A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The air outside Fenrir's headquarters shimmered faintly, as if the magic in the realm itself had paused to applaud my accomplishment.

I held the Predator Security license in one hand and my phone in the other, unable to suppress the grin plastered across my face.

This was more than a certificate—it was proof that I, Carl Suis, a mere human zoologist, had survived and outwitted trials designed for mythical predators.

But before I left, there was one final thing I needed.

"Hey, Fenrir," I said, trying to sound casual. "Mind if we grab a selfie?"

Fenrir, in his hulking wolf form, raised a skeptical brow—or at least what I assumed was a brow. His amber eyes narrowed slightly, and his ears twitched.

"A selfie?" His voice rumbled, deep and gravelly, like distant thunder.

"Yes! You know, a photo? For memories. Milestone achievement and all that jazz."

Fenrir shifted into his human form in one smooth motion, his towering frame now clothed in a tailored suit that screamed CEO of Wolfwork Solutions. He crossed his arms, smirking. "Do all humans commemorate their survival with photos?"

"Only the smart ones," I quipped, holding up my phone. "C'mon, it's for the 'Gram."

The smirk widened. "Fine. One in each form. But if you use an unflattering filter, I'll make sure your next trial involves outrunning me."

I quickly snapped a photo with Fenrir in his human form, where he looked like a cross between a movie star and a billionaire tech mogul. Then, he shifted into his wolf form, his massive size barely fitting into the frame.

"Thanks, big guy," I said, pocketing my phone.

As I added him on Mythigram, I froze.

Fenrir wasn't just a mythological figure; he was a social media legend.

His profile gleamed with a golden checkmark and labeled with Public Figure. He had millions of followers, including some of the most infamous gods and creatures from mythologies across the multiverse.

Thor had liked his latest post. Loki had left a snarky comment. And the top of his profile read, 'Alpha. Legend. Predator Extraordinaire.'

"You're basically a celebrity," I muttered, glancing up at Fenrir.

"I'm surprised you're surprised," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. "I don't do small."

I wasn't sure what stunned me more—Fenrir's follower count or the realization that I now had a photo with someone who could cause a literal Ragnarok.

With a flick of his hand, Fenrir summoned a portal that shimmered like liquid silver. "This will take you back to Troll City," he said. "Congratulations, Carl. You've proven you're more resourceful than most mortals I've encountered. Don't let it go to your head."

"Me? Never," I said, stepping through the portal with a grin.

The portal deposited me into the heart of Troll City, its bustling marketplace alive with the chatter of traders, the clanging of hammers, and the occasional roar of some unidentified beast.

I expected to see Agnos, the Troll Chief, and my Norse guide waiting anxiously for my triumphant return. After all, I'd just passed their so-called Rite of Passage.

Instead, I found them lounging on oversized stone chairs near a food stall, sipping what looked suspiciously like coconut water.

Agnos was laughing heartily, his cat belly shaking, while the Norse guide and translator were busy munching on some trollish snacks.

"Really?" I said, throwing my arms up in exasperation. "I survive death traps and mythical creatures, and you're all just... relaxing?"

Agnos glanced up, unfazed. "Oh, you're back. Took you long enough."

"Took me—" I sputtered, my frustration rising. "You didn't think I might've, I don't know, died?"

The translator shrugged. "You seemed resourceful. We weren't too worried."

I opened my mouth to retort, but then I caught myself. What was I expecting? Panic? A search party? This was Mythica, where life-threatening challenges were a Tuesday afternoon.

"Fine," I muttered. "Guess I'll just show myself off then."

I pulled out the Conflict Mediator license and held it up triumphantly. "Passed. Record-breaking status. No big deal."

Agnos's eyes widened, and he let out a bellowing laugh. "You broke the record? That's fantastic!" He leapt on to me on the back so hard I nearly faceplanted. "This calls for a feast!"

The Troll Chief himself waddled over, his enormous frame casting a shadow that could probably shelter a small village. He extended a hand toward me, his grin revealing teeth the size of gravestones.

"Well done, human," he said.

"Wait," I said, blinking. "You speak English?"

