(MC POV)
Let me tell you something the Multiversal Handbook for Overpowered Idiots fails to mention: boredom is the ultimate enemy. You can tank fireballs, suplex gods, seduce vampires, and casually vaporize cosmic horrors with your glitter-infused chakra aura—but when you've done it all, you're left with eternity... and that terrifying void called free time.
So obviously, I made a new goal:
Create the most absurd, delicious, borderline divine ramen technique in all of existence.
The kind that would make Ichiraku himself weep tears of pork broth joy.
The kind that would rewrite culinary doctrine across dimensions.
The kind that, if you smelled it once, you'd question your allegiance to your clan, country, or current dimension.
And yes, I was going to weaponize it.
"System-tan," I said, standing shirtless in my treehouse kitchen like a shonen cooking anime protagonist about to make a dish that would spiritually cleanse the viewer and also possibly summon an ancient ramen god.
"Deploy Culinary Mode."
❖ [YES MASTER~!! Apron equipped! Emotional soundtrack loading! Shall I dim the lighting to 'Dramatic Ingredient Revelation' mode?]
"Always."
The kitchen shimmered. A soundtrack kicked in. Strings. Horns. A single gong. Somewhere, a chorus of ramen angels sang in baritone.
My clones assembled around me like sous chefs in a holy ritual. One had a whisk. One had a katana. One wore lab goggles and a fox mask. A fourth was scribbling notes for a future fanfiction titled "He Who Stirs the Broth."
"Operation Forbidden Broth is a go," I announced.
[New Quest Activated: Divine Dinner - Craft the Legendary Ramen That Breaks Seals and Hearts Alike]
Phase One: Bone Broth from Mythical Creatures.
We started with marrow scraped from the horn of a demonic ox I accidentally punched into another realm last week. Added chakra-rich water blessed by three monk frogs. Stirred it counter-clockwise while chanting haiku in Old Uchiha dialect.
Then we strained it through a filter made from threads harvested from the Cloak of Plot Protection. Yes, the actual cloak. Long story.
Phase Two: Noodles of Destiny.
Custom-made by a clone who spent a week learning sacred pasta arts from a multiversal Italian grandmother sealed in a scroll. Her name was Nonna Umami and she slapped me across timelines when I added soy sauce too early. Respect.
The noodles were hand-pulled under moonlight—because why not—and boiled in mineral-rich springwater from Mount Fuji's edgiest cousin. We stored them inside a chakra-sealed scroll that twitched occasionally, like it knew it was destined for greatness. They wiggled ominously.
"Add the eggs," I whispered.
Clone #3 levitated two glowing orbs. Not chicken eggs. No, these were condensed elemental cores disguised as eggs. The moment they cracked into the broth, it began to shimmer with forbidden knowledge.
Phase Three: Garnish of Questionable Legality.
Gold flakes from a treasure hoard guarded by a sentient tax form. A single leaf from the World Tree (not THE World Tree, just a fanboy cousin with attitude). And lastly—a pinch of powdered Sharingan. Don't ask.
I sneezed. The room briefly folded into a kaleidoscope of temporal echoes. One version of me was crying. Another one was proposed for the ramen.
The broth glowed. Reality warped. The treehouse began humming. A crack formed in the ceiling of the narrative.
Then, a ding.
[Forbidden Ramen Complete! Warning: Consuming may induce temporary enlightenment, spontaneous weeping, or sudden urges to become Hokage.]
I served it in a chakra-reinforced bowl. It vibrated like it knew its own importance. The table bowed. The spoon whispered an aria.
"System-tan, test subject."
❖ [FOR SCIENCE!! 💕]
She took a slurp.
The sky cracked. Birds forgot how to sing. Somewhere, a Hyuga fainted. A Mist-nin three countries away questioned his faith.
[This... Master... this is beyond cooking. This is seduction via soup.]
I took a bite.
It was...
Beautiful.
Delicious.
Terrifying.
I cried. A single tear. The broth reabsorbed it and added a faint taste of nostalgia.
"We need to hide this," I said, shaking. "This ramen is a national threat."
❖ [Too late~ Someone sensed it.]
Oh no.
(3rd POV)
Far across the village, three ANBU sneezed in unison.
In the Uchiha district, Itachi paused mid-training. "That... was umami."
Jiraiya awoke from a wet dream screaming, "NOODLES!"
Tenten's kitchen knives shivered in their sheath.
One of the Toad Sages coughed ramen broth.
The sky shifted. A single storm cloud shaped like a noodle swirl drifted above Konoha.
(MC POV)
The knock on the treehouse was not a knock. It was a knock-shaped chakra pulse. It rang like holy judgment and soy.
I opened the door.
Two monks stood outside. Robes. Beards. Glowing eyes. One held a scroll. One floated. The third glowed judgmentally. Yes, there was a third now.
"We have sensed the awakening of the Ramen That Hungers," the lead monk said.
"...It was a Tuesday experiment."
"You have no idea what you've created."
"I have a vague idea. Wept into my bowl. Twice."
The second monk bowed. "We are the Order of the Third Slurp."
"The what?"
He handed me the scroll.
[You have been invited to lead the Brotherhood of Broth. Accept Y/N?]
❖ [Say yes, say yes, say yes, Master!! I want a shrine built in my image holding ladles!!]
I accepted.
Boom.
Robes materialized on my body. A cult formed instantly around me. Above the treehouse hovered a massive ramen bowl, its steam swirling like scripture written in broth.
Suddenly, disciples chanting:
"Noodlus Maximus. Brothus Sanctus. Umami Eternum."
We held the first Ramen Ceremony under a full moon with 32 disciples, one floating bowl, System-tan leading a prayer in culinary Latin, and a squirrel possessed by soup chi.
Clone #7 documented the entire ritual—complete with incense timing and soup-swirling angles—and sold it to an underground religion in the Land of Rice. They're already drafting a holy book called The Book of Broth.
As the final slurp echoed into the moonlight, System-tan blinked.
❖ [Warning. External attention detected. Multiple observers locked. Dimensional veil... thinning?]
I froze, spoon still midair.
"Wait. Is the soup... summoning something?"
❖ [Correction: Someone. A LOT of someones. One of them just flagged you as a Class S Existential Hazard.]
A cold wind blew through the treehouse despite the reinforced seals. The floating ramen bowl spun slowly, humming with pressure.
"That can't be good," I muttered.
System-tan's eyes narrowed into little pink exclamation marks.
❖ [A dimensional gate is cracking in the outer fields. Estimated arrival: 3 minutes. They're not coming for broth.]
I sighed.
"Well. Guess dinner's over. Time to meet the neighbors." They're already drafting a holy book called The Book of Broth.
(Hiruzen POV)
The Third Hokage stood at the Hokage tower window, staring into the forest.
A moonlit pillar of ramen-shaped chakra pulsed into the sky like a glorious udon tornado.
He lit his pipe.
"Tanaka's cooking again."
An ANBU dropped from the ceiling. "Sir. Permission to engage?"
"No. No point."
"Why not?"
"Because last time someone interrupted, their blood turned to miso. Still can't clean the tiles."
(MC POV)
So yeah.
Boredom is dangerous.
But ramen?
Ramen is divine warfare. The culinary battleground of gods. A bowl of destiny steeped in chaos.
And I am its god.
[To be continued... with Extra Spicy Editions and Possibly a Cookbook.]