A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

Viracocha's office hadn't changed.

It still looked like a pharaoh and a hedge fund manager got into a decorating contest and both won. Gold inlays curled over every column. The coffee table had gilded clawed feet. The sofa I sank into felt like it had personally attended five royal coronations.

Even the chandelier above us glittered like it was being paid to.

Tea was served by a pale-skinned Valkyrie assistant wearing gloves so pristine I was afraid to breathe near her. She set down a porcelain teacup and a plate of strawberry cake with such precision it felt like a ritual offering.

There were chocolate muffins too.

Of course there were.

I glanced at the sweet spread, half-expecting one of the dragonlings to pop out and snatch a muffin. Munchie would've loved this place. Tooth-rotting sugar heaven.

Across from me, Viracocha sat like he owned the sun.

Which… he might, at this point.

His long black hair was slicked back, not a single strand out of place. His opal eyes studied me as if I were a chess piece that moved on its own. He wore a charcoal suit that looked custom-tailored to perfection, and his tie was embroidered with golden thread Aztec patterns that shimmered subtly under the chandelier's glow.

"I was told you came to ask about the War Beasts," he said, voice smooth and unhurried. He took a delicate sip of tea, not a single tremor in his hand.

I nodded, trying not to squirm in my seat. "Yeah. Naga mentioned you were there when they were sent to the Eternal Prison. I need to know what kinds were deployed… anything. It might help."

He didn't answer right away.

Instead, he looked down at his teacup like it had whispered something offensive. Then he gave me a soft, almost sympathetic smile.

"I know what you're trying to do, Carl," he said, setting the cup down with a gentle clink. "But it's pointless."

I straightened. "Pointless how?"

"They don't have weaknesses," he said simply. "Not the ones in there. Not the ones chosen."

My brows knitted. "No weaknesses? Come on. Even gods stub their toes. You're telling me divine beasts are flawless?"

"They're not indestructible," he said with a shrug. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what?"

He glanced at me, and for the first time, his expression darkened.

"Because those aren't just War Beasts. They're Emperor War Beasts."

I went still.

My brain rewound the phrase, trying to make sure I'd heard right. Emperor War Beasts. I'd read about them. Briefly. In a one of the War Beasts book I bought up from the Ziggurat few days ago run by a the retired World-Ender Usumgallu. Costed me a hefty amount of Kaleon's essence too.

They were legendary. Not just powerful—strategic, sentient, terrifyingly self-aware. Creatures born from war gods' ambitions, who fought not just with claws and fangs, but with intellect.

And worst of all?

They had no masters.

Not because no one tried. But because no one succeeded.

"Wait…" I said, my voice quieter than I expected. "If they're wild… how did they end up guarding the Eternal Prison?"

Viracocha leaned back, one leg crossed elegantly over the other.

"They were caught. Bound. And transported at great cost," he said. "Two from the Heavens. Two from the Hells. Chained with ancient relics older than most pantheons. And was first fed with Kaleon's divine essence to drive them berserk."

My mouth went dry.

That detail.

I'd read it before—in K.P.'s essay on Emperor War Beasts. When an Emperor War Beast tastes a god's essence and is imbued with berserk magic, it imprints. Even a faint whiff of that same energy afterward can trigger a bloodlust spiral.

If Kaleon's essence was still lingering… and I was carrying anything remotely similar…

I was as good as dragon chow.

I frowned, pushing the cake away. Appetite? Gone. Nausea? Full throttle.

Viracocha must've noticed.

He watched me for a moment, then said, "Now that you know, Carl… do you still want to know what kind they are?"

I hesitated.

What good would it do me? If they're untouchable, what's the point?

But… knowledge was never pointless. Even a scrap of truth could open a door where there seemed to be none. This wasn't just about brute strength. This was about survival. Strategy. Maybe even empathy.

I took a breath. Straightened in my chair. Locked eyes with him.

"Yes," I said. "I want to know. Tell me everything."

*********

I was back in the MECCP office, slumped in my chair like an emotionally drained jellyfish.

If I'd felt even slightly confident before visiting Viracocha, that confidence had now evaporated—evaporated, condensed, and rained back down on me in the form of a cosmic slap.

Turns out, being good at your job doesn't buy you peace. It just signs you up for all the assignments no one else wants to touch with a ten-foot pole and divine gloves.

I let out a long, dramatic sigh and stared up at the ceiling tiles like they owed me answers. "Why," I muttered. "Why me?"

