Aldric immediately pointed toward the cultist.
"Yeah, but don't forget who actually killed them."
The cultist looked entirely unimpressed.
"I also remember you nearly getting crushed twice."
"That's called tactical aggression."
"That's called bad decision-making."
Aldric ignored her completely and folded his arms with absolute confidence.
"If I remember correctly, I don't recall seeing you kill any trolls."
The cultist stared at him flatly.
"Correct."
A brief pause followed.
"Because unlike you, I understand the concept of self-preservation."
Aldric grinned immediately.
"See? Damn rat."
The cultist's eye twitched faintly.
"…Stop calling me that."
Nearby, one of the adventurers quietly dragged his chair a little farther away from them.
Honestly reasonable.
The cultist continued calmly,
"Besides, no one else wanted the corpses."
Aldric blinked once.
Then slowly nodded.
"…Actually true."
The cultist folded her arms.
"Most people leave troll bodies behind unless they specifically hunt for alchemical materials."
Aldric leaned lazily against the counter again.
"Yeah, because they're heavy, ugly, smell terrible, and their regeneration makes killing them annoying."
A short pause.
"Which means they're useless."
Then his grin widened slightly.
"…Or at least that's what I thought before finding out people actually pay for them."
The cultist sighed quietly.
"So now suddenly they matter."
"Not a chance I'm abandoning profitable corpses."
"That sentence alone explains your entire personality."
"Thank you."
"That was not praise."
"Still accepting it."
The rabbit beastwoman returned a few moments later, her ears still slightly raised from earlier.
Her professional smile had returned—
though she remained noticeably more cautious around the group.
"I've contacted someone from the appraisal and acquisition department."
Aldric raised a brow.
"That sounds expensive."
"…They should arrive shortly."
The cultist nodded once.
"Good."
The receptionist glanced carefully toward the group again.
"…The guild does not often receive intact troll corpses in large quantities."
Aldric smirked faintly.
"See? Special."
"No," the cultist replied immediately.
"Dangerous."
A nearby mercenary quietly muttered,
"Same thing in Blackwater."
Honestly—
fair observation.
Draven remained silent throughout the conversation, his crimson eyes calmly scanning the massive guild hall around them.
Nia stood quietly beside him while holding the small pastry bag against her chest.
Beneath the hood, the black cat watched the movement of the guild with narrowed purple eyes.
Then—
heavy footsteps echoed from deeper within the hall.
Not rushed.
Measured.
Controlled.
Several nearby adventurers instinctively shifted aside as a large figure emerged from one of the side corridors.
A man.
Massive build.
A dark reinforced coat layered over leather armor and metal plating.
Several scars crossed his exposed arms and neck, while a mechanical eyepiece glowed faintly over one eye.
His gaze swept across the group once—
then stopped.
"…You're the ones selling troll corpses?"
Aldric stared openly at the man.
"This one is supposed to be a merchant? He looks like someone that belongs in an arena."
A short pause.
"How exactly did you end up becoming a merchant?"
The massive man stared at Aldric for a long moment.
His mechanical eyepiece flickered faintly.
"…I used to work arena contracts."
Aldric immediately pointed at him.
"See? I knew it."
The man ignored him completely.
"Merchants survive longer."
Aldric looked genuinely thoughtful for nearly half a second.
"…Yeah, fair."
Then he pointed toward the cultist beside him.
"Anyway, she's the one selling."
The large man's gaze shifted toward the cultist immediately.
Unlike before—
his expression became sharper now.
Professional.
Focused.
"So."
A brief pause.
"You're the one with the troll corpses."
The cultist nodded once.
"Yes."
"How many are we talking about?"
Several nearby adventurers had already begun pretending not to listen while very obviously listening.
The cultist noticed immediately.
Her eyes briefly swept across the crowded hall before returning to the merchant.
"…Perhaps somewhere more private."
A short pause followed.
"We would prefer not to attract unnecessary attention."
The merchant studied her silently for a moment.
Then he glanced toward the surrounding guild hall.
Several hunters instantly looked away.
One man nearly turned his entire chair around.
Subtle.
Terrible.
The merchant grunted once.
"…Fair enough."
He jerked his head toward one of the side corridors deeper inside the guild.
"Follow me."
Aldric immediately pushed himself off the counter.
"Private room."
He glanced toward the cultist proudly.
"That's how you know we're important now."
The cultist walked past him calmly.
"That's how you know people think we're carrying expensive materials."
"Which means we're important."
"That is not the same thing."
"To rich people it is."
The rabbit receptionist quietly stepped aside as the group followed the merchant away from the main hall.
The deeper sections of the guild were noticeably quieter.
Less crowded.
Far more secure.
Heavy defensive formations lined portions of the walls, while reinforced doors stood at regular intervals throughout the corridor.
Business rooms.
Appraisal chambers.
Private negotiation areas.
The merchant finally stopped before a thick metal door marked with glowing runic seals.
He pressed one hand against the side panel.
The formation unlocked with a low hum.
Then the door slid open.
Inside—
a heavily reinforced room waited beyond.
Large enough for storage inspections and monster appraisals.
Several appraisal tables stood near the center, while layered mana barriers lined the walls and ceiling.
Containment formations.
Anti-theft measures.
Even blood-cleaning arrays built directly into the floor itself.
Aldric slowly looked around the room.
"…Wow."
A pause.
"You people really expect negotiations to turn violent."
The merchant answered flatly while stepping inside first.
"This is Blackwater."
Honestly—
sufficient explanation.
The group entered one after another while the heavy door sealed shut behind them with a metallic thud.
The room immediately became quieter.
Contained.
Secure.
The merchant finally turned back toward the cultist.
"Alright."
His glowing mechanical eye narrowed faintly.
"How many troll corpses are we discussing?"
The cultist didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
she raised one hand toward the open space in the center of the reinforced room.
Her storage ring flashed softly.
Then—
the corpses started pouring out.
Heavy bodies slammed against the reinforced flooring one after another.
Trolls.
Large ones.
Small ones.
Half-armored ones.
Several wolves.
Goblin corpses tangled beneath larger bodies.
Broken weapons.
Chunks of shattered stone still attached to dried blood and torn flesh.
The pile kept growing.
And growing.
And growing.
The room's containment formations immediately activated with sharp pulses of light as the smell exploded outward like a physical attack.
Blood.
Burned hide.
Wet iron.
Rotting flesh.
Even the air itself suddenly felt heavier.
Several troll corpses rolled against one another before finally settling into what honestly resembled a small mountain of dead monsters.
A blue troll arm flopped limply from near the top of the pile.
Silence filled the room.
Complete silence.
One of the appraisal tables creaked faintly from the impact vibrations.
The merchant stared at the mountain of corpses without speaking.
Even his mechanical eye paused for a moment before refocusing.
Aldric folded his arms proudly.
"…So."
A pause.
"Do we count that as 'a few' or 'several'?"
The cultist closed her eyes briefly.
"I genuinely regret asking that question earlier."