Aether Canyon lay cloaked in tranquil, pitch-black night.

Only the faint whisper of wind stirred, brushing gently through the air.

Yet the guild members’ hearts remained anything but calm.

After all, a skeleton stood before them at attention—one hand raised in an ancient military salute, the other fidgeting nervously behind her back.

Since Aelia was now truly skeletal, Noah could clearly see her hidden hand clenching and unclenching, as flustered as if playing rock-paper-scissors with empty air.

Truthfully, it wasn’t nervousness—it was pure embarrassment.

She’d just delivered such lofty lines, striking the pose of noble sacrifice.

Spoken farewells like, “Remember and honor history,” and “If fate allows, we shall meet again.”

Then—*whoosh*—Noah yanked her right out.

If Aelia could blush, her entire skull would’ve glowed crimson as if roasted by the Sacred Flame.

*This wasn’t the script…*

She felt flustered. Lost.

But Noah was even more bewildered.

He’d only meant a spur-of-the-moment prank—never expecting to actually pull her out!

In some ways, his stunt was even wilder than Anna’s grave-digging resurrection.

At least Anna reanimated a corpse. Noah? He’d yanked a historical figure straight out of a documentary!

Imagine Liu, Guan, and Zhang mid-oath in the Peach Garden—“Not born together, but willing to die together”—when *poof*, Liu Bei vanishes.

Leaving Guan Yu and Zhang Fei frozen in confusion.

*Where’s our elder brother?*

Bizarre? Absolutely.

Noah blamed Anna and the others.

Too much time with eccentrics had warped his own thought patterns toward the absurd.

“I didn’t expect this either,” Noah murmured, unsure how to face the “skeletal” beauty before him. He glanced tentatively. “How about I find a way… to send you back?”

Skeleton Aelia froze.

*Wait… I can go back?*

Before she could reply, Anna elbowed Noah and whispered, “Sending her back means condemning her to suffer in The Spire again. Forgot what she said?”

Forced to accept false history. To play a puppet. That was no life for Aelia.

(Though eternal burning by the undying Sacred Flame wasn’t exactly cozy either.)

A gentle breeze swept the cliff plateau. Grass swayed softly.

No Sacred Flame. No clashing soldiers. No fabricated history.

Noah turned back to her. “Are you… the Aelia who fought beside us moments ago?”

“Yes.” Her hollow skull cleared; her voice returned calm and capable. “I remember you and your companions, Lord Noah.”

“*Companions*,” he gently corrected. “You need a moment to process this.”

“…I’m trying.”

She glanced at them, then turned toward The Spire, gazing upward in silent communion. No light flickered in her hollow sockets, yet she held the posture of unwavering attention.

Noah stole a glance at her skeleton. “Hey… no eyes. How do you even *see*?”

“Ask how she *talks*,” Anna shrugged. “We Undying Ones see, hear, speak—even as bones. No big deal.” She jabbed a thumb toward Shirley. “Avianwing Clan fears heights. Is a talking skeleton really shocking?”

Shirley chuckled.

Anna’s eye twitched. “I wasn’t complimenting you!”

Such was the nature of Undying Ones—born entangled with the absurd.

After a long silence, Aelia turned back, utterly composed.

(Though honestly, she’d always been calm. No heartbeat to quicken.)

“I believe… this, too, is the will of The Spire.”

She crossed her hands gracefully over her hip bones and bowed slightly—a gesture that reminded Noah of Monica.

“The will accepted your act and sent this memory-born version of me into the world.”

Noah raised a brow. “Did it just tell you that?”

She shook her head. “I’m guessing.”

Noah: “….”

Cracks spread from the corners of her mouth toward her temples—a skeletal mimicry of a smile. “But since it hasn’t summoned me back… that’s tacit approval.”

“Or maybe you’re just out of range?” Noah ventured.

Aelia tilted her head. “What’s that?”

*Snap.* Her cervical vertebrae gave way. Her head tumbled free.

Quick reflexes caught it. Calmly, she reattached it.

The old Noah would’ve screamed every curse he knew. But time with Anna had hardened him. He simply continued, deadpan:

“So… outside The Spire, its will can’t reach you?”

“Impossible, Lord Noah.” She shook her head—*gently* this time. “The Spire’s will transcends space. Even at the world’s edge, it would find me.”

True. Noah had felt its call even within the guildhall.

Silence confirmed it: no summons meant consent.

Then Pascal spoke—the illiterate yet erudite nun who’d listened without a word.

“Even so… Miss Aelia. Are you truly *Aelia*?”

Aelia paused. A difficult question.

“I am Aelia,” she said slowly. “But only the memory-born echo. The true me… likely still burns within the Sacred Flame.”

“So two versions of you now exist?” Pascal’s voice trembled with disbelief. “This defies all reason.”

“The Spire *is* unreasonable,” Aelia replied calmly. “It recreates battlefields from memory. Simulates near-perfect Sacred Flame. And grants memory a soul… a form.”

The Spire remained Ayn Continent’s deepest mystery.

Scholars across ages had failed to unravel it. Even geniuses glimpsed only fragments—unverifiable, scattered as myth.

Like the universe’s origin: some truths can only be accepted.

“Anyway,” Noah declared as guildmaster, “if you don’t wish to return, come with us. You’ll need time to adjust.”

He was, after all, the veteran here—died earlier, resurrected sooner.

Aelia’s skeletal smile deepened (cracks widening), eerily warm. “Then… I’ll be in your care.”

“No trouble,” Noah waved. “I brought you out. I’ll see it through.”

*Sharp mind*, he thought. Her battlefield prowess dwarfed Anna’s by three tiers. A powerhouse for the guild.

And refreshingly *normal*—aside from mild airheadedness. No spontaneous spell-chanting or ritual-for-ritual trades like *certain* others.

“But first…” Aelia’s voice softened with shyness.

Bones scraped as she fidgeted: one hand covering her pubic bone, the other her ribs. Head tilted, sneaking glances at Noah.

“Could I… borrow clothes? I feel… chilly.”

Noah’s face twitched.

*First time seeing a skeleton feel shy. And what’s she even hiding? Just bones!*

Still—she couldn’t stroll into town like this. He’d be branded a necromancer dragging a skeleton through midnight streets.

He nodded to Pascal. She removed her outer robe and handed it over.

Aelia wrapped it tightly, hiding her form, and nodded gratefully.

Moonlight brightened. Cool breezes swept the canyon.

Noah led the way toward the distant teleportation array.

Halfway, Aelia paused. Turned back.

The full moon haloed The Spire’s snow-white peak, its gentle light spilling deep into her hollow sockets.

Hand pressed to her chest, she whispered into the wind:

“Thank you… Lord Aether.”

Then she turned and hurried after them, robe fluttering softly in the night.