The emeralds were tiny.
That was the first thing I noticed when I finally sat down on my bed and opened the cloth pouch the shop owner had handed me. They spilled into my palm with a soft clink—green fragments no larger than fingernails, some chipped, some uneven, all faintly glowing.
Not worthless.
But not life-changing either.
The Vex hovered upside down above my shoulder, watching them with an intensity usually reserved for predators eyeing prey. Its small body hummed, wings flickering in and out of visibility, as if it couldn't decide whether to behave.
"These are… money?" I asked no one in particular.
The Vex tilted its head.
Then giggled.
Earlier, back at the shop, the owner had explained it casually—too casually.
> "Emeralds work with some of my Beasts," he'd said, leaning on the counter like this was normal conversation.
"Foxes. Vexes. A few others."
"They follow whoever gives them emeralds?" I'd asked.
"They follow whoever keeps giving them emeralds," he'd corrected.
Ownership, apparently, wasn't written in ink or blood.
It was written in green.
"They won't recognize anyone else as their master," he'd added. "Not permanently. Emeralds are… currency and food, both. Long as you're the one paying, they're loyal."
Which explained why the Vex had immediately eaten one.
Right now, it snatched a fragment from my palm, crunched it between tiny teeth, and shuddered happily as green light rippled through its body.
I stared.
"You eat money."
The Vex saluted me with its sword.
That sword—small, translucent, and unmistakably sharp—was made of the same energy as its body. It dissolved when it let go, reforming when it gripped the hilt again like it had always been there.
I exhaled slowly.
"Great."
---
Home was… modest.
A narrow two-story house wedged between a tailor and a repair shop, bricks worn smooth from decades of mana weathering. The front door creaked like it always had, announcing my arrival before I could say anything.
Mom was already in the kitchen.
"You're back early," she called. "How'd it go?"
I swallowed.
"Well," I said carefully, "I got a Beast."
Silence.
Then rapid footsteps.
My mother appeared in the doorway, eyes wide, hands still dusted with flour. She looked past me, scanning the entryway like the Beast might be hiding behind my legs.
"You did?" she asked, voice lifting. "Amanda—"
The Vex popped into view, spinning midair.
Mom froze.
"…What is that?"
"Vex," I said weakly.
It waved.
Mom stared at it. Then at me. Then back at it.
And then she smiled.
Actually smiled.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said, crossing the room and pulling me into a hug. "I'm so proud of you."
I stiffened, caught off guard.
"I—thanks?"
"But how did you afford one?" she asked immediately, practical as ever. "Those shops charge a fortune."
I hesitated, then told the truth.
"The owner gave it to me," I said. "As long as I promised to pay it back."
Her brow furrowed.
"No contract?" she asked.
I shook my head.
She paused.
Then shrugged.
"Well," she said, turning back toward the stove, "then what are you waiting for? Come eat, then train with your… your…"
She stopped, spatula hovering midair.
"…What did you say it was called?"
"Vex."
She nodded decisively.
"Yes. Then train with your Vex."
The Vex buzzed proudly.
---
Dinner tasted better than usual.
Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was the novelty of not feeling like a failure sitting at the table. The Vex hovered nearby, occasionally swooping down to inspect my plate before deciding cooked food wasn't worth its time.
After we ate, Mom leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
"Well?" she said.
"Well what?"
"Training."
My stomach dropped.
"Already?"
"You have a Beast now," she said simply. "Which means you start today."
The Vex made a sound suspiciously like laughter.
I retreated to my room with it hovering smugly behind me.
That was when I really looked at it.
Not just at it—but at what it was.
Spirit-type.
Rare.
The realization crept in slowly, like my mind was afraid to say it out loud.
Fairies were the most common Spirit Beasts—fragile, mana-focused, supportive. This wasn't that.
The Vex's energy was dense. Condensed. Physical.
It moved with sharp precision, darting from wall to ceiling to floor without resistance, phasing through matter like it wasn't there. When it practiced swinging its sword—practiced, like this was routine—the air hummed.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered.
The Vex sat midair and crossed its arms.
"Okay," I said, hands on hips. "Training."
It yawned.
"No," I said. "You don't get to do that."
It flipped upside down and pretended to sleep.
I clenched my fists.
"Fine," I snapped. "We'll start simple. Movement drills."
No response.
"Attack drills?"
The Vex snored theatrically.
I stared at it for a long moment.
Then I sighed.
"…You know what? Fine."
I grabbed the pouch of emeralds.
The Vex's eyes snapped open.
"I'll just pawn these," I said lightly. "Get cash. Pay rent. Food. Stuff."
The Vex buzzed.
I took a step toward the door.
It buzzed louder.
"Maybe I'll come back later," I added. "If there's anything left."
The Vex shot in front of me, wings flaring, buzzing violently like an angry insect.
"Fine, fine!" It seemed to yelp. "We'll train!" If it could talk that's what it would say.
It crossed its arms again.
I smiled smugly.
Mom knocked on my door.
"Why aren't you outside yet?" she called.
"…Coming!"
The Vex groaned.
---
Training, apparently, meant running.
I learned this when my mother handed me my shoes and pointed down the street.
"You two need stamina," she said. "Go."
"I thought—" I started.
"Go."
The Vex hovered beside me, sword resting on its shoulder like this was entertainment.
We ran.
Down cracked sidewalks. Past neighbors who stared openly. The Vex zipped circles around me, occasionally tugging at my sleeve or hair to urge me faster.
"Why are you so energetic now?" I gasped.
It laughed.
My legs burned. My lungs screamed. But somewhere between breaths, something shifted.
The Vex wasn't mocking me.
It was pacing me.
When I slowed, it slowed. When I stumbled, it waited.
We weren't training separately.
We were training together.
As the sun dipped low and my muscles screamed in protest, I realized something else.
I was smiling.
The Vex hovered beside me, glowing faintly green.
We ran.
And for the first time since graduation—
I didn't feel left behind.