" good, but actual, real, undeniable hero stuff.

I'd saved a life. Maybe more than one. And I didn't die in the process. That's what we call a win-win.

"So rest now and enjoy your reward tomorrow," Naruto added, his tone softer—almost... kind?

Weird.

Still, I wasn't going to argue with the man-voice in my head who handed out ghost-punching powers and knew how to dodge tax-paying spirits. Especially when he told me to sleep.

I reached my house—I think—and parked the bike. Don't ask me how I got inside. One minute I was dragging my zombie legs up the front steps, and the next...

Boom. Face-first into the bed.

No brushing teeth. No changing clothes. Not even a scroll through my phone to doomscroll before bed. I was done.

My body hit the mattress like a sack of potatoes tossed by a sleep-deprived farmer, and I passed out instantly.

Somewhere in the dreamscape...

There were whispers. Cool air. The faint sound of waves. And Naruto's voice, just a whisper now:

"Good. One step forward, Daniel. Keep going."

Was I dreaming? Or was I being haunted by my martial-arts sensei-ghost-mentor again?

Didn't matter. My last coherent thought before sleep dragged me under like a weighted blanket was this:

"I think I'm starting to like being a hero."

-----------------------

Danny Fenton was out cold.

We're talking the kind of sleep where you drool, snore like a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner, and your limbs flop around like you lost a fight with gravity. He'd earned it, of course—between surviving a haunted house party, rescuing a very tipsy Star, and single-handedly banishing a DJ ghost by weaponizing karaoke, he deserved a solid ten years of rest and a cookie.

But nooo. This was Naruto's version of sleep.

And Naruto didn't do naps. He did... upgrades.

Somewhere in the quiet stillness of Danny's bedroom, where his half-washed laundry was building an empire and a half-eaten granola bar had fossilized into a breakfast brick, something strange was happening.

Inside Danny's body, his muscles were learning.

Not like "Oh hey, maybe don't cramp next time we sprint through fire." No, these muscles were being fed combat instincts, like a Netflix binge of every martial arts movie Naruto had ever lived through—with commentary. His muscles were syncing with Naruto's movement memory, which meant that by the time Danny woke up, his body would know how to dodge, kick, flip, and punch like a total anime protagonist. Whether or not Danny's brain could keep up? Still a coin toss.

But Naruto didn't stop there.

While Danny snored like a possessed leaf blower, Naruto tapped into the mystical equivalent of a USB port in his soul. With a glowing finger and a disturbingly smug smile, he drew a seal across Danny's chest—one that shimmered and pulsed before vanishing into his skin like a glowing tattoo made of ancient secrets and chakra energy.

"Gotta improve the RAM before I start loading the real data," Naruto muttered.

And just like that, Danny's brain started optimizing.

Information—languages, critical thinking, pattern recognition, even random trivia like "How to spot a lie in a negotiation" and "The complete history of ghost-hunting tools through the 19th century"—began softly flowing into his subconscious. Not enough to overwhelm him, but enough to make him go, "Wait, when did I learn that?" the next time someone mentioned fluid dynamics.

Naruto adjusted the mental seal again, his eyes narrowing in focus.

"If I give him too much, his brain might melt. And that would be awkward."

Naruto believed in balance. Power was like chili powder—just enough, and it made the dish amazing. Too much, and you were curled up crying with milk in your eyes.

Danny's wounds healed too, fading like a bad dream. Not a scratch remained. His skin was clear, his bruises vanished, and his muscles were tighter. His stomach, however, growled like it had been abandoned by society.

"Right on cue," Naruto said, smirking. "Akimichi body art. Boost strength, heal fast... and devour everything in a six-mile radius."

Still, Naruto wasn't about to let Danny wreck the fridge at 3 AM just to gnaw on a frozen pizza. So, he placed a smaller seal over Danny's abdomen—an energy regulation glyph designed to feed the boy's hunger without actual food.

"Sorry, buddy. No midnight snacks. Nature energy buffet only."

