Forced Evolution 2: A LitRPG Adventure, page 1
Forced Evolution
Book 2
F.C. Traling
You've always been stronger than me in ways I'm still figuring out. This story is about heroes who protect what matters most, just like you do every day. Thanks for showing me that real strength isn't just about fighting, but about having the heart to keep everyone safe.
I'm proud of you, son.
Copyright © 2025 by F.C. Traling
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author ’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover designed by Getcovers.
Foreword
Lance continues his journey, this time as a military recruit in a government program designed to create super-soldiers with supernatural abilities. The process is deadly: push your evolution too fast and your body tears itself apart trying to contain the power.
As Lance develops new abilities, he struggles to maintain control while his vessel undergoes excruciating transformations. The military is rushing to create operational soldiers because other countries are running similar programs with even higher casualty rates.
But with each stage of evolution, Lance questions how much of his humanity he's losing. The daily brutal training pushes everyone beyond normal limits, and the line between soldier and monster grows thinner every day.
Contents
Prologue: Broken Men
One: Understanding Pain
Two: Spilled Yolk
Three: Ghosts in the Machine
Four: Lift, Sort, Stack, Repeat
Five: The Agency
Six: The Long Road (1/3)
Seven: The Long Road (2/3)
Eight: The Long Road (3/3)
Nine: Papa Cell
Ten: Oscar Cell
Eleven: Test Your Limits
Twelve: The Paperclip
Thirteen: New Year’s Day
Fourteen: Evolution
Fifteen: Kilo Cell Evaluation
Sixteen: Romeo and Juliet
Seventeen: Written in Neon
Eighteen: Damage Control
Nineteen: Chain of Command
Twenty: Reflections and Resonance
Twenty-One: Too Much to Handle
Twenty-Two: New Power
Twenty-Three: Evolution
Twenty-Four: Cellular Revolution
Twenty-Five: Teleportation Accident
Twenty-Six: Discharge
Twenty-Seven: Thresholds
Twenty-Eight: Their Little Secret
Twenty-Nine: Monsters (1/2)
Thirty: Monsters (2/2)
Thirty-One: A Month of Incidents
Thirty-Two: The Drop
Thirty-Three: One Step at a Time
Thirty-Four: Everything is Deliberate
Thirty-Five: The First Night
Thirty-Six: The Endless Night
Thirty-Seven: Blood Ties
Thirty-Eight: Lab Rats
Thirty-Nine: So That’s What This Is
Forty: Sos Una Loca
Forty-One: The Beast in the Woods
Forty-Two: Apex Predator
Forty-Three: Options
Forty-Four: Emotional Damage
Forty-Five: Congratulations
Epilogue
Elsewhere I: Paper Trails
Elsewhere II: Treatment Day
Elsewhere III: Internal Affairs
Elsewhere IV: Side Effects
Elsewhere V: Pattern Recognition
Thank you for reading Forced Evolution Book 2
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Prologue: Broken Men
Preston’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing under the metal table. The clock on the wall ticked so goddamn loud he could barely think. Five minutes until the combat integration exercise. Five minutes until he’d have to face whatever fucked-up scenario Staff Sergeant Dalton had dreamed up for Delta Cell today.
“Stop that,” someone growled from across the table.
Preston looked up. Frank stared back, his massive shoulders hunched forward, veins bulging along his forearms. Not Frank, this was definitely Mack. The cold eyes gave him away. Preston had learned to tell the difference over the past two weeks of training.
“I’m not doing anything,” Preston said.
“The knee. It’s annoying.”
Preston forced his leg to still. “Sorry.”
Mack’s eyes flicked to the clock, then back to Preston. “Time’s almost up.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t fuck up today.”
Preston’s hand slid into his pocket, fingertips brushing the small plastic bottle hidden there. Two Xanax bars left. His family’s private physician had prescribed the potent benzodiazepines after a single complaint about pre-exam jitters, but they did so much more now—helped him access his abilities, kept the shaking at bay, let him focus when everything got too loud, too bright, too much.
“I won’t.”
A new Mack showed up in that face, one Preston rarely saw. His posture changed, shoulders relaxing, hands unclenching. “He’s being mean again, isn’t he?” The voice was higher now, uncertain. Zack was back.
Preston sighed. “It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry. I keep trying to—” Zack’s words cut off. His head twitched sharply to the side. “No, please don’t—”
“Jesus, not this shit again.” Frank was back, voice rougher, eyes narrowed. “Every fucking day with you two.”
Owen sat down next to Preston, tray clattering against the table. His arms seemed longer today, sleeves stretched thin over wiry limbs. “The Lord tests us in mysterious ways, but today feels special.” He smiled, a weird light in his eyes. “I can feel it.”
Preston edged away. Owen had been acting stranger ever since their third day, when he’d started talking about visions and purpose. The guy had literally torn someone in half before coming here, but now he acted like he was on some divine mission.
