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

Jeremiah slumped onto the rough wooden steps of the Safe Area cabin, his breath fogging faintly in the cool green air. Sunlight filtered down through the ancient trees, dappling the clearing with shifting coins of gold and shadow. Billy, still encased in his shimmering water bubble, whirled lazy circuits above the porch, peering with bright curiosity at the clear plastic box Jeremiah held on his knees.

Inside, the Goliath Bark Beetle was a boulder of mottled brown, all armored shell and bristling legs. It clung to a branch, motionless save for the faint flex of its antennae, every so often rousing itself to headbutt the walls of the enclosure with a dull thunk before subsiding back into sullen torpor.

The box itself was new. A 'Small Beast Transport Case' from the System store — F Grade, durable, escape-proof — purchased moments after the chase in the woods. Jeremiah still wasn't sure if he was more grateful or surprised by still having access to the store here. Apparently, the System still considered the Testing Grounds as 'part of his store' for such things. It would explain why he was still getting full benefits from his uniform as well, including the boosted stats. Those had been a godsend during his hike.

He studied the beetle with a frown. The case had been a necessary purchase. The first time he'd tried to wrangle the beetle back to the cabin by hand, it had slipped from his grasp, launched itself straight for his shin, bounced off his boot, and rolled itself in the dirt, thrashing until he scooped it up again. "Persistent little bastard," he muttered, not without admiration.

But that wasn't the real problem.

Jeremiah closed his eyes and reached for the System, focusing on the tiny thread of connection he'd used with Billy and Maddie. He pictured the beetle, willing the faint warmth of the contract process to spark to life.

Only for the thread to fall away without purchase.

His HUD flickered, and the same message burned into his vision for the third — or was it fourth — time today.

——————❇——————

Target Beast does not meet the minimum threshold to form a contract.

——————❇——————

"Seriously?" he muttered, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Frustration welled up. This was supposed to be the easy part. Identify a beast. Open a bond. Done.

He took a steadying breath and called out, voice echoing through the quiet clearing, "Mero? You around?"

A shimmer answered him. Mero appeared a few feet away atop the porch rail, wings catching the sunlight, arms folded and eyebrows raised. "Trouble in paradise already, shopkeep?"

Jeremiah held up the insect case. "You could say that." He let the frustration bleed into his words. "The System won't let me form a contract. Keeps giving me the same error. Minimal threshold not met. What does that even mean?"

Mero inspected the beetle, tilting his head, then shrugged. "That's about what I'd expect. Little guy's tough, sure, but there's not much going on up there." He tapped his own temple with a stubby finger. "System contracts need a certain level of… awareness. Even with the System's help, this one just doesn't have enough in the tank to make the leap."

Jeremiah scowled. "So you're saying it's too stupid?"

Mero's lips twitched. "Not stupid. More… simple-minded, maybe. There's a difference. This beetle doesn't have things like hopes, dreams, or even a real sense of 'self.' It's all instinct: 'suck sap, charge predator, fight for mate.' Ya can't strike a fair deal if one side doesn't even know it's making one. System contracts are about reciprocity, kid. Both sides have to bring something to the table, or the System throws it out."

Jeremiah frowned. "So the beetle doesn't have anything to 'offer' in other words?"

Mero nodded. "That's one way of putting it. Any value you could think to extract from it would be purely in your mind. It wouldn't be on the part of the beetle themselves. That matters."

Jeremiah turned the box in his hands, watching the beetle's antennae twitch. "So… what? I'll never be able to contract with things like insects or similar 'simple' beasts?"

Mero shook his head. "Not quite. Ya can contract with plenty of things that aren't as complicated. Take a Lesser Elemental — no brain at all, really. Just a collection of barely aware energy. But it can offer up bits of that energy, if ya provide a home or stability. It might be part of what they naturally do, but that's still value exchanged. Most higher-grade beasts, even insects, start to pick up more complex patterns, so above G-grade, this "threshold" gets blurrier. But for this little guy? Yer better off using other means."

Jeremiah huffed, running a hand through his hair. "That would've been good to know before I started planning things. The tutorials never said a thing about this."

Mero's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "That's because it's rarely a problem, even for bugs, above G. By then, they've got just enough going on inside to meet the threshold, especially in the Wilds or the Grounds. The System expects you to be dealing with bigger, nastier stuff once you start real contracts."

