A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The journey to Yggdrasil began with a familiar dread pooling in my stomach. If recovering the first fragment had taught me anything, it was that simplicity in this quest was a myth.

Agnos perched on my shoulder, swishing his tail like the smug little pseudo-god he was, and I already suspected he knew something he wasn't telling me.

"Next stop, the World Tree," I muttered, glancing at the map I bought earlier at Dwarftopia. The mechant dwarf had kindly helped marked for me where the World Tree is located.

It shimmered faintly, the runes glowing like tiny fireflies. "Any chance this one doesn't come with a beast or... whatever that Basilisk situation was?"

Agnos let out a dismissive snort. "Oh, Carl. You have so much faith in Mythica's capacity for peace and quiet. Adorable."

I shot him a glare. "You could at least pretend to reassure me."

"No fun in that." He stretched lazily. "Besides, Yggdrasil isn't just any tree. It's the spiritual artery of all realms. Surely you don't think something that significant will just hand over its treasures without a... test."

I groaned, hiking up my pack as the faint outline of Yggdrasil began to rise on the horizon. Its massive branches stretched upward, piercing the sky like a living cathedral, and its roots disappeared into swirling mists below.

The air here felt different, thick with ancient magic. Every breath tasted like ozone, every step felt like trespassing on sacred ground.

When I first heard "Yggdrasil," my imagination soared.

The World Tree. A symbol of unity, wisdom, and cosmic balance. The majestic pillar connecting heaven, earth, and the underworld.

In my head, it was a mystical, reverent place shrouded in sacred silence—a place where whispers carried the weight of eons, and every step felt like treading on ancient secrets.

That was before I actually saw it.

Instead of solemn grandeur, I was greeted by something else entirely— a bustling crowd.

Tourists of every shape and form swarmed the base of Yggdrasil like ants around honey. Elves with selfie sticks struck dramatic poses, trying to get the perfect angle with the roots of the ancient tree in the background.

Fauns flipped through photo menus at nearby food stalls, debating between "Mystical Maple Syrup Soda" and "Root-Flavored Rune Biscuits." Even a group of dwarven livestreamers—complete with ring lights and floating cameras—were loudly advertising their latest wares.

"Oh, come on," I groaned, blinking at the chaos.

Agnos, perched smugly on my backpack, gave an unbothered yawn. "What did you expect? Sparkles? Choirs of angels?"

"Well, not this!" I waved a hand at the scene. "This is supposed to be sacred! Not… a magical Disneyland!"

"Sacred doesn't pay the bills," Agnos said, flicking his tail lazily. "Tourism does. Gotta fund the maintenance somehow. Do you know how expensive it is to keep a world tree alive? The mana reserves alone—astronomical."

I wasn't sure whether to be more stunned by the commercialization of Yggdrasil or the fact that Agnos knew anything about budgeting.

"Even the rails and barriers are enchanted," he continued, gesturing toward the gleaming metal and glowing runes surrounding the tree's massive trunk. "High-level stuff. Keeps the riffraff out unless they cough up the entry fee. Which, by the way…" He gave me a pointed look.

I sighed. "How much are we talking?"

"Five hundred Mythica Credits."

"FIVE HUNDRED?!" I nearly choked. That was more than my entire weekly stipend as an intern.

Agnos shrugged. "It's the World Tree. You want cosmic wisdom? You pay cosmic prices."

I turned back to the scene, trying to process this. Rows of stalls lined the pathway to Yggdrasil, selling everything from miniature replicas of the tree to enchanted leaf-shaped charms that promised good fortune.

The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and sweet nectar, mixing strangely with the ancient energy emanating from the massive tree in the center.

Despite the carnival-like atmosphere, Yggdrasil itself was still breathtaking. Its trunk stretched impossibly high, disappearing into the clouds, and its sprawling roots wove through the earth like veins of pure life energy. The tree pulsed faintly with an otherworldly glow, each leaf shimmering in a kaleidoscope of colors.

And yet, seeing someone use one of its roots as a backrest for their selfie left a sour taste in my mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," I muttered.

We approached the restricted area, where a line of visitors waited patiently. At the front stood an elf in a crisp green uniform, complete with a sash reading "Yggdrasil Visitor Services." He held a clipboard and radiated an air of professional cheeriness that felt utterly out of place.

"Greetings, travelers!" he said as we approached. His eyes darted to Agnos, and he hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. "Welcome to the sacred grounds of Yggdrasil. Are you here to pray, make a wish, or simply bask in its divine energy?"

I opened my mouth, but Agnos cut me off. "We're here for the fragment," he said, his voice cool and unbothered.

The guide's smile faltered. "Fragment?"

"The fragment. You know, piece of cosmic energy, part of the grand destiny stuff. Don't make me spell it out."

The guide's cheery demeanor evaporated instantly. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That's not something we discuss openly. Follow me."

