The workshop was very busy for a week.

Holographic diagrams of the Sunpetal Flower’s genetic code floated next to the crystalline structure of the Tortoise’s shell. In the center of it all, the swirling, galaxy-like essence of the Broodmother pulsed with a calm light.

Jonah and Vanessa were a perfect team, mapping out the theoretical synthesis for Project Requiem.

“If we use the Tortoise essence as a foundational filter,” Vanessa explained, her fingers flying across a console, creating a shimmering 3D model, “it should create a stable matrix. Then, we can weave the Sunpetal’s purification traits through it.”

“And anchor it all with the Aura of Serenity,” Jonah finished, his eyes closed as he felt the flow of the imagined synthesis in his mind.

“It should work. It feels… balanced.”

It was the most complicated and beautiful design they had ever attempted. It was a symphony of life, and Jonah was ready to be its conductor.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“Let’s run the simulation.”

Vanessa nodded, her expression tense with anticipation.

“Good luck.”

Jonah sank into a meditative state, his mind retreating to his inner workshop.

He held the blueprint they had designed. He reached out with his will, gently pulling the three life-giving essences together. He brought the Sunpetal’s warmth towards the Crystal Tortoise’s resilience.

But they wouldn’t connect.

It was like trying to mix oil and water. The gentle energies, which should have harmonized, actively repelled each other. The golden light of the flower essence clashed with the cool blue of the tortoise shell.

He pushed harder, trying to force them together with the Broodmother’s `Aura of Serenity` as a binding agent.

FIZZLE. POP.

The entire construct collapsed in his mind, fizzling out into an unstable mess of psychic noise. The backlash was small, but it felt deeply wrong, like a sour note in a perfect song.

He opened his eyes, a sharp headache blooming behind them.

“No good,” he grunted, rubbing his temples.

“It just… fell apart.”

“Impossible,” Vanessa said, instantly diving back into her data. “The energy signatures are compatible. The mana flow is perfectly balanced. Theoretically, it should be the most stable synthesis you’ve ever attempted.”

They tried again. And again. For a full day, they adjusted the blueprint, changed the sequences, and tweaked the energy ratios. Every time, the result was the same.

Jonah would begin the mental simulation, and the vibrant, life-giving energies would refuse to merge, collapsing into a chaotic fizzle.

By evening, they were both frustrated and exhausted.

“I don’t get it!” Vanessa threw her hands up in the air, a rare display of unprofessional frustration.

“The science is sound! The magic is perfect! Why won’t it work?!”

Jonah leaned back, staring at the Primordial Geode, which sat on the workbench, a perfect, silent sphere. And then, something clicked.

He thought of the Broodmother’s nursery. He thought of the nutrient slurry being pumped into the pods. The pods were already organic, living things.

“It’s the core,” he said, his voice quiet with dawning realization.

“The geode? It’s a perfect Nexus Core. It should be able to handle anything,” Vanessa argued.

“It’s a perfect blank slate,” Jonah corrected her. “But it’s not alive.” He tried to find the right words. “We’re not building a weapon, Vanessa. We’re trying to create a being of pure life and restoration. It’s like… trying to grow a flower in a clean glass jar.

You can have the best seed and the perfect amount of sunlight, but it’s never going to grow. There’s no soil.”

He pointed at the geode. “That’s the glass jar. We need soil. We need a Genesis Core that is already alive.”

Vanessa stared at him, the implications of his words slowly sinking in. “A living Genesis Core? Jonah, that’s… that’s impossible. An egg works because it’s dormant. A geode works because it’s empty. A living, breathing creature already has its own life, its own will. You can’t just… build on top of it.”

“Unless it’s willing to share,” Jonah said, the idea feeling both insane and absolutely right.

They were at a dead end. A wall they couldn’t break through. With a heavy sigh, Jonah put in a call to their handler.

A few minutes later, Seraph strode into the workshop, her expression as stern as ever.

“Report.”

Jonah explained the problem, finishing with his impossible conclusion. “I need a Genesis Core that is itself a living, breathing creature. But one that would be willing to share its life force.”

Seraph stared at him for a long, silent moment. A hint of disbelief crossed her face, quickly suppressed. “You’re asking me to find a creature that will willingly volunteer for a procedure that has never been attempted before in the history of the world.”

“Yes,” Jonah said simply.

“Right,” Seraph grunted, as if he’d just asked her to find him a flying pig. She marched over to a secure terminal in the corner of the workshop, one that was directly linked to the Academy’s deepest archives. She slammed her hand down on the scanner.

BEEP. ACCESS GRANTED.

She began to type, her fingers flying across the holographic keys with military precision. Screen after screen of classified data flashed by, most of it covered in black bars of redacted text. She searched for minutes that stretched into an hour, her frown deepening.

Jonah and Vanessa watched, a tense silence hanging between them.

Suddenly, Seraph stopped. She looked closely at one hidden file. It was a very small part of the Academy’s secret past.

A strange title glowed on the screen.

“The Whispering Grove.”

“What is it?” Vanessa asked, moving closer.

“It’s a sealed-off section of the Academy’s vast grounds,” Seraph said, her voice low as she read the file. “A protected preserve. Not for beasts. For… flora. Ancient and sentient magical flora.”

She brought up an image. It was a photograph of a huge ancient tree, so large it looked like a small mountain. It had a wizened face carved into its bark, and its leaves shimmered with a soft, golden light.

“It’s home to a single Heartwood Treant,” Seraph continued, a note of awe in her voice. “A peaceful, millennia-old creature. It’s considered a sacred treasure of the Academy.”

Jonah stared at the image of the ancient being, a feeling of respect washing over him. This was it. This was the living core he needed.

“I need one of its seeds,” Jonah said, his voice firm.

Seraph finally looked up from the terminal, her gaze sharp and serious. “Then you have a problem. The Grove is a sanctuary. The Treant is a protected species. You are forbidden from harming it in any way.”

“Then what do I do?” Jonah asked, his hope beginning to fade.

Seraph’s lips curved into a thin, humorless smile. “You’re going to have to do something no warrior in the history of this Academy has ever done, Jonah.”

She stood up, her gaze locking onto his, presenting him with his final, most difficult challenge.

“You have to ask for it.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep