God's evolution

Second Senior Academy of the Tava Empire – Student Canteen

Jessica sat in a corner by the window, slowly stirring the kelp soup in her spoon. In fact, the soup was no longer hot, but she hadn't taken a sip—perhaps she was waiting for someone, or maybe she just wasn't in the mood.

After a short while, a boy in a Gorka uniform with messy hair staggered over, carrying a tray. He was none other than her desk mate and close friend—Emil.

As soon as Emil sat down, he let out a dramatic groan. "Ugh, my meal card's almost out of funds. I'll probably be eating dirt by the end of the month…"

Jessica hummed in glee. "Really? I seem to remember someone swearing up and down that 'one sausage could last for three meals.' What happened to that?"

She glanced at his tray—on it was a green rectangular box.

"…Ration box? Are you really so poor that you're eating this now?"

Emil didn't mind at all, opening the packaging casually as he retorted, "This is called being frugal, you know? And it's actually pretty tasty!"

With a sharp pop, the box opened, revealing its contents—there was a subtle industrial food scent emanating from it.

Jessica sighed, then slid half of her fried noodles across the tray toward Emil. "Here, take some. I don't want you to end up malnourished from eating dirt."

"Oh—goddess!" Emil's eyes lit up, and he immediately cradled the tray in both hands, his expression one of awe, as if he'd discovered a new world. "I'll definitely bring a banner to your thesis defense."

"Stop joking around and eat," Jessica rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

Still, she couldn't resist glancing at the green rectangular box on his tray. "But seriously, how do you even eat this thing?"

"Don't underestimate it," Emil said proudly, tearing open the packaging. "This is the fighter jet of military rations, the classic 'Ilkect-7,' even our Tava northern border troops secretly issue this."

He skillfully pulled the box from its outer shell, separating it into several smaller compartments. "Main dish, side dish, dessert, heating pack, seasoning pack, fruit bar, tea bag, and a mini folding fork—full set."

"…It's actually kind of fancy." Jessica raised an eyebrow.

Emil pulled out a small silver pouch and tore it open at the bottom of the meal box. "Watch closely, this is the key part."

He pulled out a white heating pad from the pack, placed it at the bottom of the main dish box, and then poured in some water. "This thing heats up as soon as it touches water. In five minutes, the meat will start bubbling, and there'll even be soup."

As he spoke, he set the box near the window, carefully closing the lid as if he were tending to a pet.

"Once it's done bubbling, I've also got a pack of Tava-style jam bread." He waved a flat aluminum pouch. "Don't judge it by its appearance—this stuff is sweet enough to save your mood for an entire day."

"You're studying the military supply system more seriously than I'm studying weapons class," Jessica sneered. "How about you quit the combat strategy track and become a military food consultant in logistics?"

"I'll seriously consider it." Emil narrowed his eyes. "If you're willing to share your fried noodles with me."

The heating pack began making a faint hissing sound, and the bottom of the ration box quietly warmed up, a thin mist slowly rising from the vent.

As Jessica watched the 'field food preparation,' a thought suddenly crossed her mind. She stared out the window for a while, while the canteen remained noisy, with laughter and the clinking of metal trays blending together.

But her heart felt slightly heavy.

The steam from the ration box continued to hiss, and Emil cautiously pried open the lid with his fork. The meat chunks and potatoes inside were soft and tender, the broth glistening with oil. Just as he was about to dig in, Jessica suddenly asked:

"By the way, how's your preparation for the final exams?"

Emil froze, his fork hanging in mid-air, and his face scrunched up like he'd just been hit with a packet of instant noodle seasoning. "Did you really have to bring this up while I'm eating?"

Jessica sipped her juice through a straw and shrugged. "If you hadn't mentioned 'eating dirt,' I might've almost forgotten you're on the priority list for early military enlistment."

"Uh... I definitely remember," Emil said somewhat sheepishly, taking a bite of meat. "The preparation's going okay, I'm just a little behind on the combat course. Physical fitness isn't an issue, but I'm struggling with tactical drills."

He paused, then added quietly, "...And the simulated psychological stress test."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "You'd better not mess up. You know that your ranking this semester directly affects your post-enlistment team assignments and your preliminary rank, right? If you're excellent, you can be directly promoted to deputy commander of a tactical unit, along with second-tier benefits."

