A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

"I can't believe I agreed to this absurd mission," Agnos muttered, his usual crisp composure unraveling one complaint at a time. "And to think Naga gave it his stamp of approval. Has the whole MECCP gone mad?"

He hadn't stopped adjusting the cuffs of his coat since we crossed the barrier ward about a hundred meters from the Eternal Prison. I'd never seen him fidget before—ever. Now there were beads of sweat dotting his temple, his cat ears twitching at every distant rustle, as if the wind itself was plotting treason.

I didn't blame him.

The Eternal Prison loomed ahead—though "loomed" felt generous. It didn't rise like a fortress or brood like a citadel. It looked more like a polished marble estate that had gotten lost from a dream and ended up cursed instead. Modest, elegant, disturbingly quiet.

It wasn't huge. It wasn't small either. It just… was. A home that belonged to Kaleon and Hestia.

Viracocha once told me the palace was built to Hestia's liking—homey, grounded, no sharp edges. She was the Goddess of Hearth, after all. That made it worse somehow. A prison dressed like a sanctuary. You could almost see the warmth it used to hold. Now, it just felt hollow. Like grief had learned how to decorate.

"Don't worry, Agnos," Heim said suddenly, puffing his chest like a loyal knight in a stage play. He thumped a fist over his heart—twice for good measure—and flashed his brother a heroic grin. "I'll protect you. Even if it costs me my life."

I gave him a slow side-eye. "We're not here to write tragic ballads, Heim. No one's dying tonight."

He gave me a shrug like dying was an option, just not his preferred one.

Agnos said nothing. He just kept staring at the place, expression unreadable but ears pinned back, which in god-speak meant this is a terrible idea.

"I have a question," Heim said, cocking his head like the thought had just landed on him. "Why are we breaking in at night? There aren't any guards, and Emperor War Beasts don't sleep."

"Because we had the briefing this morning," I replied flatly. "And someone"—I looked pointedly at his fur-lined armor that still sparkled from over-polishing—"took forever to finish their beauty prep."

Jiuge let out a theatrical sigh, tail swishing like an annoyed fox flicking at air. "Seriously. You spent ten minutes side-braiding your hair and another thirty posing in front of the mirror. That's why."

"It's called looking battle-ready," Heim shot back, wounded pride dripping from every syllable.

"No, it's called wasting time while we all prepared to die," Jiuge retorted.

"Correction," I cut in. "No one is dying. We're walking into that prison-palace thing, we're getting what we need, and we're walking back out. Preferably with all our limbs intact and zero divine lawsuits."

I said it like I meant it. But the way the air around the Eternal Prison shimmered like held breath told me that this place… didn't like being disturbed.

And somewhere inside, four Emperor War Beasts were waiting.

Watching.

Possibly sharpening their metaphysical claws.

I ignored the way my stomach twisted.

"I really need that selfie with Indrik when this is over," I muttered under my breath. "That better not be my last regret."

A breeze slipped through the nearby trees, cool against my neck, as if Mythica itself was offering a moment of mercy before we did something profoundly stupid. I closed my eyes, inhaled slow and deep, and gave myself a firm nod.

Okay. I was ready. As ready as someone could be before breaking into a divine prison guarded by apocalypse-grade beasts.

Ten full seconds passed while I stood there—just breathing, staring at the gates, and internally spiraling through every bad decision that led me to this exact moment.

"Are we going in or what?" Heim muttered, arms crossed, foot tapping like an impatient dad waiting for a buffet to open. "Because standing here in the dark like confused tourists is really killing my war-god image."

He'd already slung his warhammer back onto his back, clearly unimpressed by our collective lack of movement. For someone supposedly on a mission to break into one of the most dangerous prisons in existence, Heim looked more like a guy waiting for his lunch order to arrive.

I gave him a long, unimpressed look—the kind that said congrats, you're not helping—then tightened the straps of my backpack with the solemnity of someone preparing to walk willingly into a divine meat grinder.

"Glad you're concerned about your image," I said flatly. "Try not to cry when the actual Emperor War Beasts show up."

He just shrugged, casually cracking his knuckles like he was about to punch a moon out of orbit. "Didn't realize inaction was part of the plan," he muttered, casting a pointed glance at the rest of us.

I didn't bother responding. Mostly because… fair.

Then I sighed, squared my shoulders, and thought, Screw it.

One step forward.

And then—

ROAAAAARRRRRRR!

The sound hit us like a shockwave—bone-deep, reality-rattling. It wasn't just loud. It was ancient. Like the kind of roar that made mountains flinch and gods double-check their insurance.

I froze mid-step. My face drained faster than a goblet in Dionysus' hand. Pretty sure I turned the color of freshly laundered hotel sheets.

"What the hell was that?" Heim blinked, genuinely baffled—his warhammer halfway raised like it had an answer.

Jiuge's tails went rigid. Her eyes snapped wide, ears flattening as she muttered something in an extinct dialect I was pretty sure translated to oh no, oh no, oh gods no.

Even Agnos—Mr. Composed, Mr. Ice-in-his-veins—stopped breathing. Just... stopped. His teacup would've shattered if he were holding one.

I swallowed hard. "Holy crap. Don't tell me we triggered something before even breaking in."

Another roar shattered the night.

Louder.

Closer.

This time it vibrated the ground beneath our feet. The trees bent like they were trying to bow—or flee. My heart kicked into panic mode, and a sharp chill crawled up my spine like a cold hand dragging its fingers through my nerves.

And then… it appeared.

A blinding form surged into view from above, haloed in ghostlight, wings too big to belong to anything sane. It hovered in the air like a divine judge summoned by mistake—but very willing to smite someone anyway.

Its eyes locked on me.

Not us—me.

They didn't just look into me—they peeled me. Like it knew every fractured bit of Kaleon's essence I carried and was deciding whether to incinerate it... or swallow it whole.

I couldn't move. Couldn't blink. Could barely think through the screaming in my nervous system.

"ABORT MISSION!" I shouted. "RUN!"

And we did.

Or at least we tried to—tripping, scrambling, shoulder-bumping into each other like panicked school children on their first day in hell.

Because whatever that thing was…

It didn't roar for fun.

It roared for blood.