We Lease The Kraken! - A LitRPG Pet Shop System Story.

Mani, Alan, and Stella trudged through the front entrance of the Tell Tales Apartments, their footsteps echoing faintly in the dim, scuffed stairwell. After the morning they'd had, it was good to be back home.

They climbed to the third floor and stopped outside their apartment door.

Mani stretched and yawned like a cat in sunlight. "Whew, now that was an exciting morning," he said, reaching for the doorknob. "I dunno about you, but I could really go for a nap."

Stella rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. "It's not even noon, Mani. How are you already tired?"

Mani scratched his cheek and gave a sheepish grin. "I, uh… had a long night. Yep. That's my story."

He pushed the door open —

— but it slammed shut again before it could move more than a few inches. Alan's hand pressed firmly against it, keeping it shut, as his broad frame loomed beside Mani with an uncharacteristic scowl.

"Mani," he said flatly, voice hard as iron. "What did you do?"

Mani threw up his hands in mock innocence. "Nothing! I swear!"

Stella snorted. "Oh please. You just happened to know Jeremiah was doing a heist this morning? And just happened to show up right when he needed help? Come on. We're not morons."

"I was following him, like I said before!" Mani insisted, backing up a step. "That's all!"

Stella raised a single brow. Alan crossed his arms with the silent authority of a storm cloud.

Alan spoke first. "How about this. We give you one chance to come clean, and we won't tell Mom."

"Tell me what, exactly?" said a cool, sharp voice from behind them.

The hallway turned to ice.

All three Grim children froze like statues and turned in unison.

Merry Grim stood at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Her long coat billowed faintly with her stride, though there was no wind. She didn't need it — Mary Grim was the storm.

The hallway was silent enough to hear a dust mote hit the floor.

"Hi, Mom…" Mani said with a weak smile.

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"Ow!" Amani covered her forehead where Ulrick had flicked her and shot him a glare.

"Enough of that, lass," he said, voice stern but amused. "You're going to scare the boy."

Amani ducked beneath his hand, scowling up at him. "It's tradition!" she huffed.

Jeremiah blinked, the mystical air of the moment lifting like mist in sunlight. "Wait — what just happened?"

Ulrick chuckled. "You asked how Amani could help you find a shop, right? Well, who better to ask a favor from than a djinn?"

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed. "You don't mean…"

"Exactly." Ulrick nodded. "Just like in the old tales. Do a djinn a favor, and they'll grant you a wish. Why do you think their kind's so sought after?"

Jeremiah shifted uneasily. "Is that… safe?" Of course, he'd heard stories. Everyone had. Djinns, wishes, and the strings that always came attached. Cautionary tales wrapped in magic.

Amani rolled her eyes. "Of course its safe, fool. Who do you think started the rumors to begin with?"

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Before he could speak, Ulrick stepped in again.

"Listen, lad. A djinn's magic — even one still growing into their power — is no joke. Those warnings? Rumors like that help to temper the temptation. Makes people think twice about trying to 'steal' a wish if they think that wish'll come back to bite them."

"So… the whole 'twisting your words' thing isn't real?" Jeremiah asked, cautiously.

Amani flashed him a knowing smirk. "Didn't say that. What you call a wish, I call a balancing — a settling of debts. And if what you ask outweighs what I owe…" Her smile widened. "...then I'm allowed to extract the difference. However I see fit."

Jeremiah's brow crept upward as the pieces clicked into place. "So the 'three wishes' trope…"

"Exactly," Amani said, grinning. "A clever way to break one big debt into smaller, safer ones. The smaller the debt, the more wiggle room we get to… bend things."

Ulrick's palm landed on Amani's head with a gentle but firm pat, and he stared down at her. "Of course, we'll not be having any of that today, now will we, Amani? Jeremiah did you an honest favor and I expect an honest repayment. Right?"

Amani clicked her tongue and turned away, sulking. "I was just messing with him. I wasn't actually gonna do it."

"Good girl," Ulrick said, beaming.

Amani's cheeks turned a soft violet.

