Jeremiah spent the next twenty minutes scrolling through his options, of which there were still hundreds. Habitat domes. Modular groves. Burrow networks. Rotating terrarias. Aquatic columns. Arboreal towers. He was spoiled for choice, but now that he understood what he was searching for, the sprawling catalogue felt less overwhelming than before.
He studied the listings and built a clearer picture in his mind.
The Living Displays keyword branched into dozens of subcategories: terrestrial, aquatic, arboreal, burrowing, nocturnal, desert-adapted, temperate woodland, volcanic, cavernous, hybrid. Each listing offered preview windows that unfolded into shimmering miniature environments. Rolling dunes under artificial suns, mossy glades layered in filtered green light, and rocky cliff faces that looked like they’ve been carved right from the face of a mountain.
Every listing emphasized visibility, controlled access, and customer experience. These were curated habitats, structured environments that allowed beasts to behave more naturally than they could in a standard enclosure, while still existing within a space designed for observation. Clean sightlines. Reinforced barriers. In some cases, carefully monitored interaction zones. In many ways, they reminded him of zoo exhibits, only smaller.
Linked Habitat Nodes, by contrast, prioritized the creatures over the viewers.
The simpler models functioned as quiet retreats: insulated nesting hollows that attached discreetly to display walls, reinforced burrow chambers hidden beneath layered substrate, and shaded alcoves with carefully managed temperature and airflow. Practical additions that allowed animals to withdraw when they no longer wished to be seen.
More advanced versions offered spatially enhanced interiors with tailored microenvironments. Others generated controlled portals to other registered spaces, enabling creatures to travel between linked habitats and display areas at will.
Jeremiah narrowed his search again.
The first obvious option had been an upgraded version of the Unified Terrarium Ecosystem. He found it quickly enough, though it seemed his host discount only applied to the Tiny-class model he already owned. Perhaps that would change with time. For now, he flagged it and moved on.
He refined the results further, filtering for fixtures that combined both Living Display and Linked Habitat Node functions. The hybrid units were more expensive than the specialized models, but still cheaper than purchasing both components separately.
“The combined units are more space efficient as well…” he murmured to himself.
Gradually, the endless catalogue thinned until only two entries remained.
Jeremiah leaned forward and opened the first, reading it slowly.
——————❇——————
Tidal Confluence Aquarium
Rank: E
Quality: Exquisite
Keywords: Aquatic Habitat, Environmental Simulation, Linked Habitat Node, Living Display, Contract Enforced.
Description: Why visit the ocean, when you can bring the ocean to you?
The Tidal Confluence Aquarium is an large aquatic display engineered to replicate a stabilized oceanic environment, with adjustable dimensions making it suitable for a wide range of configurations and shop sizes. This aquarium is divided into multiple self-contained ecological zones, each capable of dynamically adapting to match the physiology and preferences of active occupants.
At its center is a System-bound Oceanhopper Tidal Cave anchor, serving as both habitat core and spatial link node. Registered creatures may travel between the aquarium and any authorized, exterior habitat connected through the anchor. Entry into the shared tank requires acceptance of a non-aggression and coexistence contract enforced at the threshold.
Fully transparent and designed as a centerpiece installation, the Tidal Confluence Aquarium transforms a shop’s aquatic section into a living ocean cross-section — simultaneously a functional habitat, bonding space, and educational exhibit.
System Note: This fixture is recognized as a Living Display and a Linked Habitat Node. Aquatic beasts experience reduced stress, improved acclimation, and increased bond stability.
System contracts may be applied at the anchor. In order for this aquarium to link to a registered habitat, a gateway must be purchased at the anchor (1,000 marks).
Cost: 12,500 Marks
——————❇——————
“Why visit the ocean, when you can bring the ocean to you?” he echoed under his breath.
The aquarium display unfolded into a layered cross-section of marine life — stone ledges descending into shadow, swaying forests of kelp, slow shoals of placeholder fish drifting through simulated currents. Separate ecological zones shimmered faintly along the tank’s perimeter, each tagged with adjustable salinity, temperature, and light-spectrum controls.
In a very real way, Jeremiah felt like he wasn’t just looking at an aquarium, but a tiny piece of the ocean pasted into his shop.
Jeremiah paused at that thought, his pulse spiking slightly as an idea that had never occurred to him formed in his mind. If the System could simulate pressure, mineral density, light refraction, and whatever else made an ocean an ocean with that level of fidelity…
Then what about mana?
He leaned forward and stared closer at the rotating model.
Ulrick had been clear: mana wasn’t just energy. It was patterned information. Context made tangible. He’d even explained how mages sometimes constructed controlled environments to cultivate specific affinities.
If that were true…
Could a perfectly replicated ocean environment produce oceanic mana?
Jeremiah ground his teeth.
He didn’t know, and that was the problem.
If the aquarium could solve even part of his mana bottleneck, it might justify itself in ways no ordinary fixture could.
The potential here teased him, tempting him to make the twelve-thousand-mark gamble.
However, one important detail made him hesitate.
