Genetic Engineer in a Tamer's World

The forty-eight hours passed in a blur of sterilisation. Kale and Lazek worked in silence, transforming the fourth-floor master laboratory into a dull workshop.

The specialised tissue grafts were hidden behind heavy lead-lined panels deep in the stone floor. The Ignis Core was stored in a secret compartment beneath the primary hearth, its elemental radiation fully suppressed by dampening runes.

Kale set out rows of clay jars containing common earth-sap and low-grade mineral ores. The stone tables were cluttered with half-finished clay shells, copper wires, and chisels.

To any observer, the space belonged to a typical, young artificer obsessed with basic defensive constructs. Neo remained sealed within Kale’s shadow.

The synthetic skin-patch on Kale’s neck had fully integrated, the cold numbness now a permanent fixture against his throat. He wore his high-collared Master robes, the gold trim along the collar a silent testament to his status.

Yet, as he sat at his desk, pretending to sketch a schematic of a Terra Shell, his fingers remained light on his carving knife.

A sudden, heavy vibration thrummed through the stone floor, followed by the distant sound of clanking metal. The protective runic arrays on the laboratory door flared with a harsh, golden light before shutting down entirely. The heavy iron-reinforced door was pushed aside with an unceremonious scraping sound that echoed through the quiet room.

Four paladins of the Dragon Church stepped into the laboratory, carrying heavy halberds, their helmets fully closed. They moved with military precision, flanking the doorway and sealing the exit as a cold, oppressive holy element filled the air.

Behind them walked High Inquisitor Luke, a slender man dressed in flowing, blood-red robes. He wore no helmet, exposing a pale, angular face with sharp, colourless eyes. A heavy, golden sunburst medallion hung around his neck, and a long, leather-bound volume was clasped in his thin hands.

Grandmaster Lazek followed them into the room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. ”You exceed your authority, Inquisitor,” Lazek said, his voice dry. ”This is a Master-rank workspace, protected by the sovereign charter. Your presence is an open violation of our treaty.”

Luke stopped in the centre of the laboratory, his colourless eyes landing on Kale. ”The treaty protects the Association’s commerce, Grandmaster, not heretical contamination,” Luke replied, his voice devoid of warmth. ”When the Red Dragon fell, its blood cried out for justice. We trace every source of anomaly.”

The Inquisitor walked slowly toward Kale’s workbench, his fingers running over the half-finished clay shells. He picked up one of the basic earth-sap jars, unscrewed the lid, and set it down. ”A tamer who specialises in earth-sap slimes,” Luke murmured. ”An uninspired path of research. Yet, your baseline mana density is remarkably high.”

Kale stood up, offering a polite bow. ”My master’s guidance and the southern forests allowed me to secure my advancement,” he said, keeping his voice flat. ”I have spent my entire life studying the biological variables of earth-attributed beasts. There is no anomaly here, your grace.”

”Hard work does not bypass bottlenecks, boy,” Luke said, stepping closer, his colourless eyes searching Kale’s light-green gaze. ”The World Dragon grants strength to those who obey the natural laws. Those who bypass them always leave a trace. Their souls carry the stench of the curse.”

Luke retrieved a heavy, silver-framed hand mirror from his red robes. The glass was a solid sheet of polished, white crystal that thrummed with a dense, highly concentrated holy mana. It was the Divine Mirror, a legendary artefact designed to resonate with heretical markings.

”Hold still,” Luke commanded, raising the mirror. ”If your soul is clean, the glass will remain clear. If you carry the mark of the heretic, the light will expose your corruption, and you will be escorted to the High Cathedral for immediate sanitisation.”

Lazek stepped forward. ”Luke, this is an outrage,” the Grandmaster growled, his black eyes shimmering. ”You have no right to force an imperial citizen to undergo a soul-sweep without a formal decree from the High Court.”

”The decree is in my hand, Grandmaster,” Luke said, eyes locked on Kale. ”Stand down, or I will declare this entire tower in rebellion. The consequences will not be something your Association can survive.”

Kale felt a cold thread of tension tighten, but his mind remained steady. He gave a subtle nod to Lazek, signalling him to remain still. He knew that any physical resistance now would confirm their suspicions. He had to trust his own engineering.

