The lizard lady smiled. “Yes, the guild hall has strict requirements. Without a Level One Professional Certificate, you can’t even start work. What’s wrong? Are you interested in our profession?”
Noah’s expression twisted slightly. “I just feel like the way this world works is… pretty complicated.”
The lizard lady tilted her head, not quite understanding him.
What was utterly ordinary to her felt utterly extraordinary to Noah.
He never expected to hear familiar terms like “certification exams” and “starting work” from a fantasy creature’s mouth.
He almost wanted to ask: Were there college entrance exams or stock trading here? How developed was the entertainment industry—singing, dancing? And during horse races, did regular horses run… or centaurs?
Lost in these random thoughts, an elderly beastman waiting behind him poked his back—a silent nudge not to linger at the counter.
Noah apologized, tucked the heavy cloth bag away, and stood to leave.
Memories from twelve hundred years ago remained vivid.
Back then, the world lacked any trace of modernization.
No certification exams. No complex job training.
Society was chaotic and fragile, held together only by brute force from central authorities. Wars raged. Racial tensions flared constantly.
Yet now—beastmen and elves chatted amiably. Lizardfolk worked reception desks.
Nuns of the Holy Order and mages of the Cult of the Death Goddess stood side by side. Holy wars between sects had faded; conflicts rarely escalated beyond sharp words before everyone went home.
It truly felt like an era of great peace.
Technology hadn’t leaped forward, but society had matured. Infrastructure ran smoothly. Job training and professional certs had become a mainstream path to stability.
Still… Noah found it absurd.
The sword-and-sorcery novels and anime he’d consumed were never this orderly.
The Ayn Continent had no “Demon Kings” or “Heroes”—nothing like the fantasy isekai he’d imagined.
His mental database and reality just… didn’t sync.
Perhaps every intelligent species inevitably trends toward order—only the degree varies.
High order? Mechanical ascension. Hive minds. Total unification.
Low order? Multi-racial development, rising standards, occasional wars, a winding path of unity and fracture.
Twelve hundred years ago, Ayn Continent walked the low-order path.
Now it leaned toward balance. The future? Unclear.
Passing a short Rockrat Clan member, Noah stepped out of the guild hall, still quietly stunned by this fantasy world.
He hadn’t taken three steps when a vaguely familiar voice called out.
“Guild Master Noah.”
Outside the hall, someone waited.
Deep blue robes. A scale emblem stitched on the shoulder—declaring allegiance to the Equilibrium Guild.
He’d been waiting a while.
…
…
Noah halted and turned. “And you are?”
“Arbiter.” York approached, gave a slight bow. “We met once at your guild.”
“Oh, faintly.” Noah studied his face. “You’re… Shook?”
“It’s *York*!” The young arbiter suppressed a flare of anger, forcing a painfully fake smile. “You truly have a lot on your mind, Guild Master.”
Noah slapped his forehead. “Sorry, Mr. York. Too many weird things lately—brain’s full.”
“No problem.”
York exhaled sharply, eyes locking onto Noah’s cloth bag. He narrowed his eyes, struggling to mask his probing tone. “So… you came to collect the reward?”
Noticing the stare, Noah grew cautious. “Yes. Why?”
York’s thin-lipped smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Congratulations. Leading the Azure Round Table past the fifth trial… quite an achievement.”
True enough.
Noah wouldn’t leak details. “A few hiccups along the way, but the outcome was good.”
York pressed gently. “Those ‘hiccups’… tied to Miss Anna Carole?”
Unfazed, Noah countered calmly. “Whether or not… You seem unusually fixated on her. Interested in our guild’s Ritual Mage, Miss Anna?”
“You jest. Absolutely not.” A flicker of disgust crossed York’s face. His voice turned cold. “I have zero interest in that talent-wasting fool. Only asked because we crossed paths before—wanted to know if she’d finally quit Ritual Magic.”
“Sorry to disappoint. She hasn’t.” Noah secured the bag at his waist. “Anything else?”
York’s expression tightened. Realizing he’d get nothing, he shifted tactics. “When do you plan to repay the debt? You now hold the Climber’s reward.”
“In a hurry?” Noah frowned. “Deadline’s still two months out.”
“Early repayment could influence our judgment. Pay thirty percent now, and we might grant an extra month.”
“Thirty percent isn’t small.”
Even split three ways, the debt remained terrifying. The eighty thousand Ayn Coins at his waist were a drop in the ocean.
York’s smile stayed rigid. “Total debt: one million seven hundred fifty-four thousand three hundred Ayn Coins. Rounded: one million seven hundred fifty thousand. To earn leniency, you’d need to clear fifteen floors soon.”
Noah’s smile faded. “What do you *want* me to do?”
York paused, glancing up. “You’re talented. A pity to waste yourself in a hopeless guild. So I hope—”
Noah raised a hand. “I make my own judgments. Incitement isn’t Equilibrium Guild doctrine. As an Arbiter, you shouldn’t say this.”
York’s lips twitched. He bowed deeply. “My apologies, sir. I overstepped.”
Noah gave a soft “hm” and walked past.
York let him go.
Only when Noah vanished down the street did the young arbiter lift his head, murmuring to the empty road: “Sometimes I truly envy people like you… Mr. Noah.”
“I really do.”
…
…
On the way back, Noah glanced into the Equilibrium Guild’s vast hall. Members rushed silently with armfuls of documents. Only footsteps and scribbling pens broke the silence—oppressively quiet.
How did someone like York survive here? Become an Arbiter?
*Talent?*
Recalling York’s barely hidden hostility, Noah shook his head with a wry smile.
Clear as day: York couldn’t uphold his guild’s doctrine. Personal bias ran deep. His hatred for the Azure Round Table—or Anna—clouded his judgment.
Reason unknown. But surely not a good one.
*Ask later.*
Hefting the cloth bag, Noah decided to put this first pot of gold to work.
Market first: bought ingredients, loaded up on potatoes for Xue Li’s fries. Then cheap but warm clothes from the garment stalls. Finally, back to the guild.
In his past life, Noah died young—no romance, let alone kids.
Yet returning with baskets full of groceries, a strange paternal warmth bloomed.
*Come to think of it…*
Xue Li and Anna were handfuls—two little rascals.
Pascal acted the older sister: sharp mind, but a temper that ignited in seconds.
Monica? The unofficial nanny. Titled “maid,” she did childcare-level work—no wonder her care was meticulous. All honed by necessity.
*Thank goodness.*
*Thank goodness Aelia arrived.*
Finally, a sane person in the guild.
“Wonder what Aelia likes… Guess a simple stew will do tonight.”
Staring at plump vegetables in his basket, Noah’s dad-brain fully activated—already drafting the evening menu.
Then—a strange smell cut through.
Burning wood.
Noah jerked his head up. Black smoke coiled from a nearby rooftop. A crowd gathered, chattering and pointing.
He barely registered it—accidental fires happened. Climbers loved Fireball spells. Frost Magic usually snuffed flames in minutes.
But the smoke thickened. Darkened.
And…
*That direction… is our guild!*
