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

Jeremiah cradled his coffee mug between both hands, warmth seeping into his fingers as he hunched over the cafe's wooden table. Billy's bowl rested at his elbow, the little kraken's tentacles splayed lazily against the glass, golden eyes flickering up at Jeremiah's furrowed brow. Sunlight crept over the linoleum, pooling around the table legs and sketching a faint halo around Billy's bowl.

Jeremiah's system interface hovered before him, softly luminous and unobtrusive, casting a faint violet shimmer across his shop screen. For the hundredth time that morning, he scrolled through the available Beast Skills, the list as familiar as the sound of Milo's snoring from the corner. He sipped his coffee, the bitter edge grounding him.

Nerve Net, he thought, thumb hovering over the icon. It had been his planned next pick for days — a passive, powerful upgrade. Distributed reflexes, resistance to mind-affecting magics, even a workaround for paralysis or worse. A safety net against the kind of problems that didn't give second chances. He almost confirmed the selection right then and there. But now…

He frowned, scrolling back up, then down, then up again. The fresh list of skills blinked temptingly, new arrivals jostling for space beside old favorites. He chewed his lip, glancing at Billy, who burbled quietly in his bowl, sending a lazy ripple through the water.

Out loud, more to himself than anyone else, Jeremiah muttered, "If only I could see a week into the future, huh, Billy?" The little kraken wiggled an arm in what might have been encouragement. Or hunger.

He took another sip, then set his mug down and raised his voice, aiming at the open air. "Mero? You around, or are you off causing mischief for someone else?"

He felt it before he saw it: a prickle at the nape of his neck, a faint shift in the air, then the familiar iridescent whine. With a pop and a sudden, sharp glint, Mero appeared on the tabletop, arms folded across his ample gut, dragonfly wings beating a slow, lazy pattern.

"Thought ya'd never call, kid," Mero said, his accent gravelly, his eyes puffy with the promise of a late morning nap. "Congratulations on the bond-up, by the way." He cast a look at Billy's bowl, giving the kraken a wink. "Not many folks manage a level in their first week. Even fewer manage it without blowing something up. Or themselves. Mazel tov."

Jeremiah managed a tired grin. "Thanks, Mero. Still feels like I'm winging it half the time."

"Welcome to the System," Mero replied, dropping into a cross-legged perch beside the mug. "Nobody knows what they're doing. Ya just fake it 'til something explodes, then act like you meant it."

Jeremiah chuckled, though there was a tension to his movements, a lingering unease he couldn't quite shake. "I could use your help," he admitted, sliding the interface so Mero could see the full spread of skills. "I've got two open slots now. And more options than I know what to do with."

Mero held up a stubby finger. "You know the rules, Jerry. Can't pick for you. Might be your sister hired me, but you're the one stuck living with the choices. I can help ya sort 'em out, though." His gaze softened a fraction. "Which, lucky for you, is something I'm better at than babysitting krakens."

Jeremiah nodded, appreciative. "Right. Let's work through the list."

He took a deep breath and began, methodical as always. "Void Pocket's tempting," he said, "but… honestly, it's too limited. If I were out adventuring, maybe. But the G-rank version's barely big enough for a snack bar and a key. With the System's delivery, and the shop, I just don't need it."

Mero gave a short, approving grunt. "Smart. Void pockets are handy in the right hands, but you're not planning any heists, unless that muffin display's got secrets."

Jeremiah's lips quirked in amusement as he swiped to the next entry. "Inkjet Veil," he read aloud, tapping the entry with a fingertip. "Now this one's clever — perfect for getting out of tight spots or vanishing when things go sideways." He leaned in, considering the finer print, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But the requirements… water or high humidity. Reliquum's weather isn't exactly dry for most of the year, but who knows what the System considers 'high humidity'? Is it seventy percent? Ninety? I'm not about to start lugging around a canteen just to make a dramatic exit." He shook his head with a sigh. "For now? Pass."

Mero gave a crooked, knowing grin. "That's a fair point, kid. Some of these descriptions leave you hanging." He glanced sidelong at the display, tone dry. "I'll be sure to pass that one up the chain."

Jeremiah blinked, caught off guard. "Wait — what?"

Mero just arched an eyebrow, all feigned innocence. "What, what, kid? I've told ya before, the System's not perfect. Part of the reason we're havin someone test drive it like ya are is to find little things like that. Details that slip through the cracks." As if to punctuate the point, he snapped his fingers. A new System window slid into place, glimmering with the crisp certainty of an official message.

