A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "I didn't do anything to Kaleon! I—"

He cut me off again, but this time, the fury in his eyes shifted into something else—puzzlement.

"You." His gaze bore into me, scrutinizing every inch. "How do you have Kaleon's essence?"

"W-what?!"

Before I could process his words, he did the most unthinkable thing.

He sniffed me.

Yes. He smelled me.

Great. Why do I always meet the weird gods and creatures?

As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, he took things a step further—floating me into the center of the room and turning me upside down.

The contents of my utility vest came tumbling out—my emergency food stash, tools, and other knickknacks clattering onto the floor.

No… my meat jerky!

"H-hey! Put me down!" I flailed uselessly. "I swear to god I didn't do anything to Kaleon!"

His eyes glinted. "Which god do you swear it to?"

What?! What does that even matter?!

"Fine! I swear on my life!" I yelped.

The moment the words left my mouth, he flicked his wrist, and I dropped back to the ground—none too gently.

Before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, he teleported right in front of me, closing the distance in an instant.

His face was inches from mine, his narrowed eyes searching mine for any sign of a lie.

Hello, personal space?!

"There's no mistake." His voice was firm, eyes sharp with scrutiny. "You have a very faint trace of Kaleon's essence in you. Who are you? What are you to him?"

"I told you—I'm Carl!" I threw up my hands in frustration. "And I have no idea why I have his essence! I'm a mortal from Earth. I came to Mythica for work as a zoologist—to care for endangered creatures and conserve their habitats!"

I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. "And the next thing I knew, I was thrown into Mythica, solving its problems left and right, and somehow—somehow—ended up as an Interim Owner!" I rubbed my temples, my voice rising. "Does that explain things?!"

Then, realizing something even more pressing, I scooted back, eyes narrowing.

"And please—" I motioned at the disturbingly close proximity between us. "Don't get overly close to me. It feels weird."

"A Carl from Earth? The Origin World?"

"W-what?" I blinked. "Origin World?" I repeated, my brain struggling to keep up. That was a new one. Is that what they called my world?

"Yes. The Origin World—where everything begins." He rubbed his chin, nodding to himself. "I see. So you're from there."

Then, just as abruptly as this bizarre conversation started, he turned his back on me and strolled back to his seat.

Wait. What?

After all that? After interrogating me midair, shaking out my pockets like I was a piñata, and practically sniffing me like a lost puppy—he was just done now?

I stood there, frowning.

Who even is this guy? A god? A celestial being? A professional interrogator with boundary issues?

Then, as if the whole upside-down interrogation never happened, he looked up at me and gestured toward the empty seat in front of him.

"Sit. Let's talk, Carl." He smiled.

That smile sent a shiver down my spine. Not because it was menacing—no, that would've made sense. Instead, it was the kind of smile someone gave when they knew something you didn't.

The kind of smile that said, Oh, this is going to be interesting.

I hesitated. Given the last few minutes, I wasn't sure if sitting down was the best idea. But at this point, refusing probably wasn't an option.

With a wary glance, I pulled out the chair and sat.

"Alright," I said, crossing my arms. "Let's talk."

"First, tell me—where's Kaleon?"

I took a deep breath and told him everything. How Kaleon had fallen into an eternal slumber. The Ancient Realm War that shook Mythica centuries ago. The imbalance in the leylines. The silent siphoning of the realm's energy. And, of course, how I somehow got roped into all of this and ended up as Mythica's Interim Owner.

The man listened intently, his expression shifting ever so slightly at certain points—eyes narrowing, lips pressing together, a furrow appearing in his brow. Yet, for the most part, he remained composed, absorbing every word like a scholar dissecting a particularly intriguing puzzle.

Despite all this, he still hadn't introduced himself.

I leaned forward slightly, unable to suppress my curiosity any longer. "Who are you?" I asked. "You clearly know Kaleon."

I expected another cryptic response, maybe even another round of floating interrogation. But instead, the man simply tilted his head, regarding me with something unreadable in his gaze.

"Well?" I prompted.

"You sure ask a lot of questions for someone who just crash-landed into the Seventh," he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips. Then, after a pause, he exhaled. "Fine. Since you've been honest with me, I suppose I can return the favor."

He sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I am Enlil."

I blinked. "...Enlil?"

"As in the Enlil. God of wind, storms, and the heavens. Former ruler of the divine council of all realms existed. One of the original arbiters of balance." He gave a dramatic flourish of his hand. "Or, as the other gods so affectionately called me, Lord of the Air."

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

Wait… Lord of the Air?

A moment ago, he seemed more like the Lord of the Airhead to me.

He stared back.

Then he grinned. "Ah, I love this part—the moment mortals try to figure out whether to kneel or run."

And the way he carries himself—so smug, so confident.

What the... I didn't even have thoughts of wanting to kneel or run.

"Actually, I've never heard of you. I don't really know much about the mythology of... uh, what mythos are you from?" I admitted.

Enlil's aura shifted, and the atmosphere grew dense, pressing against my chest like a weight I couldn't shake off. It was suffocating—like the air itself had become thick and unbreathable.

Oh crap. I think I just angered him.

The room darkened as an invisible force pressed down on me. My lungs refused to expand. My body screamed danger.

Enlil's golden eyes gleamed with amusement, but his aura was anything but playful. "Unbelievable," he muttered, voice dripping with disbelief. "A mortal from the Origin World—and you don't even know me?"

I clawed at my throat, struggling for air. "I—I swear it's not personal!" I gasped. "I—I was more into Greek and Norse mythology!"

The pressure stopped. Just like that.

I collapsed onto the chair, sucking in greedy gulps of air.

Enlil scoffed. "Of course. The Greeks." He rolled his eyes, muttering something about "overdramatic Olympians" and "Zeus ruining everything."

"Well, Carl, I suppose I can't blame you. Their myths are overly advertised in the Origin World."

I blinked at him, utterly dumbfounded. "Advertised?" I repeated. That's how he's choosing to see it? Like mythology was some kind of overplayed commercial?

Enlil waved a dismissive hand. "It's not important." Then his expression shifted, a glimmer of something sharper in his gaze. "What is important is that it seems my brother needs my help."

A crack of cosmic thunder split through my brain.

Brother?

Wait… don't tell me—

I stared at him, my mind reeling. This Lord of the Airhead was Kaleon's brother?!