Seeing my silence, he pressed on.
"Do you know why mythical creatures exist?" Ricardo asked, his voice dripping with that smug, I'm about to change your entire worldview energy.
I crossed my arms.
"Oh, I don't know. Evolution? Ecosystem dynamics? Or wait, let me guess—magic?"
Ricardo smirked, all too pleased with himself.
"Exactly. It's magic. These creatures evolved through prolonged exposure to magical entities and elements. That's why they exist. And Mythica is overflowing with it—leylines, magical surges, ancient energies."
He made a vague, grandiose gesture, like magic was just some universal glitter casually sprinkled over the land.
I gave him a flat look. "Right. And?"
"We're not here to destroy them, Carl." His tone shifted to something patronizing, the way you'd talk to a child struggling with basic arithmetic. "We're here to restore them—to return them to their original animal forms. Their existence is a threat to humans and mortals."
My stomach clenched.
