A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

Creation's hands stilled on his fishing rod. For a long moment, he didn't say anything.

Destruction, to my surprise, also stopped crunching. His red eyes flickered, something cold and sharp flashing behind the usual lazy violence.

"So... you failed," Destruction said bluntly, like he was stating the weather.

I flinched.

"I know," I muttered, shame prickling under my skin.

"You're lucky you're alive," he added, voice low but oddly... not cruel. Just... final.

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back — to say something, anything — but the words just... died.

Nothing came out.

Because the truth slammed into me harder than I wanted to admit.

If things had gone even a little worse...

If I hadn't had Agnos deactivating the orbs' security magic, Jiuge figuring out the surrounding puzzles, runes, and clues, Heim covering my back...

I wouldn't be sitting here whining about it.

I'd be gone.

Ash, dust — scattered through whatever endless void Bifang's spirit was already soaring across.

And the worst part?

It wouldn't have even made a ripple.

Creation finally reeled in his line completely and set the fishing rod aside. His eyes — so similar to my own — met mine with a quiet weight.

"Bifang chose to protect you," he said. "The Guardians' fate is to support the Unknown Gods, to protect the owners. That means something."

"It means I'm too weak to protect everyone back," I said bitterly.

"No," Creation said simply. "It means you're not finished yet."

The words settled into my chest, heavy and strange.

Not a comfort.

Not a lie.

Just... a truth I wasn't sure I deserved.

Destruction grunted, tossing the last crumb of his conjured chips into his mouth. "You're still pathetic," he added cheerfully. "But maybe slightly less pathetic than before."

"Thanks," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes. "Really feeling the love here."

Creation let out a slow breath, as if choosing his words carefully.

"It's to be expected, feeling this way," he said. "But you should understand — he's not truly dead, Carl. He will be reborn."

The word reborn hung in the air between us, heavy and unfamiliar, like a door swinging open to something I wasn't sure I was ready to face.

"Creation," I said, voice rawer than I intended, "why am I even here? I couldn't save Bifang. I don't have some overpowered destiny skill set ready to swing around. So what exactly was I supposed to do?"

The words hung heavy between us, sinking into the lake air like lead.

For a heartbeat, I barely registered the breathtaking view in front of me — the way the lake mirrored the burnt orange sky, the soft ripple of water against stone. None of it could reach through the restlessness churning inside me.

I was nothing here.

Even with Kaleon's so-called essence fused into me, my only "power" seemed to be absorbing fragments like some sad magic sponge.

I winced, my chest tightening in a way that felt all too familiar lately. No wonder Destruction treated me like a cosmic joke. Honestly? He wasn't wrong.

Creation sighed — that long, weary kind of sigh parents give when their kids are being particularly dense. But when I turned to look, he just smiled.

Not mocking.

Not pitying.

Something quieter. Sadder, maybe.

"Your fate is bigger than being just a fragment bearer, Carl," he said. "But you've forgotten the most important things."

I swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at me. "They told me… absorbing fragments would make my memories return. But so far?" I laughed weakly. "Not even a breadcrumb."

The laugh didn't even sound like me. Just another empty noise lost to the wide, empty world around us.

I slumped down heavily beside Destruction, who didn't even spare me a glance. His hands were busy fishing inside a bag of chips like he was mining for gold. I grabbed a pebble, smooth and cold in my palm, and hurled it at the lake.

It skipped three perfect hops across the water before disappearing with a sad little plop.

I sighed. Even my rock had better momentum than me.

Out of nowhere, Destruction shoved the bag of chips in my direction — still without looking at me.

I blinked at it. Then at him.

He was still stoic, face half-shadowed by the dying light. Like he hadn't just offered me, the mortal weakling, a piece of his sacred snack stash.

I gave a faint, bewildered smile and dug my hand into the bag. Grabbed a handful. Bit down.

My mouth exploded with flavor.

Crunchy, rich, salty — like the gods themselves had distilled divine junk food into chip form.

"Holy crap," I gasped between mouthfuls. "This... this is amazing! Where has this been my whole life?"

Destruction smirked, finally sparing me a glance. His red eyes glinted with smug satisfaction.

"Let me tell you, since you love it," he said, popping another chip into his mouth. "One of my favorites. I'm being generous, you know. Sharing it with a sad sack like you."

I would've been touched if he didn't immediately ruin it.

"It's made from the strongest bull's penis, aged three thousand years," he added proudly, like he was announcing a Michelin star dish.

I froze mid-chew.

The chip crumbled miserably on my tongue.

My face drained of color.

Destruction's smirk widened.

A second later, I turned away and vomited spectacularly onto the grass.

Creation made a soft noise — somewhere between a laugh and a sigh — while Destruction watched me, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Seriously?" he grumbled. "That's a precious delicacy! Do you know how rare three-thousand-year bull parts are? You're never getting snacks from me again, kid."

"Wouldn't take 'em if you paid me a million Mythica credits," I muttered bitterly, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

I sat there, seething and miserable, while Destruction shook his head in disappointment and hoarded the bag protectively against his chest.

What was I thinking, anyway?

Getting sentimental around powers named Creation and Destruction?

Nothing — nothing — in Mythica was ever normal. I really should've known better by now.

The breeze shifted, carrying the faint scent of rain — and something else.

Something metallic.

Something wrong.

Creation stiffened first. His expression shuttered into a grim mask, the warmth from before vanishing like mist.

Destruction crumpled the empty chip bag in his fist, rising fluidly to his feet. His easygoing act peeled away like cheap wallpaper, revealing something sharp and lethal underneath.

I scrambled upright, my heart skipping like a faulty engine.

"What's happening?" I asked, voice rough.

Neither of them answered at first.

Then, without looking at me, Destruction muttered, almost bored, "Company."

The surface of the lake shivered — not from wind, not from pebbles — but from the rumbling of something huge moving beneath it.

I swallowed hard, feeling my mortal bones suddenly very, very mortal.

Normal? Right...

Normal was officially dead.