Jeremiah nodded, resigned. "Still an issue for me. I was hoping to form contracts, then just keep the beasts waiting by the door until I finished my run. If I can't contract half of what I find, how am I supposed to gather anything at all?"

Mero leaned back, the tips of his wings flicking in the breeze. "Why not just ask the System for help?"

Jeremiah blinked. "Ask… the System?"

"Sure. You leveled up your Authority, didn't you?" Mero's grin sharpened. "This is exactly the sort of thing it's meant for. The System's not just some glorified vending machine — it's supposed to help you reach your potential. Standard Users get access to more than just the basic menu. You can make special requests — tools, features, even a function tailored to your needs, if you can justify it."

Jeremiah felt a prickle of hope. "You mean, I can ask for anything?"

Mero waggled a finger. "Limited by your Authority, of course. Right now, you've got two 'free' requests. After that, it gets expensive. Think of it like your sign-on bonus. You want more, you gotta prove you're worth the trouble."

Jeremiah leaned forward, mind racing. Two requests — real, concrete chances to shape the System to his needs. He tried to ignore the old gamer's instinct to hoard rare items "for later." This wasn't a game. He needed every edge he could get.

But what, exactly, would solve the problem now?

As if reading his thoughts, Mero winked. "Lucky for you, I'm always a step ahead."

He snapped his fingers.

A new window snapped open in Jeremiah's vision, lines of text gleaming with invitation.

——————❇——————

SYSTEM REQUEST

_____________________

Big Book of Beasts

This feature allows the user to summon a unique, System-bound tome: The Big Book of Beasts. This semi-physical artifact functions as both a compendium and a storage for bonded beasts. This feature allows the user to place bonded beasts into a temporary digital storage space for up to 24 hours.

Core Functions:

The Book may be summoned or dismissed at will by the User.

In order to store or release a beast, the Book must be physically summoned and present.

Each bonded beast stored within the Book gains a dedicated "page," displaying a detailed System scan: stats, traits, current bond status, last known condition, and a living illustration.

Stored beasts are maintained in stasis, with all physical, mental, and environmental conditions preserved exactly as they were at the moment of entry. Upon removal, beasts return to physical space in the same condition as when stored.

The Book can be browsed for information on current and past bonded beasts, including summaries of contract history and attunement status.

Storage Conditions:

Only beasts with a bond to the user may be stored.

Storage and retrieval require the beast to be within 10 meters of the Book (extended by the beast's length if the beast exceeds 10 meters; e.g., a 15-meter beast has a 25-meter range).

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Beasts may attempt to resist being stored; success is determined by a contested check between the beast's willpower and the user's Mental stat.

Only open, unoccupied spaces within the defined range may be used to release a stored beast.

Stasis Limitations:

Maximum Stasis Time: Beasts may remain in storage for a maximum of 24 cumulative hours (Stasis Time) before requiring recovery.

Recovery Period: After a beast is removed from storage, it must rest outside of storage for a period proportional to the time spent in stasis, at a rate of 1 day of rest per 3.5 hours of Stasis Time used, up to a maximum of 7 days of rest after 24 hours in Stasis.

Stasis Fatigue: If a beast's time in stasis exceeds its allotted Stasis Time, or is returned to storage before completing its rest period, it accumulates Stasis Fatigue, which may result in penalties such as reduced stats, weakened bond, or potential health complications.

Cumulative Stasis: Stasis Time and recovery periods are tracked cumulatively and individually until a full rest period is completed. Once full recovery is achieved, the Stasis Time counter resets. If the beast is stored again before completing this rest period, Stasis Fatigue accumulates.

Beasts retain no memory or awareness of time spent in stasis.

Additional Functions:

The Book records a living, illustrated bestiary as beasts are added or released. Unbonded creatures encountered by the user are also scanned and appear as "blank" or "incomplete" entries, encouraging further exploration and study.

The User may add personal notes, observations, or sketches to any entry, customizing their compendium as they grow.

_____________________

Would you like to generate this System Feature?

System Requests available: 2/2

——————❇——————

Jeremiah's laugh rang out, bright and startled, echoing into the quiet green of the clearing. "You've got to be kidding," he said, grinning at the System request hovering in his vision. "This… this is perfect. It's exactly what I need."

He could already see the possibilities beyond his current predicament. Not just for the immediate issue of keeping new companions safe and contained, but for future expeditions, rescues, and even emergencies. The implications rippled outward: more efficient adoptions, less stress for the animals, new types of beasts brought back with less risk. It was almost too good to be true.

