Dawn’s first light filtered through the window into the guildmaster’s office of the Azure Round Table.

Noah gazed down at the dazzling crimson gem in his palm, his mind still reeling from what had just happened.

There was no doubt—he’d experienced an out-of-body journey.

Even more baffling: he hadn’t just drifted into some unknown, mist-shrouded realm—he’d brought something back from that eerie place.

He examined the gem carefully, feeling its real yet icy texture. Only then did he notice the world outside had grown remarkably clear. People bustled along the streets; the town was slowly waking up.

Time had passed far faster than he’d imagined. He clearly remembered the sky being dim, moonlight sparse—just before his soul left his body.

He’d lingered in that mysterious realm for barely five minutes. Yet now, the sun had already crested the mountains, hanging high in the sky.

But the time shift was trivial. Even the crimson gem felt like a minor detail.

What truly troubled Noah was the ripple he’d set off before vanishing.

If he recalled correctly, he’d distinctly heard the words “Holy War.”

“I just blurted out one random line… how did they actually take it seriously?”

The situation had spiraled completely beyond his control.

He stared at the window again, testing if he could return to that realm.

But the Noah reflected in the glass remained perfectly calm—no sign of anomaly.

Perhaps out-of-body journeys had limits. Or maybe it was just a beautiful fluke.

Either way, Noah knew he’d landed himself in deep trouble.

Regret was useless now. All he could hope was that this so-called Holy War wouldn’t reach Arvin Hamlet—or at the very least, spare the Azure Round Table guild.

“Guess I’ll have Monica keep a closer eye on things from now on,” he murmured.

He tucked the red gem away, then glanced sideways through the window toward the nearby courtyard.

Shirley, still exhausted from yesterday, slumped on the iron swing, drool tracing her chin, wearing a goofy smile—clearly dreaming of a fry feast.

The office door remained shut, untouched. No one had trespassed while Noah’s body sat vacant all night.

Thankfully. Otherwise, he’d have had to explain why he’d spaced out for hours.

Just then—

A gentle knock. Three soft taps. Monica’s voice, as gentle as ever: “Guildmaster, are you awake?”

Noah snapped back. He flipped open an ancient tome, adopting the earnest pose of a student feigning deep study. Cleared his throat. “Come in.”

Monica entered with breakfast, tea, and toiletries—service as impeccably professional as always.

But unlike yesterday, another figure trailed behind her.

“Good morning~”

Anna wore a brown wizard’s robe, a wide-brimmed witch’s hat perched atop her neatly combed crimson hair. White high-heeled boots clicked beneath her favorite short skirt, shapely thighs fully on display.

For some reason, she adored this combo.

Most men would feel a flicker of attraction.

Noah? He instantly recalled her “talent shows.” His face hardened; he fixed a dark glare on the young red-haired Ritual Mage.

“Why’re you staring like that, Guildmaster?” Anna blinked playfully, grinning with self-satisfied flair. “Is it ’cause my outfit’s extra witchy today?”

Noah’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Calm, unreadable. “I’m not interested in women who get themselves killed every other day.”

“I don’t *always* die!” Anna planted her hands on her hips, earnestly correcting him. “I’m used to Ritual Magic backlash. For standard rituals? Only about five deaths per ten attempts! And dying’s just a quick visit and chat with the Goddess of Death. For us Cult of the Death Goddess believers? That’s basically a pilgrimage!”

A faint twitch tugged Noah’s lips. “You’re the first person I’ve met who describes repeatedly dying in such… poetic terms.”

Anna grinned. “Well, I *am* a devoted follower.”

Nine out of ten things she said defied logic—but Noah had to admit, she wasn’t wrong.

An Undying One who worshipped the Goddess of Death? Many believers would envy her.

Most met the Goddess only once in a lifetime.

Anna? She dropped by for casual chats whenever she felt like it.

“So,” Noah closed the tome, setting aside thoughts of her condition. “What brings you here? Surely not just to show off?”

Anna smacked her forehead with a sheepish laugh. “Right! Guildmaster—you’re heading to the church today, right?”

Tea and pastries were set on the table. Monica gave a subtle nod: *She told me.*

Noah had no objection—visiting the church wasn’t secret. But why was *Anna* tagging along?

“You want to come too?”

“Of course! Haven’t seen Pascal in ages.” She sniffed the tea’s aroma, snatched a pastry, then reached for the pot—until Monica shot her a warning glare. Anna withdrew her hand with a pout.

She popped the cookie in her mouth, eyes fluttering shut in delight. “Also… you’re still new to Arvin Hamlet. Someone’s gotta show you the way, right?”

True. The hamlet wasn’t huge, but unfamiliar to Noah.

He weighed it. Anna as guide wasn’t ideal—but taking Monica meant leaving Anna and Shirley alone at headquarters…

Yeah. He’d likely return to find the guild blown sky-high.

No exaggeration. Yesterday’s experience proved their “capabilities.”

Still, remembering Pascal’s condition and Anna’s affiliation, Noah asked carefully: “You *can* come… but it’s the Holy Order’s church. Are you sure you won’t run into trouble?”

The Cult of the Death Goddess was dark-aligned. The Holy Order stood as light-aligned factions’ undisputed leader.

From Noah’s knowledge, the two had been locked in blood feud since inception—street encounters meant fight-to-the-death brawls.

Relations had eased recently, but that didn’t mean Anna could waltz in carefree.

Holy light held devastating power against Death Goddess followers like her.

“No worries, no worries~” Anna waved dismissively. “I’m no fanatic. The local branch stayed neutral in past wars—no grudges, no bad blood. Worst case? A few whispers. I couldn’t care less.”

True. With Anna’s thick skin, petty murmurs wouldn’t faze her.

Noah raised an eyebrow. If she wasn’t worried, neither was he.

He set aside the tome detailing The Spire, gave Monica routine instructions, then turned to Anna.

“Lead the way.”