The Mystical Menagerie didn’t carry fish. Not yet. He hadn’t even invested in the basics of a standard aquatic setup. The shelter rarely received the. Only an occasional surrender, or a batch rescued from an overstocked pet store, nothing consistent.
If he purchased this now, there was no telling how long it would sit empty.
His gaze drifted toward Billy.
The tiny kraken zipped sideways in his bubble, teasing the kittens again. Two of them had given up and collapsed beside Sissy in a tired pile, their earlier enthusiasm spent. Billy, however, remained tireless.
He would love it, Jeremiah suspected.
But would that be enough?
Would an ocean without life still be an ocean?
Jeremiah took a deep breath and exhaled.
Instead of spiraling deeper into speculation, he dismissed the aquarium display and pulled up the second item.
——————❇——————
Grand Perch Atrium
Rank: E
Quality: Exquisite
Keywords: Aerial Habitat, Linked Habitat Node, Living Display, Contract Enforced.
Description: A modular open-flight aviary designed to provide small avian creatures with a shared, stable airspace within shop territory. Instead of isolating birds in individual cages, the Grand Perch Atrium creates a continuous vertical chamber that supports natural flight, perching, flock movement, and roosting behavior.
At its center is a System-bound Grand Birdhouse anchor, serving as both habitat core and spatial link node. Registered creatures may travel between the Aerie and any authorized, owned exterior habitat connected through the anchor. Entry into the shared airspace requires acceptance of a non-aggression and coexistence contract enforced at the threshold.
Environmental conditions are automatically regulated to maintain safe airflow, light cycles, and pressure levels appropriate for small aerial species.
The installation is scalable, beginning as a contained flight enclosure and expanding into a courtyard-scale aviary beneath a transparent sky-dome canopy. Functioning as both habitat and public display, the Aerie allows safe observation while preserving creature autonomy.
System Note: This fixture is recognized as a Living Display and a Linked Habitat Node. Winded beasts experience reduced stress, improved acclimation, and increased bond stability.
System contracts may be applied at the anchor. For this atrium to link to a registered habitat, a gateway must be purchased at the anchor (1,000 marks).
Cost: 12,500 Marks
——————❇——————
The preview resolved into a tall, open-flight chamber bathed in filtered light. Perches spiraled upward around a central birdhouse anchor, forming a loose helix that invited movement rather than confinement. Airflow indicators pulsed softly in the corner of the display, faint currents visualized in pale ribbons of motion. It wasn’t built with just birds in mind, either. The configuration menu shifted at his touch, revealing alternate layouts for bat roost clusters, glider paths for small mammals, and enclosed butterfly corridors woven through layered greenery.
It was remarkably similar in structure to the aquarium. In fact, Jeremiah strongly suspected it shared the same underlying framework.
But, as with the previous listing, he didn’t have any appropriate creatures to house inside it.
Unlike the aquarium, though—
“I know where I can get some….”
He took a deep breath and pulled up both listings again, setting them side by side, going over them once more. The aquarium’s oceanic simulation glowed cool and blue on one half of the interface. The atrium’s warm vertical space rose in quiet contrast to the other.
He checked his remaining balance and found he had enough left after his earlier purchases.
But only for one.
He wanted both. He was going to get both. So the question became, which one could he do without right now?
Did he take the gamble and buy the aquarium, knowing it might be useless to him for the immediate future? Or did he go with the atrium, knowing he would need it soon, anyway.
Jeremiah chewed on the choice for a moment longer before making his selection and confirming the purchase before he could second-guess himself.
He closed his eyes and listened to the transaction process with a quiet chime.
Jeremiah reopened his wallet.
Just under two thousand marks remained.
The tension drained from his shoulders in a slow release, leaving him feeling strangely exhausted. Yet even as he sank back into his chair, he couldn’t stop the smirk from forming.
It might not have been the same kind of battle he’d fought against the Ironjaw, but it had been a fight all the same.
And he’d won.
He sagged fully into the backrest. The catalogue shimmered and dimmed as he closed the menus entirely, the glow fading from the desk until only the shop’s warm evening light remained.
A moment later, Mero clapped, cutting through the hush.
“Well done, kid,” the fairy said, grinning. “Ya did good.”
Jeremiah took the next few moments to decompress.
He remained in his chair, head tipped back, eyes closed. The shop hummed softly around him. Milo shifted on his cushion with a faint sigh. Near the beetle wall, something scraped lightly as the enclosure recalibrated and settled into its new configuration. Warm amber light stretched long shadows across the floorboards.
He let the silence settle around him.
The rush from his purchases had drained away, leaving behind a steady, grounded calm. His thoughts no longer raced. The choices had been made. The marks were spent. What remained was simple execution.
After one last slow breath, he leaned forward and pushed himself to his feet, ready to get to work.
His gaze flicked toward the staircase leading to the second floor. The Recovery Wing would finish installing by morning. He could inspect it then.
For now, there was something else to handle.
Jeremiah crossed the shop and stepped through the courtyard door, Mero drifting along behind him. Cool night air met him immediately, clearing the last of the mental fog. The courtyard lay quiet and empty, the garden beds dark shapes under the faint spill of interior light. The air smelled faintly of earth and garden mulch.
