I Got a Cheat and Moved to Another World, so I Want to Live as I Like

I seriously went to pilots' school every day.

Honestly, it's in.

When I'm eating, or before I go to bed, I keep thinking about simulated combat.

(It's like when you're passionate about MMORPG)

I think so.

At that time, I was spending all my time on adventures online, except for work and sleep time.

Meals, while.

The bath is only for the shortest time.

Sleep time, too, really.

Holidays naturally run from morning to morning.

(That was really bad)

Now that I think about it, I was doing a pretty good job of crossing.

The key to graduation was being sent on a long business trip to the fire scene.

When I decided to travel to the scene in the back of the mountain, I was desperate that I couldn't continue.

But if I kept going like that, either my job or my body, would have been broken.

Looking back, maybe I was lucky enough to graduate.

And right now, I'm not going that far, but fine, I'm passionate about it.

(MMORPG is like the early days, when I'm growing up)

Me, I think so.

Now I'm a growing mock fight in the Golem.

(Funny thing is, I can't help it)

Even though it is, it hasn't come as far back as it was, for one thing, thanks to time limits.

(No matter how much you want to play, three commas in the morning and three in the afternoon are the limit.)

Thanks to this, I can take care of my family with a regular life and going to a whorehouse.

Not to mention the family, Imosque and Dangolo.

And even today, I floated in the morning and crept through the gates of the Pilot's School.

Then a few days later at noon.

I looked back at my growth and was satisfied as I grabbed lunch in the dining room.

You've done better, and now even in advanced classes, you're going to be able to reach it.

(Again, that worked)

I think.

My grades have soared, two technologies.

One is shooting while moving.

(I can shoot with precision, even as I travel)

As before, every time I shot, I didn't stop, I could do the shooting while I ran away.

In my case, this is a hit.

The people who insulted them, such as shooting while traveling, could not have hit them, devoured the arrows of light (magic missiles) without exception.

And where his leg stops for a moment, he is once again shot into the arrow of light (magic missile).

In the meantime, the distance from me keeps getting away.

It was a must-win pattern.

(It was a little surprising that the others couldn't)

While moving, hit the person you are moving. There are very few who can do this so far.

And the other thing is, it's traveling magic.

When you step into the cockpit pedal, it's an explosive wind magic activated in the Barnier section.

Initially I couldn't control my posture and was slammed to the ground while spinning, but not now.

Even with only one leg activated, I could accelerate like an arrow without losing my posture.

(No one can use the magic of movement more than me)

To that confidence, my nose swells unexpectedly.

(It was also surprising that the others could not control it as well as I did)

There were a few skilled users, but they were still lower than me.

Initially, he was packed with distance by this sharp acceleration of his opponent, brought into melee and crushed.

But now, on the contrary, with this acceleration, we don't let them get close.

(Again, I guess my high level of operational accuracy due to magic manipulation is making this difference)

I draped my head and deeply appreciated the many women who polished up their magic manipulations, plain children, giant titty wives, and instructional light patrol teachers.

(But still, up and down. That's what I said about advanced classes)

With his mobility, I outnumber most of his opponents, but at one point, with skillful guidance, he was pushed into the corner.

Also at one point, he was read through his traveling magic destinations and received accurate shooting at the landing site.

In both cases, it was supplemented where the manoeuvre had fallen and brought into melee.

In melee, I'm no better than you.

Too expensive a magic manipulation technique becomes a vendetta, causing the Golem's impact to be felt as pain, making the body immobile.

(How do I attack, should I?)

I was thinking about some people who had never won.

It's a good time.

But in that good time, a guy showed up to give him water.

"Hey, coward."

Niyanya, I'm a laughing brother.

My age is probably in my mid-teens.

His face is laughing, but his eyes are filled with ever-blackening sentiment.

This brother was recently outrun by me.

My most recent score is nine to one. Honestly, I don't feel like losing anymore.

You don't want to admit it, like this, while putting together a nasty aura, sometimes it gives me a little bit of a fling.

I'm uncomfortable, so I'll cut the trump card from the start.

"Next comma, you want to play a game?

Your brother openly looks at you.

You know you can't win.

The Pilot's School is meritocracy, so if you have the power to beat your opponent in simulated combat, you can shut him up this way.

"You know, I was gonna win."

But in my case, this is how they eat me down.

That was because of the way I fought.

The only way I fight is to unleash attack magic while running away, that's all.

As a result, all wins are dominant wins.

There is not a single victory in driving the opponent out of action.

This is what made me call cowardice, cowardice, and the appearance of those who didn't acknowledge my victory.

"Tell the instructor."

If you're not convinced, you just have to offer it to the referee's instructor.

I don't even have eyes.

My brother, when he pounded his tongue, kicked the leg of the table I was eating and walked away.

(Stinks like trouble)

The meal was almost over, so no harm done.

However, it was terribly unpleasant that they ruined my pleasant mood because of it.

It was unpleasant, so I decided to purify my mind in the afternoon, looking at the female students.

The combination of simulated combat shall be decided by the instructor, unless an offer is made by both sides.

And I concentrated on watching if the opponent was a female student.

(Cherry blossom)

Floating in the back of my brain, I whine small as I feel the footage from the Golem perspective.

They have braided tits.

Including the instructor, those super boobs that single out a man's gaze, but the triangle you see like this now, is pretty good.

The way I fight tends to prolong my game time because I want to win judgment.

And if I can afford it, this is how we're gonna have a viewing party.

(Ooh!)

Trying to catch my golem somehow, braided tits super boobs step in a lot of pedals.

At that time, the center of the triangle also deepens all the time.

(Whoa!)

To say that you are accustomed to seeing, what is preferable shakes your mind over and over again.

(My heart is purified)

The unpleasant thoughts that have sprung up on my brother earlier melt away.

(Again, women, wonderful)

I sincerely thank my opponent for his braided boobs.

Fortunately, there were a lot of matchups with female students that day because of my good everyday behavior.

I kept admiring the triangle hidden behind my thighs, under my tight skirt, enthusiastically as I enjoyed the exhibition painting.

After the simulated battle, leave your seats behind as you loosen them.

Then, mistakenly, with a disdainful look, they said "sketchy," "perverted."

He's a ponytail kid who looked like he was fighting earlier.

That's the advanced class, they seemed to find out. Shit, let's weigh ourselves a little.