The silence in the room after confirming the purchase was profound. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. I just sat there, the phantom sensation of twenty million dollars leaving my account still tingling in my mind. Then, it began.
"KUH!!! FUCK!!!".
It wasn't a single wave, but a symphony of changes, each one tuning a different part of my instrument. The first thing I felt was in my throat. A slight, cool trickle, like swallowing a drop of mint honey, that spread through my vocal cords. It felt… clearer. More open. An impossible knowledge of diaphragmatic support, pitch control, and vibrato settled into my muscles as if I'd been training them for decades.
"Alll by myself~~". I opened my mouth, and without thinking, without warming up, I sang. It was a single, clean, powerful note—the iconic, heart-wrenching opening to Celine Dion's "All By Myself."
The sound that came out wasn't my voice that I used to. It was richer, fuller, a resonant baritone that effortlessly climbed into a clear, soaring tenor before hitting the peak of the phrase with a power that vibrated in my chest.
"Ahhh~~". I held it, the note perfectly steady, flawlessly pitched, filling my small bedroom with a professional, studio-quality sound.
"Holy shit," I whispered, and even my speaking voice had changed. It was slightly deeper, smoother, with a resonant quality that made my own ears perk up. "Sunday… did I just…?"
"[Congratulations, Sael,]" her voice chimed, a note of genuine praise in her tone. "[You have successfully integrated 'Superstar Singer' and 'Charming Voice.' Your vocal prowess now resides within the top one percent of humans globally... You possess perfect pitch and master-level technical ability.]"
"I've got pipes!". A giddy, disbelieving laugh burst out of me. I crowed, jumping to my feet. And as I moved, the other changes made themselves known.
A warm, buzzing sensation flowed over my skin, from the crown of my head down to the soles of my feet. It was like being dipped in liquid sunlight. I watched, mesmerized, as the already-impressive musculature I'd been admiring seemed to… settle. The definition became sharper, more elegant.
The slight imperfections—a tiny asymmetry in my abs, a faint scar on my shoulder from a childhood fall—simply faded away. My skin took on a healthier glow, the pores seeming to shrink, the texture becoming flawless. I was now 189 cm of sculpted, aesthetically perfect human form. I flexed my forearm, watching the intricate dance of muscle and sinew, the veins rising to the surface like expertly laid wiring. It was terrifyingly beautiful.
While the physical changes were staggering, the mental ones were a silent earthquake. New knowledge flooded my brain, not like reading a book, but like remembering a life I'd always lived.
Driven by a childlike urge to test my new physical limits, I dropped to the floor. Not for a normal push-up. I recalled Rock Lee from Naruto, the ultimate taunt. I balanced my entire body weight on the thumb of my right hand, my legs straight out, my core tighter than a drum. It should have been impossible. My thumb should have snapped. Instead, with a thoughtless, innate understanding of leverage and muscle fiber tension, I lowered myself until my chest nearly touched the floor, and pushed back up. Once. Twice. It was effortless. The 'Peak Human Physique' and my 30-point Strength stat weren't just adding power; they were granting a master's degree in using it.
But that was just the warm-up. The real test was in my mind.
I let my thoughts drift to game development. Specifically, to the two games I'd made in my old life—my pride and joys, my miserable failures. The adult-themed Ren'Py visual novel and the hack-and-slash RPG Maker game.
Before, I remembered them with a defensive fondness. 'They were good for what they were,' I'd tell myself. 'The writing was clever. The combat system had potential.'
Now, with 'Master Game Developer' fully integrated, my mind ruthlessly deconstructed them. The code was amateurish, bloated with inefficient scripts. The art was a jarring mishmash of stolen assets that clashed horribly. The narrative of the VN was trite, riddled with plot holes and cringe-worthy dialogue. The combat in the RPG was poorly balanced, with broken mechanics and enemy AI dumber than a bag of rocks.
And the biggest sin of all: they were derivative. Not inspired by, but cheap knock-offs. The VN was a pathetic echo of better stories I'd read. The RPG was a hollow, poorly imagined clone of Final Fantasy, without any of the heart or polish. I didn't feel sad. I felt… clarity. A profound, unequivocal understanding. A chuckle escaped me, dry and devoid of self-pity.
"They were lame," I said to the empty room, the truth finally liberating.
"They were fucking lame... No wonder they flopped, and no one likes it,". The failure wasn't bad luck; it was deserved. And with that realization, the ghost of my past inadequacy was finally exorcised. I saw the path forward with perfect, crystalline clarity.
I was standing there, one hand rubbing my newly defined jawline, marveling at the complete and total overhaul of my being—body, mind, and soul. The air itself seemed to crackle with my potential.
"[Sir,]" Sunday's voice cut through my reverie, and for the first time, it held a note of urgent warning.
"[The integration process is complete. However, the final neural and biological synchronization will now commence. The experience will be… intense. You must however, remain conscious. Passing out will force a system reset, and the purchased skills will be lost. Do you understand?]"
The gravity in her tone snapped me to attention. I remembered the pain from the first stat upgrade—a deep, bone-deep ache. Unpleasant, but manageable.
"Yeah, I got it… I can handle it, Let's do it Sunday,"
"[Brace yourself.]".
I took a deep breath, planting my feet firmly on the ground, tensing my powerful new body. I was ready for a wave of pain.
I was not ready for the supernova.
It felt like every nerve ending in my body was simultaneously dipped in acid and set on fire. It wasn't a wave; it was an instantaneous, all-consuming detonation of agony inside my skull, my spine, my very cells. My vision whited out completely. A sound ripped from my throat, a raw, animalistic scream of pure torment that I didn't even recognize as my own.
"AHHRRRGGHH!!!"
My muscles, my beautiful, powerful new muscles, seized up with violent, uncontrollable spasms. All control vanished. I was a puppet with every string cut at once. I crashed to the floor, my body slamming against the hardboards with a sickening thud. I was curled into a fetal position, shaking, shuddering, every gasp a knife in my lungs. The pain was so absolute, so world-ending, that thought was impossible. There was only the fire.
Through the roaring inferno in my ears, I heard Sunday's voice, a calm, digital lighthouse in the storm of my agony.
"[Stay awake. You must remain conscious. Do not pass out. The process is working. Brace, Sir. Stay awake.]"
Her words were a lifeline. I clung to them, using every ounce of my will, my new 30-point Endurance, just to keep my eyes open, to not surrender to the blackness that promised relief. I didn't hear the door open. I only saw a blur of movement and color through my pain-blurred vision.
"Bamm! Mi amor!"
The voice was shrill, laced with pure panic. Vera.
My eyes, wide with agony, managed to focus for a split second. She was in the doorway, her face a mask of horror, her hand flying to her mouth. All she saw was me, wearing nothing but my boxers, my body clenched in a rigid, shaking arc of torture on the floor, my face contorted in a silent scream I could no longer voice.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I could only endure.
Her panic erupted. "Cathy! Call the ambulance!!" she screamed, her voice tearing through the apartment's thin walls.
The sound of her terror, the thunder of her footsteps as she rushed toward me, and the ensuing chaos of doors slamming and frantic voices from the hallway were the last things I registered before the world narrowed to a single, excruciating point of suffering, and Sunday's relentless, calming chant in my mind.
"[Stay awake.]".