A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

I didn't flare up—not yet, anyway.

Instead, I settled for giving the most bewildered expression I could muster.

Meanwhile, the doppelganger conjured up a pair of sleek reading glasses out of thin air and handed them to the sword-wielding figure, who accepted them with all the enthusiasm of a kid forced to eat broccoli.

The moment he put them on, the glasses vanished, blending seamlessly into his face like they were part of him. His eyes refocused on me, and suddenly his expression shifted—shock spread across his face.

"It's you!" he exclaimed.

For a split second, I thought he meant me. But no, his gaze was locked on the doppelganger.

"Yes. And no," the doppelganger replied with maddening patience. "He's the one who's going to save this place."

The sword-wielding figure's eyes snapped back to me, narrowing as he scanned me from head to toe. It felt invasive, like he was peeling back layers of my soul. I couldn't help it—I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling weirdly exposed under his scrutiny.

"Him?" he said, glancing skeptically back at the doppelganger. "He's weak! Powerless! And—" he shot me a look of pure disdain, "a coward!"

W-what?! My eye twitched, but I took a deep breath.

Stay calm, Carl. No need to lose your cool in front of the godly figures.

But he wasn't done. Oh no, he was just getting started.

"Why is he mortal? Are you sure you didn't choose the wrong person? Kaleon's will and essence shouldn't be this—" he flailed his free hand at me in frustration, "this hopeless!" His voice practically dripped with exasperation.

I glared at him, my pride stinging like I'd been slapped. "Hey! I'm still standing—kneeling—here, you know. I can hear everything you're saying. Maybe try caring about people's feelings for once?"

For the first time, the sword guy actually looked at me—really looked at me. For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression, like amusement. Then he turned back to the doppelganger, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smirk.

"Well," he muttered grudgingly, "at least he's snarky. That's somewhat familiar."

The doppelganger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was dealing with a particularly difficult toddler. "Ignore Destruction. He's always moody."

I blinked, baffled. "Destruction?" I echoed, testing the name like it might explode in my mouth.

"Yes, this guy," he said, motioning toward the scowling figure with the bloody sword. "He's called Destruction. And me?" He smiled, tapping his chest. "I'm Creation."

Destruction and Creation?

As if reading my thoughts, Creation added with a hint of pride, "We're the powers of Kaleon."

What?!

My brain felt like it had been hit with a meteor shower. So, the doppelganger—Creation—wasn't actually the Creator? Did that mean… I wasn't Kaleon's son?

A strange mix of emotions surged through me. On one hand, I felt a flood of relief, like a massive weight had just rolled off my shoulders.

No divine lineage meant no impossible expectations, no cosmic responsibilities.

But on the other hand… there was a weird pang of disappointment. So much for cashing in on my so-called godly status to file a formal complaint about mistreatment.

"Wait," I said, narrowing my eyes. "So, the two of you... you're not gods, but powers?"

Destruction finally spoke, his lips curving into a smug smirk. "Oh, we're gods of all powers, alright. But not the kind of god you're imagining."

His tone made it clear he thought my mortal brain couldn't possibly comprehend the complexity of their existence.

And honestly? He was probably right.

I turned to Creation, squinting at him. "Why do you look like me, though? Is this your actual appearance?" I asked, more curious than polite.

Creation smiled faintly, as if he'd been expecting the question. "I took on your appearance because I came from you. The will and essence of Kaleon that resides in you originated from Kaleon's creation will and essence."

That explanation didn't make me feel any less confused.

If anything, it just added layers to my existential crisis. Wait a second—if I had Kaleon's will and essence, didn't that mean—

"Hold on," I said, pointing a finger. "You just admitted I have Kaleon's will and essence. But you're saying you're Kaleon's powers? Doesn't that mean—"

Creation cut me off with the kind of patient-but-firm tone adults use when a toddler is on the verge of a tantrum.

"I know you have a lot of questions right now, Carl. But we're running out of time. We need to repair the leylines. This place is already teetering on the brink of corruption, thanks to Destruction." He gestured at the surroundings.

And he wasn't wrong.

The place was a disaster zone.

Crumbled ruins stretched as far as the eye could see, and the air was thick with an ominous, burnt smell.

Not a single sign of life in sight.

I crossed my arms and turned to Destruction, who was glaring at me like a school bully debating whether to steal my lunch money.

"Why did you destroy this place?" I asked, trying to sound stern but mostly sounding bewildered. "Do you have anger management issues or something? Were you just bored, or are you, like, perma-unsatisfied with life?"

"Creation, can I kill him? Or at least let me beat him up?"

Destruction asked, sounding like he was casually suggesting a weekend hobby.

My face drained of color, and I immediately scrambled to hide behind Creation like a squirrel dodging a predator. "Hey! Don't I get a say in this?"

Creation sighed heavily, like a parent dealing with an overly aggressive sibling.

"No, Destruction. Our master's will resides in him. He's our only hope. Honestly, can't you recognize him yet?"

Destruction scowled, narrowing his eyes at me like I was some particularly disappointing science experiment. Then, suddenly, his expression shifted. His gaze sharpened, his posture stiffened, and his eyes widened in what I could only describe as genuine shock—more intense than his earlier reaction when he realized I looked like Creation.

"You…" he murmured, his voice dropping to an awestruck whisper. "You're actually alive!"

What now? Of course, I'm alive. I mean, I was breathing, wasn't I?

Destruction spun to Creation, his face alight with something that could've been joy—or insanity. "Creation, he's alive! He lived!"

And then, out of nowhere, he burst into hysterical laughter, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach knot with dread. Destruction's laughter abruptly cut off, and his eyes slid closed.

"Okay," I muttered, inching farther behind Creation. "What is this lunatic up to now?"

His silence was somehow even worse.

"Oh no," I whispered, as the ground beneath us began to rumble ominously. A low groan echoed through the air, like the earth itself was protesting.

Suddenly, the entire place began to quake violently. Holy crap. I knew it. This guy's a certified psycho.

"He's not going to blow everything up just because I'm alive, is he?" I stammered, clutching onto Creation's sleeve for dear life.