I Built a Divine Zoo in Another World

The rest of the day passed peacefully, almost surreal for Lukas.

Aurora did not let him out of her arms for even a moment.

She carried him around the house, from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the hallway, and from the hallway back to the bedroom, as if he were made of glass. He might shatter if left alone for more than five minutes.

Her hands were always on him, checking his temperature, his breathing, and the beat of his tiny heart.

She sang him the same songs as always, about the moon, the stars, and the winds that blow from distant lands.

She fed him more often than usual.

Lukas did not complain. The milk was warm and sweet, and Aurora’s embrace was soft and safe.

He allowed himself to be rocked gently, his eyes half-closed, his mind drifting through thoughts that led nowhere.

Every time he tried to move more, tried to sit up again, stretch his arms, or do anything other than remain quietly in her lap, Aurora would hold him tighter against her chest. As if afraid he might disappear or hurt himself.

He sighed, a small, almost inaudible sigh that made Aurora smile.

"Are you tired, my love?" she murmured, kissing his forehead.

"Sleep. Mommy will take care of everything."

Lukas closed his eyes.

’Tilbo...’ he thought before sleep dragged him into darkness.

’Where are you?’

The ant had disappeared earlier, probably during all the commotion.

’Will she come back tomorrow?’

’I hope so.’

That night, he slept deeply, exhausted by the avalanche of sensations from the day.

His small body felt as heavy as a ton, and his muscles, still surprised by their newfound ability to move, ached faintly, as if they had just gone through an intense workout.

...

The next day, Lukas woke before the sun had fully risen.

The room was still dark, wrapped in the bluish twilight that precedes dawn.

Only a thin streak of pink light slipped through the gap in the curtains, drawing a luminous line across the wooden floor.

The fire in the fireplace had died during the night, and the air was cool, cool enough for Lukas to see his own breath forming little clouds before his eyes.

’I think it’s getting colder.’

He did not know what season it was. He did not know whether the seasons in this world worked the same way they did on Earth. But the chill at the tip of his nose was unmistakable.

He tested his body again.

He sat upright effortlessly, as easily as rolling over in bed or blinking his eyes. There was no struggle. None of the internal resistance that had once accompanied every attempt at movement. His muscles responded instantly, as though they had been doing this his entire life.

’As if I were eighteen years old and this were my original body.’

He looked at his hands. Small. Chubby. Dimples at the knuckles.

’Baby hands. But with an adult’s control.’

Using his hands, he pushed himself toward the edge of the crib. The sides were high, made of solid wood carved with simple patterns of leaves and flowers. They had to be at least thirty centimeters tall. High enough to keep an ordinary baby from falling out.

Lukas was not an ordinary baby.

’Let’s see how far I can go...’

He braced himself against the wooden rail, his tiny fingers curling around the smooth surface. The wood felt cold beneath his palms, rough in some places, polished in others.

He tried to stand.

It was not difficult. In fact, it was surprisingly easy. His legs, which only two days ago could barely stretch properly, now supported his weight without trembling.

His arms pulled his torso upward with a strength he had not even known he possessed.

He was almost standing. His feet had already left the mattress. Only his hands still gripped the edge of the crib, maintaining his balance.

’Just a little more...’

He tightened his grip on the wood.

’Crack!’

The sound was loud, sharp, and explosive, like a thick branch snapping in half beneath the weight of a large animal. It echoed through the silent room, bounced off the stone walls, and startled the birds outside awake.

The crib rail caved in beneath his fingers.

It did not merely crack, it sank inward, as though the wood were wet clay rather than solid oak. Splinters flew in every direction, some striking his face, others landing on the mattress. Tiny fragments became lodged in his palms, embedded in his soft skin.

Lukas let out a sharp cry of shock and surprise.

It was not a cry of pain. It was a genuine shout, the kind that escapes when something completely unexpected happens.

He lost his balance from the sudden snap and fell back onto the mattress, landing on his bottom, the broken wood still in his hands and his eyes wide open.

’What... what was that?!’

He stared at his hands. They were completely unharmed. No cuts. No scratches. No redness. His soft baby skin was perfectly intact, as if he had squeezed pillows instead of wood.

’I broke the wood.’

’With my hands.’

’By accident.’

The reality of the situation began settling into his mind like a weight.

The shout woke Aurora instantly.

She leaped from the bed, not climbed out, leaped, as though she had been electrocuted. Her white hair was disheveled, her violet eyes still clouded with sleep, but her body was already moving before her mind had fully processed what was happening.

"Lukas! What happened?!" She ran to the crib, her bare feet pounding against the wooden floor, her nightgown fluttering behind her.

When she saw the deep marks in the wood, perfectly matching the size of her son’s little hands, and the fragments still lodged in his palms, Aurora was speechless.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

No sound came out.

Her face shifted through expressions so quickly that Lukas found it almost comical. Shock, concern, confusion, more shock, and a hint of fear.

Clavor appeared seconds later.

He wore only a pair of trousers, a simple dark linen garment tied at the waist, and his bare chest was covered in old scars.

Some were thin and pale, almost invisible. Others were thick and dark, reminders of wounds that had nearly killed him.

His feet were bare as well, and his brown hair was just as messy as Aurora’s.

He did not look as though he had just woken up. He looked like an animal ready to strike, his eyes sweeping across the room for threats, his shoulders tense, his hands already clenched into fists.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice deep and controlled, though edged with alertness.

Aurora pointed at the damaged crib with a trembling finger.

"He... he broke the wood, Clavor."

Her voice came out as a whisper.

"Just by holding it. He just... held it."