The Ghastling burped.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't violent. It was… polite, in the way only something that had never learned embarrassment could be. A soft whuff of displaced air, followed by a ripple through its cubic body that made the smooth bumps along its sides shift subtly, like dough settling after being kneaded.
Eryx stopped mid-step.
"…Bless you," he said automatically.
The Ghastling giggled.
She floated beside him, noticeably larger now—no longer the fragile little cube he'd first coaxed out of bone and ash in the Nether. She was fuller. Denser. About as wide as a mature woman's thigh, still unmistakably cubic, but softened at the edges. The sharp geometry had begun to round itself out, tiny smooth protrusions forming where rigid corners once dominated.
Growth, not mutation.
Her ribbons—tentacles, streamers, whatever someone wanted to call them—trailed behind her like silk caught in water. The undersides were finally turning white, a clean, pearlescent shade creeping upward from the tips. A sign of health. Of development.
Eryx felt a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest.
"Yeah," he murmured as Crescent Ward's lamps reflected faintly off her body. "You earned that meal."
The walk back to the shop was uneventful, which in Crescent Ward meant successful. No Beast disputes spilling into the streets. No patrol alarms. No overly curious enforcers sniffing for irregular contracts.
Cubic Creatures waited for him like it always did—unassuming, clean, and just strange enough to draw attention without inviting trouble.
He unlocked the door, flipped the sign, and stepped inside.
The Ghastling drifted through after him, ducking slightly out of habit even though she didn't need to. The door chimed softly as it closed.
"Alright," Eryx said, clapping his hands once. "Let's get to work."
---
The first order of business was space.
Eryx rolled his shoulders, reached inward, and accessed his Beast Space.
The sensation never got old. It wasn't visual—no HUD, no floating menus—but a knowing. A mental reach into a pocket of existence that recognized him as its anchor.
Nine shapes emerged in controlled bursts of mana-light.
Spiders.
The normal ones came first.
Large. Very large. Each one was roughly as wide as a full dining table, legs tucked instinctively as they materialized. Their bodies were thick and dark, eyes glinting with low intelligence and high awareness. They hissed softly, not aggressive—alert.
Eryx guided them with practiced ease, directing them toward the reinforced habitat in the back. The enclosure had been custom-built: thick resin walls, anchored mana barriers, ceiling space high enough to accommodate their vertical reach when they reared up.
Then came the Cave Spiders.
Smaller.
Deadlier.
Three of them emerged, compact and sleek, black bodies traced faintly with green that only caught the light at certain angles. The coloration wasn't decorative—it was a warning. Potent venom. Fast reactions. High risk if mishandled.
Eryx exhaled slowly.
"Alright… you three are getting a sign."
He didn't rush them. Cave Spiders weren't stupid, but they were instinctual. Calm confidence mattered. He guided them into a separate enclosure—smaller, denser, with tighter mana seals and feeding ports designed to minimize exposure.
Once everything settled, Eryx stepped back and surveyed the back room.
Nine spiders.
Three venomous.
A growing Ghastling hovering contentedly near the ceiling, occasionally bumping into a light fixture and apologizing with a chirp.
Not bad.
He affixed the warning sign himself.
CAUTION — POISONOUS CAVE SPIDERS
AUTHORIZED HANDLING ONLY
Clear. Honest. No unnecessary dramatics.
Feeding came next.
Eryx retrieved sealed containers filled with live bugs—fat, healthy, and very much alive. They'd been raised on leaves lightly coated with Emerald Dust.
He paused mid-motion.
"…Actually," he muttered, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
He looked at the shimmering dust container.
Then at the feeding bins.
Then back at the dust.
"Huh."
The thought had been nagging him for a while now. Ever since the restaurant. Ever since Jeanne's Mantis had reacted the way it did.
"Calling these emeralds is going to get confusing," he said aloud.
The Ghastling bobbed in agreement, despite having no idea what he meant.
"These aren't this world's emeralds. Not really."
He tapped the container lightly.
"They come from Minecraft. They behave like emeralds, sure—but they absorb. They integrate. They don't just sit there and resonate."
He straightened, eyes lighting up with the kind of certainty philosophers pretended to have.
"…Gemeralds."
He nodded.
"Yes. Gemeralds."
He said it with absolute confidence.
The spiders began feeding, legs shifting as bugs scattered and vanished into mandibles. The venomous trio moved with eerie efficiency, venom glands flaring faintly as they injected and consumed.
Eryx watched closely.
The effect was subtle but undeniable.
Better coordination. Faster response times. A faint sheen along their carapaces.
"Yep," he said. "Gemeralds."
---
Next came the foxes.
He sighed as he opened the back doors wider.
"Alright, you little menaces… time to come out."
One by one, foxes spilled into the store's rear habitat. Red, silver, arctic variants—ears twitching, tails flicking, eyes sharp with cleverness. They'd been getting too numerous in Beast Space, clustering around anything remotely shiny.
Word had gotten out.
Not officially. Not through any announcement.
But customers talked.
And people were starting to realize something important.
Eryx's foxes could sniff out treasure.
Not magically. Not instantly.
They were trained. Conditioned. Rewarded. Exposed to Gemerald resonance until their senses adapted, learned to associate certain mana signatures with value.
This wasn't Pokémon.
Beasts didn't just pop out with skills.
You trained them. You worked with them. You invested time.
Skills emerged naturally—refined instincts turned into techniques.
The foxes padded around, settling into their habitat, noses already pressed to the ground as if searching for something to steal.
Eryx leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching his shop fill with quiet life.
Spiders shifting in the back.
Foxes murmuring to each other in little chirps and huffs.
The Ghastling floating lazily overhead, occasionally rotating to observe a particularly interesting dust mote.
This… felt right.
He stepped back into the front room and paused at the display counter.
The sign sat there.
EMERALD DUST — FEEDING SUPPLEMENT
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then he took it down.
He grabbed a new sign, wrote carefully, deliberately.
GEMERALD DUST
He added a thick, unmistakable G on the side with a fat Sharpie stroke.
Not trademarked.
Not patented.
But recognizable.
More importantly—accurate.
Because these Gemeralds could be absorbed.
Not just eaten.
Integrated.
He set the sign in place, straightened it, and took a step back.
"…Perfect."
The Ghastling drifted down beside him, bumping his shoulder gently.
Eryx smiled, resting a hand against her smooth side.
"Good job today," he said softly.
She purred—deep, resonant, like water moving through a hollow cave.
He glanced around his shop one more time.
Then, almost absently, he muttered—
"Maybe I should sell Iron Golems…"
The thought lingered.
And the world, quietly, adjusted.