Warworld.
Cell B1-3.
Vulkan woke before his fellow gladiators. Silence still reigned in the cell, broken only by the peaceful breathing of Orrana and Tsag. The golden warrior slept wrapped in her blanket, her red hair scattered across the metal floor. The giant ant was half-buried in her mound of sand, her mandibles clicking softly in her sleep.
Vulkan remained lying down, motionless, eyes fixed on the steel ceiling. He didn't want to wake them. Not yet. He had something to do. Something risky.
He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts.
System. Open the surprise box.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Last night, he had sensed he was being watched. A spy camera, probably microscopic, had to be hidden somewhere in the cell. Every word, every gesture, every murmur was certainly being recorded and transmitted to Mongul.
But he had no choice. If he wanted to break out of this prison and escape that sadistic lemon-head, he had to use every resource at his disposal. Including the system. Including the boxes.
Come on. Make me dream.
Ding!
The familiar chime rang inside his skull. His Primarch heart quickened despite himself.
[Surprise box system activated.]
[Accumulation: 231 days.]
[Maximum rarity bonus applied.]
[Opening in progress...]
Two hundred and thirty-one days. Over seven months of accumulation. Since his arrival in this mad universe, he had completely forgotten to check. The days had piled up like gold coins in a forgotten vault. And now, the vault was opening.
Ding!
[Congratulations! You have obtained: the Universal Inventory.]
Vulkan's eyes widened beneath his closed lids.
WHAT?!
He nearly screamed it from the rooftops. He nearly leaped to his feet and howled his joy like a madman. Only a superhuman effort of will kept him lying down, motionless, silent. But inside his head, it was an explosion.
The Universal Inventory?!
A screen appeared before his eyes. But not just any screen. A Gothic-style screen, framed in gold and wrought iron, like a relic from a futuristic cathedral. Tiny runes ran along the borders. The whole thing exuded an aura of ancient power.
The interface was composed of slots lined up side by side, forming a perfectly ordered grid. Each slot was empty for now, waiting to be filled. And above the main screen, several identification icons were arranged in a row.
Vulkan examined them one by one, his Primarch mind cataloguing every detail.
A plant. A precious stone. A stylized sword. A vehicle—a car, apparently. A horse's head. A horseshoe. A scroll. A potion. A piece of armor.
Each icon seemed to correspond to a different category of objects.
System. Can I put anything in there?
Ding!
[Anything non-living can be stored. This includes inanimate objects, artifacts, weapons, vehicles, raw materials, and confined energetic phenomena. Examples: a spaceship, a cosmic flame, a block of concrete, a magical relic. Limitation: living beings cannot be placed in the Universal Inventory.]
Vulkan felt a shiver run down his spine.
Wow.
A spaceship. A cosmic flame. Magical artifacts. He could store everything. Transport everything. Take everything with him with no weight, no encumbrance. His magical storage bag of two cubic meters had become laughable by comparison. The Universal Inventory was an infinite pocket dimension—or at least, vast enough to contain objects the size of a spaceship.
Wait... What about my confiscated items? My magic bag? The Doom Slayer's chainsaw?
Ding!
[Host-bound items detected nearby. Would you like to integrate them into the Universal Inventory?]
Vulkan held his breath.
Yes. Integrate them. Right now.
A silence. Then...
Ding!
[Integration successful. Items transferred to the Universal Inventory:]
· [Magical storage bag (2m³) — Contents intact.]
· [Doom Slayer's chainsaw — Operational.]
· [Universal translator chip — Already active and installed.]
Vulkan opened his eyes. He looked around him. Nothing had changed in the cell. Orrana was still sleeping. Tsag was still clicking her mandibles softly. The steel walls gleamed under the artificial light.
But everything had changed.
He was no longer unarmed. He was no longer stripped bare. His items were there, somewhere in a pocket dimension accessible by his will alone. The Doom Slayer's chainsaw could spring into his hand at any moment. His magic bag was safe. He had nothing left to fear from confiscations or searches.
System. No one can detect the Inventory? No one can take it from me?
Ding!
[The Universal Inventory is bound to the host's soul. It cannot be detected, confiscated, hacked, or destroyed by any known force. It is universal. It is absolute.]
A smile slowly spread across Vulkan's lips. A fierce smile. A predator's smile.
Perfect.
He sat up slowly, settling on the cold cell floor. His movement woke Orrana, who cracked open a green eye and studied him warily.
Orrana: "Already awake?"
Vulkan turned his head toward her. His smile hadn't faded.
Vulkan: "I was thinking about our next outing in the arena."
Orrana sat up in turn, pushing her red hair back.
Orrana: "You seem strangely cheerful for someone about to fight to the death in a few hours."
Vulkan shrugged, his obsidian muscles rolling beneath his skin.
Vulkan: "Let's just say I had a pleasant dream."
Tsag emerged from her mound of sand, her antennae quivering.
Tsag: "Dream? The ant does not dream. The ant sleeps and hunts."
Vulkan: "Humans dream, Tsag. And sometimes, dreams become reality."
He rose to his feet, stretched, cracked his knuckles. His new power bubbled inside him like a spring of fire.
Two hundred and thirty-one days of accumulation. The Universal Inventory. The Doom Slayer's chainsaw in reserve. And Mongul suspecting nothing.
He looked at the walls of his cell with fresh eyes. It was no longer a prison. It was a stepping stone. A springboard. A pause before the storm.
Vulkan: "Today, we go back into the arena. We fight. We survive. And tonight..."
He trailed off, leaving his sentence hanging.
Orrana: "Tonight?"
Vulkan planted his red eyes into hers.
Vulkan: "Tonight, we start planning our escape."
Silence fell over the cell once more. But it was no longer a silence of resignation. It was a silence of anticipation. A silence charged with hope and rebellion.
Tsag clicked her mandibles softly.
Tsag: "Escape. The ant likes this word."
Orrana nodded slowly. A fierce smile, almost as fierce as Vulkan's, stretched her golden lips.
Orrana: "Then let's go. Let's show this tyrant what free warriors are worth."
The cell doors opened with a metallic grinding. The robotic guards appeared, ready to escort the gladiators to the arena.
Vulkan stepped forward first, head high, shoulders wide. He was no longer a prisoner. He was a Primarch on a mission. And soon, very soon, all of Warworld would tremble beneath his feet.