Noah felt he needed a word even more absurd than “heaven-defying.”

Otherwise, he genuinely couldn’t describe how bizarre these two girls were.

Did your stunt-pulling really have no limits?

Look at this: barely two minutes into the trial, and the Azure Round Table was already ready to surrender.

Anna lay motionless on the ground.

Shirley leaped and dodged as monkeys pelted her from above.

Outside the cave, dappled sunlight filtered through the sparse forest canopy, landing on Noah’s utterly bewildered face.

The words “acrophobia” slipping from the Avianwing Clan girl’s mouth froze Noah’s brain clean.

He spent nearly thirty seconds processing the scene. Before things worsened, he silently swiped the red dot on his palm, summoned the guild credentials, and—just as the book described—murmured inwardly, *“Abort the trial.”*

No way he was climbing that tower.

Beams of white light descended, enveloping the two girls and the bird.

In an instant, spatial displacement sent a dizzying wave through them. Colors shattered, reformed, and stitched together a scene utterly unlike the one before.

Regretful as he was, Noah faced the truth:

He’d likely just set Arvin Hamlet’s fastest trial-failure speedrun record—two minutes, thirty-five seconds.

Even trading one blow with those minor monsters, or playing rock-paper-scissors, would’ve stretched it past three minutes.

Noah turned slowly, his gaze lingering on Shirley’s confused face and Anna sprawled on the ground. A hollow thought struck him—today was already worse than last night’s worst imaginings…

The cliffside breeze brushed his cheeks, doing nothing to soften the near-twisted grimace on his face.

This was freaking absurd.

…

…

On the way back, Noah lent his coat to Anna once she woke.

She was useless, a massive liability—but still his savior, and a young woman. Leaving her half-naked in public wasn’t an option.

Anna murmured a weak “thank you.” Even the usually carefree girl showed a trace of blush, blinking shyly.

Shirley trailed beside her, lips pressed tight, eyes downcast.

“Um… Guild Master?” Anna tucked a strand of crimson hair behind her ear, watching Noah’s calm, unreadable profile. “Don’t you… have any thoughts about us?”

Noah kept walking, not turning. “What kind of reaction were you hoping for?”

Anna tightened the coat, waving a hand vaguely. “Like all the others—fly into a rage, yell at us, storm off. Next day? Just a resignation letter.”

Noah arched a brow. “All of them did that?”

“Over a dozen!” Shirley piped up, pouting. “They ran faster than the last and called me an incurable dumb bird…”

Honestly? They weren’t entirely wrong.

Those former Guild Masters probably fled because they saw no hope.

Truth was, Noah saw none either.

With just Anna and Shirley, they’d never glimpse the second floor of the Spire.

He almost thought the duchy should classify them as level-five disabled—eligible for monthly welfare stipends.

“So… you’re not running?” Anna’s voice cut through.

It should’ve been teasing, smug, sly—the tone of the Ritual Mage Noah had already labeled *scum of humanity* in his head.

But now, it trembled.

Anna. Shirley.

Both were guild members.

In this era, a guild was family. Contracts locked members in for twenty years—prosper or fall together.

To them, the Guild Master was like a new head of household.

Being abandoned, again and again… couldn’t feel good.

Noah didn’t answer.

He stepped steadily along the damp, muddy path toward the teleportation array deep in the woods.

Anna and Shirley followed close behind, silent, like two kittens terrified of being left behind.

At the array’s edge, Noah pulled out the Ayn Coins Monica had given him and handed them to the young apprentice guarding the site.

The apprentice lifted his hooded head, eyes scanning them. “How many?”

Noah sighed deeply.

“Three.”

Anna and Shirley froze, exchanged a glance—then visibly relaxed.

…

…

Not that Noah was purely altruistic.

He needed to stay in the Azure Round Table Guild to uncover the truth behind his resurrection.

Anna, who’d never succeeded before, couldn’t have pulled off such a complex Ritual Magic by accident.

Something hidden was at play.

He needed to know if it was an asset… or an obstacle.

And this pitiful team wasn’t entirely hopeless.

There was still a third member: Sister Pascal.

Maybe she could turn things around.

Though judging by the debt bills, her stunt-pulling and money-burning skills rivaled Anna’s.

Slim hope.

