The rain never seemed to stop in the Outer Ring. It pattered endlessly on the rusted rooftops, soaking through thin jackets and broken umbrellas, washing away hope just as easily as the dirt on the streets.
Kairo crouched behind the academy's gymnasium, arms wrapped around his knees, soaked to the bone. He didn't bother moving. He'd stopped trying to dodge the rain years ago. He was just another forgotten face in a sea of rankings and reputations, and when you're E-rank with a garbage ability, nobody offers you an umbrella.
The academy bell rang. Thunder rolled like a growl from the sky.
He didn't move.
"They're probably gone by now," he mumbled to himself.
Still, he waited.
Every day was the same. If he left too early, they'd be waiting. Not teachers. Not staff. Just "them"—the same group of first-year hotshots who thought it was hilarious that someone with a "storage" ability thought he could become a martial artist.
He'd tried. Once.
He remembered that day clearly. His palms bled from pushing himself too hard in practicals, his heart hammered with effort… and he'd failed. He could barely land a punch, his body too weak, his instincts too slow.
And the worst part?
He had an "ability." One that sounded cool. Mysterious, even. When he turned ten, the crystal assessment showed it: Vaultspace. A spatial ability—something rare, even revered.
Until he tried using it.
Until he realized he couldn't attack with it, teleport, store bombs or beasts or blades. He could just… store stuff. Like a bag. A glorified, magic backpack. And even then, only if he touched the object directly and focused. And if the object resisted or was too heavy? No dice.
Kairo eventually learned to use it to hide books. A sandwich once. Once he tried to store a training spear and it vanished… only for it to come out bent. Warped. Useless.
The instructors gave up quickly. His classmates laughed. By fourteen, he was nothing but a footnote—"E-Rank Kairo: the bag boy."
He exhaled slowly, pulling out a half-wet protein bar from under his jacket. Even now, he still stored his lunch in Vaultspace. It was the only way to make sure it wasn't stolen.
He tapped the air beside him, focusing for a moment.
Fzzzt.
A ripple opened. Like water forming mid-air. He reached inside, pulled out a second protein bar for later, then closed the rift.
It was his one party trick. His one secret door.
He looked at his hands. Thin fingers. A slight tremor. Not the hands of a fighter.
Maybe they were right. Maybe he was useless.
The thunder cracked again.
Kairo stood, brushing off his pants, and stepped into the rain. His shoes squelched with every step. Water dripped down his back. The academy gates loomed ahead, empty now, most students already on their way home or in private combat clubs.
As he passed the training field, he paused.
Students were sparring—C and D ranks mostly, showing off with elemental bursts and footwork so quick it blurred.
He watched one boy—Ren, a C-Rank wind user—leap high and land a spinning kick on his partner's shoulder.
The crowd roared. Even from a distance, Kairo felt the excitement ripple.
He remembered wanting that once. That feeling. The rush. The pride.
Now?
He just felt tired.
When he reached home—if you could call it that—it was already dark. His place was a single room above an abandoned garage, the stairs creaky and barely safe. Inside, it was dry at least. Dim lights. A pile of training books, a small mattress, and a punching bag that sagged more than it swung.
He dropped his bag, peeled off his wet jacket, and collapsed on the mattress.
But something gnawed at him.
The same feeling that always came after watching them spar. That deep, gut-tightening ache.
He was never going to be like them.
But what was the point of Vaultspace, then? Why did he have it?
And why… why did it feel deeper now? Bigger somehow?
Kairo sat up.
He remembered something strange from yesterday. He'd stored a whole bucket of water without spilling it. That wasn't normal. Liquids usually splashed or dispersed.
And something else…
When he focused too hard, sometimes his vision flickered. For a second. Like he was somewhere else.
He stood slowly and walked to the center of the room.
Just one more try.
Kairo closed his eyes. Focused. Not on a thing, but the space itself. The feeling he always ignored. That thin thread he used to summon the Vault.
He reached for it—not to open it, but to step closer.
And suddenly—
He fell.
Darkness.
No ground. No air. Just falling.
Then—
Thud.
He hit something soft, like grass… but not.
Kairo gasped, coughing as a strange smell filled his lungs. Not air. Something cleaner. Almost sterile.
He sat up slowly, heart racing, eyes wide.
He wasn't in his room.
He wasn't outside.
He was… inside.
The space around him was massive. Endless. A glowing horizon stretched into nothing. The floor was solid but dark—like obsidian glass. Tiny orbs of light floated above like stars frozen in time.
And everywhere he looked, he saw the things he'd stored. Floating, spinning gently.
His books. A jacket. A bent training spear. The old bucket.
This was Vaultspace.
He was inside it.
Kairo stood slowly, stunned.
No one had ever said this was possible. No manual, no academy lecture, no rank assessment had hinted this could happen.
He tried to breathe—and was relieved he could.
He moved forward. Light footsteps echoed like whispers. The silence was heavy, but not suffocating.
He reached for a book. It hovered into his hand like a feather on command.
He touched the ground. It responded—slightly soft. Malleable.
And then he noticed something in the distance: a small timer, like a glowing projection.
It read:
Vault Time: 00:00:01
Real Time: 00:00:0001
Kairo blinked.
A second in real time… equaled days here?
He stumbled back, pulse pounding.
Was this it? The real ability?
He looked around again, taking in the space. The silence. The freedom.
Training. Studying. Anything he did here… he could do without losing time outside.
His body didn't feel cold. His hunger was faint, like it had dulled the moment he entered. He touched his wrist and felt his heartbeat—steady.
Was time even moving?
Only for him, it seemed.
A strange laugh escaped him. Not quite joy. Not quite madness. Just awe.
Kairo dropped to his knees, overwhelmed.
All these years. All that mocking. All those nights wondering if he'd been born broken.
And here it was.
A world of his own.
But even as wonder filled him, a thought crept in.
He was alone in here.
And this place… wasn't entirely stable. Already he could feel slight pulses—tremors, like distant breathing.
This ability had rules. And it had depth.
And he'd only just stepped into the first room.
He didn't know the dangers.
He didn't know the limits.
But for the first time in his life… Kairo smiled.
Because for once, he had a place no one could take.
His journey had finally begun.