"Immortal bud?" "Already harvested?" "A colossal tree that drains an entire planet's life force to bloom and bear fruit?"
"Yes."
"According to the exploration fleet's reconnaissance, the planet has fallen into utter desolation—lifeless, barren, devoid of value save for its mineral resources." The seasoned planetary governor giving the report gestured briefly to his colleagues before operating the projector on the rostrum, uploading the detailed copy of the intelligence report.
"Please take a look—this is the latest footage sent back by the exploration fleet."
On the screen, as the camera moved, faint starlight illuminated a planet—no trace of green or blue in sight, its entire surface covered by mingled hues of sandy yellow, earthy brown, and chalk white.
From afar, the lifeless land lay tightly folded with cracks running deep.
Though eroded by wind and time, the gigantic intertwining roots—dark brown mixed with black—still stretched through the cracked crust and canyons, both above and beneath the surface.
All root systems converged at a single point. Seen from orbit, the indentation resembled flesh carved out from the planet's surface—a "blood groove" for draining life itself.
It formed an irregular ring shape.
The steep, abyssal strata, like countless volumes of books piled haphazardly together, layered without order. Countless enormous roots wound and twisted, finally merging into a spiral trunk that coiled upward like a giant cord, ascending skyward until it formed a towering withered tree.
Yes—a withered tree.
Even though this strange giant tree was as hard as diamond and showed no signs of decay or hollowing, its state clearly indicated death. Or rather, its mission had simply ended.
All footage shown came directly from the exploration fleet's monitoring devices—raw, unedited, unprocessed. Amidst the scattering of sawdust and sparks, the fleet crew members could be seen using cutters to collect samples from the roots, trunk, and crown.
The attendees murmured among themselves, exchanging hushed discussions.
Kiana, who had moments ago been idly observing a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed figure, set aside her thoughts about whether some high-ranking official of the "Schariac family" might have appeared in her homeworld (Central Direct World of the 3rd Sequence, "Honkai Impact 3rd"), and focused intently on the bud atop the screen—missing its crucial core.
That thing was far more valuable than the special resources from her own governorship—Iceburst Ore (a high-efficiency energy source for 3D Maneuver Gear) or Iron bamboo (raw material for Corps blades). It could draw the Empire's sustained attention far more effectively.
Oh, and that Eldian Titanized bloodline—something she still found of little practical use beyond research, archiving, or as a specimen.
Lucky him, she thought—the discoverer of such a rare treasure. Surely, the merit added to his record would be substantial. More importantly, with a relic like this backing him, the influx of resources would be immense.
Her gaze unfocused slightly—Kiana thought reflexively.
Not jealousy, exactly.
It was just that she'd become a little calculating, even shrewd—forced by circumstance.
You don't know how expensive things are until you're the one paying for them.
Since taking up the mantle of planetary governor, Kiana had learned to stretch every silver coin into two.
Yes, the Empire provided basic necessities—food and essential supplies. No one starved. But any further development, any attempt to make her world thrive—that depended entirely on the governor's capability and the planet's productivity.
Especially when Kiana's administrative expenses ran several times higher than those of most postwar reconstruction colonies.
For example, in the early years of order restoration, most colonial worlds used labor-for-relief systems—no wages, just work in exchange for food and shelter, all in the name of repentance.
But Kiana's moral standards wouldn't allow that.
She paid wages. She imported curiosities from other worlds to enrich daily life, granted holidays, and worked to improve her citizens' happiness.
The tradeoff? Her standard budget allocations were barely enough to keep up.
Kiana's assigned colony—II–202149 ("Attack on Titan")—only possessed a few more mineral resources than average.
For better development and to realize her own vision of governance, Kiana wished she could run to the Imperial Capital every day to cry poverty—asking for more budget allocations and technical guidance. Whatever it took, she'd ask for it first.
Seeing the captivated expressions of the senior censors on the dais, their eyes gleaming with excitement, Kiana suddenly had a flash of inspiration.
She had found a new source of income.
"Pioneering and exploring new development routes is indeed something to be encouraged."
