"So that's how it is!"
Staring at Tanya's Life Equation in his hand, Duke's eyes flickered with realization. His fields of expertise lay in mechanical engineering, physical chemistry, industrial metallurgy, and energy dynamics.
As for artificial life and genetic engineering, he had never set foot in them—an absolute outsider.
But just now, through this chemical formula, Duke caught a glimpse of the whole from a single clue, gaining a profound understanding of genetic engineering.
By unlocking and purchasing the corresponding knowledge module, he instantly became a genetic engineer.
If Iron Man Tony Stark could, in one night, teach himself into a nuclear astrophysicist…
Then Duke could, in less than a morning, master genetic engineering and become a leader in the field.
Put simply—when you're talented, you can afford to be willful.
Setting Tanya's Life Equation aside, Duke interlaced his fingers against his forehead, deep in thought. He already had some ideas about the derivation and creation of a genetic serum.
The essence of the Life Equation was this: from the moment of embryo, one could intervene—adjusting and enhancing genes, step by step as the embryo grew—while leaving the rest to the gene's own nature, letting it evolve by itself.
Because Tanya's artificial genes were extremely unstable before maturing, Duke's role was to occasionally correct her path of self-evolution and self-perfection under such conditions.
And at the end of that path, he would harvest the fruit of his success.
Similarly, to create Tanya's genetic serum based on the Life Equation, he would need a carrier—something that could, with a single injection, dismantle and reassemble the human genetic chain.
On this, Duke already had some preliminary ideas.
Next came the matter of implementation.
Even so, it would take a long time. It seemed unlikely he could complete the serum before leaving Demacia.
Still, he had found a direction. All that remained was to pursue it with steady effort.
"The Life Equation is done. Next comes the Pym Particle!"
Putting the equation away, Duke pulled out the synthesis formula for the Pym Particle, intending to study it carefully.
The Pym Particle was, in essence, a micro-atom that could alter the spacing between molecules, enabling objects to shrink or expand.
When shrunk, mass remained the same, but molecular spacing was compressed. The one who shrank became as explosive as a bullet.
Expansion, conversely, was simply reversing the process, making a normal person a giant.
More than that, the Pym Particle granted access to the Quantum Realm, where time flowed differently from the real world.
One year outside was only minutes within.
This made time travel possible.
Thus, the Pym Particle offered Duke not only the ability to shrink and grow but also a ticket into the Quantum Realm.
If he studied it deeply, Duke might even peer into and manipulate the future itself.
Like Doctor Strange, who observed millions of possible outcomes to choose the one path to victory.
What Duke needed was to observe futures, avoid those that led to bad endings, and collapse those that led to happy endings into reality.
When that day came, Duke would be as a god.
Mortal weakness, transcended through quantum ascension!
Of course, it was still far too early for such talk. For now, Duke had to first produce a single vial of Pym Particles.
Otherwise, everything was just empty words.
"Hmm, let's see…"
He stared at the synthesis formula, rubbing his chin, mind running at full tilt—when suddenly a racket sounded outside.
The crashing and banging shattered his concentration. Frowning, Duke stashed the formula into his inventory, opened the door, and descended from the second floor to the hall.
There he found Fiora Laurent—the Grand Duelist—standing at the doorway. She wore gleaming silver armor, a rune-steel sword at her waist, and in her hand she gripped the broken remains of an exoskeleton. Her cold gaze swept across Vayne and Lux inside.
"What's going on here?"
From the stairs, Duke asked. Lux pointed at Fiora. "I don't know why, but Lady Laurent stormed in with your exoskeleton, Teacher, demanding an explanation from you."
"Oh?"
Duke stroked his chin, eyeing the seemingly calm Fiora, though anger simmered in her eyes.
Leaning casually against the railing, he asked her, "Fiora, is this what passes for Laurent family discipline? Or have you trained in swordplay until your brain's nothing but muscle?"
"Cancel that arrangement!"
Fiora's voice was sharp and unyielding. "The deal between you and my father—I demand that you revoke it!"
"Cancel?"
Duke raised a brow, folding his arms. "I'm afraid that's not your decision to make."
"Relying on outside tools violates the honor of a fair duel! My father asked you to build this scrap metal, and instead of stopping him, you struck a filthy bargain!"