With the upgrades finished, Naruto—still using Danny's body but wearing his face like a cosplay mask—stood up and stretched. He rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles, and took one last look at the peacefully sleeping boy.

"You've got potential, Danny. Don't waste it."

Then he was gone, vanishing from the quiet suburbs like a silent ninja... only to reappear thirty minutes later in front of a very different building.

Sebastian's mansion wasn't so much a house as it was a flex.

Twelve-foot iron gates. Fountains that probably cost more than Danny's entire neighborhood. Marble pillars. Gold-trimmed doors. The kind of place where even the security guards wore suits tailored better than prom kings.

As Naruto strolled up—still inhabiting Danny's temporarily transformed body—the guards didn't even blink.

They bowed.

Yep. Bowed.

Apparently, Sebastian had gotten the memo: new boss, new rules.

Naruto stepped into the mansion's grand foyer, the chandelier overhead glittering like a disco ball made of diamonds. A butler offered him tea. A servant tried to take his coat.

Naruto waved them off.

"I'm not here to sip tea," he said with a grin. "I'm here to start phase two."

-----------------------

Sebastian had faced many terrifying things in his life.

Hostile takeovers. Politicians with grudges. Hitmen who charged by the hour.

But nothing—not even the time he accidentally double-booked a cartel boss and a royal assassin for brunch—compared to the calm, smiling, chakra-glowing, possibly-immortal demiimmortal known as Naruto.

Naruto didn't threaten. He didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice.

He smiled.

And somehow, that was way worse.

Currently, the intimidating shinobi (in Danny's transformed body, which was weird but people weren't paid enough to question that) was being escorted through a side wing of Sebastian's mansion, down into a sleek, reinforced underground facility.

"This was originally meant for my... less legal research," Sebastian said, adjusting his tie nervously. "But, uh, I've cleared it out. Completely. Burned everything."

Naruto didn't reply. He was studying the space—walls lined with workbenches, tools, modular steel platforms, a forger's corner, and even a clean room with a decent set of fabrication gear. It was, by local standards, the best of the best.

To Naruto?

It was a garage with aspirations.

Still, he nodded approvingly.

"It'll do."

Sebastian relaxed. Slightly. Maybe.

Naruto's eyes scanned the room like a general planning an invasion—and in a way, he was.

This would be the new base of operations. A place where weapons would be forged, gear tested, and missions launched. For Danny. For the team. For whatever insanity this world would throw next.

Naruto moved through the space like he owned it—which, to be fair, he kind of did. He reached into his cloak (Danny's cloak?) and pulled out a scroll that unrolled into a glowing blue schematic that hovered in the air.

"These are the business plans," he said without looking up. "Study them. If something doesn't make sense, ask. If you still don't understand, ask again."

Sebastian took the floating blueprint like it might explode.

"Yes, Master Naruto," he said, bowing slightly. "Of course."

Naruto's voice dropped into something colder.

"And bring me ten men. Good fighters. Loyal, but not idiots. They'll be our first operatives."

Sebastian hesitated. "Of course. Will this be... actual training?" His voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid the mansion itself might tattle. "Or... the other thing? Like what you did to me?"

Naruto's lips twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite not a threat.

"A bit of both. I'll transfer foundational skills—reflexes, instincts, core combat memory. It'll give them a head start. After that, they'll train to refine what I've given them."

"I see." Sebastian looked both relieved and faintly horrified. "That's efficient."

"We'll do the same for our pioneer staff in education, logistics, medical, tech—all of it," Naruto added. "People forget too much and too quickly. I don't have years to wait for this world to catch up. I need results."

Sebastian's face lit up with the kind of greedy joy only a man who sees ROI at light speed could feel. "Ah! Brilliant, Master Naruto. That means we can scale up immediately! I won't have to burn through half my fortune waiting for qualified personnel to exist."

Naruto nodded. "Just make sure they're stable. If I find out you brought in people who can't handle the load—"

"I'd never dream of it," Sebastian said quickly, hands raised. "Only the best, I swear."

Naruto's expression softened by a fraction.

"Good. Now get out. I have work to do."

