Free Web NovelChapter 13: Monstrous Strength (3)
"By the gods..." Aurora murmured, covering her mouth with both hands. Her cheeks were pale, but her eyes shone brightly.
Clavor smiled wider than Lukas had ever seen before.
"Next," he said, and his voice was excited now, filled with barely restrained enthusiasm.
This time, the spoon.
Lukas held the object with only one hand. The material felt cold against his skin, heavier than wood, but still surprisingly light.
He could feel the rough texture, the wear along the handle where someone had gripped it countless times before.
’It seems sturdier than wood.’
He squeezed.
The spoon bent.
The material groaned under the pressure, a sharp creaking sound echoing through the room, and then the spoon simply... warped.
The handle bent at an unnatural angle, and the bowl was crushed inward as though it had been struck by a hammer.
Lukas released it.
The spoon hit the floor with a metallic clink, twisted and unrecognizable.
Aurora said nothing.
She merely pressed her lips together, her violet eyes fixed on the deformed utensil.
Third item, the thick piece of leather.
Lukas grabbed the leather with both hands.
It felt soft to the touch, softer than he had expected, but tough and elastic. He pulled.
The leather tore cleanly in half with a dry ripping sound, as though it were ordinary cloth rather than armor-grade material.
The fibers separated cleanly, and Lukas found himself holding a piece in each hand, blinking in confusion.
’That was easy too.’
Fourth, the solid wooden ball.
Lukas held it with both hands, his fingers barely meeting around its circumference. The wood was smooth and polished, free of cracks or imperfections.
He squeezed.
The ball resisted for a moment.
A second.
Maybe two.
Then it cracked.
A thin line appeared across the center.
Then another.
Then another.
And then the ball simply exploded into splinters, releasing a cloud of sawdust into the air that made Lukas sneeze.
"Achoo!"
Aurora covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Fifth and last, the small iron bar.
Lukas looked at the object in his hands.
It was the heaviest of them all. He could feel its weight pulling his arms downward, yet it still wasn’t difficult to hold.
Just... heavier.
’Solid iron.’
’Let’s see.’
He gripped the bar with both hands, his tiny fingers curling around the cold metal.
He squeezed slowly.
This time, it was a little harder.
He felt the resistance of the iron against his palms, the hardness of the material refusing to yield.
’Interesting...’
He squeezed harder.
The bar began to deform.
The process was slow.
Far slower than with the other objects.
The iron groaned, creaking like a wounded creature, and gradually, very gradually, began to bend in the middle.
At first only a few degrees.
Then more. Then more.
When Lukas finally let go, the bar was crooked, bent at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees.
Deep impressions had been left in the metal, perfectly matching the size of his tiny fingers.
As though the iron had become clay in his hands.
The room fell completely silent.
Lukas looked at the bent bar in his hands.
Then at the wreckage scattered across the floor.
The shattered wooden container.
The twisted spoon.
The splinters from the wooden ball.
The torn leather.
Then he looked at his parents.
Clavor stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the destroyed objects.
His face wore an expression Lukas had never seen before.
Not merely pride. Not merely surprise. Something deeper. Something close to reverence.
Aurora was pale, but her violet eyes burned with fierce maternal emotion.
"He really does have monstrous strength..." Clavor said at last, his voice low, almost a whisper.
"This isn’t normal. I’ve never seen anything like it."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on Lukas.
"Perhaps this is his gift. Something innate that awakened early. I’ve heard rumors of such things happening before, but I never believed they were true. I always thought they were tavern tales, exaggerations invented by drunkards trying to impress each other."
He shook his head, an incredulous smile on his lips.
"But here it is.
Right in front of me.
My son."
Aurora rose to her feet, her knees creaking from the sudden movement.
She hurried over to Lukas and scooped him into her arms, pressing him tightly against her chest as though he might vanish if she did not hold him firmly enough.
"Lukas, are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Her hands moved across his body, checking for injuries or splinters embedded in his skin.
"You didn’t hurt yourself, did you? The splinters didn’t cut you? Do your hands hurt?"
Lukas merely blinked, looking over Aurora’s shoulder at the wreckage scattered across the floor.
’I don’t understand what’s happening to my body either.’
’But... this is incredible.’
He felt excitement building inside him.
A tingling sensation that began at his fingertips and spread through his arms, his chest, and all the way to his head.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t confusion.
It was curiosity.
’This terrifying strength...’
His thoughts drifted back to the ant that had spent so much time with him. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
Tilbo.
The tiny black creature that appeared every day.
That spent hours on his body.
That ate on his chest and cleaned its antennae against his chin.
’Tilbo... it was you, wasn’t it?’
’The connection. That energy that flooded into my body.’
’Did you do this?’
He had no answers.
Only instincts.
Clavor stood up, his knees cracking, and placed a hand on Aurora’s shoulder.
His fingers were large enough to cover nearly her entire shoulder, yet his touch was gentle.
"We’ll have to be careful," he said, his voice deep and serious.
"We need to train this slowly. He can’t go around squeezing things by accident. He could hurt himself. He could hurt others."
Aurora nodded, her face still pale.
"I know."
"But..."
Clavor looked at Lukas again, and that proud smile returned to his face, brightening his stern features.
"Our son is going to be extraordinary. A true genius."
He leaned forward and kissed Lukas on the forehead.
A rare gesture.
So rare that Aurora raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"You’re going to go far, little one. Very far."
Lukas, still in his mother’s arms, merely smiled inwardly.
’Being strong was never something I wanted.’
’In my previous life, all I wanted was to study animals. To observe them. Understand them. Protect them.’
’But this strength...’
He looked down at his own hands.
Small. Chubby.
Dimples at the knuckles.
Hands that had shattered wood and bent iron.
’...is definitely interesting.’
Outside, the sun had already risen completely, and birds sang in the trees surrounding the mansion.
A new day was beginning.
And Lukas Dmond, the two-and-a-half-month-old baby with the strength of a giant and the mind of an adult, could hardly wait to see what the future had in store for him.