Jeremiah cleared his throat. "Right. I think I get it now. But… how does this work exactly? I mean, I get that the watch was important to Amani, but is that enough to cover a building and land? Does she even own the property? Or is this gonna be one of those 'wish for a million credits, and suddenly someone's bank account is empty' situations?"

Ulrick laughed, eyes twinkling. "No need to worry about that, lad." He leaned in slightly and winked. "Amani's not the only one who owes you a debt."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

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Ulrick led them out through the rear door of his bakery, the scent of warm bread fading as they stepped into the cool shade of the back alley. From there, they turned right, following the narrow path for about a block until they reached a cross-alley that intersected theirs at a neat right angle.

The new alley stretched off to the right, running another full block before spilling out onto Market Street, right between a crumbling office building and a tidy little food market. Behind the market sat a wooden stall, shaded by a patchwork canopy. An elderly woman lounged behind it, fanning herself lazily with a paper fan, her stall overflowing with fresh vegetables in neat baskets.

Just beyond her, the lot behind the shop had been transformed into a small, walled garden — a patch of order amidst the crumbling neighborhood. Neat rows of herbs, roots, and leafy greens basked in the midday light, their colors vivid against the pale stone of the wall.

As they rounded the corner, the old woman perked up and leaned forward, squinting toward them.

"Now, Ulrick!" she called out, her voice warm but teasing. "I told you, if you keep sneakin' in the back way like that, my husband's gonna start getting ideas!"

Ulrick grinned. "We can't have that, now, can we, Sally? Let him know not to worry. I'm just showing a potential buyer the old Maddock lot."

The woman — Sally — raised a skeptical brow. "Finally found someone fool enough to take that junk heap off your hands, did you? About time! The rats from that place keep tearing into my garden. Speaking of…"

"I'll swing by tomorrow to check the wards," Ulrick promised with a chuckle. "Wouldn't want your prize tomatoes turning into a rat buffet."

Sally's toothless grin stretched wide. "Good to know this old girl can still count on you. Maybe my husband should be worried — huehuehue."

Shaking his head with a laugh, Ulrick turned and crossed the alley, leading them toward the Maddock Lot — a rather large plot of land just opposite and to the left of Sally's garden, Jeremiah and Amani following close behind. They walked a short distance past the crumbling building adjacent to the alley, and both of their eyes widened at what they saw next.

The overgrown lot sprawled like a forgotten fragment of forest jammed into the city's concrete ribs. Three towering trees loomed at its edges. One rising near the narrow side alley to the north, another anchored in the corner closest to them, and the third and largest farther in, near the center of the park, its broad canopy stretching over the crumbled shell of a ruined building.

Across the interior, wild undergrowth surged unchecked — a tangled mess of waist-high brush, thorn-clawed vines, and ivy that clawed its way up broken walls and spilled over cracked stone. Briar and bramble fought for space with hardy wildflowers, forming a tangled snarl that might stop anyone short without a blade — or a bit of magic.

Toward the southern edge bordering the back alley, the jagged remains of a collapsed building slumped into the lot like a shattered jawbone, half-swallowed by creeping green. Northward, away from Market Street proper, a row of sagging apartment buildings cast long shadows, their lower windows boarded or shattered, ivy threading through the cracks like veins of emerald rot.

And yet, for all its ruin, the lot seemed to breathe — not decay, but a kind of raw, feral life. It stood in stark contrast to Sally's garden across the back alley: where her plots were crisp and orderly, this place thrummed with something untamed, like it had been waiting for someone to notice it again.

"Oh wow…" Jeremiah murmured, eyes sweeping the tangled sprawl. "This is —"

"A dump," Amani cut in, voice dry, expression unimpressed.

Ulrick chuckled. "Aye, it is. Used to be Maddock Park — a little slice of green for the locals. It wasn't much, but folk liked it well enough. Then things fell apart, and no one had the time or tools to care for it. It went feral, like everything else." He exhaled, slow and wistful.

Then he turned to Jeremiah with a grin. "So, lad — what's your take?"

