Genetic Engineer in a Tamer's World

Lazek Oberon remained quiet for a long time, his gaze fixed on the sharp eyes of the Overlord.

The silence between the two men was absolute, broken only by the distant, muffled thrum of the ancient tree’s life force and the occasional whistle of the wind through the high-altitude canopy.

The Fleshcrafter did not look like a man considering a request. He looked like a predator measuring the depth of a trap. Rivaldo’s suggestion that Kale stay within the Greenroot Guild was logical, even protective, but Lazek loathed being told where to place his pieces on the board.

Eventually, he let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his recent border travels.

”I will stay for a few days and think about it,” Lazek said, his voice flat and drained of its usual sharp edge. ”But please do not mistake it as my compliance, Sir Rivaldo. If I decide the capital is safer, then I will take him even if you disagree.”

The Guildmaster did not take offence at the cold dismissal. He simply watched as the younger man turned away, his silhouette framed by the darkening horizon of the Tigerwood Forest.

It was already late afternoon when the meeting concluded.

The sun had begun its descent, casting long, orange streaks across the leaves far below. Master Igor, who had been waiting outside the sanctum with a stiff and nervous posture, stepped forward to lead the Grandmaster down the spiralling walkways of the central trunk.

Lazek was assigned to a room right beside Kale’s own chamber. Igor moved with a visible efficiency, unlocking the heavy wooden door of room 554.

The interior was identical to room 555, a blend of organic wood and fortified stone that smelled faintly of sap and ozone. Lazek entered without a word of thanks, his mind already drifting toward the biological anomalies he had witnessed earlier on the battlefield. He did not bother to disturb his disciple.

He knew the boy was likely in the throes of a deep, groggy sleep, recovering from the physical and mental strain of the long battles.

The next day, the light of the sun reached its peak, pouring through the wide balcony windows of room 555. Kale Ardentis stirred, his eyelids feeling like they were weighted with lead. He let out a low groan, his hand reaching up to rub his face.

His senses, sharpened by his evolution, were still adjusting to the baseline of reality. Everything felt too bright and too loud. When he finally forced his eyes open and looked at the angle of the light hitting the wooden floor, he realised with a jolt of annoyance that it was almost noon.

He had slept for nearly fifteen hours.

”Damn it,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and parched.

He slumped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the lingering ache of the previous battles.

The quiet of the room was interrupted by a subtle, rhythmic sound.

Kale’s eyes snapped to the corner of the room, and he jolted awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. Sitting by the window, silhouetted against the brilliant noon light, was Lazek.

His master was perfectly composed, sipping tea from a small porcelain cup and reading a thick, leather-bound book with rapt attention. He looked as if he had been there for hours, a permanent fixture of the room’s furniture.

Kale let out a frustrated huff, his light green hair messy from sleep. He cursed the man in his mind for pulling this same trick again, entering his private sanctuary without a single sound of warning.

He sat up, glaring at the Grandmaster, but Lazek did not respond. He did not even look up from his page. The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of paper as Lazek turned a leaf.

Neo, the Nemesis Hydra, opened its six eyes from its mat on the stone table.

The creature made a soft, clicking noise, conveying irritation through the bond. It told Kale that this stupid man had been sitting there since first light, watching them sleep like a gargoyle.

Kale’s eyebrow twitched at the mental image. Seeing that his master intended to continue ignoring him until it suited his whim, Kale simply sighed and got out of bed. He headed into the small washroom to take a cold shower.

The freezing water was a necessary shock. It helped settle the turbulent energy in his core and cleared the remaining fog from his brain. Once he had freshened up and changed into a clean white coat, Kale stepped back into the main room. He felt much more like himself, the stoic mask of the Cursed Tamer firmly back in place.

He smoothed out his green hair, which now dropped below his ears, and readjusted the headband that hid his blackened soul sigil.

Lazek finally put his book down on his lap, though his gaze remained distant for a moment before locking onto Kale.

”You were sleeping like a dead dog,” the Grandmaster noted, his tone carrying a hint of genuine disappointment.

”What would have happened if it were someone with negative intentions who had entered? You are lucky that your Beast is much sharper than you are.”