Kiana planned to imitate this example—upon returning, she would divert some of her focus to exploring and developing resources within her star system, to see if she could discover anything rare and earn another round of budget funding.
As for detailed development, she still intended to focus primarily on Planet Eldia. Once she raised the productivity level of her governorship from that of the pre–World War era to roughly that of the twenty-first century, she would discuss further expansion.
At that moment—
"...According to on-site scans, the exploration team also collected traces of some unknown super-energy organism... Additionally, seven kilometers northeast of the giant tree, signs of intelligent life activity were discovered."
With the speaker's report, the projected footage froze.
This time, the image was blurry, as if disrupted by some invisible force. It showed a crude white-stone fortress. On its surface, complex sigils composed of black magatama, spirals, and irregular horn-like patterns came into view.
"A clan crest... the Ōtsutsuki family, perhaps."
At first, it was uncertain—but upon seeing that arrangement of multiple magatama and spirals, Selene, seated on the second observation tier, couldn't help but let a faint smile curl at her lips.
A transcendent race that planted and harvested world-trees across the cosmos had left behind a "fruit tree relic."
"Hahaha... how interesting."
"Traces of intelligent life activity—meaning the fruit of this colossal tree was harvested deliberately, likely by a supernatural being."
Though the exact species of the giant tree was unknown, its act of feeding upon an entire planet was real. Compared to mundane matters—approving reports, punishing rebels, or dealing with endless financial petitions—this was far simpler and far more direct.
Was it valuable?
Yes—and immensely so.
Immediately, the censors presiding over the session began enthusiastically discussing the matter with him.
Before long, the discussion concluded on a cheerful note—both sides satisfied, smiles all around.
The veteran governor, whose governance ratings ranked from "Excellent" in administration and taxation to "Outstanding" in industrial productivity, sustainability, and exploration, was granted the highest-level policy support—additional funding and technical guidance—before stepping down.
As one governor after another took the podium to deliver their administrative reports, Selene listened attentively.
As expected, such fortunate opportunities were rare. The rest were routine reports—mundane colonial development progress, industrial output listings, and financial breakdowns.
The only thing that caught Selene's mild interest was the report from a governor under the direct jurisdiction of the Administrative Department's Exploration Fleet. His domain was a medieval fantasy world that had stumbled upon a massive windfall—a "Gate to Another World" had appeared in a scenic area he was developing for tourism. Large numbers of monsters and beasts, once kept as attractions, had rushed through the gate.
Soon after, some of those creatures fled back.
From the bullet wounds and the recovered ammunition—.38 Special rounds and 9×18mm cartridges—it was clear they had been shot.
Before the governor's local police could even establish a quarantine perimeter, an entire army—equipped with primitive, gunpowder-based firearms—had suddenly invaded this Administrative Department world classified as "Medieval Fantasy."
The enemy had declared war!
And demanded immediate surrender!
Indeed—the Sacred Selene Empire had been invaded!
After that—there wasn't much "after." Before the Empire's auxiliary and vassal forces could even mobilize, the local Metropolitan Police Department had already deployed armed robots and patrol battalions to annihilate the invading Industrial Age army.
They were decisively repelled.
The other side of the "Gate to Another World" turned out to be a nation akin to Area 11—coordinates: Tokyo Ginza.
The one who declared war upon the Empire—the Japan Self-Defense Force.
...
The debriefing session concluded.
"...Not even in the top ten of this evaluation round."
Back at Schönbrunn Palace, in a buoyant mood, Selene removed her French-style flat-topped officer's hat and tossed it aside, letting it vanish into a ripple of spacetime.
"The road ahead is long, Kiana. Dreams aren't achieved by words alone."
Restoring her white hair and crimson eyes, Selene casually crumpled the meeting report into a ball of waste paper in her hand. She strolled into the central courtyard garden and tossed it into a pile of rubble, where it hit the head of a short-armed "lizard." She pointed a finger and said:
"Come on, Godzilla—breathe fire."
"Rooaaar!!"
