The holographic display of my stat screen flickered out at my mental command, but the gravity of Sunday's warning lingered in the room like a physical weight. I stayed seated in my chair, the cool plastic of the armrests firm under my grip as I processed it all over again. The initial thrill of upgrading, the god-like feeling of reshaping my own flesh with a thought, had been thoroughly doused by a bucket of cold, hard, pragmatic reality.
"So, just to be crystal clear," I began, my voice low and thoughtful in the quiet of my room.
"The big, scary red line isn't just about me turning into some kind of messed-up, Cronenberg-looking motherfucker for the sake of vanity…"
"[That is a… vividly accurate summation,]" Sunday replied, her sphere pulsating with a soft, calming light. "[The risk of physical deformation is the primary biological deterrent.]"
I let out a long, slow breath, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, my gaze fixed on a scuff mark on the floorboards. My mind wasn't on the horror of mutation itself; it was racing down the logical, terrifying rabbit hole of consequences.
"It's about my DNA, isn't it? too sudden of a change will affect that, right? ….". I asked for confirmation.
"[Correct, your genetic viability is the cornerstone of your legal and social status under the GMRD mandates,]" Sunday confirmed, her tone clinical yet underscoring the severity. "[Any significant deviation from established healthy human parameters would be immediately flagged during mandatory quarterly screenings.]"
"Flagged. And then what?" I prompted, needing to hear the full extent of the disaster.
"[Your status as a viable, mandated male would be revoked. All associated subsidies for this household—the utility discounts, the tax exemptions, the housing stipends—would be terminated immediately… Furthermore, the initial court order for your reproductive duty would be reactivated, but with you now classified as a 'non-viable subject,' the penalties for non-compliance would be severe. The one-million-dollar fine would be the least of your concerns; the five-year prison sentence would be virtually guaranteed.]"
A cold knot tightened in my gut, completely unrelated to the pleasant soreness from earlier. The image was horrifyingly clear: my grandmother, my mother, my aunt, my sister, my cousin… all of them thrown into financial ruin because I got greedy and wanted to be a little stronger. The house, this cramped, beloved apartment that was the family's anchor, would be lost. They'd be destitute. And I'd be in a cell, my body warped and broken, my second chance at life utterly wasted.
I ran a hand over my face, the skin feeling suddenly taut and fragile.
"Right... Okay… Yeah, no… That's not happening, not ever." The decision was absolute, iron-clad. The allure of more power was a siren's song, but the rocks it promised to dash me against were the lives of everyone I cared about.
"Thirty points is the wall… I'm not touching it. We're done...Fuh~ thank you for reminding me, Sunday".
"[You're welcome, Sir]". She replied, it sounded warm and also like 'told you so'.
With the grim business out of the way, a giddy sense of curiosity bubbled back up. I might be capped, but what I had now was nothing to scoff at. I pushed myself out of the chair, my movements feeling unnaturally smooth and coordinated. I walked over to the full-length mirror tacked to the back of my door, my heart beating with a weird mix of anticipation and vanity.
The guy staring back at me was… not the Sael I was used to. The lanky, somewhat effeminate frame of the teenager was gone. So was the soft, chubby body of the thirty-five-year-old gas station attendant. What stood in his place was a stranger, and yet, it was me.
I was taller, for one thing. I had to actually tilt my head down slightly to see my whole reflection. My shoulders were broader, my chest thicker, tapering down to a waist that was trim and strong. I wasn't a bodybuilder—not overtly bulging, veiny mounds of steroid-fed muscle.
This was the kind of body you see on a decathlete, calisthenics or a rock climber: functional, powerful, and densely packed muscle. I raised one arm, flexing slowly. The muscle in my bicep and shoulder swelled and defined itself not as a separate lump, but as part of a continuous, seamless cable of strength that ran from my neck to my wrist. My skin seemed to fit better, tighter, like it was finally stretched over a frame it was always meant to cover.
"Haha~". A laugh, half-disbelief, half pure joy, escaped my lips.
"Holy shit, Sunday. Look at this…. BOOM! MUSCLE!!" I turned slightly to the side, sucking in a breath. My abdomen wasn't just a six-pack; it was a detailed, sculpted map of interlocking muscles, each one clear and defined. And lower, cutting diagonally down from my hips towards my groin, were two deep, unmistakable grooves.
"Whoa… Check it out! I've got the V-tape... The Adonis belt! Look at that! Damn! I look hot as fuck!".
"[The correct anatomical term is the iliac furrow, formed by the external oblique muscles and the inguinal ligament,]" Sunday supplied helpfully, her hologram hovering near my shoulder in the reflection. "[It is a common indicator of a low body fat percentage and well-developed core musculature. It is also widely considered aesthetically pleasing.]"
"Aesthetically pleasing? It's fucking majestic is what it is," I breathed out, tracing the lines with my fingertips. The skin was smooth, the muscle beneath hard and unyielding. This was a body built for performance, for strength, for endurance. It was a tool, and it was a work of art. I spent a few minutes just moving, watching the play of muscle under my skin with a childlike fascination. This was worth every penny.
Pulling my eyes away from the mirror, I plopped back down onto the edge of my bed, the springs creaking under my new, denser weight.
"You know,". I mused aloud, still riding the high of my transformation.
"This is awesome... It's like… a superhero's starter kit. But I gotta be honest, the idea of getting bigger… I don't wanna end up looking like some roided-out freakshow. Like Bane, or something… All vein-y and about to have a heart attack… That's look cool too, but that's not the vibe I want…".
Sunday's light pulsed gently. "[The system is not designed for purely aesthetic alteration. The morphological changes are a side effect, a necessary biological adaptation to safely contain and utilize the enhanced statistical potential you have purchased. Think of it as reinforcing the vessel to handle higher internal pressure. The muscle mass, bone density, and neural capacity are all increased to prevent your body from failing under its own enhanced capabilities.]"
"So… the muscles aren't for show. They're there to keep me from, like, punching my own arm off by accident?". I blinked.
"[In essence, yes. The 'mutation' I warned of occurs when the reinforcement process is rushed or forced beyond the body's natural age-based capacity to adapt. It becomes uncontrolled, chaotic…. The 'size' you are concerned about is merely the visible manifestation of a stable, healthy adaptation. If you continue to upgrade your statistics slowly and in accordance with your body's developmental timeline, your physique will evolve in a proportionate and healthy manner. You will not become a 'hulking' monstrosity unless your genetic potential and the required biological stabilization naturally dictate that form for your overall health and survival.]"
The explanation was bizarrely comforting. It wasn't about vanity; it was about biology. The system wasn't a magic wand; it was a meticulous architect.
It wouldn't make me look like a monster unless my body needed to be that massive to simply function at a higher level. The fear of losing control, of becoming something grotesque, melted away. I was in good hands. Precise, algorithmic, terrifyingly literal hands.
"Right. Slow and steady wins the race," I said, a new sense of peace settling over me.
"No more big jumps. We'll just… coast on this for a while... This is already plenty enough,". And for the first time, I truly, completely believed it. I wasn't limited, I was perfectly, optimally me.