"Olivia, why was the video you posted recently like that? Are you seriously thinking of fully transitioning in that direction?"

"Should I say the theme for next year's Paris Collection is military look? It's not my taste, but it’s quite intriguing. I’m already curious about what kind of works will come out later."

Chatter.

Chatter.

As we gradually headed towards Fort Moore, Georgia—previously known as Fort Benning—I kept noticing scenes that I had repeatedly encountered with Logan. I kept seeing how vast Olivia's network was, how interconnected the fashion industry’s network was, and how intricately connected everything was, like a spider’s web.

That was the spectacle that unfolded before our eyes as we passed through the rough cities of Orlando and Jacksonville, traveling hundreds of kilometers north.

"If I knew this would happen, we should have just ignored whatever the shark kid was whining about and gone straight to Disney World, huh, Rookie?"

"Yeah, right. We’ve got two cars anyway. We’ll drop the owl off here and head off to have fun by ourselves. Should we tell Olivia to just catch up to us at Fort Moore later when the timing's right?"

"I can hear you guys, you know?"

"We meant you to hear it."

Though Olivia seemed about to sulk, the power balance here... Olivia was third in line. Logan and I were equally skilled in hand-to-hand combat—though Logan had a slight edge due to his tail—and Olivia... sadly, couldn't compete here.

Compared to the shark, polar bear, and anaconda—Olivia just didn’t make the cut. If we were judging purely on physical ability, she might not even be above Hotteok. Normally, that wouldn’t matter, but sometimes, it does.

After we teased Olivia for a while, she finally stopped the conversation, took flight like an owl, and shot off like one, leaving shoe prints on our backs.

Yeah, that hurt.

"Can’t stand waiting to talk for a minute?"

"But fashion talk is boring..."

"We’ve been running around in flip-flops and loose military uniforms, playing basketball in combat boots. We should have expected that this would be a totally different world."

"Who gave you guys faces and bodies that deserve standing ovations, no matter what look you wear? It's such a waste."

True, true.

But, as I once said, the great Confucius from the East said that while entering is at one's discretion, leaving is not. There won’t be any taking and giving back. From now on, Olivia, including me, would have to witness the three of us—the top physical and visual humans—doing ridiculous things.

And she too, having somehow reached EM-level, what was she thinking?

Honestly, these days, it wasn’t Olivia that scared me the most—it was the people from the fashion industry that Olivia was talking to.

Though we had escaped town under the pretense of "owl flying kicks," this hadn’t always been the case. There were times when, despite us teasing Olivia, people would suddenly approach us asking about the clothes and styles, trying to lure us into buying.

Now, it might be a bit obvious, but Logan and I were a bit more well-known. Though somewhat calculated, it was hard to flat-out reject the offers to wear or take free clothes from those selling or making them.

Hence, we ran away.

"Heh, to make us wear that cheap fabric, they'd have to raise the price."

"You wouldn’t wear it even if the price went up, you bastard."

"Of course not. Who in their right mind would wear something airy and flowy? Maybe if it were Rookie, but not me."

"I don’t like skirts either. And if I wear one, my butt sticks out."

While Olivia made a face as if wondering, "What kind of conversation is this?" Logan and I were having a ridiculous chat that fit the term "Dumb and Dumber."

But since Olivia had always been around us, she joined the conversation in just a few minutes—so the dumb duo became a dumb trio in no time.

There were other things to discuss.

"Let’s grab a bite to eat. Do you think the smell will stick if we eat in the car?"

"There's a food truck with a bunch of tables, do we really need to eat in the car?"

"If we talk outside, it’ll get annoying. It’s better to just talk quietly in the car."

"Then let’s eat in the park nearby."

And so, we bought about 50 hot dogs.

We also bought some of those massive-sized colas that Americans drink like Jeju Samdasu, and so our meal was set to take place in a park near the food truck. Luckily, it was the southernmost part of the U.S., so even though it was November, the weather wasn’t too cold.

It was 3 PM, meaning it wasn’t lunch hour, so we wouldn’t be noticed by many people who were out for a meal.

After finding a quiet spot in the grass, we used the Icarus Gear to fry all the bugs within a 15-meter radius with a pulse, then officially began our meal. We even turned on optical camouflage and soundproofing.

"Around 6 hours ago, I got a message. They said we can enter Fort Moore today and that they'll assign a guide."

"Very considerate of them. But do we really need someone to guide us? You've been there before. After you finished the USAF combat diving course, you must have gone to Fort Benning. The Army Airborne School is there, right?"

"True. Thinking about it now, it’s a bit of a shame. When I regained my memories, I thought I’d be at the 24th STS. I had my red beret hanging at home... I had put myself through hell to get my ATC, FAC qualifications and AFSC codes."

ATC, Air Traffic Controller.

FAC, Forward Air Controller.

AFSC, Air Force Specialty Code.

24th STS, 24th Special Tactics Squadron, a special unit alongside DEVGRU, Delta, ISA, and CIA SAC—strictly speaking, not part of Tier 1 special forces but still highly prestigious.