The planetary baby Godzilla, about the size of a corgi, wagged its tail so hard it almost became a propeller. Though it didn't quite understand why its mistress was acting strange again, for the sake of a meal—and to avoid being handed back to that mad scientist—it obediently raised its head and spat a jet of blue-white atomic flame.
"Good boy."
While rubbing Godzilla's dry, rough, not-at-all-smooth head, Selene stroked her chin in thought.
"Ten-Tails... the God Tree... the remnants of a God Tree that has matured and been harvested. So it wasn't Kaguya Ōtsutsuki. This isn't the Ninja World. Could it be the Ōtsutsuki God?"
If her guess was correct, the Ōtsutsuki who had descended upon that planet to perform the "tree-planting and cultivation" operation was not Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.
Unlike the world where Kaguya landed, the God Tree rooted in this planet had completed its entire process—draining every ounce of the world's vitality and using the planet's life as nourishment to grow the Chakra Fruit that had already been harvested.
As for why the Ninja World survived multiple drainings by its God Tree, Selene speculated it was because the God Tree there—the so-called Ten-Tails—was defective.
Kaguya Ōtsutsuki and her "guardian," Ōtsutsuki Isshiki, had formed a pair to travel to the blue planet that would later become the Ninja World, with the mission of planting the God Tree. The plan was simple: the lower-ranked "guardian," Kaguya, would serve as a live sacrifice to feed the Ten-Tails sapling, while Isshiki would watch over the tree until it bloomed and bore fruit.
To nurture the Ten-Tails into a full-grown God Tree capable of producing a Chakra Fruit, Isshiki, following the clan's hierarchy, offered up Kaguya as a living sacrifice.
But at the critical moment of the ritual, unwilling to give her own body to the Ten-Tails, Kaguya launched a surprise attack on Isshiki. Caught off guard, Isshiki was mortally wounded.
Kaguya then sacrificed the gravely injured Isshiki to the Ten-Tails. Just as Isshiki was about to be devoured, he used a secret technique to escape death—barely.
Though he lost half his body to the Ten-Tails, the creature matured into the very God Tree that Kaguya would later guard in the Ninja World.
Naturally, the ritual had been incomplete—the key sacrifice was flawed. The God Tree was born defective, and that imperfection allowed the Ninja World to survive.
Kaguya, now alone, watched over the God Tree, perhaps still intent on completing what was unfinished.
Unfortunately, soon after betraying Isshiki, her own two sons betrayed her in turn.
In a cycle of "a mother's love and filial piety," Kaguya was sealed away. The already malformed God Tree was drained of its essence by those two Ōtsutsuki heirs—and even its hollowed shell was sealed away.
Later, those two sons—being hybrids lacking pure Ōtsutsuki blood—did not possess the clan's near-immortal lifespan and eventually died of old age.
Before his death, the elder son founded Ninshū, spreading the teachings and techniques of Chakra extraction throughout the world, returning a fraction of the God Tree's stolen life force to the planet.
Thus, the Chakra derived from the incomplete God Tree's fruit dispersed across the world—preserving its vitality after the first "God Tree Apocalypse." Over millennia, the world slowly recovered, which was why it could survive yet another "God Tree Apocalypse" during the Fourth Shinobi World War.
Piecing it all together, Selene couldn't help but chuckle.
In other words, the object passed down through Kaguya and her sons, later possessed by Madara Uchiha, Nagato, and Obito Uchiha—the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path, the Ten-Tails, the God Tree—was nothing more than a stunted, castrated version of the complete one before her.
"The Ōtsutsuki God... the God Tree... I wonder what it would taste like."
A hint of impatience flickered across Selene's eyes. She lightly nudged the small Godzilla aside with her foot, raised her hand, and drew a line through the air. A holographic screen appeared.
She magnified the massive, fruitless bud at the top of the God Tree.
She wanted to eat it.
What would a Chakra Fruit taste like?
Lost in the fantasy, Selene's eyes grew hazy as she unconsciously swallowed her saliva.
"Simulate—General Bianka Durandal Ataegina..."
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