Chapter 137: Creating a Pre-Calamity Pet

The massive, scaled egg vibrated so violently that the stone pedestal completely pulverized beneath it.

Red gripped the armrests of his throne, narrowing his eyes as he braced for the manifestation of a towering, multi-headed abomination worthy of the Pre-Calamity code.

Then, the shell detonated.

A shockwave of pure, light-absorbing darkness washed over the Void instance, briefly shorting out Red’s secondary monitors and plunging the digital room into absolute pitch black.

When the system rebooted and the digital smoke finally cleared, Red stood from his throne, his eyes scanning the ceiling for a colossal beast. Finding nothing, he blinked and peered down into the cratered remains of the pedestal.

Sitting amidst the shattered dark shell fragments was a creature no larger than a loaf of bread.

It was entirely covered in impossibly soft, ash-silver fur that seemed to gently absorb the ambient light of the room. Six tiny, velvet-padded paws shifted awkwardly on the broken stone. It had oversized, rounded ears that twitched rhythmically to the hum of the Void, and a thick, incredibly fluffy tail that wrapped neatly around its small body.

The creature looked up at the towering God of the Continent. Its large, innocent eyes swirled with the exact same emerald primordial plasma from the Genesis Geode.

It tilted its head, opened its tiny mouth, and let out a soft, high-pitched chirp.

Red stared at the furball. The Architect of the Spiral, the absolute dictator who commanded legions of heavily armored monsters and alchemical war machines, stood perfectly still.

“A six-legged fox,” Red stated flatly, his voice deadpan in the quiet room. “I spent five charges of my core trait to hyper-evolve a Pre-Calamity fox.”

The fluffy creature chirped again, stood up on its hind legs, and promptly sneezed.

A microscopic spark of dark plasma shot from its tiny nose and hit a floating chunk of the shattered stone pedestal. The debris didn’t burn or shatter, it simply ceased to exist, completely erased from the game engine’s grid in a silent, instantaneous flash of absolute deletion.

Red paused.

He slowly lowered himself back onto his throne and dragged his cursor over the deceptively harmless creature to pull up its system sheet. The interface violently lagged for a full three seconds before throwing the data block onto the screen.

[ ENTITY: UNNAMED (SYSTEMIC COMPANION) ]

[ SPECIES: PRE-CALAMITY VOID-WEAVER (APEX ANOMALY) ]

[ GROWTH STATE: INFANT (500x ACCELERATION APPLIED) ]

[ ———————– ]

[ STRENGTH: UNMEASURABLE (PHYSICAL MASS COMPRESSED) ]

[ AGILITY: UNMEASURABLE (SPATIAL BYPASS ACTIVE) ]

[ INTELLIGENCE: MAX THRESHOLD ]

[ ———————– ]

[ PASSIVE TRAIT: LIGHT-EATER. Absorbs ambient magic, radiation, and divine energy to sustain its physical form. ]

[ PASSIVE TRAIT: ABSOLUTE DENSITY. Despite its small stature, the entity possesses the compressed physical mass of a subterranean leviathan. ]

[ ACTIVE SKILL: PIXEL ERASURE. The entity can consume corrupted code and physical matter, deleting it from the server grid. ]

Red read the absurdly broken stat block twice. His eyes immediately locked onto the growth state.

“Infant,” Red muttered, letting out a sharp breath.

The 500x multiplier hadn’t made the beast larger, nor had it pushed it into adulthood. It simply revealed that the creature’s natural biological cycle was so astronomically slow that forcing half a millennium of Pre-Calamity evolution into its system only barely managed to hatch it into a hyper-dense, pint-sized vessel.

The Void-Weaver dropped back onto its six paws, trotted over to the edge of the crater, and looked up at Red with its swirling emerald eyes. It let out another soft mew, tilting its fluffy head.

Red slowly lowered himself back onto his throne. A predatory smirk spread across his face as he looked from the deleted empty space in the air, back to the seemingly harmless creature.

“Well,” Red said, resting his chin on his knuckles. “You don’t look like much, but you eat code. That makes you the most dangerous baby on this continent.”

Red leaned back on his obsidian throne, his eyes darting between the pet’s broken stat block and the northern edge of his continental map where the Void-Eater slept.

“It eats corrupted code and absorbs ambient radiation,” Red muttered, tapping his gloved fingers against his armrest. “The Void-Eater does the exact same thing. It’s a glitch that consumes everything it touches.”

In theory, the infant Void-Weaver was the perfect biological counter to the server-wiping anomaly. If the violet static tried to delete the continent, the six-legged fox could simply eat the static.

But Red frowned, realizing the severe contradiction in their overlapping mechanics. It was a terrifying gamble. If he threw this infant anomaly at a continent-sized glitch, who would eat who? Would the fox delete the Void-Eater, or would the massive influx of corrupted code overwhelm the infant and turn it into the ultimate server-ending weapon?

“Can’t throw you at the anomaly yet. Need to see how you handle physical matter first,” Red decided.

He swiped his hand across the interface, pulling up the deployment commands. He intended to drop the creature into the Bastion’s courtyard to see what it could do to a stray boulder.

The system immediately threw a bright red error over the screen.

[ DEPLOYMENT TO PHYSICAL SERVER: LOCKED ]

[ POST-HATCHING ACCLIMATION TIMER: 71:57:43 ]

[ BASE SUMMONING COST: 1,500,000 DP ]

[ SUSTAINMENT UPKEEP: 50,000 DP PER MINUTE ]

Red stared at the absurd numbers. The game engine wasn’t just locking the deployment behind a three-day cooldown timer, it was actively trying to bankrupt him. Deploying the infant would drain his massive Divine Point reserves in a matter of hours.

“Fifty thousand DP per minute,” Red scoffed, shaking his head. “You are an incredibly expensive liability. But that’s given. Everything I create uses DP to exist. That’s the point of the DP.”

Down in the cratered remains of the pedestal, the six-legged fox grew tired of being ignored.

Thanks to its unmeasurable agility and spatial bypass, the creature simply ceased to exist on the floor and instantaneously reappeared, resting comfortably in the center of Red’s lap.

Red froze.

The absolute dictator of the Spiral, a being who ruthlessly commanded legions of monsters, sat completely rigid.

Despite its tiny size, the creature’s passive [Absolute Density] made it feel like a solid block of compressed gravity resting across his thighs, though it somehow managed the weight so it didn’t crush his legs.

The fluffy, ash-silver entity curled its thick tail around its body, tilted its head, and let out a soft, vibrating purr. It rubbed its tiny, impossibly soft face affectionately against the back of Red’s hand, demanding attention.

’Are you kidding me?’ Red looked down at the swirling emerald eyes staring up at him with absolute, unconditional trust.

He let out a long sigh, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. He uncurled his fingers and gently stroked the soft fur behind its oversized ears. The six-legged fox leaned into the touch, chirping happily and nuzzling deeper into his palm.

“Alright,” Red muttered, a genuine, quiet smirk breaking through his usual cold demeanor as he continued to pet the deadliest anomaly on the server. “You win for now.”

He glanced back up at the primary screen hovering above them. The system prompt still blinked insistently near the top of the interface.

[ ENTITY: UNNAMED ]

[ AWAITING DESIGNATION… ]

Red looked back down at the code-deleting infant resting on his lap. The creature rolled onto its back and playfully swatted at his thumb.

“If you are going to act as my trump card against the end of the world.” Red patted. “You need a proper title.”

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