Math POV

While Valen and Musashi faced each other inside the Medical Hall, another confrontation was unfolding far above the headquarters hidden from common populace.

Roughly five kilometers away, the sky itself had become a stage.

Math floated there calmly, his body suspended as if gravity had decided to serve him.

The wind passed through him without resistance, fluttering his coat and carrying the distant scent of antiseptic and blood from the Medical Hall below.

Behind him, carried by a simple adjustment of numbers, was the [Exorcist] Cursed Spirit, the same one who had been trying to save the Rank 4 Blackout Priest Cursed Spirit.

On the ground below, three Rank 5 Exorcists stood immobilized.

Their feet were planted firmly against the earth, yet their bodies refused to respond.

Muscles tensed. Veins bulged. Teeth clenched.

Nothing moved.

Their expressions were twisted into a mix of shock, anger, and a creeping fear they were doing their best to suppress.

Math smiled as he looked down at them.

"I'm telling you. I'm Math. It's just a new body. That's why I look different."

Their faces tightened further.

They had been rushing toward the Medical Hall after sensing intruders.

But they were stopped mid-run by a Cursed Spirit they had never seen before.

They did not believe him to be [Math].

From their perspective, that made sense.

Rank alone did not tell the full story when it came to Cursed Spirits.

Even a Rank 3 could incapacitate higher-ranked Exorcists if its ability was strange enough or its activation condition obscure enough.

History was full of such cases.

They were convinced they had triggered something they didn't understand.

That belief was the only thing keeping them from panicking.

'Where are the Gods?' Momotaro asked through telepathy, his voice sharp and urgent.

Abe no Seimei answered almost immediately. 'Their seals are still opening. It'll take time. Until then, we have to handle this ourselves.'

Their gazes remained locked on the figure floating in the sky.

They didn't think he was Math.

More than that, they didn't want him to be Math.

Because Math was not just any Rank 4 Cursed Spirit.

He was one of the strongest New Order had ever produced, and he was the [Overseer of the 50th Floor].

He had never lost a direct battle.

And his ability was painfully simple.

He controlled numbers.

Any and all numbers.

Integers. Rational numbers. Irrational numbers. Imaginary numbers. Limits. Probabilities. Ratios. Rates of change. Distances that approached zero but never quite reached it.

Reality was full of numbers, whether people liked it or not.

Math watched their expressions carefully and felt his smile widen just a little.

"Alright, since you don't believe I'm Math, how about this?"

He snapped his fingers.

Light responded instantly.

Every ray in the vicinity had a speed and a direction, and both belonged to him.

He altered them with a thought.

The night sky warped as light stopped entering human eyes and instead bent upward, reversing paths it had already traveled.

In less than a heartbeat, the world went dark.

Vision ceased entirely for those below. No light entered their eyes.

Panic rippled through the headquarters as people suddenly found themselves blind.

Then the light gathered.

Condensed rays halted midair, folding into themselves, accumulating mass through density alone.

Gigantic golden swords formed one after another, suspended above the headquarters like judgment waiting to fall.

The only things visible now were those countless blades hanging in the sky.

"Do you believe me now?" Math smirked.

At that moment, the world shuddered.

'She' was suddenly there.

Amaterasu, a God, stood before the three Rank 5 Exorcists of the Japanese branch.

There was no arrival, no descent, no manifestation.

She simply was.

Her body marked both the edge of the world and its center.

She cast shadows brighter than noon, and around her, heat froze instead of burning.

The land beneath her feet felt older and younger at the same time.

Songs of worship echoed from nowhere, their tones sharp and cold, like hymns sung by fire that had learned how to pray.

"That is Math," she said.

Her voice carried certainty.

The pressure binding the three Rank 5 Exorcists vanished.

Their bodies lurched forward slightly as control returned to them, though none of them moved any further.

They understood immediately that their freedom was not a victory.

It was permission.

Amaterasu did not look at them again. Her gaze was fixed on Math.

"Why are you invading the Exorcist Union?" she asked.

"I'm returning a favor," Math replied, still smiling.

She frowned slightly. "Explain."

Her words the refreshing rays of dawn, seeping into the soil and trees below, rejuvenating what had withered.

Her thoughts were swords of light.

Her displeasure towards Math materialized giant swords of light, shooting them towards Math.

Before they could reach him, their structures destabilized.

Values unraveled. Angles collapsed.

The swords broke apart into raw light, which flowed upward and was absorbed by the larger, far more sinister blades already hanging in the sky.

They fed his constructs.

The swords above grew heavier.

They resembled guillotines now, waiting for a verdict.

"Tomoe Gozen¸ the one you sent to the meeting, was possessed by a Rank 4 Cursed Spirit."

Amaterasu's expression stiffened.

"She didn't just disrupt the meeting," he continued. "She attacked me. She nearly killed the kid I'm responsible for."

"…What?" she muttered.

"Yes. So obviously, I'm here to talk about repayment."

He added, "I won't even get into the fact that you sent someone whose combat capability was well beyond what's appropriate for a Rank 3 engagement. We can pretend that part didn't happen.

"But the fact remains that someone you sent attacked us. We need to discuss about the reimbursement. Otherwise…."

Math pointed upward with a simple.

The message was clear.

"You won't like what I do next."

New Order was an organization made mostly of Cursed Spirits.

Naturally, they helped weaker members grow stronger.

But unlike humans, who sheltered children and trained them in relative safety, New Order followed a very different philosophy.

They did not interfere unless asked.

For Cursed Spirits, whose entire existence revolved around [Narratives], this distinction was crucial.

Narratives were not just stories.

They were purpose, instinct, and identity woven into one.

To interfere with a Cursed Spirit's choice was to interfere with the very reason it existed—their Narrative.

If a Cursed Spirit decided it wanted to kill a hundred humans, New Order would allow it.

If its actions led to the death of itself, New Order would not intervene either, unless protection had been requested beforehand.

Forcing a Cursed Spirit to change its decision was considered equivalent to smearing mud on the sacred existence of Narratives.

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