[TD-004]

  System Recovery Protocol Activated

  Initiating comprehensive diagnostic scan…

  Damage assessment complete

  Healing Protocol: Active

  └─Cranial reconstruction: 97% complete

  └─Neural pathway repair: 83% complete

  └─Cellular regeneration accelerated by Energy Circulation

  Pain Nullification Evolution Detected

  └─[Pain Nullification (Emergent)] evolving to [Pain Nullification (Adaptive)]

  └──New capability: Selective pain filtering

  └──New capability: Pain redistribution

  └──Neural interface enhanced

  └──Integration with Energy Circulation established

  Morphoplasm Analysis

  └─[Morphoplasm (Alpha I)] → [Morphoplasm (Alpha II)]

  └──Volume capacity: 4.2L (+1.8L)

  └──Surface coverage potential: 27% of total body surface

  └──Tensile strength increased by 340%

  └──New capability: Autonomous defensive response

  └──Mode: Solidify (47% → 65%)

  └───Integration with nervous system enhanced

  Adaptive Limbs Update

  └─[Mode: Saltatorial (56% → 64%)]

  └──Jump height potential increased by 22%

  └──Landing impact absorption improved

  └──[Submode: Aerial Mastery]

  └───New capability: Mid-air trajectory adjustment

  └───New capability: Momentum conservation

  Energy Circulation Evolution

  └─[Energy Circulation (Adaptive)] → [Energy Circulation (Resonant)]

  └──Energy pathway efficiency: 94.3% → 98.7%

  └──Recovery rate increased by 45%

  └──New capability: Cross-system energy transfer

  └──New capability: Energy signature mimicry (limited)

  Dark Resonance Analysis

  └─Influence radius expanded

  └─Disruption potential increased

  └─Neural interface optimization in progress

  Energy Classification Evolution Detected

  └─[Energy Classification (Emergent)] evolving to [Energy Classification (Perceptive)] └──Enhanced detection range: +40%

  └──New capability: Evolution stage identification

  └──New capability: Energy pathway visualization

  └──Integration with Dark Resonance established

  └──Neural processing speed increased

  Second Evolution Progress: CRITICAL THRESHOLD

  └─Stage 3: Biomolecular reconstruction - 94% complete

  └─Stage 4: Energy Framework Reconstruction - 28% initiated

  └──Cellular energy pathways reorganizing

  └──DNA expression modification in progress

  └──Arma integration: Advanced phase

  └──Evolution threshold: 94%

  └──WARNING: EVOLUTION EVENT IMMINENT

  Biometric Warning

  └─Heart rate: Elevated

  └─Brain activity: Abnormal patterns detected

  └─Body temperature: 102.4°F

  └─Arma saturation: Near critical levels

  External Stimuli Detected

  └─Audio input registered

  └─Proximity alert: Multiple signatures

  └─Medical monitoring active

  System Recommendation

  └─Maintain unconscious state to complete recovery

  └─OVERRIDE: Consciousness returning

  └─WARNING: Incomplete healing may result in temporary impairment

  └─Initiating wake-up sequence...

  Ho. Ly. Shit. That’s a lot of upgrades, Lance thought, still half asleep with his consciousness bobbing like a cork in water while his eyes adjusted to the clinical brightness of what had to be a medical facility and despite the rhythmic beeping of monitors plus the antiseptic smell permeating his nostrils he felt strangely well-rested as if his body had not only repaid its sleep debt but somehow upgraded the entire system during the downtime. Everything seemed sharper and clearer and more vibrant than before, yet simultaneously wrapped in cotton as his mind struggled to reconnect with his newly enhanced body.

  Stage three is not complete? Stage four started? The realization dawned on him slowly. I’m getting closer. Each evolution pushing me toward her level.

  He’d review all his upgrades in a moment. Right now, he needed to understand the state of things—how long he’d been out, what had happened in the aftermath.

  His last conscious memory flashed back—the moment he’d called out to Morphoplasm, desperate and urgent, right before Michelle’s hand had come out of nowhere and clasped his skull in an iron grip. He’d tried to envelop his entire head with the black mass before she could slam him into the ground, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time. But apparently Morphoplasm had responded faster than he’d expected, covering his head before it crashed against the synthetic grass. It had been growing more responsive lately, more intuitive, expanding to cover his head, neck, and almost reaching his shoulders. And now, according to those system messages, there was even more of the substance at his disposal—a 340% increase in tensile strength, whatever that meant.

  He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, finding a strange metallic taste where the dark matter had integrated with his tissues.

  For weeks, he’d managed to keep moving forward. His morning jumps, the pumping impossible weight, krav maga—these had kept him going, given him something to focus on besides the blood-soaked memories. Miles. Pounds. Calories. Orderly. Predictable. Safe. Michelle shattered it all with a single action. Now, Mark Turner, Emmanuel Rossi, and Maverick Munson blurred together in a montage of his failures. Each beep of the heart monitor made the images sharper. He could see their last moments as clearly as his system notifications.