But worth a try.

…

…

By the time the trio returned to Arvin Hamlet, daylight still bathed the streets.

The entire trip—travel included—had taken barely an hour.

Noah had imagined a passionate, novel-filled journey. Instead, disaster struck early, sending him back to the guild hall far too soon.

*First time’s always quick. Two and a half minutes is… impressive.*

…Why did that sound more painful the more he repeated it?

Walking through the thickening crowd, Noah sighed and turned to ever-optimistic Shirley.

“Are you *sure* you’re really from the Avianwing Clan?”

He’d seen Anna’s failed Ritual Magic firsthand—that explosion in the tunnel was deafening, powerful enough to blast through the Spire’s first floor.

If Shirley could guard properly, they’d make a decent team.

But she had acrophobia.

Which made Noah question her very species.

“Of course I am!” Shirley’s eyes widened. “You can doubt my smarts, but never my heritage! Look—my wings are right here!”

She flicked her arms. Feathers and wingbones snapped into view.

Noah reached out. The feathers were soft; the bones, hard and clearly defined beneath his fingertips.

His memories from twelve centuries ago confirmed it—Avianwing Clan wings felt and looked just like this.

Shirley was undeniably avian.

So why was a bird afraid of heights? How embarrassing for birds everywhere!

Anna sidled up beside Noah, smirk returning. “Those wings look decorative. How about I dismantle them for ritual materials someday?”

“No!” Shirley yanked her wings back. “They’re the pride of the Avianwing Clan!”

“Haven’t seen much pride in them,” Anna mused, eyeing Shirley up and down. “I agree with the Guild Master. You might not even be Avianwing… Honestly, you’re kinda different.”

Shirley shivered, face paling. “D-Different how?”

Anna tapped her chin. “Guild Master—did you see *any* other Avianwing Clan members on the way?”

Noah paused. Shook his head. He hadn’t.

As street crowds thickened, Shirley’s rarity became glaring.

“Are Avianwings rare?” he asked.

“Nope. Common across north and south,” Anna said, arms crossed, bare feet padding on stone. “But towns ban them—they relieve themselves anywhere. And honestly? They dislike human settlements. Rarely stay.”

“So Shirley’s the exception,” Noah noted.

“Exactly,” Anna grinned. “She lacks the *one* Avianwing trait that got her special permission to stay.”

Noah’s curiosity peaked. “Which is?”

Anna’s smile turned sly. “Relieving themselves anywhere.”

Noah: “Wow.”

*Makes sense,* he thought. Birds lack sphincters. Avianwings—half-human, half-bird—never evolved that muscle. Imagine thousands soaring over a city, dancing joyfully… then *splats* raining down on rooftops, new beds, streets. The stench. The chaos.

He glanced at Shirley, concerned. “So you…?”

“I absolutely do not!” Shirley protested. “I never wet the bed as a kid! Dad almost took me to the clan shaman!”

Anna whispered to Noah, “I bet that’s when the witch doctor’s potion pickled her brain.”

“My brain’s fine!” Shirley nearly lunged. “My parents are Avianwing! How could I not be?!”

“Hmm… debatable,” Anna teased.

“Anna, you—!”

As the two girls squared off, Noah stepped between them like a weary parent separating squabbling kids.

He’d never been a dad before reincarnation.

Now he got it.

Two troublesome kids? Exhausting.

“Alright,” he said firmly. “Let’s set Shirley’s issue aside for now.”

After pulling the two apart, Noah watched them glare daggers at each other. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “More than that, I’d like to know…”

Before he could finish.

Several unfamiliar figures came into view.

Noah’s steps faltered. Anna and Shirley halted right behind him.

They eyed him curiously—Shirley, ever blunt, blurted out, “What’s wrong, Guild Master?”

Noah didn’t answer. His gaze drifted toward the open doorway ahead.

Inside the Azure Round Table’s guild hall, just before the main counter, stood four robed figures.

Miss Monica, the maid, faced them with a blank expression, speaking curtly. Her eyes held a chill far sharper than when she dealt with Anna or Shirley.

Though Noah had never seen them before, the deep blue robes and the scales emblem on their shoulders made their identity unmistakable—based on what he recalled.

The Equilibrium Guild.

…Are they here to collect a debt?