Below you will find the introductory chapter for The Tales of Shelldred - Vert The Space Squid. a crossover story where our multiversal time travelling turtle Shelldred crosses paths with Vert The Space Squid. Vert is a character created by Vertex, and the character remains his intellectual property.
Shelldred and Vert are both Phantom Legacy Legends, meaning that you can chat with them in the Phantom Legacy main Discord Server.
When Good Storms Go Bad
The Chelonian Ascendant creaked like a retirement-home submarine as it drifted through deep space. Inside, the lair-slash-ship hummed with the comfortable noise of mild electrical failure and misplaced ambition.
Shelldred sat hunched over a holographic console, one claw buried in a half-finished bag of freeze-dried pizza bites, the other tapping impatiently against the dashboard.
Beside him, Chase the snail clung to a cup holder like a weary life coach who’d seen this movie too many times.
“Readings, Chase,” Shelldred said, mouth full. “Tell me I didn’t chase a false alarm again. The last time I followed a ‘rare anomaly,’ it turned out to be Elon Musk sneezing on Mars.”
Chase blinked slowly—one of those long, judgmental blinks that said you’re hopeless, but I’m committed to the bit.
“Right, sarcasm. Cute. I invented that, you know.”
The monitors flared, and the ship vibrated as data poured in. A colossal electromagnetic surge pulsed across the void ahead—a celestial tantrum so massive it made supernovas look like birthday candles.
Shelldred’s grin spread. “Oh, ho ho. Now that is a storm worth stealing souvenirs from.”
He toggled the scanners. Numbers climbed, alarms bleeped, and a nearby coffee mug labeled #1 Multiversal Menace rattled ominously.
Chase let out a soft gurgle that translated roughly to maybe don’t.
“Relax,” Shelldred said, standing and stretching his stubby limbs. “I’ve wrestled worse. Remember Camelot? Mordred in my old suit? Boom—problem solved. Sure, I vaporized the guy, but hey—art demands sacrifice.”
He opened a locker labeled DO NOT OPEN IN ATMOSPHERE WITH OXYGEN and began climbing into his newest armor. Plates hissed and snapped into place until he resembled the unholy lovechild of Iron Man and Bowser.
Emerald light rippled over his shell as the suit sealed.
“Admit it, Chase. I look good.”
Chase’s eye stalks retracted halfway into his shell.
“Fine. Jealousy noted.”
He shuffled toward the viewport, cape thrumming with built-in thrusters. “Somewhere in that storm is a relic. A fragment. Maybe the husk of a god, maybe just a nice glowing rock for my shelf. Either way—it’s going to look incredible next to Merlin’s ruined staff.”
The ship dove toward the coordinates. The stars bent. The void screamed.
And then came the light—torrents of plasma twisting like serpents across a dead world’s magnetosphere.
Shelldred whistled. “If Van Gogh had a death wish, this would be it.”
He flicked a switch; the shields shimmered green. Immediately, the instruments spiked and died. Sparks rained from the ceiling.
“Ah, perfect. Just how I like it—one misfire away from legend.”
Chase groaned.
“Portal’s jammed?” Shelldred asked, checking his gauntlet. The chrono-runes blinked: ERROR 404 – REALITY NOT FOUND.
“Fantastic. Stranded. Again. You’d think the multiverse would learn to cooperate with genius.”
Something moved within the storm—a colossal, glimmering silhouette gliding through the lightning.
At first, he assumed it was debris.
Then it looked back.
Two eyes, radiant blue and alive.
“Oh, for shell’s sake.”
The creature emerged fully, spectral tendrils coiling with voltage. It was massive, magnificent, and unmistakably squid-shaped.
“Impressive entrance,” Shelldred muttered. “Bit derivative, but I’ll allow it.”
A voice rolled through the comms—smooth and resonant, like thunder with an ego problem.
“I don’t recall authorizing visitors in my current.”
Shelldred tilted his head. “Ah. The storm talks. Delightful.”
“You’re inside my domain, little shell,” the voice continued. “And you’re made of very conductive material.”
“Conductive? Please. I’m insulated with alloys so advanced even Thor would get a nosebleed.”
Lightning flared, illuminating the being in full: a luminous, spectral space squid, eyes burning with cosmic arrogance.
“I am Vert,” it declared.
Shelldred blinked once, deadpan. “Congratulations. Do you want a medal or a mop? Because you’re making a mess of my readings.”
Vert’s tendrils crackled.
“You’re either fearless or stupid.”
“Ah, the eternal question. Spoiler: it’s both.”
For a long moment they hovered there—two impossible creatures framed by roaring light.
Chase peeked out from the cup holder, promptly retreated again.
Shelldred folded his arms. “Listen, Sparkle-Tentacles. I’m just here for a little cosmic archaeology. I’ll be out of your hair—well, whatever you call those—once I grab my sample and fix my portal.”
“You think you can just waltz into my storm and steal from me?”
“Steal? No, no, no. Appropriate. There’s a difference. One sounds criminal, the other sounds classy.”
Vert’s laughter rumbled through the ship.
“You’ve got guts, turtle.”
Shelldred’s visor reflected the lightning. “Oh, I’ve got more than that. I’ve got a collection—and if you keep zapping my hull, I might add you to it.”
The storm roared louder, as if the universe itself sensed what was about to happen: two egos, one void, and absolutely no adult supervision.
Shelldred grinned beneath his helmet. “Chase, mark this in the log: First Contact with Overgrown Glowstick—Hostile but Fashionable.”
The snail issued a weary squelch.
And somewhere in the maelstrom, the squid’s eyes narrowed—the air thick with ozone and impending nonsense.
It was the beginning of a rivalry that would make history… and probably end at least one planet.