I Built a Divine Zoo in Another World

Clavor merely nodded, his voice calm yet filled with approval.

"His control over his internal mana is better than I expected."

Lukas glanced discreetly at his father, feeling the weight of that praise. Aurora smiled as well, her gaze filled with pride.

"So there’s only one left."

"The head." Lukas answered immediately, the word hanging in the air.

The atmosphere grew a little quieter, as if the very air had become heavier. Even Judite, who did not yet deeply understand physical cultivation, knew that this region was different, more delicate, and more dangerous.

Clavor slowly set his teacup down on the table, the sound of porcelain against wood echoing through the silence.

"It is the most delicate channel of them all."

He looked directly at Lukas, his eyes meeting his son’s violet gaze.

"Don’t think that just because you mastered the other four quickly, this one will be the same. The head does not forgive mistakes."

Lukas nodded seriously, his expression hardening.

"I know."

"The slightest instability can affect your senses, your perception, even your consciousness." Clavor’s voice was deep, filled with warning.

"That’s why we leave it for last, when your control is already well developed."

Aurora frowned slightly, a wrinkle of concern appearing on her forehead. Even though she trusted her husband completely, hearing those words always awakened a mother’s protective instincts.

Clavor noticed her expression, and his tone softened slightly.

"Don’t worry." He smiled faintly, a smile filled with confidence.

"I won’t let anything happen."

Aurora relaxed, her shoulders easing. She had known this man for many years and understood his competence and dedication. If Clavor spoke with such conviction, it was because he truly believed in both his own abilities and his son’s.

A short while later, breakfast came to an end, and the dishes were cleared away with efficient movements.

...

Father and son headed toward the clearing together, their footsteps echoing through the quiet morning.

The path through the forest had become so familiar that they barely needed to speak, every bend, every tree, every stone as familiar as the walls of their own home.

Birds sang among the treetops, their melodies filling the air like a morning symphony. The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves in golden beams, creating dancing patterns across the moss-covered ground.

A thin layer of mist still covered parts of the forest floor, an ethereal veil that slowly faded beneath the warmth of the rising sun.

As soon as they arrived, Clavor took two wooden swords from an improvised rack, the polished wood gleaming beneath the light. He tossed one toward Lukas, the weapon cutting through the air with perfect precision.

"Let’s begin."

There was no lengthy warm-up. No introductory conversation. The training began immediately, just as it always did.

"Stance!" Clavor’s voice was firm and commanding.

Clang! The two wooden swords collided, the sound echoing through the clearing. Lukas stepped back, feeling the impact reverberate through his arms.

"Your elbow is too wide." The correction came immediately, precise and unwavering.

Clang! Another strike, even stronger.

"Correct it."

Lukas immediately adjusted his movement, feeling the difference in his posture.

Then the training intensified, becoming faster and more demanding with every passing moment. First came the basic exercises, hundreds of vertical strikes, the wooden blade descending like a bolt of lightning. Then horizontal cuts, slicing through the air in clean arcs.

Next came diagonal strikes, each at the perfect angle. Every swing had to be identical to the last, the same angle, the same balance, the same distribution of strength.

Whenever even the smallest detail was wrong, Clavor stopped him immediately, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Again."

And Lukas started over, without complaining, without hesitation.

They then moved on to footwork, running between trees while executing strikes, changing direction without losing balance, and attacking trunks that had been marked beforehand. Stop, begin again, faster, more precise, cleaner.

Sweat began running down his forehead, trickling across his face and dripping onto the ground. His arm muscles burned, his legs grew heavy, and his heart pounded fiercely. Yet there was something different about this training, something Lukas could feel in every movement.

With every strike, every step, and every shift in position, he could clearly sense tiny currents of mana flowing through the four channels that had already stabilized. He still couldn’t control them deliberately, nor did they strengthen his muscles beyond their normal limits.

But they were there, vibrating in response to his movements, as though his body itself were learning how to use those new pathways.

It was as if his entire body were slowly adapting to the new structure created over the past few days. Every sprint made the mana vibrate faintly within the channels in his legs. Every strike subtly stimulated the Lunar Source. It was a curious sensation, almost as though his entire body were awakening to something new.

Clavor noticed it as well, his observant eyes catching the difference. After another sequence of strikes, he asked,

"Can you feel it?"

Lukas was breathing heavily, but his voice remained steady.

"Yes."

"Describe it." The command was short and direct.

"The mana... responds whenever I move." Lukas hesitated, trying to find the right words.

"It’s not strength, not yet. But it’s there, vibrating, as if it’s learning alongside me."

Clavor nodded, his expression one of approval.

"It isn’t reinforcement yet. Your body is simply recognizing the new channels, getting used to their presence."

Lukas listened attentively, absorbing every word.

"Think of it as water flowing for the first time through a newly opened riverbed." Clavor’s voice was patient and instructive.

"There is still resistance, there are still obstacles. In time, the path will become more and more natural, and the water will flow more freely."

That made sense. The more he trained, the more familiar the sensation became. It wasn’t strength, not yet. But it was adaptation, preparation, his body adjusting to its new reality.

And that motivated him even more.

The training continued, relentless and unyielding. Then came balance exercises, standing atop a single narrow log while performing complete attack sequences, the log swaying beneath his feet. After that came jumps, sudden changes in direction, defenses, and counterattacks.

Finally, they reached the sparring sessions. Clavor never went easy on him. Even after limiting his own strength to Lukas’s level, his experience was overwhelming. Within seconds, Lukas found himself constantly forced into difficult situations, needing to think, improvise, and adapt.

Every mistake earned him a light tap from the wooden sword on his shoulder, arm, or waist.

"Dead." Another strike.

"Dead again."

One more.

"If that had been a real enemy, you would have died three times already."

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