Earth's Greatest Magus

Emery stepped through the reinforced entrance of the Utopia Gene Center, the air thick with sterilizing mist and the faint hum of arcane machinery. Before he could take more than three steps, a squat figure with mottled green skin and bulbous eyes hopped into view.

“Ahhh, there you are… I really thought you were dead this time,” the frog hybrid croaked, his voice mixture of irritation and genuine relief.

Emery allowed himself a small smile. “Master Bob. It’s good to see you healthy as always.”

“Hahaha-healthy? You kan see I am klearly not, but thank you for lying so politely.” The old hybrid laughed, but the sound ended in a raspy cough.

Twenty years had passed, and time had left its mark. Even for a hybrid with an extended lifespan, without the advantages of magus physiology, age weighed heavily on him, Master Bob looked noticeably older-his skin slightly duller, his posture more stooped.

“I am surprised you can actually join us…”

Shinta had mentioned that the allied gene center could only spare a few updated samples and a handful of junior specialists. Yet here stood the head of the gene researcher himself, personally waiting for Emery.

“There are so many other masters over there,” the frog hybrid said, waving a webbed hand dismissively. “I would rather stay here-with you-and klose to my favorite niece.”

Despite the casual tone, Emery observed how Master Bob positioned himself just slightly in front of Ayumme, the gene researcher who had remained in Utopia for the last fifteen years. She stood quietly beside him, clutching her datapad, eyes bright behind her lenses. Bob kept her close, always making sure she could take over for him when his time eventually came.

Bob clapped his hands. “Enough standing around. Let’s not waste time. Let me show you what you have missed in the last two decades.”

He turned, his gait slow but determined as he led them deeper into the facility.

Bob pushed open the doors to the central laboratory, revealing a chamber lit by crystalline panels and lined with rows of stasis capsules. Gene reagents floated in suspended arrays, shifting colors like drifting stars in a manufactured

cosmos.

Kayelin stood at the far end, already observing several displays with a narrowed gaze. Even as a Grandmaster in Apothecary, her expression betrayed the challenge before her. Gene sequencing required more than mastery-it required a mind capable of navigating branching mathematical pathways. Emery himself leaned forward as holographic panels unfolded across the room. Strands of genetic code-some glowing silver, others deep crimson-twisted and interconnected like miniature serpents of light. Projection after projection displayed enhancements, success rates, mutation thresholds, and bloodline correlations.

At first, he felt excitement build. Then… disappointment quietly settled in. “Only an eighteen percent increase in potency?” he muttered.

Kayelin frowned.

Even Master Bob sighed.

The interface displayed the cold truth:

The metrics floated before them:

[Supreme Gene Project – Current Completion: 55%]

“Fifty-five,” Emery repeated under his breath, trying to hide his frown. Twenty years… five thousand samples… countless resources. He had hoped that after two decades, the Supreme Gene Project would be nearing completion.

Instead, the rate of progress since he last touched the project had only matched what he achieved within a few years.

“What happened?” Emery finally asked, keeping his tone controlled though tension rippled beneath it. “What slowed everything down?”

“First… bureaucracy” Bob uttered with a croaky disdain. “Once the dragon bloodlines and the turtle klans inserted themselves deeply into the project, every tiny step requires ten meetings, five approvals, and three politikal debates. Each faction wants priority. Each leader wants rekognition. It’s a

mess.”

Emery crossed his arms, jaw tightening. Even in science, politics found a way to interfere.

“And the second?” he asked.

The frog hybrid showed a tired smile. “The second is ironikally… sukkess.” He gestured to Ayumme, who brought forth a sealed case. Inside were five vials of shimmering golden liquid. Each tube pulsed faintly as if alive.

Bob lifted one carefully. “When we reached fifty perkent kompletion ten years ago, we were able to kraft this-our first sukkessful Superior Gene Serum.” A holographic panel flickered to life above the vial.

[Superior Gene Elixir]

– Results compiled from 600+ test subjects –

[Average 82% increase in potency for Legendary-grade genes][Average 38%

increase in potency for Mythical-grade genes]

Kayelin inhaled sharply. Emery felt even his seasoned composure waver.

“That much?” he muttered.

Bob nodded. “Enough that halfbloods who were stuck for decades suddenly broke through. Enough that thousands advanced to higher magus realms. A few even reached grand magus. The moment the results went publik…” He shrugged dramatically. “…everyone demanded more.”

Bob continued, “And once they saw how well the general serum performs?… they demanded personalized ones. Dragon variants. Serpent variants. Tiger variants.” He threw his hands up. “Results for these specialized serums sometimes reached thirty to fifty percent on top of the general improvement.”

Ayumme added quietly, “Research branches shifted to production. Many wanted specialized versions tailored to their exact bloodlines.”

Emery exhaled slowly, beginning to understand.

The scientific team had not slowed because of incompetence. They had slowed because the halfblood alliances had become obsessed with the immediate benefits. Why chase an uncertain ultimate project when powerful-not to mention profitable-products were already in hand?

What follows was bloodline clans rushing in with demands for their own optimized versions. And that triggered the chaos of inter-clan politics.

Bob shook his head with an exhausted croak.

“The bird klans have long konflicts with the turtles, and the dragons against the tigers. Four leading bloodlines klawing at each other every day… research halted, everyone demanded priority, nobody agreed on anything. So the allied gene center focused only on specialized serum production for the major klans.”

The frustration in Emery’s chest built slowly.

All these years… so much wasted potential.

Emery summoned pages of material with a flick of his hand, scanning bloodline

contributions.

The Serpent and Wolf samples remained the backbone of the project.

The Turtle and Dragon clans contributed next.

But the others-the Insectoids and Fishmen, who had been contributing from

the very beginning-were nearly abandoned.

No new sequencing has been performed in almost fifteen years.

“They have been ignored for too long,” Emery said quietly.

Emery’s jaw tightened.

“If the allied gene center is focusing on dragon and turtle sequences… then

we’ll pick up the research for the insectoids and fishmen.”

Emery was confident he would have the full support of the Insectoid Fifth Colony and the Shambala Kingdom in these matters, which meant additional personnel and funding. At the same time, he turned toward Kayelin. The fey priestess made a small flicking gesture with her hand, and dozens of crystalline tubes floated into the air-each containing a half-blood sample presented from the Tartarus realm. Every sample carried a distinct trait that could contribute to the Supreme Gene Project, but one strain in particular was invaluable to Emery: the fey gene.

Master Bob was visibly thrilled by this new approach to the project. But before

they began, he turned to Emery, produced several of the newly refined

Supreme Gene Elixirs, and said:

“Do you want to try and test some of these first?”

A faint grin crossed his lips.

“Of course. Why not?”