  Lance flexed his fingers, watching the play of tendons under skin—hands that could protect or destroy. He’d tried so hard to be better, to use his abilities to protect rather than destroy. Now he just felt numb, like his emotions had shut down to protect what was left of his sanity.

  Numbers. Data. Upgrades. That was the refuge he needed now. Diving into the unyielding logic of his interface updates was like stepping into a different world—one where emotional trauma couldn’t follow.

  Lance stared at the ceiling, letting the full scope of his evolution sink in. The status updates had bombarded him upon waking—upgrades to nearly everything. Pain Nullification had evolved from merely shutting down pain to something he could selectively control, even redistribute. That was power he couldn’t have imagined a month ago. But more importantly, how did it work?

  He turned inward, trying to find pain to work with, but there was none.

  With a mental shrug, he moved on. Morphoplasm had transformed most dramatically. Almost doubled in volume, stronger by an order of magnitude, and now capable of responding automatically to threats. He imagined the black substance flowing across his skin, hardening instantly against impact—like having armor that thought for itself. He wondered if one day it would be like Impervious, or maybe…

  If he combined that with Energy Circulation’s new efficiency, he could potentially maintain a partial Morphoplasm shield constantly without draining his reserves. The tactical applications were staggering.

  But it was the cross-system energy transfer that truly opened new possibilities. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around how it worked, though. Was it like rerouting electricity through different circuits? Or more like blending two chemicals together? If he could route energy from one ability to another—say, channeling Dark Resonance through Morphoplasm—he might create disruption fields capable of neutralizing other arma users without direct contact. A defensive measure against someone like Michelle. And the energy signature mimicry, even limited, suggested he might eventually disguise his abilities from Energy Classification abilities like his.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The Stage 4 evolution terrified him most—DNA expression modification meant his very genetic code was being rewritten by arma. The boundary between Lance Lawthorn and whatever he was becoming grew thinner each day.

  He rolled his wrist slowly, watching as Morphoplasm instinctively rippled just beneath the skin. If Saltatorial now allowed mid-air trajectory changes, combined with increased jump height, he could theoretically navigate entire combat zones without touching the ground. Urban warfare redefined. Hell, it was practically flying, like some childhood superhero fantasy. As crazy as that sounded, after everything he’d witnessed this past month, flying didn’t seem that far-fetched anymore. If he mastered it, he’d never need a car again—he could reach any rooftop, any window, any target. Complete freedom of movement.

  It was happening.

  Day by day, he transformed into the weapon USEC wanted him to be. The question wasn’t whether he could match Michelle now—it was whether he should. Yes, he should. Next time would end differently.

  He’d spent the last hour cataloging his system updates, trying to make sense of the evolution warnings that had pinged his awareness. The dramatic increases in his abilities both thrilled and terrified him. His body was changing faster than he could mentally adapt to, racing toward some unknown threshold that the military doctors were actively pushing them to cross.

  The door clicked open, interrupting his thoughts. Lance shot a look, expecting to see a white-coated technician with tests and questions. Instead, Vicky stood in the doorway, her usual confident posture undermined by the dark circles beneath her eyes and the slight tremor in her hands. Her dark green utility uniform hung a touch loose on her frame, as if she’d lost weight since their arrival at USEC.

  “Well,” she drawled, leaning against the doorframe with practiced casualness that didn’t quite mask her exhaustion, “look who’s finally decided to rejoin the land of the living. I was almost worried about you, boludo.”

  Lance’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile. “Your concern is touching.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Vicky stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. She played with the sleeve of her uniform, pinching a loose thread. She pulled it and the thread kept coming out, unraveling along her wrist. “Sergeant Steele pulled some strings so I could check on you. Fifteen minutes, supervised visit. Medical staff is watching through that.” She nodded in the direction of the mirrored panel, where a nurse’s shadowy outline pretended not to be monitoring them.

  Lance glanced around the medical ward. His bed was one of six lined up against the wall, separated only by thin green curtains pulled partially closed for minimal privacy. Various monitors and IV stands crowded the narrow spaces between beds. Most were empty, but an older man slept two beds down, his breathing raspy and labored. The bare, functional setup of the ward reminded Lance that he wasn’t a patient here—he was an asset being repaired.

  “How long was I out?” Lance asked, shifting to sit more upright in the bed.

  “It’s been more than forty hours. Holland did a number on you. Cracked your skull like an egg. If you were normal, you’d be dead.”

  “None of us are normal.” Lance touched the back of his head, finding no bandages, no evidence of the injury. His enhanced healing had erased all external signs of trauma.

  Vicky moved closer, perching on the edge of his bed instead of taking the nearby chair. “How much do you remember?”

  “Everything. I remember Briella. I remember Holland. I remember trying to stop her and then...” He made a vague gesture. “Lights out.”

  Vicky nodded, her eyes momentarily distant. “They held a rushed memorial service yesterday. General Stroebel gave a speech about sacrifice and duty. Made it sound like she died heroically instead of being murdered by one of their own recruits.”

  “Holland’s a SITE.” Lance said quietly. “I think it stands for Strategic Integration, something Evaluator.”