Olivia, in the other world, was an elite operator, recognized as an irreplaceable asset by the U.S. Air Force. She was highly skilled in Air Control, Air Rescue, Special Reconnaissance, and Tactical Air Support.

She likely held all four AFSC codes starting with 1Z, meaning she could perform those four specialties at expert level.

It was quite a remarkable career, and it was no wonder that when she regained her memories, she had been wandering for a while.

But moving on.

Logan’s statement was simple. Olivia had received various trainings to become a CCT in the Air Force, and among those, she had spent about three weeks at Fort Benning (now known as Fort Moore since May 2023) for basic parachute training.

This meant Olivia was quite familiar with how things worked there.

"Rookie, I get it, but for you... it must really sting. All that experience wasted."

"Well, if I’d served somewhere else, there might have been some possibility. I’m 39 now... if I had more than 13 years of service, I could have at least submitted an application."

"Seems familiar... What about 19ZXB and 19ZXC, TACP or Combat Rescue Officer? Is it too late to apply? Air Force officers can serve until they’re 39, right?"

"Well, it is possible. If I submit the application within 2 months."

As the hot dogs disappeared one by one, I continued listening to their conversation while also reflecting on something.

To solve this issue, we needed to discuss something fundamental—why is there an age limit for enlistment? It’s quite simple: once you exceed a certain age, your physical abilities begin to decline. After 30, it becomes tough to keep up with younger recruits in their 20s.

In other words, age isn’t really the issue; it’s the decline in physical ability over time.

That means there’s room to negotiate.

"Should I ask Henry?"

"...Huh?"

"I've got an idea. Let me hear it."

With the stage set, it was time to speak.

In short, the idea was simple. If a person is an Evolver and their aging process is drastically slowed, then if they meet or exceed the military’s physical, mental, and knowledge requirements, they should be allowed to enlist regardless of age.

I figured this wouldn’t be a huge issue, no matter which party was in control. They’d pass it easily.

Since the military isn’t sending anyone’s son to war, why would they care? They’d just pass it with little fuss.

And so, I asked Olivia.

"So, you’ll make sure I can go later, right?"

"...Of course, Rookie! You're the only one!"

"Ah, hey, hey. Don’t hug me that tightly. You almost spilled the cola."

Olivia gave me a tight hug. It sounded cute, but honestly, I almost got buried in her chest for 20 seconds.

As we struggled in that weird situation, Logan’s voice came from the side.

"Others are dying to go somewhere they don't even want to go, and here you are, so happy..."

Let’s just pretend we didn’t hear that.

Of course, Olivia pretended not to hear either.

With the thought of possibly returning to CCT, Olivia and I spent the rest of the day passing by.

"Looks like it’s starting. I guess a lot of people brought their own guns."

"Well, if they’re even bonding with EOD robots, it’s not surprising they'd bring their own gear and weapons. Many don't even trust professional gunsmiths and clean and modify their own guns."

"I see. But for someone like you, Loren Tina, I remember you weren’t so picky about weapons. Surprising."

"Well, that’s just how people are, isn’t it?"

As I responded to Loren Tina’s comment, I took in the sight of various vehicles coming into Fort Moore and the people getting out.

U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, National Guard, Coast Guard, Canada, Denmark, Norway, Germany, the UK, Brazil, Mexico, China, Taiwan, Russia, Japan, Korea... invitations had been sent to all the major countries, and now people were arriving to step foot on Fort Moore's grounds before the actual competition began.

Though the crowd was diverse, their experience was undeniable.

However, among them, there were no people with snake tails, feathers on their heads, or those who resembled polar bears.

‘Still no word from them, huh? Well, they’ll show up on their own.’

‘Though I was asked to make sure to guide Olivia around the base, I’m sure she can handle it on her own when she gets here.’

With that, I kept an eye out for the incoming people, knowing that this would be a great opportunity to tease Rookie later.

The time was nearing for a great reunion.

As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the situation unfolding in front of me. The arrival of the competitors, each with their own backgrounds and specialties, all gathered here for the sniper competition. The anticipation was building, but I still had a lingering feeling that something was off. We had been waiting for the familiar faces to arrive, and though there were no signs of them yet, I had faith they would make their way here.

"Hey, you think they're going to make it on time?"

"I’m sure they will. They know how to handle things. They won’t be late, not with this competition on the line."

"I hope so. If they don’t show up soon, we might have to take matters into our own hands and bring them ourselves."

Despite my confident words, there was still that uneasiness. The world we lived in wasn’t predictable, and things didn’t always go according to plan. I just hoped that the ones I was expecting would show up as promised.

As the competition grew closer, I felt the weight of the situation sink in. It wasn’t just about winning; it was about proving something far greater—our skills, our legacy, and everything we’d worked for. I could see the dedication and discipline in everyone’s eyes, and I knew they understood what was at stake.

"Alright, let’s get ready. I’m sure it won’t be long before everything kicks off," I said, trying to steady myself and the rest of the team.

It was time to focus. The game was about to begin, and there was no turning back now.