He stood perfectly still as Luke raised the Divine Mirror, aligning the crystal with his face. The Inquisitor began to channel his holy mana, and the crystal flared with a blinding, pure white light that projected a cone of energy directly onto Kale’s face. The light felt like a cold, probing force.

The moment the light reached his neck, the interface with the hidden heretical curse triggered a violent reaction.

Beneath the synthetic skin-patch, the black mark of the World Dragon thrummed with a dark, rebellious fury, clashing with the holy element. The physical tissue began to burn, a sharp, white-hot pain flaring.

Within his mind space, Kale’s Mental Bastion held firm. He built a cold wall around his core, filtering out the blinding agony before it could register as a tremor. He did not blink; his breathing remained slow and rhythmic, and his heart rate did not spike. He manually suppressed the curse.

The white light of the Divine Mirror thrummed, the crystal reflecting nothing but Kale’s calm, green eyes and smooth, unmarked skin. The synthetic patch held flawlessly, mimicking normal cellular structure so perfectly that the holy mana of the artefact detected no physical discrepancy.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. He adjusted the mirror, directing the light toward Kale’s chest to seek any hidden spiritual bonds or anomalous elemental cores. But Neo was completely sealed within the shadow, his energy fully compressed. The mirror remained clear, reflecting no heretical resonance.

Slowly, Luke lowered the Divine Mirror, the blinding light fading back into the polished crystal. The freezing cold in the room receded, leaving behind a heavy, silent tension. The paladins remained in their positions, waiting for their commander’s word.

”Nothing,” Luke murmured, his voice carrying a mixture of disappointment and suspicion. He stared at Kale for a long, silent moment, his pale face unreadable. ”The glass is clear. Your skin carries no physical corruption, and your spirit shows no heretical resonance under the light.”

”As I told you, your grace,” Kale said, offering another polite, respectful bow. ”I am merely a simple researcher. My work with earth-sap slimes is entirely within the natural laws of the capital.”

Luke slipped the Divine Mirror back into his robes, his eyes scanning the laboratory one final time. He looked at the clay jars, the half-finished schematics, and the workbenches. ”A clean workspace,” the Inquisitor noted, his tone flat. ”Perhaps too clean. But the light does not lie. We will take our leave.”

The Inquisitor turned, walking toward the doorway. ”But do not get comfortable, tamer,” Luke added, stopping at the threshold without looking back. ”The shadow of the heretic is long, and we will remain in Emberheart until the slayer of the Red Dragon is brought to justice.”

With a sharp gesture, Luke led his paladins out of the laboratory, their heavy metal steps fading down the stone corridor. The door was left open, the cold wind from the hallway rushing into the quiet room.

The moment the steps were completely gone, Lazek walked over and slammed the heavy door shut, locking the iron bolts with a definitive thud. The Grandmaster turned to his disciple, his expression serious. ”That was too close, kid. How did you prevent the curse from erupting?”

Kale reached up, his fingers brushing the cold, numb skin of his throat. He could feel the residual heat of the suppressed curse, the tissue beneath the patch raw. ”I used my tamer mana to compress the curse’s frequency before the light could trigger a resonance,” he explained flatly. ”The patch held.”

”It worked this time,” Lazek said, retrieving his tobacco pipe. ”But Luke is a predator. He did not believe a word of your cover story. He will have his eyes on this tower, and any sudden movements or high-level elemental surges will bring him back.”

Kale nodded, his green eyes shimmering with a cold, determined light. He knew that the temporary safety they had secured was incredibly fragile. The synthetic skin patch would only last 60 hours before his body began to reject the graft. He had to complete his preparation.

”We must accelerate the project,” Kale said, his voice carrying an unyielding weight. ”The Terra Shell synthesis must be completed before the patch degrades. I need the biological defence of the earth element to stabilise my core and protect my pathways. We cannot afford to wait.”

Lazek took a slow puff of his pipe, the bitter smoke filling the space. ”The materials are ready, Kale. But fusing the granite-core matrix with the earth-sap slime is highly demanding. If they are watching our mana emissions, we must perform the synthesis in absolute secrecy.”

Kale offered a firm, quiet nod, his mind already calculating the biological variables of his next creation.

The gathering storm was circling their position, but the Genetic Engineer was prepared to descend into the dark, ready to forge his ultimate shield in the quiet of the underground crucible, fully knowing that any future hesitation on this path of retribution would surely cost him his life and the lives of those he had sworn to protect.