"I know!" Emil suddenly raised his voice but quickly looked around, lowering it again with a slight huff. "But think about it, we're the ones who eat sand and drink cold water every day, lugging around 30 kilos of weight while hiking up mountains overnight, all for a so-called 'elite distribution' slot."

He laughed bitterly. "Sometimes, I really wonder… is it worth it?"

Jessica didn't respond, just silently watching him.

A few seconds later, she spoke softly. "This year's practical assessment is a live-fire extreme survival exercise. Three days and two nights, in a mountain area, closed off, full surveillance, but no fixed targets and no faction division."

Emil was stunned. "So what are they testing?"

"They're testing how you survive." Jessica's voice was calm. "They want to see if you can gather resources, avoid the enemy, and still fight back successfully without support."

She paused for a moment, then continued, "There are only six resource points, and they move every night. Each point has reconnaissance drones, infrared sensors, decoy traps, and limited supplies."

"The most important thing—no restrictions on tactics."

Emil swallowed hard. "So you're saying… as long as we don't break military rules, we can do whatever we want?"

"Exactly." Jessica looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Luring the enemy, ambushes, jamming communications, night raids, stealing supplies, even forming alliances and then turning on them... all allowed."

The canteen was still loud, with a few students in combat training gear laughing and jostling for food, but their table suddenly became very quiet.

Emil lowered his gaze, staring at the warm ration box in his hands, suddenly not so eager to eat anymore.

"...So, will you compete for that slot?" he asked, testing her.

Jessica didn't answer right away, but instead turned her gaze toward the playground outside the window. The sunlight illuminated the Tava Empire flag fluttering in the wind, making it snap loudly.

She spoke slowly. "I'm not doing it for the slot."

"Then why?"

She lowered her voice. "So that no one else can decide where I go."

"I don't want to end up in a unit where people die, and I get 'chosen' because I'm the last one left."

Emil fell silent.

Jessica stared down at her fried noodles, but suddenly seemed to notice something. She turned her head slightly and her eyes swept over to a corner near the back door of the canteen.

"Hey," she suddenly spoke up. "Do you know that girl over there?"

Emil followed her gaze and saw a girl in a well-fitted grey-green combat jacket with short, neatly cut hair, sitting quietly in the corner. She didn't have a tray, just a bottle of compressed energy drink by her side. She leaned against the wall, her eyes alert as she scanned the canteen. On the table were a pair of disassembled knee guards and a greasy tool kit—she wasn't eating, but seemed to be waiting for someone or thinking about tactical details.

"Ah... that's Aina." Emil nodded, his voice lowering slightly. "She's in my assault team, just transferred from the infantry department last month. I heard she came directly from the special training camp on the western front."

Jessica tilted her head. "Aina… sounds like someone you wouldn't want to mess with."

"You'd better not mess with her." Emil gave a wry smile. "She's an expert in heavy weaponry, especially machine guns, drum rifles, and short-barrel shotguns. The instructors call her the 'light armored vehicle.'"

"Wow, she actually has a name," Jessica smirked as she looked at her. "Wouldn't a name like 'Wolf' or 'Scorpion' be more fitting for someone like her?"

Emil chuckled. "Her original name was too complicated. I heard her brother used to be in a special forces unit, but he died in action. After that, she applied for a transfer here and simplified her name to 'Aina.' It's simple, easy to remember, and makes communication during missions more convenient."

When Jessica heard "brother died in action," she froze for a moment but didn't press further. Instead, she just gave a thoughtful "hmm."

Aina, in the corner, seemed to sense someone was watching her. She glanced over briefly, her eyes like the cold light of someone returning from the battlefield. But it was just a fleeting moment before she looked away.

Jessica turned back, whispering, "What's her ranking in the tactical assessment?"

"Top ten." Emil shrugged. "She rarely forms alliances, doesn't speak, and doesn't fight for resources. But every time, she leaves with a score above the passing line."

"By herself?"

"Yeah," he paused, his tone filled with respect. "She's the kind of 'teammate' you don't want to run into in the dense forest, especially if... you're not on her team."