Holy trust-cunt nightmares, Preston thought bitterly. Out of all the recruits, I get stuck with Bible Boy and a walking pharmacy error. How the fuck did Frank even pass the med screening?
It wasn’t bad luck. They had been picked. They were the only ones with those white marks around their necks. Preston had overheard Major Ellis talking to Dalton about how USEC wanted to run some experiment. See if they’d “elevate each other” or “push the boundaries of human evolution” or some other bullshit.
“Special how?” he asked, if only to break the tension.
Owen hunched forward, lowering his tone. “He’s growing unstable.” A slight nod toward Frank. “Four personalities was bad enough, but I heard him talking to a fifth one last night.”
“So?” Preston didn’t care how many people lived in Frank’s head as long as they stayed on his side.
“So he’s dangerous.” Owen’s eyes flicked nervously toward Frank. “More dangerous than before. They’re fighting amongst themselves now.”
Frank slammed his fist down. The metal table dented. “I can hear you, asshole.”
Owen didn’t flinch. “Good. Then hear this. Your condition’s getting worse. You need help before someone gets hurt.”
“I don’t need shit from you.”
Preston’s heart hammered. The tremor in his hands was back. He needed a pill, but not here, not with everyone watching.
“Five minutes!” Sergeant Dalton shouted to everyone in the chow hall. “Combat integration in five!”
Preston scooted his chair back. “Bathroom.”
Neither of them acknowledged him as he left, too busy glaring at each other. Perfect. He hurried down the corridor, ducked into a stall, and leaned against the door.
Keep it together. Just need one pill.
His hands shook as he pulled out the bottle. One small white tablet tumbled into his palm. He stared at it for a moment, then dry-swallowed it. The bitter taste made him gag, but he forced it down.
The effect wasn’t immediate, but he knew it was coming. His heart would slow. His mind would clear. His power would flow without the painful resistance he usually felt. Like turning a key in a lock.
Someone entered the bathroom. Heavy footsteps.
“Preston? You in here?” Owen’s voice.
“Just a sec.”
“Dalton’s looking for you. Says if you’re late again, you’ll run laps until next Tuesday.”
Preston tucked the pill bottle away and flushed the empty toilet for show. He stepped out, all casual confidence now. “Tell him I’m coming.”
Owen blocked his path. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m taking a piss. It’s a bathroom.”
“The pills. You think I don’t notice?” Owen’s stretchy arm extended slightly, pointing at Preston’s pocket. “That stuff will kill you.”
“Mind your own business.”
“We’re a team. Your problem is my problem.”
Preston tried to push past. “Then my problem is you being in my way.”
Owen didn’t budge. “Frank needs to be contained. He’s losing control. I
“What do you want from me?”
“Help me take him down during the exercise. Before he hurts someone.”
Preston laughed. “You’re insane.”
“I’m chosen,” Owen said, that weird light back in his eyes. “To protect the innocent. To stop threats before they start.”
“Yeah? And what happens when they put you down for attacking another recruit?”
Owen’s arms rippled beneath his uniform. “They’ll thank me when they see what he’s becoming.”
The pill was kicking in. Preston felt a slow heat moving through his limbs, the clarity sharpening his thoughts. His heartbeat steadied.
“Get out of my way.”
This time, Owen stepped aside. “Think about it. You’ve seen him shift, one minute he’s Zack, next he’s Frank, then Mack. What happens when a new one takes over, one that doesn’t care who gets hurt?”
Preston pushed past him. The exercise was starting in two minutes, and he needed to be on that field.
“One day!” Owen called after him. “That’s all we have before the Crucible starts! Then it’s too late!”
***
The combat integration field sprawled ahead—an elaborate obstacle course designed to push enhanced recruits to their limits. Concrete barriers, climbing walls, simulated urban terrain. At the center stood a reinforced structure that looked like a bank vault.
Staff Sergeant Dalton paced before the assembled recruits, his face carved from granite. “Today’s objective is simple, retrieve the target from the vault and return it to the extraction point. You’ll be working in teams of three.”
Preston scanned the field, mentally mapping routes. The pill had him operating at peak efficiency now, his mind racing through scenarios.
“Team assignments,” Dalton said. “Anderson, Jimenez, Lin. Barrett, Calloway, Thorn. Thompson, Diaz, Williams.”
Preston’s stomach fucking dropped. He was with Owen and Frank. Of course he was. The universe really had it out for him.
Frank wore the same smile he’d flashed before breaking that guy’s leg in training. “Looks like we’re a team.”
“Let’s just get through this,” Preston muttered.
“The exercise begins on my mark,” Dalton continued. “Lethal force is prohibited. Power dampeners are active in marked zones.” He pointed to red-painted circles throughout the course. “Enter one and your abilities shut down. Simple enough for even you idiots to understand?”
No one answered. They didn’t need to.
“Three. Two. One. Mark!”
Teams scattered across the field. Preston moved instantly, Frank and Owen flanking him. The vault stood 200 yards away, with multiple obstacles between them and it.
