Genetic Engineer in a Tamer's World

Neo started to somewhat recover from its near-death state by devouring the beast corpses and cores. It dragged itself toward the Alpha’s chest, its jaws unhinging to swallow the dark red core. Kale watched the process, his mind already calculating the data from the slaughter.

Kale thought hard and long about the tactical implications of this failure. Perhaps it was actually a good thing in a certain context. If Neo had won easily, it would have never learned to respect the mechanics of its secondary form. It would have remained a spoiled predator.

After all, the true strength of the Black Chameleon state did not lie in its physical might or its defence. Those were mere auxiliary features designed to keep it alive while it performed its true purpose. Its value resided entirely in the transformation trait and the element of surprise.

And if Neo learned to properly fight even with this weak body and so many frugalities, it would become terrifying. If it could master the art of survival while its wings were folded and its scales were soft, how strong of a force would it be in its primary form?

It was a provocative thought, one that suggested a path of high-gravity training for the beast’s psyche. Kale liked the idea very much, as it aligned with his own history of struggle and regression. This methodology could improve Neo quite far in the long run.

By the time the Hydra had finished devouring the cores of the nest, its breathing had stabilised. The green blood stopped leaking from its wounds as the nutrients from the Alpha core began to circulate. It looked up at Kale, its six golden eyes still reflecting a trace of lingering anger.

Unfortunately, the life-threatening situation had not triggered the desired breakthrough. Neo had been unable to activate its transformation trait even in the slightest during the battle. It had fought as a mundane lizard rather than a shifting phantom of the forest.

Kale felt his own Beast Force energy reserves replenish completely as Neo returned to his side. The link between them hummed with a renewed density, though the beast’s mood was exceptionally low. Neo was disappointed in itself for its lack of elegance and its failure to shift.

The Hydra climbed up Kale’s leg, its claws hooking into the fabric of his coat with a heavy, sullen weight. It did not hiss or celebrate its victory. Instead, it hid its three heads against Kale’s shoulder, a clear sign of its bruised ego and its frustration with the new form.

Kale sighed and reached up, his fingers gently stroking the obsidian scales of the central head. He could feel the warmth of the creature’s four hearts beating in a slow, recovering rhythm. ”Don’t worry, buddy, one step at a time,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

He looked out over the graveyard of feral beasts, his mind already planning the next trial for them. ”You’ll slowly learn the trick of partial transformation. It is a complex node of your DNA that requires more than just desperation to unlock. It requires precise mana synchronisation.”

”We have to be patient,” Kale added, turning back toward the direction of the Greenroot Guild base. He knew that the path ahead was still filled with blood, but the foundation they were building was solid. Every failure in this trash form was a brick in the wall of their future supremacy.

The sun began to dip lower, casting long, distorted shadows through the trenches as they walked. Neo let out a soft, tired hiss, finally accepting the comfort of its master’s hand. The battle was over, but the war for genetic perfection had only just entered its most difficult phase.

Kale thought about the three-week reprieve Lazek had granted him and how they would spend every second. They would return to these trenches daily until the Black Chameleon form was as lethal as a dagger in the dark. He would not allow Neo to be anything less than a master of every shape it inhabited.

The bond between them felt tighter now, forged by the shared frustration of the day’s combat. Kale knew that Neo’s pride would be the engine that drove its progress during the coming weeks. A beast that hated losing this much was a beast that would eventually conquer the world.

As they reached the outer perimeter of the massive tree, Kale pulled his hood low to hide his features. He could see the guild guards patrolling the walkways, their beasts alert for any signs of another surge. He moved through the shadows with the practised ease of a phantom.

He recalled the system’s recommendation about bonding with artificial chimaeras for affinities rather than force-feeding them to Neo. The research for the Terra Calyx would need to be accelerated if he wanted to provide Neo with the elemental stability it lacked.

Everything was connected in his mind, a vast web of biological variables and tactical necessities. He was a tamer, an artificer, and a researcher, all woven into a single entity of vengeance. And beside him was a creature that shared his soul and his hunger.

They reached room 555 without being noticed, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind them. Kale set Neo down on the stone table, watching as the beast immediately coiled into a tight, defensive ball. It was still recovering, but its eyes never closed, remaining fixed on the door.

”Rest now,” Kale ordered, sitting down at his desk to open his research journals. He began to write the observations of the day, his pen scratching across the paper with a rhythmic precision. He recorded the lack of flight speed and the vulnerability of the obsidian hide.

The Chapter of their training in the trenches had just begun, and the lessons learned in blood would be the ones that lasted. Kale looked at the soul sigil on his forehead in the reflection of a glass vial, the black ink shimmering with a dark, defiant light.

He would make the world regret the curse they had placed upon him, and he would do it one mutation at a time. The Nemesis Hydra would grow, it would shift, and eventually, it would devour the very heavens that had dared to look down upon its birth.

For now, there was only the quiet hum of the lab and the steady breathing of a wounded monarch. Kale turned the page of his journal, his mind already drifting toward the next morning’s slaughter. The trenches were waiting, and they still had so much more to learn.

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{Seeker’s Note - Can’t believe we have finally reached the 100-Chapter mark. Thank you to every reader from the bottom of my heart for supporting this unworthy Author in his perilous endeavour of writing a story worth enjoying.}