But Noah's analytical mind traced a deeper, more manipulative layer beneath the surface of this natural arrangement.
He also knew that this was the guild's way of testing his capabilities, whether he was really worthy of the S-rank.
The central administration at the headquarters wasn't a charitable institution; they didn't hand out the highest classification in the land without demanding a receipt written in blood and results.
They had granted him the status based on the staggering magical anomalies he had displayed during his initial encounters, but an administrative declaration was a fragile thing until it was baptized in the fires of a true crisis.
It might have seemed like he just got it on a whim, a sudden stroke of eccentric fortune that had bypassed decades of traditional guild service, but he now had to prove himself.
