After showing off a little, Laxus returned upstairs to continue being the self-proclaimed "King of the Second Floor."
Noah, under the stares of curious guildmates, slowly recounted what had just happened.
Because the intruder had used sleep magic, he had mistaken Mistgun for an enemy and retaliated. But once he realized the truth, their brief clash ended quickly. Mistgun left, the spell lifted, and everyone eventually woke up.
"What? That's lame. I was hoping for a river of blood." Kana hiccupped, slamming down her half-finished barrel. She looked every bit the bloodthirsty spectator.
Others too grumbled, disappointed that Noah hadn't gone all-out against Mistgun.
Though away most of the year, Mistgun's habit of knocking out the guild every time he returned had built plenty of resentment. Fairy Tail prided itself on direct confrontation—head-on fights, fists and magic, no tricks.
And Mistgun's sleep spells? To the rowdier members, that was downright *un-Fairy Tail.*
Noah listened with a frown. He'd expected complaints about Mistgun's "sneak attacks" as a matter of principle. But no—the problem was simply that his guildmates were addicted to fighting. They would challenge *anyone,* and Mistgun denying them that irritated them more than anything.
Even if they tried, though, what chance did they have? Only Erza and Mira might resist Mistgun's magic long enough to put up a fight. Everyone else would drop instantly.
Sometimes, Noah wondered if his guild was... a bit too braindead. Here he meant you, Natsu.
And yet… this recklessness was exactly what made Fairy Tail, well, Fairy Tail.
---
Outside, the guild doors creaked open. Two figures entered: one tall, one short.
Makarov's unmistakable voice boomed.
"Brats! Your Master's back!"
Natsu tilted his head. "Huh? Weren't you just here?"
Gray added with a shrug, "Figures. Explains why Noah and Mistgun fought."
"…!"
A tick-mark pulsed on Makarov's forehead. *Ignored. By my own brats.*
If Jude hadn't accompanied him—and if he wasn't trying to make a good impression on Fairy Tail's newest "investor"—he might've droppedkick Natsu on the spot.
Noah quickly handed Makarov Mistgun's note and explained, "It was a misunderstanding. Everything's fine now, Master. No need to worry."
The guildmaster nodded gravely. Lazy as Noah was, he did know how to handle delicate matters.
But Jude, standing beside him, stepped forward respectfully. "Mr. Noah. We meet again. I'll entrust my daughter to you from now on."
Noah frowned. "…'Entrust' is your job as her father. Don't dump it on me. Besides, I'm only three years older than Lucy."
Lucy exhaled in relief when she noticed her father hadn't revealed her true identity to the guild. She feared once they knew she was Heartfilia's heiress, sincerity would vanish and politeness would replace it.
Noah quickly passed Jude off to Mira's care, then pulled Makarov aside into the temporary library.
---
Because of the strange resemblance to Faust, and because he trusted Makarov's character, Noah confided in him.
"I didn't fall asleep under Mistgun's spell. Not even once. Why?"
The master thought deeply, then nodded inwardly. After minutes, he gave his answer.
"Mental strength."
"'Sleep' magic is spiritual. It doesn't harm the body—it manipulates the mind. Normally, only high mental power can partially resist it. In rare cases… immunity is possible."
Makarov's expression grew sharp. "Tell me honestly. Were you completely unaffected?"
Noah nodded. "Yes. I didn't even feel the magical fluctuations at first. Honestly, I thought Mistgun was ignoring me. That's why we fought."
"…Hiss."
The old master inhaled sharply.
His age had dulled his mind—no longer as sharp as his youth. He could resist Mistgun's sleep magic for a while, but without timely use of his purification spells, he'd still collapse eventually.
Laxus might brute-force it with sheer vitality… but even he would feel pressure.
Complete immunity? Impossible. Or so he'd thought.
Yet this boy, only recently joining Fairy Tail, claimed it as fact.
Makarov silently accepted it—trusting his guild children never to lie about such things.
---
Left alone in the library afterward, Noah rested his chin on folded hands, pondering.
*So my mental strength surpasses even Makarov's… but how? Where does it come from?*
According to lore, mental power was largely innate. Training could strengthen it slightly, but growth was painfully slow.
*Could Faust have done something? Added some component besides magic, back when he created me?*
Noah quickly shook his head. No. Faust would never risk abnormalities in his "artificial child." Too careful, too precise.
And besides, he hadn't trained his mental strength. Neither innate, nor honed later.
Which left one factor.
He raised his hand. Pure white magic flickered gently in his palm, weaving together like strands of silk.
*Prayer.*
This unique white magic, unrecorded even by Precht in Fairy Tail's extensive magic encyclopedias, was the source of his overwhelming mental resilience.
---
[Ding~]
[You have received a new Otherworld Commission. Please check.]
Noah twitched slightly. *Again? The moment I use this thing, it drags me back? It's like being nagged by a boss that never rests…*
Pages glimmered into being. The "Prayer Book" flipped open, light shimmering at present orders.
The request read:
**"Archaeologist Jackie Chan has run into trouble. Without his wheelchair, he urgently needs a pair of crutches to fight off the Mafia."**
[Reward: Alien Power – Flying Kick]
[Deadline: Before Jackie 'borrows' a cane from someone else.]
Noah stared, speechless. An archaeologist. Fighting the Mafia. With… crutches?!
And the reward: *Flying Kick.* Branded as an "alien power," same tier as Armament Haki?
*…Just how strong does this kick have to be?*
Still, it was an easy request. Shrugging, Noah walked back into the hall, locking onto a certain shirtless idiot.
"Gray. Make me a pair of ice crutches. Sturdy ones."
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