Hell Week ended the way it always did.
Without mercy.
The final evolution began at dusk.
No explanation. No encouragement.
Just orders.
"Boats."
The survivors moved on instinct alone. Hands found rubber hulls. Shoulders wedged underneath. The weight settled like a verdict.
Li Chen lifted with the rest.
He felt every kilogram.
Every micro-tear in muscle fiber.
Every tremor in joints pushed past human tolerance.
He allowed it.
They ran.
Down the beach. Into the wind.
The sky burned orange and red as the sun sank, waves crashing in rhythm with failing hearts.
Men stumbled.
One fell and didn't get back up.
The boat tipped.
Chaos rippled.
Li Chen stepped forward.
"Left," he said calmly.
The team adjusted.
The boat stabilized.
Grant watched from the shoreline, arms crossed.
"He's still leading," someone muttered.
Grant didn't answer.
He was watching Li Chen's eyes.
Night swallowed the beach.
They were sent back into the water.
Again.
This time with paddles.
Open surf navigation.
Cold gnawed at bone. Arms barely responded. Minds floated dangerously close to surrender.
Li Chen paddled.
Each stroke precise.
Measured.
But beneath the control—
The System strained.
[System Status: Critical Load]
[User cognitive throughput unsustainable]
Li Chen felt it now.
A pressure behind his eyes.
Like something trying to keep up—and failing.
A wave hit broadside.
The boat pitched violently.
A recruit was thrown into the water.
Shouts.
Panic.
Li Chen reacted instantly.
He reached.
Grabbed the man's vest.
Pulled.
For a fraction of a second—
He forgot to limit himself.
The man flew out of the water.
Hit the boat hard.
Silence followed.
Grant's breath caught.
Then the recruit groaned.
Alive.
Li Chen released him immediately.
Too fast.
Too clean.
Too wrong.
They made shore just before midnight.
Bodies collapsed.
Vomiting.
Shaking.
Some didn't move at all.
Medics worked quietly.
The instructors didn't yell anymore.
They watched.
Grant gathered them one last time.
The survivors stood—some barely.
"You made it," Grant said.
No volume. No theatrics.
"Hell Week is over."
A few men cried.
Others laughed.
Li Chen felt… nothing.
The System pulsed.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[Adaptive Evolution Initiated]
Golden text flickered and vanished.
Grant's gaze locked onto Li Chen.
"You," Grant said. "Walker."
Li Chen stepped forward.
Grant lowered his voice.
"You didn't just survive."
He paused.
"You changed the room."
Li Chen met his eyes.
"Yes, Chief."
Grant exhaled slowly.
"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, things get… complicated."
That night, for the first time in a week, Li Chen slept.
Dreamless.
Inside his mind, the System rewrote itself.
Protocols shattered.
Limiters loosened.
New architecture formed—not to control him.
But to follow.
[SYSTEM EVOLUTION: PHASE I — QUEUED]
Outside, the base lights dimmed.
Hell Week was over.
The consequences were not.