The next morning, Miss Monica pushed open the door to the guild president’s office, card in hand.
Noah sat at his desk, carefully reading an ancient tome about The Spire.
Monica bowed with a maid’s graceful poise, then stepped forward and presented the card.
Noah had expected her. “The Guild Certificate?” he asked.
A slight smile touched Monica’s lips. “You truly see all.”
Yesterday, she’d promised to handle Noah’s registration. This was it.
True to her efficient nature, she’d resolved his unregistered status in a single day.
Noah closed the book, took the card, and examined it briefly.
Forged details filled the Guild Certificate. Even his family name, Pulwen, was erased—only “Noah” remained, stark and bare.
This would be his ID from now on.
“Just carry it?” he asked.
Monica’s voice drifted gently like a breeze: “Place one drop of blood on it. Use the index finger of your dominant hand.”
Noah complied without hesitation.
The moment his blood touched the pale blue card, it dissolved into light, sinking into his palm and forming a tiny red dot.
Curious, Noah flipped his wrist, testing how to summon it back.
Monica sensed his thought. “Gently swipe your left hand across your right palm.”
*Sounds just like unlocking a smartphone,* he mused.
He tried.
His left index finger traced the dot—and the card hovered above his palm, rotating slowly.
Amused, he asked, “How do I put it away?”
Monica smiled. “Swipe again.”
… Seriously, just like a phone?
He did. The card vanished.
He tsked inwardly. *Magic really is magic.*
Now Noah held the Guild Certificate. Per Monica’s words, he was qualified to lead others up The Spire.
Though the Spire’s floor count shifted with each guild president.
Since Noah had never climbed it, he’d start from Floor 1.
Anna and Shirley were unreliable—but their fundamentals were solid. The early floors should be fine.
*The Spire.*
Noah felt its pull, clear and insistent.
He suppressed the flutter in his chest, rose slowly. “Are they awake?”
“Yes.” Monica nodded slightly, posture impeccably maid-like. “Waiting outside.”
“Good.”
Noah closed the book, took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
...
...
Southern Continent. Grand Duchy of Alvia.
Aether Canyon.
A faint white light flashed.
Near a cliffside thicket, three figures emerged from an ornate teleportation array.
The lively silver-haired Avianwing Clan girl jogged out first, inhaling deeply with a blissful smile.
Anna followed in tall boots, short skirt and coat fluttering. She swept crimson strands from her temple, cast a meaningless glance toward the horizon, and murmured meaningfully, “The wind feels rather restless today.”
She probably thought she looked cool—holding that pose stubbornly in the breeze.
Noah trailed behind, glancing back at the fading array. *Use this for food delivery? Daily fortune guaranteed.*
Unambitious? Maybe. But after yesterday’s guild debt panic and the girls’ “talent show,” he couldn’t help it.
Then—the Spire shattered his anxiety.
Far, far away.
Within the breathtaking canyon, the milky-white Spire pierced the clouds at the cliff’s edge.
Majestic. Flawless. Its surface etched with patterns that seemed decorative—but held linguistic logic, like an ancient script.
Jungle flanked them. A muddy path led straight to the cliffside meadow where the Spire stood serene amid fresh green grass, like a giant gazing homeward.
Sparse figures moved below—other adventurers.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Anna’s voice cut in.
Noah turned. She’d struck another windswept pose.
Eyes fixed upward, she said solemnly, “Everyone dreams of seeing the upper floors. We joined the guild to reach the top together—to witness that mystery.”
Noah caught nostalgia in her tone. “You’ve climbed high before?”
A faint, dismissive snort.
“No.”
*No? Then what was that speech for?!*
He blinked. “Wait—what’s the highest floor you’ve actually reached?”
Shirley dashed over. “President! President! Back then we—"
Anna clamped a hand over her mouth.
Face strained into a smile, Anna said, “Why ask her? Forgot Avianwings suck at math?”
“Oh. Right.”
Noah turned to Anna. “But the Ritual Magic Academy taught math. You aced it, didn’t you?”
Anna flushed, dodging. “Well… some mystery is healthy between us. What’s that saying… ‘Shortest distance between two points is a straight line’?”
“I think you mean ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’”
“Ah! Yes! That one!”
She nodded vigorously, clearly bluffing.
Honestly? Noah was starting to panic.
...
...
The trio—two humans, one bird—reached the Spire’s base.
Heads tilted back. Even under clear skies, the peak vanished into heaven.
Noah recalled the book. He studied the two statues guarding the entrance: horse-bodied, lion-headed creatures, faces fierce, four eyes glowing like crimson gems.
He swiped the red dot on his palm. The Guild Certificate materialized.
Monica, non-combatant, hadn’t come—but she’d briefed him thoroughly. Including activation.
Noah placed the pale blue card atop a statue’s head.
Anna and Shirley each clutched a corner of his coat, tense.
Noah exhaled slowly. *Just Floor 1.*
Per the book: Aether Spire’s first floor was basic combat. Weak, common monsters.
*Should be fine.*
He whispered the key phrase.
“Trial begin.”
...
...
Trial end.
*Actually* over.
Before a forest cave, Noah stared, stunned.
Anna lay collapsed. A slime-like monster of viscous acid eroded her clothes—sticky, disheveled, potion bottles scattered. A tiny four-armed rabbit-beast hammered her skull with a stone. *Thwack. Thwack.* Rhythmic.
If Anna weren’t an Undying One? Total goner.
Shirley scrambled below, dodging rocks hurled by two demonic apes perched high on the cliff. Glaring up, helpless.
Under two minutes.
Commander Noah’s squad: near-total wipe.
*This is Floor 1?!*
Anna’s “death” was simple.
She’d tried casting Ritual Magic immediately.
Arrange materials. Draw circle. Open tome. Flip page. Chant lengthy incantation.
Monsters weren’t stupid. Saw someone babbling—and swarmed.
A Ritual Mage should stay protected at the rear.
But *our defender* Shirley? Too busy dodging airborne rocks to notice Anna’s plight.
Yeah, the monkeys cackling while throwing stones *was* infuriating…
“Can’t you just fly up and take them out?” Noah asked, voice carefully calm.
“I can’t reach them!” Shirley stomped, shaking tiny fists at empty air. “President, look! My arms are this short!”
“Did you forget you can fly?”
“I didn’t forget!”
She dodged another rock, shouting, “I *can* fly! But I can’t go up!”
“Why?!”
“B-because…”
Face crimson, she blurted the most absurd words Noah had ever heard:
“I’m… afraid of heights…”
Noah: “…”
*But you’re a bird. For crying out loud.*