Which, of course, meant he couldn't stop himself from suspecting it was.

He shot Mero a sideways look, his smile fading to a squint of suspicion. "Okay, so how did you have this ready to go?" His eyes narrowed, searching Mero's face for any tells. "You didn't just pull this out of thin air. Am I… being watched?"

Mero only smirked, a familiar glint lighting his eyes as he fluttered down to perch on the rail, wings flickering with lazy mischief. "Yer always being watched, kid," he said, cocking his head. "The System's got more eyes than a barrel of spiders." He stretched, bones popping, and grinned wider. "But to answer the question you meant to ask. No, not right now. Not in the way ya think. Most of the time, it's just background noise — algorithms and little helper spirits running around, sorting data."

Jeremiah grimaced, folding his arms. "Most of the time?"

Mero barked a laugh. "Like I said, the System is always watching. Always learning. And if it flags something that it thinks it can help its growth — or if a User like you hits a bottleneck — it'll bounce that up to an expert. This feature came from one of them, in anticipation of just this issue."

Jeremiah let out a long sigh, some of the tension leeching from his shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was comforting or disturbing. Probably both. "Great… good to know." He let the thought drift for a moment, then shook his head, pushing the whole question aside before it spiraled into another night of anxious, circular thinking.

He turned his attention back to the screen, rereading the offer line by line. The design was clean. Elegant. Frankly, better than anything he could have cobbled together himself. After a moment's consideration, he pressed accept, and the prompt winked away, replaced by a new message:

——————❇——————

"Big Book of Beasts" Feature installed to your System iteration.

——————❇——————

The screen pulsed once, then dissolved, and a sudden weight tugged at Jeremiah's hand. He jerked in surprise as something heavy and real settled against his palm.

A massive tome rested there, large enough to use as a weapon in its own right: a thick-bound volume that looked as if it had been stitched together from old bestiaries and field guides, its spine reinforced with dark, mottled leather and its corners capped in cool, silvery metal. The cover gleamed with strange sigils that flickered in and out of sight, inked in shifting blues and golds, while the title — Big Book of Beasts — stood out in bold, looping script that seemed to ripple like water when he tilted the tome.

He turned it over, breath catching. The surface was alive with subtle textures: the echo of scales and fur, the faint grain of bark and feather, all woven into the leather like a tactile memory of every creature it might someday contain. At the center, a circular emblem shimmered — a stylized paw and talon interlocked, wrapped in the coils of a tentacle and crowned with a delicate insect wing.

Jeremiah brushed his fingers across the cover. It felt… warm. Not in a threatening way, but like the sunlit hide of a well-loved animal, or the comforting press of an old friend's hand. The tome was heavy, substantial enough that he'd have expected to struggle with its bulk, but when he gripped the edge, it shifted easily, seeming to move like a living thing as it adjusted in his grip.

He cracked the cover. The first pages were pristine, waiting. Thick, creamy parchment edged in faint blue light, each leaf subtly inscribed with empty frames and System notations. A handful of blank entries stretched out before him, expectant and hungry for discovery.

One page fluttered of its own accord, filling itself in with his name — Jeremiah Bridge — and, in smaller script below, the words: Authorized User. Keeper of the Menagerie.

He let out a low whistle, glancing up at Mero, who hovered nearby with a look of smug satisfaction. "Not bad, huh?" the fairy said, wings ticking in the dappled sunlight.

Jeremiah grinned, the sudden weight of possibility settling in his chest. "Not bad at all," he murmured, running his thumb along the empty frames, imagining the stories that would someday fill every page.

"Now… let's see what you can do," Jeremiah said.

Jeremiah glanced around, then focused on Billy, who was looping exuberant spirals over the porch. With a thought — less a command and more an act of gentle intention — he reached for the new function. Billy shimmered, then winked out of existence in a ripple of light.

In the same moment, a page appeared in the Big Book of Beasts, and Jeremiah instantly recognized it as Billy's System Scan. Though it was also… more, as well. Alongside the typical System information — Name, Grade, Bond Type, ecology, etc etc — there was additional information as well. Billy's general personality, quirks, and even a handful of Jeremiah's own observations, as if the Book had plucked them right from his memories and arranged them neatly on the page. There was even a tiny, almost playful sketch of Billy in the margin, his tentacles curled in a lazy spiral, eyes bright and mischievous.