Sebastian exited like a man whose vacation photos just dodged an international scandal.

Once alone, Naruto let out a slow breath and stepped into the heart of the lab. Seals lit up on the floor as he activated spatial compression runes. Panels in the walls opened. Tools hovered. A forge roared to life with unnatural heat.

This wasn't just a workshop. It was a mission hub.

And soon, Danny would have the gear, the resources, and the training to become more than a ghost-fighting high schooler with bad sleep hygiene.

He'd become a warrior with tools designed by one of the greatest heroes of the multiverse.

Naruto smirked, already mentally drafting the specs for Danny's first combat suit.

"Let's build a legend," he whispered, and the lights in the lab flared in response.

-------------------------

Naruto didn't need sleep.

He'd long surpassed such mortal requirements—right around the same time he learned to bend reality, punch out immortals, and cook instant ramen without boiling water.

So when he stepped into the underground workshop and the door sealed behind him, he became something else entirely.

A one-man forge.

A weaponsmith of the highest order.

A ninja-tinkerer with centuries of battle experience, too much free time, and just enough pettiness to outdo an entire ghost-hunting family in one night.

The workshop may have been primitive by Naruto's usual standards—it didn't hum with high-tech A.I., glow with interdimensional energy, or have snack dispensers that summoned food from other galaxies—but it had what he needed: space, tools, and him.

And let's face it: he was the important part.

With a single wave of his hand, a summoning seal ignited on the floor. Chakra flowed into the room like water flooding a dry basin. Every tool in the room floated, rearranged, and began working on their own.

This wasn't a montage. This was a masterclass.

By sunrise, the workshop looked like a ghost-themed armory exploded—with style.

High-Tech Combat Armor:

Sleek, blue-tinted plating, lightweight yet unyielding, trimmed with glowing lines of Yin energy. The armor shimmered like a ghostly flame, capable of flight and weapon integration.

It was part ninja, part space warrior, and just a dashof Gabumon Bond of Friendship—because Naruto had taste. Yin Daggers:

Short, deadly, and humming with supernatural edge. You could cut through ghosts, demons, or an overcooked steak without blinking. Guaranteed to make Phantom look ten times cooler while brooding. Pistols & Snipers:

These weren't ordinary guns. They were ghost-busting railguns with ammo dipped in spectral salt and chakra juice. Silent. Deadly. Cool as heck. Also—recoil like a rhino doing ballet, so Danny might wanna bulk up. Anti-Tank Rifle:

Calling it a "rifle" was generous. This thing looked like it could bench press a bus and thenvaporize it. One shot? Ghosts un-exist. Gauntlets & Blades:

Perfect for getting up close and personal with your neighborhood poltergeist. They buzzed with Yin energy, crackled with chakra, and made "punching evil spirits in the face" a viable tactic. Steel Wires:

You'd think Naruto had a side hustle as a haunted puppeteer. These things could entangle, slash, or trip a ghost mid-lecture. Think spider-silk, but scarier. Poisons:

Customized blends. One for ghosts, one for demons, and one for "just in case Sebastian hires another traitor." Naruto labeled them with tiny ghost emojis. Professional andcharming. The Rest of the Toybox:

Smoke bombs that disoriented spirits.

Flying shields with boomerang settings.

Explosives for "hello, surprise!" moments.

Laser-shooting funnels like something out of a sci-fi anime.

Plasma blades that made lightsabers cry.

All of it powered by a single, swirling chakra orb—infused with Naruto's own nature energy. It would keep the armor running for a full year. Probably longer, unless Danny decided to host a one-man war.

Which, honestly, wasn't off the table.

But Naruto wasn't done.

He stepped back, surveying his work. The room sparkled with dangerous beauty. Each item radiated a quiet hum of power, of purpose.

But none of them were at full power.

Not yet.

Because Danny had to earn them.

This was the beginning. The base model. Naruto's armor in his prime had weapons that could level cities, wipe spirits from dimensions, and do sick flips.

But Danny wasn't there yet.

