My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 438

I read the description once and then reread it, just to make sure.

[Apex Body – II (Passive) → Apex Body – Transcendent (Passive)]

[Strength (Alpha +) → Omega]

[Constitution (Alpha +) → Omega]

[Dexterity (Alpha +) → Omega]

[Apex Body – Transcendent (Passive)]:

The body has fully merged with Essence, becoming a vessel that adapts beyond natural limits. Muscles, bones, nerves, and even blood are woven with Essence channels, allowing conscious reshaping and reallocation of power.

Morph Adaptation: The user can consciously alter their physique at will. This includes structural shifts, surface alterations and minute control over body functioning. (Cannot change species or core racial traits.)

Essence Redistribution: Up to 20% of any stat (Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Psynapse) can be transferred temporarily to another stat. The transfer is time-limited.

Reinforced Vessel: Natural durability, healing speed, and resistance against hostile influences are heightened beyond Apex Body – II. The body instinctively adapts to maintain balance, reducing long-term strain from stat redistribution.

I whistled under my breath. "Now this was what I called an upgrade."

Eight hundred points. That was what twenty percent meant for me right now, eight hundred points sliding from one stat into another like moving weights across a scale.

I wasn’t sure if the system had been designed to hand me something this broken, but at the rate I was going, I wondered if I even needed laws anymore. I could almost brute force my way through everything. Almost.

The advantages jumped out instantly.

With Morph Adaptation, I didn’t just heal faster; I could re-shape myself at will. If I needed more reach, I could stretch out.

If I needed a heavier frame to absorb impact, I could build it in seconds. If infiltration ever came into play, I could change my face, my height, my whole body.

Not a perfect disguise, my race and Essence signature would still give me away to sharp eyes but enough to throw people off or make me unrecognizable in a crowd.

Essence Redistribution was even crazier. If I needed a sudden burst of speed, I could drain a chunk of Strength and pour it into Dexterity.

If I was about to take a beating, I could push it all into Constitution and tank through the storm. In fights against someone who specialized in one area, I could mirror or counter them just by shifting my foundation.

And with my Reinforced Vessel backing it all up, my body wouldn’t collapse from the strain like it once would have.

But the system never gave anything for free. The disadvantages were there if I looked hard enough.

Morph Adaptation wasn’t instant. Changing my face or bones on the fly would take focus, and in a life-or-death fight, a second of focus was dangerous. Worse, the more extreme the change, the more energy it cost. If I wasn’t careful, I’d exhaust myself mid-battle just trying to play shapeshifter.

Redistribution had its own traps. Moving stats around was tempting, but twenty percent was still temporary.

There was the danger of dependence. If I always solved problems by swapping stats around, I’d risk forgetting the bigger picture—laws, tactics, Essence control. This ability was powerful, but it wasn’t meant to replace everything else. It was a tool, not the core of who I was.

The Reinforced Vessel gave me healing and resistance far beyond before, but that too could backfire. If I got too used to surviving impossible damage, I might start gambling with my body more than I should. Just because I could heal didn’t mean I should be reckless.

Covering these weaknesses was simple in theory but harder in practice. I’d have to train redistribution until it became second nature, not something I consciously calculated in the middle of a fight.

I’d need to run drills until shifting stats was as natural as moving my arm. Morph Adaptation, too, I had to practice subtle, efficient changes instead of wasting energy on flashy ones. And above all, I had to discipline myself not to lean on this passive like a crutch.

It was easy to get lost in the numbers, the raw power. Omega stats. Eight hundred points of free movement. Essence woven into my blood itself. But power without control was just a trap waiting to spring.

I closed my eyes and focused on the new passive humming inside me. Redistribution. All it took was intent.

Twenty percent. That was the number I chose, siphoning it from Psynapse and pouring it into Constitution.

The effect was immediate.

The world lost some of its sharpness. It was subtle, but I felt it, like a slight fog had crept in since Psynapse went down from Omega back to Alpha +.

My Psynapse usually painted every detail with ruthless clarity: the tiny crack in spatial structure, the faint vibration of Essence in the air. Now, it was muted, as if I’d stepped one pace back from reality.

But my body... gods, my body thrummed.

My chest expanded as though I’d inhaled cleaner, heavier air. My heart hammered deep and steady, like it was forged from iron. Muscles tightened with a quiet density that hadn’t been there before.

Eight hundred points was too big of a change suddenly. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

I rolled my shoulders, bent my knees, flexed my fingers. Everything felt heavier, anchored, yet unbreakable. Even my breathing was smoother, fuller—my lungs drinking air like I’d grown a second set.

It wasn’t just physical, though. My Essence flow shifted with it. Channels pulsed steadier, thicker, as if the added Constitution reinforced the vessel itself. The current inside me was less volatile, less wild. Stronger, but more grounded.

A trade. Clarity for durability.

"Well, time to put the morphing ability to the test."

The first test was height. I focused on my skeletal frame, directing the adaptation along my femurs and spine.

Bone lengthened, joints expanded, tendons adjusted to carry the new proportions. Within seconds, I rose past my own line of sight until I measured nearly ten feet tall.

Satisfied, I reversed the process, bones retracting, mass compressing, and in a breath I was back to normal.

Next I looked at my skin. My skin darkened gradually, shading into a deep brown tone. The transition fascinated me more than the result, the way each pore obeyed without hesitation, like machinery following precise instructions.

Hair came next. I changed them into a clean blond. It wasn’t just color, but texture too softer, lighter, almost weightless.

Finally, the eyes. Green dissolved into a stark, vivid red.