He led us past the line of tourists, through a side gate that shimmered as we passed through it. The noise of the crowd faded instantly, replaced by a profound, almost oppressive silence. It was like stepping into another dimension.

The air here was thicker, charged with raw energy. My skin prickled as we approached the base of Yggdrasil. Up close, the tree was even more awe-inspiring, its bark etched with ancient runes that seemed to shift and writhe when I tried to read them.

"This is as far as I go," the guide said, stopping abruptly. "The rest is up to you."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'up to us'?" I asked.

Before he could answer, the ground beneath us rumbled. A low, resonant hum echoed through the air, vibrating in my chest.

"Ah," Agnos said, hopping off my backpack. "Looks like the guardian's awake."

"The what now?"

Before I could get an answer, a massive burst of flame erupted from the ground ahead. The heat was so intense I had to shield my face. When the flames subsided, a creature emerged, its feathers blazing like molten gold.

********

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer at the base of Yggdrasil. Instead, I stood in a vast hall of light, with endless rows of flickering flames floating in midair. Each flame pulsed with an energy that felt alive, like they were tiny hearts beating in sync with the universe.

But instead of attacking, the Phoenix spoke.

"Welcome, traveler."

The voice was deep, resonant, and somehow... musical? I turned, and there it was—a Phoenix, its feathers blazing like the dawn and its eyes burning with ancient wisdom. It perched on a pedestal carved from obsidian, its wings folded elegantly.

"Uh, hi," I said, unsure of how to address what was essentially a living sunbird. "I'm Carl. Here for a fragment?"

The Phoenix tilted its head, studying me with an intensity that made me want to fidget. Then it spoke, and what it said made me question my sanity.

"I challenge you to a game."

I blinked. "A game?"

"Yes," it said solemnly. "A game of BINGO."

I stared at the Phoenix, wondering if I'd misheard. "BINGO," I repeated slowly.

"Yes," it said, ruffling its feathers. "The game of strategy, luck, and intellect. Surely you are familiar?"

"Uh, yeah, I know what it is, but..." I gestured vaguely at its flaming magnificence. "You're... you. Why BINGO?"

"Do not underestimate the power of simplicity," the Phoenix said with a regal nod. "Life, like BINGO, is a balance of chance and choice. Besides, it is quite popular among celestial beings. Now, shall we begin?"

Agnos snorted from his perch. "This is gold. Absolute gold."

The Phoenix conjured a glowing board in midair, its numbers shimmering like stars. Another appeared in front of me, and a gilded cage materialized between us, its handle ready to spin.

"Fine," I muttered. "Let's do this."

The game started off easy enough. The Phoenix called numbers with an almost ceremonial gravitas, its melodic voice echoing through the hall.

"B... 7."

I marked it off my board. "Got it."

"I... 19."

"Bingo gods, be kind," I muttered under my breath, crossing off another number.

The game progressed, and for a while, it seemed... normal. Too normal. Which, of course, was when the Phoenix decided to up the stakes.

"I shall now add a layer of challenge," it announced.

"Oh, great," I muttered. "What kind of—"

Before I could finish, my board began to glow—and then it floated upward, spinning in midair like a frisbee possessed. The Phoenix's board followed suit, and now I had to chase my numbers while dodging flames it occasionally lobbed my way.

"Is this normal?" I yelled, narrowly avoiding a fireball.

"Define normal," Agnos said, smirking as he floated just out of range.

"G... 52," the Phoenix called serenely, as if this chaos were perfectly standard.

I leaped, snatching my board out of the air and marking off the number. "This is not how you play BINGO!"

"Says who?" the Phoenix countered, hurling another flame.

By the end of the game, I was panting, singed, and ready to retire from all future BINGO-related activities. But somehow, miraculously, I managed to call it.

"BINGO!" I shouted, holding up my board like a victory banner.

The Phoenix paused, its flames dimming slightly as it inspected my board. Then it nodded. "Impressive. You have earned the fragment."

A shard of glowing light emerged from its chest, hovering toward me. When I touched it, a wave of energy surged through my body, and for a brief moment, I wasn't in the hall anymore.

I stood at the edge of a battlefield, flames consuming the horizon. Shadows moved in the distance—seven figures, their outlines flickering like static.

And in the center, a tree much like Yggdrasil, but darker, its branches gnarled and dripping with an inky substance.

A voice whispered, faint but insistent, "Restore the balance..."

I gasped, the vision fading as I found myself back in the hall. The Phoenix watched me closely.

"Another memory unlocked," it said quietly. "You are making progress."

I didn't feel like it. My head throbbed, and my heart raced as the implications of the vision settled over me.

"What was that?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"The truth," the Phoenix said simply. "And only a fraction of it."

As I left Yggdrasil, fragment in hand, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling toward something much bigger than me. Agnos, of course, had his own commentary.

"You survived a Phoenix and BINGO. That's a story for the ages."

I glared at him. "Shut up."

But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder—what was the dark tree I'd seen? And how much longer could I keep running from the answers?