——————❇——————

Congratulations, User!

You have received the Achievement: [A Bug In The System]

Additionally, you have been rewarded 10 Quantum Marks for finding a [Trivial] glitch in the System.

——————❇——————

Jeremiah stared, eyebrows shooting up. "What?"

Mero snickered, folding his arms with a sly tilt to his wings. "You a parrot now?" His smirk softened a little, genuine approval flickering through his voice. "Seriously, good catch. The small issues are the hardest to spot these days, even when they seem obvious in hindsight. But then, that's the paradox: if they were truly obvious, they'd already be fixed."

Jeremiah shook his head, a wry laugh slipping free. "Thanks… I guess."

Mero's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We like to reward a sharp eye, kid. It makes the whole thing run smoother, and you never know what you'll dig up next." He shot a conspiratorial wink.

Jeremiah sighed, rolling his eyes as he dismissed the notification. He could see the fairy's game — tempting him to chase every little flaw and quirk in the System for a quick payout. Maybe he'd indulge the urge one day, but right now, he had more important things to focus on than hunting down bugs for pocket change.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Jeremiah turned his focus back to the skill shop, eyes narrowing in thought. "Resonance Echo… I like the idea of magical detection —"

Until Mero cut him off. "Same issue as Sensory Bubble. Without active mana channeling, it's a dead slot."

Jeremiah clicked his tongue. "I really do need to look into that again. I know that you can technically find online courses claiming to teach it, but the majority of those are a scam. And those that aren't are… expensive."

Expensive might have been an understatement. Jeremiah had done a little research after getting his first skill, just to see. Official lessons could run almost the same as a minor college degree and take months to finish. All without the actual guarantee of success if your affinity for the more generic lessons was low.

Of course, you could always higher a private tutor, but that could be even more expensive.

"I guess that one's off the table too, for now," Jeremiah said, before turning to Mero. "Unless you know something I don't? Maybe a private tutor who could give me a System discount on lessons?" He asked, only half serious.

Mero rolled his eyes. "Mana training's a long road, kid. And you're barely outta the driveway. If you want active skills like those, you'll have to invest in some fundamentals first. Otherwise, the System'll just take your marks and leave you with a headache."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jeremiah thumbed down the list again, pausing at Chromatic Soothe. He couldn't help but smile a little, as a memory from not too long ago surfaced — Billy swirling in his bowl, radiating calming colors, back when the weight of Mero's revelations about the System, Sarah, and Stagnation had threatened to overwhelm him.

This has to be the same skill he used then… Jeremiah thought to himself.

Unfortunately, he had to cross that one off the list as well with a shake of his head.

"Chromatic Soothe is… tempting. But it needs 'control over skin pigment.' Which I don't have." He glanced at Mero. "I'd need to take something like Shimmer Skin or Bioluminescent Bling just to use it. I… don't really have a need for either of those at the moment."

"Not unless you want to look like a disco jellyfish every time you get nervous," Mero deadpanned, folding his hands behind his head.

After what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few moments, Jeremiah had narrowed his options down to four potential skills.

Jeremiah's fingertip hovered above the interface, the glow of the System menu reflected in the dark surface of his coffee.

Four skills, each a different flavor of potential. He chewed the inside of his cheek, tension tightening across his shoulders.

He scrolled back to Tentacular Reach, letting the description settle in his mind. It was such an obvious synergy with Kraken's Grasp that it almost felt like cheating — imagine being able to reach halfway across the counter, snatch a mug, or scoop up a wriggling puppy without even thinking. More than that, the wording teased a possibility he couldn't ignore: temporarily extend the reach of your arms or tentacles. Did that mean he could use it with his regular hands? The idea was equal parts thrilling and alarming.

He couldn't help but glance at Billy, who watched him with round, unblinking eyes. "You're making this look easy," Jeremiah muttered, absently running a finger around the rim of the kraken's bowl. Billy wiggled a tentacle in reply, radiating a ripple of amused encouragement.

Mero cocked his head, hovering in midair. "That one's a classic," the fairy said, nodding at Tentacular Reach. "Can't go wrong with utility, kid. And you're right — it'll play nice with what you've already got. With some practice, you might even manage it without sproutin' suckers every time."

Jeremiah smirked. "If I start growing extra arms one of these days, Sally's going to have a field day."