Opposite me, Agnos sipped his tea with the serenity of a retired god who had never in his life been chased by a berserk Emperor War Beast.

"You look like someone told you the heavens ran out of funding," he observed dryly, raising a pale brow over the rim of his porcelain cup. His cat ears twitched, probably in amusement.

I shot him a withering you-wouldn't-last-a-day-in-my-boots glare and flopped deeper into my seat, groaning into the upholstery.

He didn't even blink. Just took another sip of tea and went back to scrolling through his enchanted tablet. As far as he was concerned, my personal apocalypse was just background noise to his early afternoon routine.

The office was unusually quiet without Jiuge's bubbly sarcasm or Heim's terrible habit of trying to turn every piece of office furniture into a training dummy. I glanced at the vintage clock enchanted into the ceiling.

Nearly lunch break. No wonder.

"I'm heading to the cafeteria," I muttered, standing up with the energy of a man condemned. "You want anything?"

Agnos didn't look up. "I'm covered. My errand boy should be bursting through the door in—"

WHAM!

Right on cue, the door flew open like a dramatic plot twist. Heim stormed in like a puppy with way just the right muscle mass, arms full of cafeteria boxes stacked so high I was surprised he could see.

Behind him, Jiuge trailed with a tray of bubble tea drinks and the kind of expression people usually wear when someone spills glitter on sacred scrolls.

"Agnos! We got your lunch!" Heim beamed, proud and oblivious to the chaos his entrance had just inflicted on the hallway behind him.

Agnos offered me a slow, satisfied smirk and arched a single brow that said, Told you so.

I rolled my eyes so hard I probably strained something. "Unbelievable."

"I will serve your food," Heim declared, placing the food in front of Agnos with the kind of flair that would make a royal butler blush.

"You're still here?" I asked, eyebrows drawn. "Pretty sure your assignment ended days ago. Shouldn't you be back in your realm doing I don't know.. Heim things?"

Heim grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. "I volunteered to extend my stay."

I blinked. "You what?"

"Today. Just now. Naga approved it." He adjusted a food box, looking like a toddler that just figured out how to build towers with cereal.

"Wait—hold on—under what reason? I didn't get a memo. No one notified me. Was this filed in the system? Was there a form?" I flailed slightly, turning toward Agnos. "Was there a form, Agnos?"

Agnos just shrugged as he delicately unwrapped a bao bun with the grace of an immortal prince at high tea. "You think I monitor field assignments? Please. I barely monitor my inbox."

Jiuge set the drinks down with a little too much force, which I suspected was her way of stress-managing.

"Heim pestered Naga until he caved. Something about 'unfinished bonding' and 'emotional development arcs.'"

Heim nodded proudly like this was a legitimate bureaucratic term.

I stared at him. "You do know this isn't a buddy-comedy where you just decide to stick around for the emotional climax, right?"

Heim gave me a broad, genuinely confused smile.

"Why not? Also—what in the seven heavens is a buddy-comedy? You say the weirdest things."

Then, without missing a beat, he turned to Agnos and jabbed a thumb in my direction. "Is he always like this, or did something short-circuit in his brain recently?"

I opened my mouth to argue. Closed it. Rubbed a hand down my face.

Why not, indeed.

Maybe I was in a buddy-comedy. One where the employees were overachievers, the divine creatures were overpowered, and my to-do list was now blessed with a set of Emperor War Beasts who could smell divine essence from a continent away and had exactly zero recorded weaknesses.

Great.

"I'm heading to the cafeteria," I announced, more to the universe than the room, as if saying it aloud might exorcise at least a fraction of my frustration.

"Why?" Jiuge asked, eyeing me like I'd suggested migrating to another dimension. She gestured vaguely at the mountain of food on Agnos's desk. "There's a feast right here. Agnos can't possibly finish it all."

"I don't mind sharing," Agnos added with a casual nod, sipping his tea like a sage unaffected by mortal appetites.

Before I could make a move, Heim suddenly stepped in front of the desk like a bodyguard protecting the Crown Jewels.

"No! All of this is Agnos's! No touching!" He flung his arms out as if shielding sacred relics, eyes fierce with over-the-top loyalty.

I blinked. "Okay. That answers that."

I turned to Jiuge and gave her the most knowing look I could muster. "Why am I going to the cafeteria? That," I said, jabbing a thumb toward Heim, "is exactly why."

Jiuge snorted.

"I'd rather deal with cafeteria chaos," I muttered, stepping around Heim's dramatic pose, "than Heim's food-guarding theatrics."