So Naruto capped the armor. Added limiters. Sealed off features. One by one, these would unlock as Danny reached milestones. Challenges. Goals.

Maybe one day, Danny would use the gadgets Tucker built or the ones his parents dreamed up.

But tonight?

Tonight, he'd wear armor crafted by a literal legend.

A gift. A test. A promise.

------------------------

Naruto Uzumaki had what polite people might call a questionable definition of self-care.

While most people started their mornings with coffee or yoga, Naruto kicked off his day by injecting himself with experimental ghost poisons and ingesting plagues that would make your local CDC cry. He wasn't trying to die (again). He was optimizing. You know, the usual ninja-warrior-demi-immortal-laboratory-supervisor routine.

Why?

Because testing weapons was one thing—but ensuring immunity to anything those weapons touched? That was elite.

The workshop smelled faintly of oil, ozone, and something that could only be described as "demonic wasabi." Naruto stood shirtless in the training zone, body crackling with energy, skin sweating out faint trails of purple mist as the poisons tried—and spectacularly failed—to kill him.

Muscles flexed, bones reset, tendons snapped and reformed tighter than ever before.

"Ahhh," Naruto said with a sigh of satisfaction, munching on a stack of protein-rich waffles the size of small shields, "Spiritual arsenic always makes the syrup taste sweeter."

His healing factor surged, chakra humming through every cell like a divine espresso shot. While most people aged gracefully, Naruto was reverse-aging into a supermodel with a war crime résumé.

But self-poisoning was only step one.

With his body now immune to ghosts, gremlins, and probably gluten, Naruto pivoted to upgrading himself. Again.

Even though he could already punch through steel, dodge bullets, and run across water like it owed him money—he wanted more. Not because he had to. Just because he could.

He stretched. Bones cracked. Floor trembled.

Muscle groups realigned themselves into peak efficiency.

His reaction time sped up so much, he caught a fly mid-blink and taught it how to do pushups before releasing it.

And then he did the most dangerous thing of all.

He sat down.

And began refining Yin energy directly into his body.

"Slow and steady," he muttered, carving invisible lines of energy through his chakra network. A normal person would explode from the pressure. Danny, in particular, would've probably sprouted wings and screamed in Latin.

But Naruto knew how to pace it. He'd done this across universes, against monsters that made ghosts look like sock puppets. Danny didn't need to be turned into a demiimmortal overnight. He needed the slow burn. The solid foundation.

Like marinating chicken in chakra-flavored ghost sauce.

Except it was Danny's soul.

Thanks to this infusion, Danny's senses were evolving. The world no longer looked normal to him.

He could now spot spirits behind walls. Hear whispers that weren't quite there. See the emotional auras of the dead as if they were neon signs saying:

"HI, I'M A PROBLEM. PLEASE PUNCH ME."

It was like someone had handed him night-vision goggles... but for haunted problems.

Training Time.

With the new armor and weapons neatly displayed like an elite ninja version of a Batman suit-up montage, Naruto moved through the training zone.

He picked up each tool one by one:

Fired ghost-bullets through chalk targets mid-flip.

Whirled plasma blades in tight arcs that sliced through reinforced walls.

Used steel wires to hang a punching dummy by its toes. (It had it coming.)

Threw smoke bombs so precise they spelled "Danny, practice more" in the haze.

This wasn't just for show. He was programming the movements directly into Danny's body.

Not with brute force—Naruto wasn't that reckless (anymore).

But with subtle chakra imprints, he was creating neural grooves—muscle memory shortcuts. So when Danny picked up these weapons, he wouldn't feel clueless.

He'd feel prepared.

By the time night gave way to dawn, Naruto had finished several circuits of weapons, finished a second breakfast (protein dumplings with ghost chili), and even sparred with a summoned spirit bear for warm-up.

"The boy's ready for the basics," Naruto said aloud, drying sweat from his forehead with a ghost-sealing scroll.

But Naruto wasn't done.

The DJ ghost from the alleyway—the one that caused all the trouble in the first place—wouldn't even break a sweat from this gear.

There were far worse things coming.

And Naruto? He was just getting started.