Ah…
What a delight.
What a magnificent show.
As far as opening acts went, it was practically perfect.
Seiran Mizunotsuki looked at the balance of System Points in his hand, his mood lifting noticeably.
[System Points: 4326]
This was the net profit after he had spent less than a thousand points earlier to pave the stage and stack layers of special effects.
As expected.
If you want to make real money, you have to do something big.
Moreover—
The specially selected "NPC," Mitsue Takeda, had gained tremendous prestige through this incident.
In the eyes of Japan's top management, this was nothing less than the Authority of the Extraordinary.
And as long as authority existed, the Right of Interpretation naturally followed.
That right now belonged entirely to Seiran.
From here on out, Mitsue Takeda's mouth could be used to supplement the "World Settings" for those ignorant mortals, filling in the gaps and shaping their beliefs.
As for any unreasonable omissions in Seiran's plan?
It was like reading a complex novel—once the readers (or in this case, the elites) were invested, there would always be "learned scholars" eager to argue on his behalf. Smart people would instinctively patch the inconsistencies with their own reasoning.
After all, the Supernatural was already displayed right in front of them.
Mitsue Takeda had become the ultimate example of "Fox faking the Tiger's power."
First came the Divine Dog, fighting head-on with the terrifying Curse.
Then came the "God" summoned by the ritual, standing openly upon the stage.
From this moment on, Mitsue Takeda was a bona fide Elder of Religious Authority—and the spokesperson of Seiran, the so-called "God" of this world.
Believe it or not, they had no choice but to accept it.
This realization also erased any lingering regret Seiran had over the Divine Dog he had painstakingly crafted by hand.
Snow-white, imposing, and elegant.
A rare Golden-Tier creation drawn directly from refined Cursed Energy.
And this event once again confirmed something important:
System Points were truly omnipotent.
If one thousand points could already create a scene of this scale, then what about ten thousand?
One hundred thousand?
One million?
Smiling faintly, Seiran found himself genuinely looking forward to that future.
Burning mountains and boiling seas?
Plucking stars and seizing the moon?
For now, those grand ambitions could wait.
Putting aside long-term plans, Seiran decisively exchanged 1,000 System Points for the Satoru Gojo Character Template.
Whoosh.
Cursed Energy surged.
The fusion of the King of Curses (Ryomen Sukuna)—the strongest from a thousand years ago—and Satoru Gojo, the strongest of the modern era, produced an unmistakable chemical reaction.
His power skyrocketed.
Take the Domain Expansion as an example.
Before, its effective radius had been about two hundred meters.
Now?
Over a thousand meters.
As expected.
The fusion of two "Strongest" templates was never a simple matter of one plus one.
Azure light shimmered faintly in Seiran's eyes.
The Six Eyes granted him an expanded perception, allowing him to observe even microscopic dust drifting through the air.
Meanwhile, the Limitless technique removed the lower bound on his manipulation—techniques like Blue and Red became tools at his disposal, vastly enriching his combat options.
Another Persona, perhaps…
Turning his attention back to the system interface, Seiran examined the unlocked "Copies" (Story Modules).
[Character: Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Kaisen)] — 1,000 Points
[World: The Visible Girl (Mieruko-chan)] — 10,000 Points
'…Ten thousand?'
Seiran raised an eyebrow.
'How could the cost of Mieruko-chan rival ten times the cost of Jujutsu Kaisen?'
But soon, he understood the System's logic.
Purchasing Gojo was buying a power template. Purchasing Mieruko-chan was likely unlocking an entire World Setting or a higher tier of reality interference.
Thinking it through, Seiran wasn't in a hurry.
Tonight's performance had already earned four to five thousand points—and only a handful of people had even witnessed it. Those few, however, were all terrifying figures in terms of status.
In the future, the stage would only grow larger. Ten thousand points would eventually become pocket change.
Stretching lazily, Seiran felt the explosive strength in his body—enough to collapse the ground with a careless movement. With Limitless anchored to his physique, even modern military threats posed little danger.
A tactical nuclear strike?
Teleport away.
Then counterattack directly at the enemy's core.
Of course, he had no intention of exhausting all resources so recklessly. In reality, humans were his "leeks" (crops to be harvested).
Kill too many, and society's self-repair threshold would collapse. This wasn't a game where you could wipe out hundreds of millions today and expect them to respawn tomorrow.
The remaining System Points…
He would save them for emergencies. System Points were far more flexible than any fixed template. If something went wrong, they could always be used to patch the plot holes.
And three thousand points alone could already create an even grander spectacle.
As for Mitsue Takeda—
'Extraordinary power wasn't something meant to be obtained easily,' Seiran thought. 'If admission tickets were handed out casually, how could endless seekers learn restraint?'
People never cherish what comes too easily.
So some things…
Some people…
Still needed polishing.
The Aftermath
Fame followed swiftly.
Mitsue Takeda became a renowned figure within a certain exclusive circle.
The once-dismissed "Goddess of Downtown" transformed into a mysterious, untouchable presence.
Some mocked those who had been blind to the "True God." Others admired her magnanimity—despite being called a fraud for years, she never sought retaliation.
But her magnanimity did not mean others were equally generous.
Many wealthy patrons worried about their own futures.
Wasn't this an obvious "Golden Thigh" worth clinging to?
To befriend the spokesperson of an extraordinary being who had shattered their worldview, a gift was required.
And what gift was better than helping her vent her anger?
Yes.
Her son.
Of course, there would be no coercion. Everything would be done gently, naturally.
Promotions? Denied.
Raises? Blocked.
Minor benefits? Revoked.
Then came a single sentence from the Goddess of Downtown, casually cutting off her son's social rise:
"You lack virtue and show disrespect to the Divine. I have no son like you."
Los Angeles, USA
Far overseas, Yusaku Kudo listened to his son's furious questioning over the phone with a baffled expression.
"No—Shinichi, explain yourself clearly!"
"When did I ever have an illegitimate child?"
"The Truth of the World? What truth?"
"Did you ask if Japan was just a dog raised by the Americans?"
Is a detective still just a detective, no matter how famous?
Extraordinary?
Yusaku fell silent.
After a long pause, he looked at his wife, Yukiko Kudo, who had already begun furiously packing her bags to return to Japan the moment she heard the words "illegitimate child."
"Shinichi," he said helplessly, rubbing his temples. "There are limits to your jokes."
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department
Inspector Megure was being thoroughly scolded by his superior.
"You don't even understand Supernatural Gods and Buddhas—how did you think it was your place to intervene!?"
For now, the news surrounding the "Goddess of Downtown" was being quietly suppressed by the Four Great Families.
They intended to monopolize the Extraordinary.
If restrictions were lifted without control, Japan's top conglomerates—like the Suzuki Zaibatsu—would devour everything.
Leaving nothing behind for the old nobility.
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