Aldric clicked his tongue immediately.
"Then stop yapping and show us the damn items already."
The attendant remained composed, his professional expression intact.
Aldric gestured lazily around the store.
"The truth is, you're underestimating us."
A brief pause.
"You think we can't afford it."
The cultist quietly closed her eyes for a moment, as if bracing for inevitable financial consequences.
Aldric continued without hesitation.
"This entire city treats money like it's some kind of sacred religion."
He waved the bottle dismissively.
"As if anyone actually cares about restriction nonsense."
The attendant's expression did not change.
Impressive training.
Then Draven spoke calmly beside him.
"If you don't have what I need—"
His gaze remained fixed on the sealed display.
"—then there is no reason to waste time here."
Silence settled over the section.
The attendant studied him properly for the first time since the conversation began.
Not his clothing.
Not his hood.
Him.
Aldric folded his arms, a faint grin forming.
"…There it is."
The cultist noticed it too.
The shift.
Because suddenly—
the attendant no longer looked like a salesman speaking to customers.
He looked like someone reassessing a threat.
Or reassessing a transaction large enough to become dangerous.
Several seconds passed.
Then the attendant bowed slightly.
"…Please wait here."
He turned and walked deeper into the rear section of the store.
Past reinforced barriers.
Past a locked security door.
Then he disappeared completely.
Silence followed.
Aldric grinned faintly.
"See?"
He pointed toward the back.
"That's where the fun stuff is."
The cultist folded her arms.
"…Or the illegal artifacts."
"Same thing."
Nia quietly stood beside Draven, eyes fixed on the sealed doorway.
The black cat's purple gaze narrowed slightly beneath the hood.
Even it had become more alert.
Several nearby employees began subtly avoiding eye contact entirely.
Very sensible survival behavior.
Aldric leaned casually against a counter.
"…If they bring out cursed weapons, I'm buying one."
The cultist answered immediately.
"No."
"What if it's useful?"
"No."
"What if it's *really* useful?"
"…Absolutely not."
Aldric glanced toward Draven.
"Heavy restriction on fun in this group."
The cultist stared at him flatly.
"You are the reason warning labels exist."
Aldric opened his mouth—
then closed it again.
Unusually, he let that one pass.
Then—
the reinforced doorway at the rear opened again.
The attendant returned.
But this time—
he was not alone.
A second figure walked beside him.
Short.
Broad-shouldered.
An older dwarf with dark metal gauntlets wrapped around both forearms, and deep burn scars cutting across the exposed skin of his neck.
Unlike the attendants, he carried himself like someone who had long stopped pretending violence was theoretical.
His sharp eyes swept across the group once.
Paused briefly on Aldric.
Then settled on Draven.
He spoke first.
"…You're asking for high-grade protection artifacts."
Not a question.
A statement.
Draven answered calmly.
"Yes."
The dwarf's gaze narrowed slightly.
"How high-grade?"
Draven's voice remained steady.
"Just bring the highest you have."
Silence settled across the counter.
The dwarf stared at him for several seconds without blinking.
Not offended.
Evaluating.
Measuring.
The air in the store seemed to tighten, as though even the formation arrays had gone quieter.
Even the attendants nearby had stopped pretending not to listen.
Then the dwarf finally spoke.
"…Follow me."
He turned without waiting for agreement.
Heavy boots echoed across reinforced flooring as he led them past the public displays and deeper into the facility.
Aldric grinned immediately.
"There it is."
The cultist narrowed her eyes slightly.
"…So they *were* hiding things."
Aldric glanced at her.
"You say that like it wasn't obvious."
The dwarf stopped at a reinforced metal door near the rear of the building.
Multiple layered formation locks pulsed across its surface.
Not decorative.
Security-grade.
He placed one thick hand against the central plate.
Mana flowed outward.
Locking formations rotated one by one with heavy mechanical clicks.
Then—
the door opened inward.
Cold air spilled out immediately.
Draven stepped forward without hesitation.
Nia quietly followed beside him, still holding the last piece of bread in both hands.
The black cat watched silently from beneath the hood.
Aldric entered next, hands in his pockets.
"…Now this looks promising."
Inside—
the difference was immediate.
This was not a storefront.
It was a vault.
Lighting dimmed beneath layered mana lamps embedded into the ceiling while reinforced display cases lined the walls behind multiple overlapping defensive formations.
Weapons rested on black steel mounts.
Armor sets stood within sealed barriers.
Rings.
Bracelets.
Necklaces.
Small metallic cubes etched with rotating runes.
Every item radiated controlled mana pressure far beyond anything in the public showroom.
Even the cultist slowed slightly.
"…These aren't common-grade."
The dwarf closed the vault door behind them.
"No."
A pause.
"These are the items we only show when customers either have enough money…"
His eyes briefly drifted to Draven.
"…or enough confidence to be dangerous."
Aldric smirked.
"Finally. Someone in this city speaks sense."
The dwarf ignored him completely.
He moved toward a central case and gestured toward several dark metallic bracelets resting on black velvet.
"These are fourth-grade reactive barrier artifacts."
"Military issue?"
The dwarf nodded once.
"Modified."
The cultist's eyes sharpened.
"Modified how?"
"They activate faster."
He pointed toward the faint runic patterns along the inner surface.
"Standard defensive artifacts require mana recognition and threat confirmation."
"These do not."
Aldric raised a brow.
"So they just block everything?"
"No."
The dwarf's expression remained unchanged.
"They block the first thing trying to kill you."
Silence.
Aldric slowly tilted his head.
"…Isn't that basically confirmation?"
The dwarf did not respond.
He moved to another sealed case.
Inside rested several dark silver pendants engraved with rotating crimson sigils.
"Emergency displacement artifacts."
The cultist stiffened slightly.
"…Spatial transfer?"
"Short range only."
The dwarf answered calmly.
"Enough to forcibly remove the wearer several meters from lethal impact."
Aldric folded his arms.
"…How much?"
The dwarf glanced at him.
"If you need to ask, you probably can't afford it."
Aldric pointed immediately at Draven.
"Good thing I'm emotionally attached to a rich person."
Draven said nothing.
His attention had already shifted elsewhere.
Toward the rear of the vault—
behind an additional layered barrier—
rested two bracelets.
Black-silver.
Smooth.
Simple.
No ornamentation.
No inscriptions visible on the surface.
Which made them feel more dangerous than anything else in the room.
The dwarf noticed his gaze.
For the first time since entering, his expression changed slightly.
"…Those are not normally for sale."
Aldric immediately leaned forward.
"Oh?"
The dwarf walked slowly toward the rear display.
"Custom defensive artifacts."
"Commissioned for noble heirs."
The cultist studied them carefully now.
Even she could feel it.
The density beneath the surface.
Compressed mana.
Layered.
Silent.
Heavy.
The dwarf continued.
"Triple-layer autonomous shielding."
"Threat detection."
"Spiritual interference resistance."
"Emergency life-preservation protocols."
A pause.
"Each bracelet contains enough stored mana to withstand direct attacks from a fifth-tier combatant."
Silence settled across the vault.
Aldric slowly turned toward Draven.
"…Yeah. Alright."
Draven did not move.
His gaze remained locked on the two black-silver bracelets behind the barrier.