The dwarf ignored him completely.
His attention returned to the isolated black blade resting inside the sealed case.
For the first time since the group had entered the vault—
he hesitated.
Not because of the price.
Because of the weapon.
The air around it felt subtly colder now.
Heavier.
Quiet in a way that didn't belong to an object sitting behind glass.
As though the blade itself was listening.
Then the dwarf finally muttered,
"…Fine."
Aldric blinked.
"…Wait. Seriously?"
The dwarf walked forward slowly.
"Truthfully, I would prefer it leaves this store."
One by one, the layered locks disengaged with heavy metallic clicks.
With the final barrier released—
the mana lamps overhead flickered once.
The cultist's eyes narrowed instantly.
"…Did you feel that?"
Aldric's grin faded slightly.
"…Yeah."
Even the black cat beneath Draven's hood lifted its head fully now.
Its purple eyes locked directly onto the blade.
Unblinking.
The dwarf carefully lifted the sheathed weapon from the case.
And yet, for something so small—
it felt wrong in the space around it.
Not physically heavy.
But heavy in presence.
Like reality itself had to adjust slightly to accommodate it.
The dwarf stopped in front of Draven.
"…One gold."
His voice sounded almost relieved.
Draven immediately produced the black card.
A single gold formed across its surface.
Tap.
Payment Confirmed.
The dwarf handed the weapon over quickly, almost as if eager to be rid of it.
Draven accepted it calmly.
The moment his hand closed around the sheath—
silence collapsed through the vault.
Not ordinary silence.
Everything stopped.
The hum of formation arrays.
The faint crackle of mana lamps.
Even the subtle pressure of the vault itself vanished for half a heartbeat.
Aldric's eyes narrowed sharply.
The cultist stiffened.
The black cat's pupils constricted.
Then—
a pulse.
Soft.
Deep.
The blade vibrated once in Draven's grip.
And for the briefest instant—
something shifted across the black sheath.
Not light.
Not mana.
Something closer to shadow moving beneath still water.
Then it stopped.
Just as suddenly as it had appeared.
The vault returned to normal.
Mana lamps steadied.
The ambient hum of formations resumed.
Silence lingered a moment longer than it should have.
Aldric slowly lowered his bottle.
"…Yeah, alright."
A pause.
"That thing is absolutely cursed."
The cultist stared at the weapon now.
"…My lord."
Her voice remained controlled, but quieter.
"…Can you feel anything from it?"
Draven looked down at the sheathed blade in his hand.
It was still.
Silent.
Cold.
As though nothing unusual had ever happened.
Several seconds passed.
Then—
without a change in expression—
he opened his storage ring.
The blade vanished inside beneath a faint crimson pulse.
"…Am I supposed to feel something?"
Silence.
Aldric stared at him for a full second.
"…You know?"
He pointed lazily toward Draven.
"Maybe the dwarf was just panicking over nothing."
The cultist kept her eyes on the ring for a moment longer.
"…Most people would hesitate after that."
Draven turned and walked toward the vault exit without slowing.
"No reason to."
The dwarf watched him go with the expression of someone who had just handed a catastrophe to another catastrophe—and decided the problem was now someone else's entirely.
Aldric gave a low whistle.
"Honestly, that's fair."
The vault door opened.
The group stepped back through reinforced corridors, where attendants immediately straightened upon seeing them return.
Aldric adjusted the collar of his new coat as they walked.
"…Still not sure if that thing is cursed or just very expensive scrap."
The cultist followed beside him.
"And yet you encouraged him to buy it."
"Of course I did."
Aldric looked genuinely unconcerned.
"That's exactly the kind of thing you should buy."
"…Why?"
"Because normal weapons are boring, and that one suits him."
The cultist rubbed her forehead slowly.
"You are going to become a problem everywhere you go."
Aldric grinned.
"Don't try to predict me. You'll get lost."
They stepped out of the equipment store moments later.
Immediately—
Blackwater surged back around them.
Smoke drifted through crowded industrial streets.
Steam burst from overhead pipes with sharp metallic hisses.
Merchants shouted from stalls while armored mercenaries pushed through the press of bodies.
The city never rested.
Never slowed.
Far above, through breaks in the layered industrial structures, the distant silhouettes of imperial warships lingered in the smoke-choked sky.
Silent.
Watching.
Draven continued forward beneath his dark cloak.
Nia walked close beside him, still carefully holding the last piece of bread in both hands.
The black cat remained tucked beneath the hood.
But its purple eyes were no longer relaxed.
They were open now.
Alert.
Tracking the movement of the city itself.
Aldric shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around.
"…So."
A pause.
"What now?"
The cultist looked toward Draven immediately.
"My lord?"
Draven's crimson eyes drifted across the endless district ahead.
Smoke.
Crowds.
Noise.
Chaos.
Then he said quietly,
"I'll do what I want."
No further explanation.
No direction.
Just certainty.
The cultist lowered her gaze slightly.
"…Understood, my lord."
Aldric let out a short laugh as he walked.
"Yeah, yeah. As long as it ends with food or money, I'm not complaining."
His eyes drifted across the street and landed on a small, well-lit storefront tucked between two heavier industrial buildings.
Warm light spilled out.
A faint sweetness drifted through the smoke.
Pastries.
Drinks.
Neatly arranged snacks behind reinforced glass.
Aldric pointed lazily.
"That."
The cultist followed his gesture.
"…A convenience shop."
"Yeah."
He grinned.
"Normal one this time. No cursed swords. No artifacts. Just food."
Nia glanced up slightly, still holding her bread, then looked toward the shop with quiet curiosity.
Draven did not object.
They stepped inside.