"What did you just say?"
Duke's eyes narrowed. Insults to him he could bear—but insults to his craft? Never.
"I said revoke the deal, cancel the trade between you and my father! I will not allow the honor of House Laurent to be stained by this scrap metal!"
Duke dug a finger in his ear, rolling his eyes. "Fiora… of everyone here, even your entire family, you're the last person qualified to speak of honor."
"What do you mean by that?"
Flinging aside the ruined exoskeleton, Fiora's sword flashed free, stabbing at Duke's throat with inhuman speed.
He merely lifted a hand, flicking upward. An unseen force slammed into her, hurling her back faster than she'd struck, and she crashed heavily against the wall.
Duke tilted his head, glanced at Vayne and Lux, and jerked his chin upstairs.
"Lux, let's go up," Vayne said, leading her away. She looked back at every step, reluctant to leave, but Vayne pushed her along.
Vayne could have dealt with this herself, but the result would have been messy—blood either from Fiora, or from herself. Better to leave it to Duke.
"How pathetic," Duke sneered, looking at Fiora. "Pathetic beyond words."
"You're a mage!" she hissed, struggling to stand, leaning on her sword, hatred burning in her eyes.
Duke only shrugged. "Don't box my power into your meager imagination."
With a squeeze of his fingers, Fiora's throat constricted. She gave a muffled cry as red marks appeared across her pale neck, her body lifting into the air, drawn before him.
Pulling a chair over with a flick, Duke sat, crossed one leg over the other, and said coolly, "You, who dared repudiate your betrothal before the king and nobles—what right do you have to lecture me?"
"I don't want anyone interfering with my fate! Everything I do is from my heart!"
"But have you thought of your family? Of the burden you've thrown onto them?"
"The Crownguards' influence and power are well known. Even children know better than to provoke them. Yet you… before the king and every noble, you tore the betrothal apart. You tore the Crownguards' pride to shreds and trampled it before all!"
"I…"
Fiora faltered. Duke shook his head. She was still too immature. She had only the ruthlessness of the Grand Duelist she would one day become, but not the wisdom or discipline.
A reckless youth who did whatever she pleased, never caring for consequences.
"It is your family that must pay the price for your actions. You cling to the honor of the duel, but do you really think your father can withstand a high-intensity fight? That he has the strength to defeat the warrior Tianna Crownguard has chosen from the Dauntless Vanguard?"
"What then if he loses?"
"What becomes of your family, of you, if defeat comes? Do you understand?"
"I… I…"
Fiora's lips moved, but no words came. She had never considered these things. When she broke the betrothal, all she thought of was her own freedom, never the consequences.
In truth, Fiora was like Garen—blessed with power beyond normal humans, yet still naïve in mind.
Her future greatness would be built on sacrifice. The sacrifice of her father.
But for now, she had yet to realize it.
"And that," Duke said coldly, "is the true disgrace to honor."
Fiora stiffened her neck, stubborn to the last—perfectly embodying a reckless youth who refused to yield until her head was bloodied.
"Heh. Seems you won't cry until you see the coffin."
Duke flipped her around, lifted her cloak, and glanced at her legs bound in tight trousers. Rolling up his sleeves, he brought his palm down hard.
"That's for being reckless!"
Smack!
"That's for never learning!"
Smack!
"That's for your stubborn tongue!"
Smack!
"That's for acting without thought!"
Smack!
"And that's for calling my exoskeleton scrap metal!"
The crisp sounds echoed through the hall. Duke spat to the side and muttered, "Hmph. Not bad feel, though."
Smack!
One more for good measure.
"Not for anything else—just to make you remember!"
He pressed a hand against her lower back, sliding up along her spine, unlocking her armor.
"You called my work scrap metal? Then I'll make you depend on the very scrap metal you despise."
He stripped off her armor, measured her body by touch, and began adjusting an exoskeleton to fit her.
All by hand, no measuring tools needed.
When it was complete, he strapped it onto her.
"From today on, you'll learn what you can and cannot say."
Duke gave her one last swat, then released his control and flung her out the door.
"Call my work scrap metal again, and next time I'll parade you through the streets!"
End of chapter....
IRONBOUND PATRON
🔹 Hexcore Initiate – 15 chapters ahead
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