He crossed the stone path and stopped in front of the staff room door. Lifting his hand, he knocked.
Silence.
Then a muffled thud against wood. A muttered curse. Something scraped across hardwood, followed by hurried footsteps.
Jeremiah waited.
A moment later, the door cracked open to reveal a disheveled Lewis. The young groundskeeper blinked at him, eyes wide.
“B-boss. You’re, ah… still here,” he said, voice pitching slightly higher than usual. His gaze darted over his shoulder into the room behind him. Color crept up his neck.
Jeremiah’s eyes flicked past him.
A blanket lay thrown over the back of a chair. A small stack of books rested unevenly on the table. Dishes sat in the sink beside a kettle left on the stove. It wasn’t a mess, exactly. Just lived-in.
Above them, in the exposed rafters, Maddie lounged comfortably. The lynx’s vine-like tail flicked once in open irritation. She fixed Jeremiah with a narrow stare. Through their attunement, he felt the edge of a smug challenge. As if she were daring him to kick her out.
Jeremiah chuckled under his breath.
He’d known for some time that Lewis was using the staff room as an apartment.
Compared to the half-abandoned Maddock units across the courtyard, it was warmer, cleaner, and only steps from work. Jeremiah had more than once considered claiming one of the upstairs rooms of the store for himself. The System even offered apartment templates he could install.
But he’d put the idea aside for now.
Rent at the Tell Tale apartments was cheap, and he had come to enjoy the walk each morning — the shift from quiet residential streets into the steady pulse of Market Street. It gave him space to think. Maybe he would move into the shop, eventually. For now, though, there were better uses for his marks.
“Sorry for intruding,” Jeremiah said, keeping his tone easy. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Lewis blinked once more before shaking his head quickly. “N-no, boss. I was up.” His voice steadied a fraction. “What can I do for you?” He stepped back instinctively, as if inviting him in.
Jeremiah shook his head. “Nothing major. I was just wondering if there’s any unused space left in the courtyard.”
Lewis paused, then tilted his head as he thought. “Ya… there should be. Give me a moment.”
He shut the door.
A minute later, it opened again. This time Lewis was fully dressed, a coat thrown over his shoulders, boots laced.
They walked together toward the far corner between the staff room and the shop wall. A stack of lumber leaned against the brick. Bags of soil slumped beside it, half-opened. A rake and two trowels rested where they’d last been dropped.
“I was using this for garden storage,” Lewis said, nudging one of the soil bags with his boot. “But we’re past the heavy build stage. The kids are planting now, and we’re not expanding again anytime soon.”
He glanced over at Jeremiah. “Will this work?”
Jeremiah studied the corner in silence.
It was tucked far enough from the main walkway to avoid blocking traffic, but close enough to the entrance to catch the eye. Tall brick walls on two sides would provide natural shelter.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“It’s perfect.”
The next few moments were spent silently cleaning the area.
Lewis tackled the lumber first, lifting each plank and stacking it neatly along the opposite wall. Jeremiah hauled the soil bags aside one by one, his rib only slightly protesting at the weight, then gathered the scattered tools and piled them in tidy rows.
It didn’t take long.
Within minutes, the patch of stone and grass lay open and bare, the courtyard corner cleared of clutter.
Lewis stepped back and wiped his hands down the front of his coat, leaving faint streaks of dirt behind.
Mero drifted closer, hovering at shoulder height as he surveyed the empty space. “Might wanna step back for this next part, kid.”
Lewis looked between them, then quickly retreated a few paces.
Jeremiah stepped forward.
He summoned his System interface. A wireframe hologram bloomed into view — an outlined structure rising from the courtyard floor in pale lines of light. It towered high above the shop roofline, twice as tall, broad enough to fill the cleared space comfortably.
Jeremiah adjusted the dimensions with careful movements, narrowing one wall by a fraction, rotating the anchor point so it aligned cleanly with the walkway. He left a comfortable margin along the edge for future expansion.
Satisfied, he pressed confirm.
Light flared.
For a heartbeat, the courtyard glowed white.
Then the wireframe dissolved.
In its place stood a towering atrium.
Metal supports arced upward in smooth vertical lines, meeting overhead beneath a transparent canopy that caught the faint spill of shop light. Perches spiraled toward the central birdhouse anchor in a loose helix, climbing higher and higher. Air shimmered faintly within the enclosure as the environmental systems initialized, subtle currents threading between the supports.
Lewis stared up at it, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and unblinking.
Mero floated upward, circling halfway around the structure. “Oh? Interesting,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “I’d have thought you’d go for the aquarium.”
Jeremiah folded his arms and studied the atrium, satisfaction settling deep in his chest.
“It was tempting,” he admitted.
He let his gaze travel up the spiraling perches, imagining them filled with motion.
“But I remembered something important at the last moment.”
Mero tilted his head. “What’s that?”
Jeremiah’s smile sharpened.
“We’re going to have guests soon.”