A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

We made it back to camp in one piece, though Heim practically bounced beside me like an overexcited puppy. The second he spotted Agnos, he bolted ahead—tray of bubble teas in one hand, pastry boxes stacked like sacred offerings in the other.

Agnos raised an eyebrow, very much in 'I-was-meditating-and-now-you're-interrupting-my-zen' mode. "Where did you guys go?"

He didn't even touch the food. Just stared at it like it might explode.

I rubbed the back of my neck, aiming for my best I've-had-a-day face. "Ziggurat bookstore. The C.C.C mall. Heim went snack-happy. Those lemon tarts you like? He brought you some. Well... half of them."

Agnos's expression brightened like someone lit a torch under his dignity. "Wait—you went without me? That place is paradise in a desolate land! Why didn't you bring me?"

I tilted my head toward Heim with an I-told-you-so smirk. Heim caught the look and seemed... surprised. Like he'd just realized his random gift had activated Agnos's rare affection stat.

"I also got the new bubble tea," Heim added quickly, sliding the tray over like it was a peace offering to a cranky god. "Limited edition. Launched this week."

Agnos took it without hesitation. No ceremony, just unfiltered joy. "Oh really? Fine. You can follow me around tomorrow. But just tomorrow."

Heim fist-pumped like he'd just ascended to demigod status.

Then Jiuge crossed her arms from behind our tent flap, lips twisted into a thunderstorm. "What about mine? You didn't get me anything?"

Heim shot her a flat look. "I only buy for family. You're not one anymore."

Boom.

Jiuge's pink eyes sparked like flint meeting fire. Literally. A zap of lightning burst from one of her nine tails, singeing Heim's side braided dark hair head and giving his hair a fried sea urchin aesthetic.

Heim howled and immediately summoned his warhammer, raising it like Thor on a bad hair day.

"Stop," Agnos warned, already fifty meters away. He'd settled cross-legged on a smooth boulder, sipping on his bubble tea with the patience of someone who had front-row seats to a gladiator match, then motioned with his right hand to where the lemon tart already half-eaten. "You may continue."

I smacked my forehead. "Seriously?"

Just as Heim and Jiuge were about to turn the campsite into a combat arena, I jumped in.

"Both of you—freeze! If I see one more spark or hammer swing, you're both getting reassigned to Dragonling Dung Sorting for the next week. I'm not kidding. I have the power as your superior."

That shut them up.

Agnos just shrugged when I turned on him. "What?" he said, halfway through his third tart. "They needed to burn some steam."

"Steam is fine. War crime reenactment is not."

The next morning, we packed up and returned to MECCP HQ. The minute we stepped into the main building, Naga summoned us for a post-mission debrief.

After the briefing, I requested a private word with Fenrir in Naga's office. There was something I couldn't shake—something that had been clawing at the back of my head ever since the Ziggurat.

Fenrir leaned back in the chair, swirling his coffee like a man used to secrets and shadows. "What do you need, Carl?"

"I need information," I said. "About the War Beasts stationed at the Eternal Palace."

Fenrir raised an eyebrow. His mug stopped just shy of his lips. "You're not thinking of breaking in, are you?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "Not sure yet."

Naga stepped in, arms crossed. "Carl, I know you tamed one War Beast. But that was from the Heavens. The Eternal Palace has more than one. And not all of them are from the Heavens."

"I figured." I sank into the chair, exhaling. "The ones from the Hells—are they worse?"

"More... unpredictable," Naga said slowly. "More ancient and ruthless."

I nodded. I'd skimmed the files I bought from the Ziggurat. The ones also bound in actual Beast skin—ironic, considering they were about the creatures they were made from.

I'm not surprised with this fact either because it was from the same author who wrote the World-Enders Evolution series. The deeper I read, the more I realized we were dealing with legends even the gods whispered about.

"I think we need to reach out to Vorta," I said. "If the Stragglers breach Mythica, he might be the only one who knows how to stop them."

Fenrir and Naga exchanged a look. Silence swirled in the air like dust motes.

After a long pause, Naga finally said, "If anyone knows what kinds of War Beasts are inside that palace, it's Viracocha."

I blinked. "The Creation God? The architect of Eternal Prison?"

"He designed the Eternal Palace back when it was still shared by Kaleon and Hestia," Naga explained. "He witnessed the war instigators deploying those beasts there since they need his cooperation to activate the place's security. He saw what they locked inside."

My pulse kicked up. That was it. The thread I needed.

If I could talk to Viracocha, cross-reference what he remembered with the Ziggurat records... maybe I'd find their weakness. Maybe I'd finally earn a meeting with Vorta. Or even Hestia.

Assuming I survive what's coming.

*******

The next day, I went to meet Viracocha at his office.

I had already scheduled an appointment using Jiuge's contact—thank goodness those two are close. She handled the details, though I'm not sure if she helped out of kindness or just wanted me out of her sight for a while.

Just like my last visit, the building's security was absurdly strict.

Even though I'm now listed as a VVVIP citizen, I still had to go through the usual pre-check rituals: ID verification, purpose-of-visit forms, and some unnecessary background screenings that felt more intense than trying to adopt a baby griffin.

I sighed as I filled out yet another stack of papers. Will there ever come a day when I can walk into a government building in Mythica without playing twenty rounds of "prove you exist"?

Halfway through the stack, something clicked in me.

Wait a minute.

I'm not just a VVVIP.

I'm an interim owner now.

Doesn't that technically put me above most of their security hierarchy?

It was worth a shot.

"Uh, excuse me, ma'am?" I said, stepping up to the front desk.

"Yes?" she replied, blinking slowly.

The elf in charge was a stunning woman—pink hair braided neatly to the side like she had stepped straight out of a Greek myth, and green eyes with a distant, glassy look that made her seem like she was floating through a daydream.

Her two-piece black jumper suit was immaculate and stylishly formal, with just enough neckline to catch the eye.

For an elf, her figure was… impressive. I stared a little too long before mentally slapping myself back to focus.

"I, um… I'd like to report something," I said.

She tilted her head. "Report something?"

"Yes. You see, I'm... an Owner."

Her eyes widened. She scanned me from head to toe as if suddenly seeing me in a new light. "May I ask who you're here to meet?"

"Viracocha."

She didn't say anything. Instead, she picked up the phone and made a quick call. Her tone changed entirely—polite, respectful, even a little nervous. A few moments later, she hung up and offered me a bright smile.

"Lord Viracocha will see you now. You may skip the paperwork today. Here's your pass to the top floor."

I blinked. It actually worked?

"Thank you," I said, taking the pass with a grin.

As I stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, I couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride.

Finally—some perks for being an "Owner."