Jeremiah hesitated, turning slowly to take it all in. It really was a sizable lot for the area — especially this close to Market Street — but…

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," he began, cautious. "But I was kind of hoping for an actual building. This looks like it's going to take a lot of work just to clear."

Ulrick nodded, arms crossed.

Amani cracked her knuckles and stepped forward. "I'm guessing that's my cue?"

He nodded again. "Think you can handle it, lass?"

"You're giving him the whole lot?" she asked, one brow raised.

"That's right," Ulrick said, glancing toward the collapsed ruins. "Paperwork's already done. The deed covers the park and what's left of the Maddock building. Only thing we ask is you leave the old apartments alone. Still a few folks squatting up there."

Amani grinned. "Fair enough." She turned to Jeremiah. "Any special requests?"

He blinked, then shook his head. "No. Just what we talked about before leaving the bakery." He'd already shared the exact dimensions and layout the System required. He wasn't going to risk screwing up the mission by making any modifications just yet.

"Then let's get started," she said.

Amani turned toward the overgrown lot and shut her eyes.

She inhaled slowly, raising one hand. When her eyes snapped open, they glowing bright enough to dispel the shadows of the alley.

She snapped her fingers.

The sound that followed wasn't loud, but it echoed in a strange way, and far longer than it would have.

At first, nothing seemed to happen.

The lot sat still in the heavy silence that followed the unnatural echo. The only movement was a faint breeze curling through Maddock's Park.

Then the ground began to tremble.

Grass shivered, vines quivered, and the dense tangle of undergrowth started to recede — not torn away or burned, but retreating, like a tide drawn back into the sea. Leaves withered into dust, roots uncoiled from the cracked brickwork and vanished beneath the soil, and thorny shrubs bowed as if in submission before sinking out of sight.

Dust rose in thin, spiraling coils — not heavy or choking, but light, graceful, like smoke guided by unseen hands. It traced elegant arcs across the lot, sketching unseen patterns in the air like ink dispersing in water.

The fractures in the old asphalt knit themselves together with a soft, rhythmic grinding, while ivy slithered down the walls in long, trailing ribbons that curled in on themselves before dissolving into faint golden motes.

At the center of the lot, the jagged mound of debris stirred. Shattered stone and splintered wood lifted from the rubble, rising into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. The fragments drifted toward the southwest corner, assembling with deliberate care — bricks locking in place, timbers slotting together with quiet certainty.

There, a structure emerged. Not grand, but purposeful — a simple storefront that rose with clean lines and quiet confidence. At its entrance, the corner tree stood untouched, now cradled by a curved stone bench that hugged its base. The blend of architecture and nature was seamless — as if the tree had grown with the building rather than around it.

To the west, stones continued to glide across the ground, extending the park's boundary. A low wall emerged along the side alley, enclosing the space in soft privacy. Vines followed, not wild but orderly, twining into delicate, deliberate patterns along the stone. Serene, enclosed, and brimming with potential. The sort of place one might stumble across and wonder how it had always been there, waiting.

Within the courtyard, the largest tree stretched its canopy overhead, casting shifting light across the ground. Its limbs arched wide above the new space, not looming, but sheltering — a living ceiling that made the air feel quiet, and safe.

Meanwhile, the skeletal remains of the Maddock building creaked, but did not collapse. Instead, its loose stonework settled. Broken windows sealed, beams straightened, and the warped remnants of its roof folded inward, cleanly latching into place. It didn't become a building again — not fully — but a stout, weathered wall, secure and imposing, forming the lot's southern edge.

When the last traces of dust settled, the transformation was complete.

Amani exhaled slowly and lowered her hand.

The young djinn swayed on her feet, but Ulrick was right there beside her with a steady arm.

After a few deep breaths, she turned to Jeremiah and lifted her chin.

"Well? What do you think?"

Jeremiah could only stare at the former park with wide-eyed awe.

.

Where once had been ruin and tangle, was a modest structure of stone and wood, elegant in its simplicity, with a rustic warmth that beckoned without words.

"Wow…"