Kale scoffed mentally. If it were anyone else with hostile intentions, the system would have notified him with a scarlet warning screen long before they reached the door.

He did not say this aloud, of course. Instead, he simply adjusted his sleeves.

”I needed the rest, Master,” Kale said flatly.

Lazek leaned forward, his black eyes shimmering with a predatory curiosity that always made Kale feel like a specimen under a lens. ”Tell your Hydra to come closer,” the man ordered. ”I want to examine it properly now that the adrenaline of the battlefield has faded.”

Kale hesitated for a moment. He knew Neo was a prickly creature, filled with a draconic arrogance that did not take well to being poked or prodded. Still, he sent the command to Neo through the bond, urging the creature to cooperate.

The Hydra, sitting on the stone table, gave one cold, golden glance towards Lazek. It let out a soft hiss of defiance and stayed exactly where it was, intentionally ignoring the command.

Kale sighed in frustration, his voice rising as he addressed the beast. ”NEO. Do not make me repeat myself.”

The Hydra grumbled, a sound that was a low vibration in Kale’s chest. It eventually flapped its small green wings, gliding across the short distance to arrive upon the table where Lazek sat. Its posture was anything but pleasant.

All three heads were held high, their necks arched in a way that screamed of ancient, reptilian pride. When the creature looked at the Fleshcrafter, its gaze was primal and predatory. It did not feel like the stare of a mere Feral-rank creature.

It felt like the gaze of a gargantuan monster currently compressed into a small frame, a chaos engine waiting for a reason to erupt.

The creature’s posture was arrogant, standing with a regality that seemed to look down even on the legendary dragons of the myths. Lazek did not seem bothered by the insolence.

He reached out a hand, his fingers glowing with a faint, dark mana as he tried to peer inside the creature’s biological and energetic structure. He wanted to see what it held inside, and the monstrosity that the Guildmaster had whispered about with such gravity.

The moment Lazek’s mana touched the surface of Neo’s scales, the room’s temperature seemed to drop.

Neo did not just retreat. It erupted. A violent wave of green and black Beast Force exploded outward from the tiny Hydra, slamming into Lazek’s sensory probe with the weight of a physical hammer. The table beneath the creature groaned under the sudden pressure, the wood fibres straining.

Neo let out a low, guttural growl from all three maws. It was a sound that carried the weight of a monarch, an echo of a power that had not yet fully manifested in this world.

The Hydra stared down at Lazek as if the Grandmaster were nothing more than a lowly insect beneath its notice, completely disregarding the show of strength Lazek and his monstrous chimaera had displayed the day before.

To Neo, rank and power were secondary to the purity of bloodline and potential.

That look caused Lazek’s eyes to tremble. It was a flicker of fear, a primal response that came from his very bones, bypassing his rational mind and his Grandmaster-level composure. For a heartbeat, he was not a master of Fleshcraft.

He was a biological entity facing the progenitor of his own destruction. It was the sheer, terrifying gap between a mere human and an entity with limitless potential that stood even beyond the deific status of the dragons.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Kale watched his master, expecting an outburst of anger or a display of suppression. But instead, the terror that Lazek felt down in his spine seemed to transform.

His lips began to curl. A wide, manic grin spread across his face, the look of a mad scientist who had finally found the one prize worth dying for. His eyes were wide, glittering with an unholy excitement that bordered on insanity.

”Magnificent,” Lazek whispered, his voice cracking with a manic edge. ”Absolutely magnificent.”

The darkness mana that he controlled stirred around his chair, rising like the black, oily waves of a dead sea. The shadows in the corners of the room deepened, responding to his rising pulse and the dark glee radiating from his soul.

He did not care that he had been threatened by a palm-sized creature. He only cared that the creature existed, and that it was his to study.

”Kale,” Lazek said, his voice trembling with a dark and disturbing delight. ”We are going to do great things with this monster of yours. Great, terrible things.”

He reached for his tea again, his hand still shaking slightly, but his eyes never left Neo.

The Hydra continued to glare at him, its six eyes unblinking. It was a standoff between the creator of the abomination and the abomination itself, and for the first time in his life, Lazek Oberon felt like he was the one being seen through by a Chimaera instead of it being the other way around.