Jeremiah blinked, startled. It felt… intuitive. He could feel Billy's presence tucked somewhere deep within, similar to his uniforms. It was as if the System had opened up a private room in his soul. He could sense the kraken's gentle presence, a vague swirl of sensation just beyond the edge of perception.

With another mental nudge, Jeremiah reached in and pulled — and just as easily, Billy reappeared, water bubble and all, blinking into existence in front of him with a little pop. The baby kraken let out a distressed squeak, spinning in midair, tentacles splaying wide in alarm.

Jeremiah grinned and reached out, letting Billy curl a trembling arm around his finger. "Hey, easy, buddy. You're all right. You just… took a shortcut, that's all." He stroked the little kraken's mantle until Billy's jitters faded, the panic in their bond easing to sheepish curiosity.

As he did so, Jeremiah glanced down, and sure enough, Billy's page remained in the book.

When Billy soothed, Jeremiah turned his attention back to the beetle's case, cradling it in his lap. He studied the Goliath Bark Beetle, watched it scuttle in circles, stubborn and determined, and frowned thoughtfully.

"If a contract won't work for you," he mused aloud, "how about an attunement?" He focused, reaching with the same gentle mental 'tap' he'd used for the shelter animals. He extended a thread of intent toward the beetle, picturing the metaphorical 'door' of its existence and giving a polite, hopeful knock.

The response was immediate and alien. There was no sense of curiosity or suspicion, none of the emotional warmth or resistance he'd felt from more complex beasts. Instead, a jolt snapped back along the thread — a headlong, instinctive charge, as if the beetle could only react with a single note: attack, drive off, defend.

Jeremiah sighed, rubbing at his brow. "Well, that's a no, then," he muttered, voice half-exasperated, half-resigned. Clearly, he wasn't getting in by asking nicely.

That left only one option — one he'd hoped to avoid. He squared his shoulders, drew a breath, and instead of a gentle knock, he shoved. Not with malice, but with a firm, unyielding push of will — a mental 'kick' meant to break through.

The barrier collapsed at once, dissolving in a rush of brittle sensation. A new System window appeared, crisp and cold as steel:

——————❇——————

Forced Attunement formed with |Goliath Bark Beetle| (Unnamed).

Please be aware that Forced Attunements are temporary bonds and will decay rapidly with time or instantly if the beast moves more than 1km away from the User.

Forced Attunements do not generate Beast Talismans.

While a record of Forced Attunements will be kept by the System and be available on request, they are not recorded on your Beast Board.

——————❇——————

Jeremiah blinked at the System window, letting its sharp, clinical words linger before him a moment longer. A forced attunement. Temporary, fragile, and, if he was honest, a little uncomfortable.

The sensation wasn't nearly as intense as his attempted forced attunement with Maddie had been, though whether that was because of the beetles' far lower grade, or his own boosted one, Jeremiah wasn't sure.

Even so, it was like grabbing a live wire; the beetle's awareness nothing but raw reflex, striking out with the same blunt determination that made it charge his boots and the carrier alike. There was no thread of warmth, no sense of partnership, just a dim, single-minded pulse: fight, flee, survive.

Still, the bond was formed, however tenuous, and he felt it tug at the edge of his perception — a faint, alien pressure somewhere between sensation and memory.

He pressed a finger to the cool plastic of the carrier, lips pressed in a thoughtful line.

"All right," he murmured, letting the moment settle. "Let's see if this works..."

Focusing as he had with Billy, Jeremiah visualized the beetle — the weight of it in his palm, the strange metallic sheen of its shell, the dull determination in its movements — and with a pulse of intent, sent it and the carrier into storage. They vanished in a ripple of light, the box blinking out of existence without even a whisper.

He paused, eyes unfocused, feeling inward for that new, faint presence. Yes — there it was. A checkmark on the mental ledger. It seemed even forced bonds could be stored. He nodded, tension unwinding from his shoulders as the reality of what he'd just done settled over him.

The forest stood quiet around him, the hush interrupted only by the distant calls of birds and the gentle hum of insects in the dappled sun. Jeremiah straightened, a grin tugging at his mouth — half relief, half anticipation. He slid his hands into his pockets and took in the riot of green, the gold-touched leaves shifting overhead.

"All right, Testing Grounds," he said softly, facing the wild with a newfound confidence. "Let's see what you've got next."

He stepped down from the porch and into the waiting shadows, the forest swallowing him whole.