I Built a Divine Zoo in Another World

Several months passed quickly since Lukas discovered his ability to create webs.

Time, as always, seemed to have a life of its own within the Dmond mansion. The days blended into a comfortable routine, yet one filled with small discoveries that enriched Lukas’s life.

Wake up, have breakfast, study, explore, train, sleep. The cycle repeated itself, but it was never monotonous. Each day brought something new: a different insect in the garden, an interesting conversation with a farmer, a small advancement in his control over the web.

He turned one year and eleven months old.

Almost two years in this world. More than seven hundred days since he had opened his eyes for the first time and seen Aurora’s face, bathed in tears of exhaustion and happiness.

His small body continued to grow at a healthy pace. Now, Lukas stood at around one meter tall, a height considered tall for his age.

He no longer looked like a two-year-old child. When he visited the villages, the villagers would look at him in confusion, trying to guess his age.

"How old are you, young master?" an elderly woman from Oak Village once asked.

"Almost two," Lukas replied.

The woman widened her eyes.

"But you’re so tall..."

"Genetics," Lukas answered with a smile.

He didn’t know whether "genetics" was a familiar word in this world, but the woman merely nodded in confusion and changed the subject.

At the mansion, life continued on its course.

Clavor trained Judite with greater intensity. The training sessions now lasted for hours, mixing sword lessons with the basics of mana. He taught his daughter how to channel mana into her muscles, temporarily increasing her strength and speed before allowing her body to relax to avoid damage.

"Mana isn’t only for magic," Clavor explained while Judite tried to maintain a flame in the palm of her hand.

"Warriors use mana too. The difference is that we use it to reinforce, not to transform."

"What’s the difference?" Judite asked between breaths.

"Reinforcement is temporary. You channel mana into your muscles, become stronger for a few seconds, and then return to normal. Transformation is permanent. You alter the nature of mana, turning it into fire, water, and ice."

"And which one is better?"

"That depends. For a warrior, reinforcement is enough. For a mage, transformation is essential."

Judite thought for a moment.

"So I can do both?"

Clavor smiled, a proud smile.

"You can. And you will. It will just be more difficult. Walking two paths at the same time requires more time and talent."

"But it has its advantages. A strong body can withstand several times more mana than an untrained body."

"Training the body first is essential for a mage to grow stronger more quickly."

...

Aurora supervised the household with kindness and firmness. She organized the servants, tended to the inner garden, and ensured that everyone was well-fed. She also dedicated time to Lukas, reading with him, teaching him new words, and answering his endless questions.

Lukas wrote everything down in his notebook.

Judite, now six years old, alternated between excitement over magic and frustration whenever spells didn’t work the way she wanted. Her ability, "Enhanced Mana," made her naturally more powerful than other novice mages, but control was still difficult.

"Why won’t the flame turn blue?" she complained after a frustrating session.

"I want blue flames!"

"Blue flames are hotter," Master Thorne, the private tutor, replied.

"You need to concentrate more mana at the tips of your fingers. And you need to want the flame to be blue."

"I do want it!"

"Wanting isn’t enough. You have to believe. Visualize it."

Judite sighed and tried again. The flame remained yellow.

"Aaagh!"

Lukas, who was sitting in the corner observing, smiled.

’She’ll manage it,’ he thought.

’It’s only a matter of time.’

...

During this period, after Aurora had begun allowing him to go out on his own, Lukas explored all five villages belonging to the Dmond family.

Oak Village.

It was the first and the one he visited the most.

The great centuries-old oak tree at the center of the square had become a gathering point for Lukas.

He would sit beneath the tree’s shade, observing village life and recording everything in his notebook. The tree was enormous, its trunk more than two meters in diameter, and its branches stretched out like protective arms over the square.

The villagers already knew him well. He was no longer "the Baron’s son," but "Lukas, the curious boy." They smiled whenever he appeared, offered him fresh water, and shared stories about their crops.

Lukas spoke with the farmers, helped carry baskets, and observed the animals up close.

The chickens still ran away whenever he approached too quickly, but some tolerated him if he offered them grain. He had learned to crouch down, extend his hand slowly, and wait. It took time. But it worked.

The shepherd dogs barked less as time went on. Now, only one or two barked when he arrived. The others merely lifted their heads, sniffed the air, and returned to resting.

Brook Village.

It stood beside a small, crystal-clear river.

The water was so transparent that Lukas could see the riverbed: smooth stones, green algae, and small fish swimming in schools. The fish were silver, and swift, escaping his hands whenever he tried to touch them.

He spent hours there.

Sitting on the riverbank, his legs dangling above the water, watching the fish swim against the current. He tried to touch some of them, slowly extending his hand, his fingers nearly brushing the surface of the water, but they would dart away quickly, their silver tails shimmering beneath the sunlight.

The villagers fished using simple nets, braided ropes with thick, uneven knots. Lukas helped repair one of them, using discreet strands of web hidden behind a bush, far from curious eyes, reinforcing the knots and closing the holes.

"It’s better than new," the fisherman said while inspecting the net.

"How did you do that?"

"I tightened the knots," Lukas replied with an innocent smile.

Fields Village.

It was the largest of the five villages.

Vast fields of wheat and barley stretched as far as the eye could see, golden crops swaying in the wind, divided by wooden fences and small irrigation channels. The farmers worked bent over the earth, harvesting, planting, and pulling weeds.