The chief chuckled. "Of course. But it's more entertaining to watch outsiders struggle with trollish. Builds character."

My jaw dropped. "You mean all those awkward conversations, all those translations—you could've just spoken to us the whole time?"

"Correct," he said, his grin widening. "But I found you trustworthy. Anyone willing to learn our language deserves my cooperation."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or strangle him.

********

True to his word, Agnos with the help of the troll chief organized a feast that put every other celebration I'd seen in Mythica to shame.

Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted boar, honeyed pastries, and fruit that glowed faintly in the dim light. Troll musicians played jaunty tunes on instruments I couldn't even begin to name, and the air was thick with the scent of spices and the sound of laughter.

I sat at the head table, flanked by Agnos and the chief, feeling more like a king than a zoologist.

"So," Agnos said, leaning over, "we need to retrieve my last fragment located somewhere near the Troll city. But it might not be safe."

I thought about it for a moment. "Not surprising. Probably some more life-threatening nonsense. It's becoming a theme."

The Troll Chief suddenly stood up and raised his goblet for a toast. "To Carl! We are honored and fortunate to have him pass the most difficult Rite of Passage Trials for trolls. Now, we are qualified to hire conflict mediators for the betterment of our territories and to handle future disputes with others."

"No, the pleasure is mine. It's not a big deal. Really. You don't have to..." I began, flustered.

The troll chief laughed heartily. "Well, whatever it is, you've earned your place among us today. You're the only outsider to have passed our Rite of Passage. Wear it with pride. And with that, I officially announce that Carl will be our Conflict and Disputes Mediator! To Carl!"

The crowd erupted in cheers and shouted their agreement in unison.

I smiled, the weight of the past trials momentarily lifting.

But as the feast raged on, a faint nagging thought wormed its way into my mind. Fenrir's portal had been precise, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that sending me back here—rather than The Winged Hall—had been intentional.

Why?

And why did the Troll Chief's grin seem just a little too knowing when he looked at me?

As I bit into a fruit, my Mythigram buzzed with a notification. Fenrir had tagged me in a post: "Survived the trials. Clever human. Follow him @Carl_Saves_the_Day."

The caption was followed by a winking emoji.

Great. Now Mythica knew who I was.

Then Agnos suddenly said, "Chief, since Carl passed the trial, we might as well claim the favor we requested before."

I glanced at Agnos, who was now lazily sipping on his piña colada as though we weren't about to throw the Chief a curveball. The Troll Chief, still smiling, shifted his gaze between me and Agnos. "Yes, we agreed to honor our word. What is the favor you seek?"

Agnos straightened, his tone turning serious. "We would like to enter the Forbidden Dungeon."

The Troll Chief's smile froze mid-expression, then faded entirely. The room seemed to grow heavier, the festive atmosphere replaced with an ominous silence. His grim expression made it painfully clear: our request was far from ordinary. Probably something most beings with common sense wouldn't even consider.

I leaned down toward Agnos's small, feline stature, trying to keep my voice low but urgent. He was an Unknown God in the form of a purple cat, so everyone could clearly see me conversing with him like some sort of lunatic.

"What are you doing? Read the room, will you?" I hissed through a strained smile. Then I leaned closer, whispering again. "Why ask for this favor now? Can't it wait until the feast is over?"

Agnos gave me a pointed look. "The last fragment is inside that Forbidden Dungeon. We're pressed for time, Carl."

My stomach dropped. "W-wait, the last fragment is in there? So if I get it, I'm free from you, right?" Despite the dread creeping in, the thought of finally going back to the MECCP gave me a flicker of hope.

Agnos grinned, his sharp teeth showing. "Yes. If you survive, of course."

I groaned. "Can't you at least try to be encouraging? Just once? A sprinkle of hope? Maybe something positive for morale?"

"I'm being realistic, Carl. The Forbidden Dungeon is dangerous."

Before I could fire back, the Troll Chief slammed a massive bludgeon hammer onto the table in front of us, the wooden surface splintering under the force.

"I'm afraid we cannot allow you to enter the Forbidden Dungeon," he declared, his voice echoing with finality. "Please reconsider your request."