  Vicky’s eyebrows rose slightly. “How’d you know that?”

  “Overheard some officers talking before I woke up. They plant them among us to assess our abilities and threat potential.”

  “Makes sense. They don’t trust us. Can’t say I blame them,” Vicky said. “They offered counseling too. Dr. Prakash. Not that anyone in Oscar took them up on it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know how it is.” She traced a finger along the edge of his bed. “Can’t show any cracks in the armor.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Nah, not my style. Besides, pretty sure my medical file already says ‘emotionally unstable pyrokinetic’ without adding ‘needs therapy’ to the list.”

  “Vicky...”

  “It’s fine. I’m handling it.”

  “The way your fingers are burning a hole in my blanket suggests otherwise.”

  She jerked her hand away, staring at the singed fabric with mild surprise.

  “Shit. Sorry.”

  They went quiet for a moment, not uncomfortable but weighted with shared understanding. Lance found himself studying Vicky’s face—worn like an old fighter after too many rounds, the way her gaze occasionally darted to the door as if expecting trouble.

  “You’re not sleeping,” he observed.

  Vicky’s shoulders stiffened. “No one is. Not after what happened.”

  “It’s more than that.” Lance’s focus fell to his bedsheets. “It’s Rick, isn’t it? What he did to you.”

  The mention of Rick’s name caused a visible flinch. Vicky’s fingers folded inward with sudden pressure, then deliberately relaxed.

  “Every time I close my eyes,” she said, “I feel him there. Pulling the strings. Making me… touching me—” She cut herself off, swallowing hard. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now. Training to be loyal little government weapons.”

  “Does it ever make you feel powerless?” he asked out of nowhere. The question surprised even him, bubbling up from some hidden reservoir of doubt. “I keep getting stronger. I keep taking new abilities. And yet nothing changes. Briella died right next to us. I failed to stop Holland. I’m just...” He trailed off, unsure how to articulate the hollow feeling in his chest.

  “Yeah,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I know exactly what you mean. All this power, and what good is it when it matters? When Rick was controlling me, I was still me in there. Watching. Feeling everything. But I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t even scream for help.” Her voice dropped to a breath. “Sometimes I think the power just makes it worse. Gives us the illusion of control.”

  Lance nodded, relieved by her understanding. In the sterile white room with its humming monitors and antiseptic air, their shared vulnerability felt like the only real thing.

  After a moment of silence, Vicky straightened in her chair. “I need to ask you something,” she said, voice suddenly businesslike.

  “Shoot.”

  “That thing you did in the mess hall. With your hand on my shoulder.” She made direct eye contact. “I need you to do it again.”

  Lance’s heart simply… stopped, right then knowing what she meant.

  The Neural Dominion—Rick’s ability that he’d appropriated and accidentally used on Vicky days ago. His mind jumped back to that momentary connection, feeling her emotions and influencing them, and he willed the nonexistent contents of his stomach to stay put.

  “No,” he said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Lance—”

  “I won’t use that ability. Not ever.” He shook his head emphatically. “That’s what Rick did, Vicky. I’m not becoming like him.”

  “It’s different,” she insisted, leaning forward. “I’m asking you. That’s the whole point—I’m choosing this.”

  “You don’t understand.” Lance’s voice hardened. “When I used it on you, that was an accident. I didn’t even mean to. If I start using it deliberately, where does it end? How am I any better than him?”

  “Because you’re not doing it to control me,” Vicky countered. “You’re doing it to help me. That night after the dinner was the first decent sleep I’ve had since Rick got in my head. For the first time, I didn’t feel him lingering there.”

  Lance looked away, uncomfortable with her intensity. “There are other ways, Vicky. Therapy. Meditation. Time.”

  “We don’t have time.” The edge in her voice drew his attention back. “We’re in a military program that’s pushing us toward combat readiness. I can’t afford to be compromised by this...this echo of him messing with my mind.”

  “So I replace his control with mine?” Lance asked bitterly. “How does that help you?”

  “Because I trust you,” Vicky said simply. The words hung between them, startling in their directness. “I know you won’t abuse it. And it’s temporary—just so I can sleep, to clear my head enough that I can start healing properly.”

  Lance could read between the lines of her expression. The brave face couldn’t hide her desperation, and the fatigue around her eyes revealed nights spent wrestling with trauma. He’d seen that exact look staring back at him too many times recently.

  “This isn’t a good solution,” he said at last, his resolve weakening.

  “It doesn’t have to be good. It just has to work.” Vicky’s mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “Just this once, Lance. Help me get one decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll figure out something healthier.”

  Lance closed his eyes briefly, weighing the moral complexities against Vicky’s obvious suffering. The logical side of Lance actually wanted to master this ability. Heck, that’s why he took it in the first place. Building an arsenal of appropriated powers was his whole gimmick—overwhelming opponents with unexpected abilities.That was his edge. He’d convinced himself his power was incredible, but somewhere deeper, doubt lingered about the truth of that statement. He opened his eyes.

  “Just this once,” he agreed reluctantly. “And tomorrow we find a better way.”