I Built a Divine Zoo in Another World

Lukas’s room was simple, but cozy. His crib had been taken away, and now there was a small dark wooden bed covered with a light blue quilt.

A bedside table with an oil lamp. A dresser with drawers. A window overlooking the inner garden, with white linen curtains.

He placed the cage on the table and sat down in the chair beside it.

Tilbo jumped from his shoulder and landed on the edge of the table, watching.

Lukas carefully opened the cage door. The metal was cold beneath his fingers. The hinge creaked softly.

He extended his little hand in front of the spider.

Palm up. Fingers relaxed.

”Come on, little friend.” he murmured with an excited smile.

The spider hesitated for a few seconds.

Its long, jointed legs moved slowly, as if evaluating the situation. Its multiple eyes, eight black, gleaming points, fixed themselves on Lukas’s hand.

Then, with surprising grace, it climbed aboard.

Its legs touched his skin with a lightness Lukas had not expected. It was not like Tilbo’s heavy steps on his arm. It was gentler, almost ethereal. Each leg barely pressed against his skin.

He raised his hand to eye level.

For the first time outside the cage, he was able to observe the spider completely.

Its glossy black body reflected the light from the window in tiny silver points. It was not a dull black like that of ordinary insects; it was a living, deep black that seemed to swallow the surrounding light. Its jointed legs were covered with fine silver hairs, so fine that Lukas could only see them when the light struck at a specific angle.

The eyes, eight eyes, were arranged in two rows on the front of its head. The two in the middle were larger, gleaming like tiny glass beads. The other six were smaller but equally bright.

Whenever Lukas moved his hand, the eyes moved as well.

’She’s watching me. All the time.’

”You’re really very beautiful.” he whispered.

Tilbo, on the edge of the table, moved her antennae toward the spider.

Lukas noticed that the ant was tense. Her metallic body was stiffer than usual, her legs firmly planted on the wood.

”Well...” he said, looking at Tilbo.

”I hope the two of you get along and become friends too. But I have to be careful.”

He sighed.

”I think it’s better not to leave you together for now. You might try to kill each other.”

He knew nature was not friendly. Given her size, Tilbo could easily attack and eat the spider; ants were omnivores, and a spider that size would be tempting prey. And the spider could bite Tilbo with venom, paralyze her, perhaps even kill her.

”Yeah, better not put them together for now.” he decided.

He brought the spider close to his face and observed it with an almost manic smile of curiosity.

...

A week passed quickly after Lukas returned from the city.

The days flowed by in a simple routine, but one filled with discoveries. Aurora returned to managing the manor, supervising the servants, organizing supplies, and planning meals.

Clavor resumed his training. Although Asmon was still in the capital, Clavor trained alone in the courtyard every morning, maintaining his form.

Judite began reading the magic books they had purchased in the city, although her reading was still slow, and she needed Aurora’s help with the more difficult words.

Lukas, meanwhile, dedicated almost all of his free time to studying his new friend.

Every morning after breakfast, he took the spider to a quiet corner of his room or the inner garden, away from the curious eyes of servants and far from possible accidents.

He sat on the floor, placed the spider on a large leaf, and observed.

He discovered that she was extremely docile with him.

She showed no hostility whatsoever. Whenever Lukas picked her up, she stayed perfectly still, her legs relaxed, her multiple eyes reflecting his image. She never tried to run away. She never tried to bite him. She never bared her fangs, or mandibles, in this case.

It was as if she instinctively trusted him.

Just as Tilbo had from the very beginning.

Lukas did not know whether it was something about the species, perhaps Silver-Thread Venomous Spiders were naturally docile toward humans, or whether there was a special reason, like the feeling he had experienced during his connection with Tilbo.

He was never bitten.

The spider seemed content to remain in his hand, exploring his fingers with delicate legs. Sometimes she climbed up to his arm, stopped at his elbow, and remained there for hours, motionless.

Tilbo watched everything from a distance, curious, but Lukas kept the two separated. He did not want to risk a fight.

He fed her small insects that he caught in the garden.

Flies, small beetles, and ordinary ants, though he did not show those to Tilbo. He placed them alive in front of the spider and observed the hunting process.

The spider attacked with impressive speed.

In less than a second, its front legs shot forward, seized the prey, and its mandibles pierced the insect’s exoskeleton. The venom was injected; Lukas could see the clear liquid running down the fangs, and the insect became paralyzed almost instantly.

Then she ate voraciously.

The mandibles crushed the insect into tiny pieces, and the internal fluids were sucked out. The entire process took only a few minutes.

He also offered drops of water on a leaf.

The spider drank with precise movements, bringing its mouth close to the droplet and slowly drawing it in. Its front legs moved gently, as if ”hugging” the leaf.

She produced fine silver threads when she was calm.

Lukas observed that whenever he left her on a smooth surface, such as a sheet of paper or a piece of polished wood, and did not move her for several minutes, she would begin to spin.

The threads emerged from her abdomen through a small opening that Lukas could only see when the lighting was good. They were extremely thin, almost invisible from a distance, but they gleamed whenever light touched them.

When he moved closer, he could see the structure.

The threads were not smooth. They had tiny protrusions along their length, as if they were beads on a necklace. Their color was silver, but when Lukas held a strand against the light, he could see blue and purple reflections.

He tested their strength.

He pulled on a thread with his fingers, carefully controlling his force and remembering his monstrous strength. The thread stretched but did not break. He pulled harder. The thread stretched even more.

When he let go, it returned to its original size.

’Elastic.’ he thought.

’And durable. Very durable. Even though she isn’t an adult yet.’

He did not test it to its limits. He did not want to destroy the threads, at least not yet, but he estimated that a single strand could support several times its own weight.

”When she’s fully grown, the threads will be thicker. Stronger and more useful.”

Whenever he placed her on the ground, she explored her surroundings.

She walked slowly, her legs moving in a pattern Lukas had not yet fully deciphered. She touched every surface with her front legs before advancing, as if she were ”testing” the terrain.

If she found a small hole or a crack, she tried to enter. If she could not, she gave up and moved on.

But she always returned to him.

Even if Lukas remained still for an hour, she would eventually come back and climb onto his hand or leg. No matter how far she wandered, she always returned.

’As if she considers me... safe.’

’Or perhaps... part of her territory.’

At the end of the week, while feeding the spider a fat beetle he had captured in the garden, Lukas decided it was time.

He raised the spider to eye level. She rested in his hand, her legs relaxed, her multiple eyes reflecting his image.

”You need a name.” he said with a smile.

”I can’t keep calling you ’spider’ forever.”

He thought for a moment, watching the silver legs glimmer beneath the light from the window.

”You make beautiful threads... Silver threads, like stars. How about... Prata?”

He tested the name aloud.

”Prata. What do you think?”

The spider slowly moved her legs, one, two, three times, as if approving.

Lukas laughed softly.

”Prata it is, then. Welcome to the family.”

Tilbo, on his shoulder, moved her antennae as well, as if welcoming the new companion.

Lukas felt a deep happiness.

His little private ”zoo” was growing.

Tilbo, the magical ant that had appeared from nowhere and never left.

Prata, the venomous spider he had purchased in the city.

Two creatures. Two friends.

And he could hardly wait to expand it even further.