As for my planned purchases… well, I'll admit it took me much longer than I'd like to confess to find the right store selling dimensional storage. Ashton was a bustling city, and the central district felt like an anthill of people constantly coming and going. After squeezing through the crowd long enough to reconsider my life choices, I finally stopped in front of what I was looking for.
Mages and Kaynee's.
The name sounded way too generic for a magic artifact shop. Maybe it was a family name… or just a poor attempt at sounding sophisticated. Either way. I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside.
The interior was clean and well-organized, illuminated by magical crystals embedded in the ceiling. The air carried a faint scent of ozone mixed with polished metal—the typical smell of arcane technology. There was only modest movement: a few customers walking around, most of them wearing the kind of expression that said money wasn't something they worried about.
Magical artifacts like these were still considered luxury items. Buying dimensional storage was the equivalent of purchasing a flagship smartphone or a next-gen console. It made sense that the place wasn't crowded.
Walking past the display cases, I examined some of the items on sale. The names were flashy, and the descriptions tempting.
Chronos Watch
A pocket watch capable of slowing time for a few seconds—at the cost of the user's vital energy.
Price: 3500U
"Oculus" Familiar Drone
A small floating orb engraved with an ocular rune. Captures and transmits magical imagery, detects mana flow, and serves as a personal scout.
Price: 2300U
Synthetic Shadow Cloak
Made of enchanted nanofibers that absorb light and sound. Turns the user into a nearly invisible blur.
Price: 7500U
"Yeah… maybe next time," I muttered under my breath, staring at the distorted reflection of my face in the glass.
And that was without even checking potion prices. In the original story, the strongest ones could cost hundreds of thousands—or even millions. So judging by the pricing standards, I was probably browsing the wrong shelf of existence.
But anyway… what I had actually come for still wasn't in sight.
— Hello, dear. Looking for something?
The voice came from my side, smooth and professional. I turned and saw a friendly-looking woman, probably in her thirties or forties, with a shiny name tag on her chest. She crouched slightly to speak to me—which immediately gave away the misunderstanding.
— Dimensional storage devices, please.
She blinked, momentarily surprised, but quickly returned to her welcoming tone. — Of course. Right this way.
She led me to a more refined area, almost like a luxury accessory boutique. Bags, bracelets, necklaces, and rings were displayed neatly, all gleaming invitingly. To a distracted observer, they looked like ordinary fashion items, but I knew each one concealed its own storage space.
The prices varied depending on size, portability, and internal volume. The standard was simple: 5 cubic meters for 300U, plus another 300U for every additional 5 cubic meters.
Not cheap… but fair.
However, before making any purchase, there was something I needed to confirm.
Pointing to a discreet bracelet inside the display, I made a silent gesture asking the clerk if I could test it. She nodded politely, and I picked it up.
The bracelet had a cool metallic texture, with a small blue rune embedded in the clasp. Following the instructions, I tapped it twice while focusing on a small coin resting in my palm. Then I waited.
Nothing happened.
I tried again. A different item. Same result.
"…Tsk. Damn it."
Just as I suspected. Dimensional storage devices required a minimum amount of mana from the user to function. That was the trigger activating the spell and also the security measure—the rune registered the owner's magical signature, preventing others from accessing the contents.
But because of my mana leakage syndrome, I couldn't channel energy in a conventional way. In other words… it was like trying to use a smartphone with no battery.
Maybe in the future, I'd find a way around that. But for now… there was nothing I could do.
I handed the bracelet back to the clerk, feeling a faint stab of frustration—not deep, just that annoying sense of having wasted time. She looked a bit confused but didn't press the issue, simply escorting me back to the entrance with the same professional smile as before.
When I stepped outside, the cool street breeze hit my face. Walking back along the sidewalk, I muttered under my breath, "Wasted trip… great. Guess I'll have to carry a backpack."
As I walked through the crowd, hands in my pockets and lightly kicking small stones along the way, I considered heading back to the station. I'd already lost enough time and money for one day.
Then something on the corner of the street caught my attention—a small shop squeezed between two tall, modern buildings, with a nearly faded sign that read:
"Antique Shop."
Normally, that wouldn't have caught my eye. In my world, places like that sold old junk or grandma's furniture. But considering this was a futuristic world… what the hell would count as an antique here?
The sign swayed gently in the wind, creaking as if protesting its own existence. I stood there for a few seconds, debating whether it was worth the effort, until curiosity won out.
Ding.
The soft chime of a bell rang as I pushed the door open, welcoming me in with almost ironic cheer.
The interior was… chaos. A true graveyard of objects. Overloaded shelves, open boxes, piles of nameless items stacked up to the ceiling. The air was heavy and slightly stale, smelling of dust and old rust. Light filtered in through grimy windows, tinted with an orange hue.
At the back, an old man sat behind a worn counter, hidden behind a holographic newspaper that somehow looked older than he was. He noticed my presence but completely ignored me, continuing to read without the slightest reaction.
I ventured deeper into the shop, weaving around heaps of clutter, and that's when my eyes lit up. Among the shelves were relics—but not medieval ones. They were devices from the early 21st century: iPhones, handheld consoles, headphones… even a slightly dusty Nintendo Switch 2 sitting in a corner.
Now that was interesting.The "antiques" of this world were, in fact, the technological peak of my old one. According to the story's lore, the current world was the same one that existed before the first cataclysm, which explained everything—previous civilizations, lost technology, that whole deal.
As I observed everything in fascination, something else caught my eye: a silver chain displayed inside a cracked glass case. The metal had a strange sheen, almost vivid, and the pendant formed the shape of a dragon biting its own tail.
Beautiful.But… strange. That didn't look like an ordinary antique.
I approached the counter and asked, — Excuse me, what is this?
The old man looked over his glasses, stared at me for a moment, and replied in a drawn-out tone, — An archaic dimensional storage device, kid.
— A… what?I blinked, surprised. That made no sense. Why would something like that be sitting in a junk shop?
— You can test it if you want. — he said, already turning his gaze back to the newspaper.
I carefully picked up the chain. It was cold to the touch, heavier than it looked. I held a coin in my hand and tapped the pendant twice, just to be thorough. I wasn't expecting anything.
Poof.
The coin vanished.
"…What?"
I looked at my hand, then at the old man, who was watching me with one eyebrow raised.
— That model's called Ouroboros, — he explained, placing the newspaper on the counter. — One of the earliest dimensional storage types ever made. Back then, it was revolutionary.
— It used ambient mana instead of the user's mana to function. Saved energy, you see? But…
He sighed.
— Production didn't last long. Too unstable, not secure enough, and it only stores one cubic meter. That one's a relic left behind from a failure.
I listened in silence, spinning the chain between my fingers. It made sense. It was like comparing an old Nokia phone to a modern iPhone—outdated, but still functional. And in my case… functional was more than enough.
One cubic meter wasn't much. I couldn't even store my future weapon in there. But if it worked without requiring mana, then it solved my problem. And honestly, stumbling upon something like this by chance was absurdly lucky.
— How much?
— 850U.
The answer was blunt, like a verdict. I felt the hit to my wallet. For that price, I could've bought a modern 10-cubic-meter model and still had change left for a snack. But… given my situation, there wasn't much to think about.
— Deal.
I placed the money on the counter with conviction, and the old man merely shrugged, sliding the item toward me.
I left the shop with a small smile on my face and the necklace hanging around my neck. Maybe I'd overspent, but I finally had something that actually worked for me.
Oh, and of course… I also bought the Nintendo Switch 2.
What? I deserve a little fun too.