Mero just grinned, his wings flickering. "Better arms than an extra head, trust me."

He flicked to the next contender. Nerve Net. The old favorite. Reliable, defensive, and subtle — if there was a passive that could save his life when things went sideways, this was it. It wouldn't change how he moved or looked, but it would grant him resistance against the sort of threats that left most people helpless: venom, enchantment, stunning attacks, even certain magics that aimed to scramble the mind. Peace of mind, he thought, wryly. Literally.

Then there was Rapid Regeneration. He rolled the idea around in his mind. It promised not immortality, but resilience — a way to bounce back, to heal injuries that might otherwise keep him down for days. Useful for someone who spent as much time wrangling animals and magic as he did, but also… a little intimidating. The thought of changing his own biology at that level sent a shiver down his spine. But was it any worse than Nerve Net at the end of the day?

Still, the last choice was the one that left him most unsettled. He tapped open Distributed Instinct, reading and rereading the description, chasing the nuances in every line. On paper, it looked like a cousin of Nerve Net — a deeper, stranger decentralization. But it was more than that. The language was careful, almost clinical, but the implications were profound: "instincts distributed throughout your nervous system," "limited action even if stunned or unconscious,"

He tried to imagine it — parts of his body reacting without waiting for the signal from his brain, like having a dozen little generals stationed in every nerve cluster. Not just reflex, but decision-making. The sort of thing that would get someone flagged for Gifted testing if it ever showed up on a scan. The sort of thing people might fear, or even try to dissect.

His fingers tightened around the mug. And what does that do to a person? Would he still be him, or would some part of him always be… watching, waiting, ready to act on its own? Mero has promised that Beast Skills weren't harmful to their user, but had he not just seen proof that the System wasn't perfect?

Mero must have caught the edge of his anxiety, because the fairy drifted closer, voice lower, more serious than usual. "Listen, kid. Distributed Instinct is one of the more advanced options at this level. Most folk wouldn't even qualify for it. And yeah, it's strange — alien, even. But it doesn't rewrite who you are. Not unless you start stackin' skills and losing sight of what makes you you. The System won't let you go off the deep end by accident, but you'll feel different. That's the point."

Jeremiah nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He set the mug down, exhaling slow and measured. Four choices. All strong, all useful, but each one would shape him — and his bond with Billy — in a different direction.

To select Distributed Instinct, Jeremiah would have to take Nerve Net as well, locking himself — if only for now — into a path defined by sharpened perception and rapid-fire reflexes. The pairing was almost unfair: together, they would make him nearly impossible to catch off guard, his reactions blurring into something preternatural, seldom seen even among F-grade Gifted. Mind-affecting magic and subtle traps would slide off him like water over glass. Add in the hours he'd been quietly devoting to shaking the rust from his old martial arts forms, and the physical boost granted by his User Skill, and Jeremiah imagined himself a living weapon — untouchable, elusive, and all the vulnerabilities of an ordinary mind sealed away beneath layers of trained instinct.

But there were other paths. Tentacular Reach beckoned, promising to amplify what he already possessed. With Nerve Net enhancing his neural pathways, Jeremiah could already picture himself gaining true mastery over all ten fingers, each moving independently, guided by will alone, no longer stymied by migraines or scrambled senses. He pictured arms lashing out with sudden, sinuous reach — two meters of coiling strength darting in all directions, underpinned by the subtle mana-weave beneath his skin and his growing physical stats. A defense like that could stop an intruder cold. Maybe even frighten them off before the fight ever began.

There was another, riskier option: skip Nerve Net entirely, and invest in both Tentacular Reach and Rapid Regeneration. That path would transform him into a creature of pure physicality — muscle, reach, and unstoppable self-repair. He wouldn't need to care about pulling a punch or breaking a finger on a poorly-placed blow; the healing would patch him up in moments, any self-inflicted damage wiped clean. Yet, even as he weighed the appeal, a warning lingered at the edge of his thoughts. That build was a glass cannon. Inside his shop, with the added protections of his Regalia, he would likely be more powerful than either of the other two options. But if trouble found him out in the city? All the healing in the world meant nothing if he never saw the attack coming.

Jeremiah's gaze lingered on the glowing interface, the shifting icons reflected in his eyes. Each choice felt like more than just a set of skills — it was a quiet promise, shaping the person he might become, not only today but far into tomorrow.

The System's interface pulsed, waiting. The choice was his.