Genetic Engineer in a Tamer's World

The heavy wooden door of room 555 clicked shut, sealing out the iron scent of the Iron-Bark Flats and the lingering echoes of the systematic slaughter.

Inside, the fortified walls hummed with the ancient tree’s life force, a low-frequency vibration that acted as a balm for Kale’s frayed nerves.

He felt the weight of his evolution pressing against his consciousness, the raw, supernatural power of a Hexarion Human coupled with the mental strain of commanding a creature that technically shouldn’t exist.

Neo, the Nemesis Hydra, flapped its small green wings and landed on the stone table, shaking its three heads to clear away the phantom taste of Ravager-rank blood. Despite the beast’s draconic arrogance, it was exhausted.

The concentrated psychic frequency of the Rattling Roar had drained its nascent mental reserves.

Kale nudged the creature toward its sleeping mat, feeling the shared predatory satisfaction through their soul-tether before he collapsed onto his own bed, sinking into the silence of his temporary sanctuary.

Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, replaced by the pale, cold radiance of the giant moon. Lazek Oberon stood amidst the mountain of carcasses his bare hands had produced, his dark grey cloak fluttering in the night breeze.

He watched his disciple’s retreating figure for a moment, the violent obsidian light in his eyes having long since faded into terminal boredom.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, Lazek gave a mental command to an artefact worn on his wrist.

The five-meter-tall calamitous chimaera, the ape-manticore-octagon hybrid that had just finished devouring an Umbra Stalker, dissolved into a mass of oily, green mana and retreated into the artefact.

A second later, he tapped another artefact on his opposite hand.

A new entity manifested: a slender, winged chimaera with the head of a hawk and the shimmering, translucent skin of a jellyfish. It was built for verticality and stealth, an aerial transport designed for the high-altitude reaches of the Greenroot Guild.

Lazek stepped onto the beast’s back, and with a silent beat of its wings, he shot upward. He bypassed the lower root-walkways and the Master-rank irrigation sectors, heading directly for the top floor of the gargantuan central tree.

The air thinned as he ascended, the temperature dropping until frost began to form on his grey tunic. At the very peak, where the clouds felt close enough to touch, Lazek dismounted and walked toward the large wooden hut that served as the Guildmaster’s sanctum.

Rivaldo stood on the edge of the eclipsing balcony, looking out over the Tigerwood Forest. Even without his Humanoid Eagle transformation, the Overlord-rank Tamer exuded a presence that made the mana in the air feel stagnant and heavy.

Lazek walked forward and gave a respectful half-bow, wrapping his fists in the traditional manner of the Association. ”Guildmaster Rivaldo.”

The muscular man turned, his eyes softening ever so slightly. To Rivaldo, Lazek was not just another Grandmaster Fleshcrafter; he was the favourite disciple of the Association Leader, an old friend who sat on the Sovereign rank.

”Grandmaster Lazek,” Rivaldo greeted, his voice a low rumble that carried the weight of the forest’s authority.

”You certainly know how to make an entrance. My borders were already under enough strain without you adding the aura of a chimeric predator to the mix.”

Despite his warm tone, Rivaldo’s gaze drifted toward the shadow where Lazek’s chimaeras resided.

As a Tamer who lived in harmony with the natural world, Rivaldo felt a primal, visceral repulsion toward the entities Lazek created. To him, Fleshcraft was not just medicine or engineering; it was a biological discord that offended the World Will’s design.

The chimaeras were straightforward abominations, monstrosities built for immediate, crushing strength without any regard for evolutionary stability.

”Don’t worry,” Rivaldo said, sensing the silent, murderous anger that still flickered in the depths of Lazek’s eyes. ”My reserve units were already moving. I would not have let your disciple die.”

Lazek let out a short, mocking scoff. He straightened up, his pale face twisting into a sneer. ”With all due respect, sir, I have heard from my master what kind of person you are. You definitely would have let my disciple die if it suited the tactical advantage of your sector.”