“I’ll take point,” Frank said, his voice suddenly lighter. Zack again. “I can—” He stopped mid-sentence, his whole body twitching. “No, I will take point.” Mack now, deeper, more commanding. “Stay behind me.”
Owen shot Preston a meaningful look. See? Unstable.
Preston ignored him. The buzzing in his head quieted down. Everything quieted. He now saw the world through clean glass. Get to the vault. Retrieve the target. Return to extraction. Simple.
The first obstacle was a twenty-foot wall. Frank charged it head-on, muscles bulging as he leapt, grabbing the top edge and pulling himself over in one fluid motion.
“Show-off,” Preston grunted.
Owen’s arms stretched upward, elongating until his hands grasped the top. He began to pull himself up, his body following like a rubber band snapping back to shape.
Preston took a different approach. The wall had handholds: small, nearly invisible, but there if you knew where to look. He climbed swiftly, each handhold clear, each foot placement automatic.
They regrouped on the other side. Barriers lined up ahead like teeth in a crooked smile. Narrow gaps between them, elevated platforms perched on top.
“There.” Preston pointed to a route that would take them through the fewest obstacles. “That’ll get us there fastest.”
Frank nodded, already moving. Owen hung back.
“We have to talk about this,” Owen whispered. “He’s not right.”
“Later.”
“There won’t be a later. They’re moving him tomorrow.”
Preston pushed ahead, following Frank. The second obstacle was a maze of concrete barriers, designed to confuse and separate teams. The others ran. Frank flowed. Too fast. Too exact. Taking corners like he’d memorized the course. Not Frank’s usual style—this was someone else at the controls.
A fifth personality? A sixth? Owen might be right.
They emerged from the maze to find two other teams already at the vault. Someone had triggered the defense systems. Metallic arms swung wildly from the ceiling and walls, forcing recruits to dodge and weave.
The arms were jointed steel appendages as long as telephone poles, with hydraulic pistons that hissed as they struck, each one tipped with a rubber pad designed to bruise but not break. They moved with jarring unpredictability, some whipping sideways in sharp arcs while others hammered down from above.
Frank charged forward without hesitation. A metal arm swung at his head; he caught it mid-swing, muscles straining, then ripped it clean off its mounting.
“Holy shit,” Preston said.
Owen appeared beside him, arms stretched to twice their normal length. “See? Too strong. Too volatile. He needs to be stopped.”
“This isn’t the time.”
“It’s the perfect time. The dampening zones will help us contain him.”
Preston watched Frank tear through another mechanical arm. The raw power was terrifying, and exactly why Preston needed him as an ally, not an enemy.
“I’m not helping you.”
Owen’s expression hardened. “Then you’re part of the problem.”
Before Preston could respond, Owen’s arm shot out, stretching twenty feet toward Frank. It wrapped around Frank’s ankle just as he was leaping toward the vault door.
Frank crashed to the ground, face contorted with rage. “What the fuck?”
“It’s for your own good,” Owen called. “You’re dangerous!”
Bumps and ridges appeared across Frank’s forearms. The white lines running up and down his jugular turned blue. His eyes turned blue. He grabbed Owen’s stretched arm and yanked.
‘Crack’
Owen flew forward, unable to resist the pull, slamming into a concrete barrier with bone-cracking force.
“Stay down,” Frank growled.
Owen struggled to his feet, arms stretching in all directions like tentacles. “You’re unstable! A threat!”
Frank’s face changed—softened, then hardened again, features shifting between expressions. “Stop it!” Zack’s voice. “I’ll kill him!” Frank’s voice. “This is stupid.” A new voice, deeper than the others.
The fourth personality. It was real.
“See?” Owen shouted to no one in particular. “He’s fracturing! We must contain him!”
Sergeant Dalton spoke sharply over the loudspeakers. “Barrett! Thorn! Stand down immediately!”
Neither of them listened. Owen’s arms shot out again, wrapping around Frank’s throat and torso. Frank roared, his face turning red, spit flying from his mouth as he thrashed against the rubbery grip. His boots scraped against the concrete floor, leaving black marks as he fought for balance. Owen’s fingers locked together behind Frank’s back, forming a living straitjacket that tightened with each of Frank’s desperate breaths. The limbs squeezed him like giant pale snakes.
Preston backed away. This wasn’t his fight. The objective was the vault. He’d complete the mission while they tore each other apart.
But as he turned, one of Owen’s rubber-like limbs whipped toward him. “You’re either with me or against me!”
The arm caught Preston across the chest, sending him sprawling. Pain flared, sharp and immediate. The drug dulled it, but not enough.
“Goddammit.” Preston’s hands trembled, the dreaded anxiety pushing through the medication’s effect. He needed the another pill, but there was no time.
Frank had broken free of Owen’s grip and was advancing on him, face twisted with rage. “You fucking try that again—Please, stop this! This is fascinating.”