He took a step closer, his black eyes flashing with obsidian fire. ”After all, you are the man who would watch his own son die from afar because he was not strong enough to meet your standards. Why should I believe you would care for a cursed brat from the Association?”

Rivaldo did not respond to the jab. His expression remained stoic, though the mana around him surged for a fraction of a second, causing the wooden floor to groan.

He knew Lazek was referring to Henry’s near-death experience years ago, a memory that still lingered in the Guild’s records.

”The thing your disciple has created,” Rivaldo said, deftly shifting the topic, ”is beyond abnormal. Even by the twisted standards of your profession.”

He walked toward the table where a map of the forest lay.

”Your chimaeras, Lazek... I can understand them. They are biological scrap heaps, grafted together with mana and grit. But that three-headed, green-scaled Hydra... it feels like an abominal creation taken to such an extreme that it somehow balances itself. Just as too much chaos can eventually end up creating order, that creature is something that is both divine and profane.”

Rivaldo paused, his gaze turning grave. ”It is nature’s greatest transgression. To build a beast that mirrors the Draconic foundation so perfectly while remaining fundamentally antithetical to it. Even your disciple... he seems different. His energy signature has undergone a complete metamorphosis. He is no longer just a human with a curse; he is something else.”

The Overlord looked directly at Lazek. ”You should realise what the Church would do if they found out. They have spent millennia purging anyone who dared to mimic the divine race.”

Lazek suddenly let out a loud, mocking laugh that echoed through the thin mountain air. ”With all due respect, sir, since when have you become so afraid? And here my master told me that you were the bravest of the Overlords, a man who stared down an Ancient-rank Wood Tiger without blinking.”.

The Fleshcrafter sneered, his fingers tracing the patterns of his dark mana. ”It doesn’t matter if the Church comes for my disciple. I have invested too much time and too much of my soul into that brat to let some horned fanatics take him. I will fight them head-on if necessary.”

Rivaldo was not offended by the arrogance. He merely sighed, a sound filled with the exhaustion of a man who dealt with the Empire’s messy politics daily. ”Things are not as simple as they seem on the surface, Lazek. The Church’s piercing gaze is everywhere.”

The Guildmaster leaned against the balcony rail.

”It is better for Kale to stay here in the Guild for the time being. Do not take him back to the Empire yet. No amount of standard Artefacts could truly hide the nature of that Hydra from a high-ranking Inquisitor. Here, in the Outer Zone, the ambient mana is messy enough to provide a screen.”

He looked toward the horizon, where the lights of the capital were a distant, unreachable glow.

”Perhaps when your master, the Association Leader, returns from the border, he can create something truly special. A Sovereign-rank artefact to hide them both. Until then, Kale is a walking death sentence for anyone standing near him.”

Lazek’s eyes narrowed. ”Since when did you start caring about my disciple so much? You treated him like a specimen on a slide when he first arrived.”

Rivaldo did not answer immediately. He took a deep, steady inhale of the chilled air, his mind wandering back through the decades of his service to the Empire.

He thought of the countless past geniuses, unprecedented talents in taming, elementals who could command the weather, martials who could break mountains, who had been either cursed or killed secretly by the Church the moment they showed potential to rival the ”Divine Race.”

In the current age, the Dragon Church had grown too powerful. It was no longer a matter of religion; it was a matter of total control.

They managed the awakening ceremonies, the border defences, and the very flow of Draconic mana that kept the calamitous beasts away. It was unknown if the Royal Family still held an upper hand or if the Church was truly the stronger force now.

With their overwhelming control over almost all operational facets of the Empire and their ever-growing military power, even the Overlords were wary.

Rivaldo turned his head back toward Lazek, his expression solemn. ”Lazek, listen to me. You and your little freak of a disciple might be the only ones strong enough, and with enough potential, to one day finally break the dominance of the Dragon Church.”

Lazek remained silent, the gravity of the Guildmaster’s words settling over him like a shroud.

He didn’t care much about the dominance of the Church over the Empire till now, but it seemed he would have to start caring about it.