Dark Moon

After spending thirty days in the game world of Dark Moon and returning automatically to reality, I swallowed hard.

Thirty days inside Dark Moon — and not a single second had passed in the real world. Maybe that was why the entire month of memories came flooding in all at once. It didn't hurt, and it didn't leave me disoriented. Just a faint sense of dislocation, nothing more.

Ugh. So I had a wet dream. No. 31 would be tough, but Instructor Lexy… if I played my cards right, I could probably get her into bed…

I clicked my tongue in regret and sorted through the memories.

What interested me most, of course, was everything related to magic.

…I remember the formulas. I remember them, but… actually calculating them is a nightmare.

Knowing a mathematical formula and being able to solve it were two very different things.

No Astral. No mana roads. Using magic in reality is impossible.

Magic in the real world and magic inside Dark Moon were fundamentally different. I wrote magic off cleanly and moved on.

That doesn't mean I walked away empty-handed.

I raised my hand.

Blue-white current gathered into my lightning, coiling into a sphere — Electric Spark, a 2-Class spell. Technically, not a single magical formula had gone into it.

Anything close to lightning-type magic… I should be able to reproduce with my thunderbolt power.

The sphere of lightning wavered unsteadily and winked out. Naturally. Getting it to work smoothly would take practice.

What matters is the feel of casting lightning magic.

The more my self inside Dark Moon used lightning-type spells, the sharper that sensation became. Experience left its mark through memory.

Eventually, I should even be able to pull off Thunder Bolt.

I'd only ducked into a game world for what felt like a moment, and roughly two thousand points had piled up. The penalties I'd set meant I earned more here than in other game worlds.

I hesitated, then reached for my smartphone.

I can get stronger like this and rake in points on the side? Absolute jackpot. No way I'm grinding out pointless military hell for nothing — I'll make smart use of auto-progress too.

Five months had already passed since I'd become No. 211. Most of the project test subjects had reached the 2-Class threshold.

We went out on missions two or three times a month, and the frequency kept climbing. Kids who failed either died or came back crippled. Dying was the better option. Lose an arm or a leg and you were only good as lab meat.

I'd already decided I'd rather die than end up a cripple. Living like a rat in a glass box was not on my agenda.

I'd made Corporal. Most of the others were still Private First Class. No. 31, for the record, was a Sergeant. The unit's favoritism toward her hadn't changed one bit.

Five months.

A short stretch of time, but a lot had happened in it.

Looking back slowly, though, it barely felt like two months had gone by.

Every so often I get this weird sense of dislocation — like I moved, but it wasn't really me moving.

I had a few problems on my plate right now.

One of them was lust. And No. 212.

No. 212, who bunked right next to me in the barracks, had gone through a growth spurt over the last three months — body and magical rank both.

She was a 2-Class mage with a gift for support magic.

She'd had a short brown bob, but lately she'd started growing it out. Semi-long, I guess you'd call it. Her brown hair now reached around her chest. Her breasts and hips had filled out, and after all the practice, her acting had gotten terrifyingly good. These days even I had a hard time telling when she was putting on a performance.

"No. 211. Same as usual tonight."

After evening roll call, once the fluorescent lights in the ceiling went dark, No. 212 whispered quietly. She cast a spell under the covers. Magic wrapped around both our bodies — Silence. A noise-dampening spell.

"Do you really need Silence for this?"

"Just in case. Wouldn't want to bother the others."

No. 212 slipped her hand under my blanket. Her fingers moved without hesitation until they found mine and locked tight. When I turned my head toward her, she was staring at the ceiling with her eyes closed, pretending she had no idea what she was doing.

Three weeks ago, I'd saved her on a mission. From that day on, she'd started coming on to me without any subtlety at all.

Get close to the strong and your odds of surviving go up. I get that. I'm not about to blame No. 212 for it.

She never crossed the line. A calculated flash of cleavage here, holding my hand until she fell asleep there. Nothing about her behavior was the problem. The problem was my libido.

…When it builds up, I deal with it in the bathroom. Even that's hitting its limit lately. The urge's been stacking faster and faster.

Part of it was No. 212. The other part was the dirty dreams about No. 31 that kept showing up every so often.

I'm about ready to go find a whore and just get it out of my system.

But my status was slave and test subject. I couldn't just walk off base and hire a prostitute.

Once I was sure No. 212 was asleep, I let go of her hand. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force myself under as fast as possible.

No. 31's naked body floated up behind my eyelids.

The soft skin I'd seen when she went over the waterfall. The shape of her pussy.

…Fuck. Sleep's not happening like this.

I sat up on my bunk. There was only one way to cool the lust boiling under my skin.

On my way out of the barracks toward the bathroom, I glanced at No. 212 and No. 31 without thinking.

Somehow, a few months back, I'd awakened an ability that let me see other people's erogenous zones.

Utterly useless.

My other problem was magical rank.

I'd deliberately stopped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠training my magic. I could feel the 3-Class threshold sitting one step ahead of me.

I'm growing too fast.

No. 31, born with a Witch Factor and a natural genius for magic, was still 2-Class. If I jumped ahead of her to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠3-Class, my talent would be exposed. The right timing would be half a year after she hit 3-Class, at the earliest.

The mana breathing method I learned is the one the unit handed out. I modified it some, but hiding my rank with it is impossible.

On top of that, I went through physical exams on a fixed schedule.

Hiding a rank required special magic or a special item. A few pieces from the Dark Moon game came to mind — all of them impossible to get in my current situation.

This is so fucking frustrating I could die.

I clenched my teeth where no one could see.

"No. 211."

No. 212 suddenly stepped in close. I shifted back a half-step and faced her.

"No. 212. Something up?"

"Mission schedule just dropped."

I took the papers she held out. Checking mission schedules had become routine by now. This week's First Squad assignments listed five of us, myself included. The other four were on a group mission. Mine was solo. The actual details weren't written down — those I'd get from the instructor in charge.

Mission starts at dawn tomorrow, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I need my gear packed by tonight. Instructor in charge is Lexy.

A two-person mission with Lexy was predictable. Sniper support for friendly forces. I'd done it enough times that I wasn't worried.

I passed the papers to No. 88, another name on the list. The second he took them, he let out a long sigh. Nobody here liked missions. There was always a chance of dying on one.

"No. 211. Want help packing?"

"Appreciate the offer, but I'm good. I can handle it myself."

"Yeah?"

No. 212 smiled faintly. There was genuine goodwill in it. I forced my eyes not to drop lower.

After dinner, Instructor Lexy called me to her office. A faint smell of chocolate hung in the air.

"No. 211. You eat yet?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sorry for pulling you in during free time."

"It's about tomorrow's mission, isn't it. I understand."

"Don't bother packing gear. You'll be resupplied on-site."

"What kind of mission is it?"

Lexy crooked a finger. I caught the meaning and sat in the chair beside her desk. She pointed at the map spread across the surface.

"Rumel Forest, south of the Freesel Kingdom. Where the border overlaps with the Hapail Republic."

Freesel and Hapail were currently under a ceasefire.

"Sniping Hapail soldiers, then?"

"We're under a ceasefire. Obviously not."

Lexy laughed and waved the idea off. I put on an awkward face. Officially there was a ceasefire, but everyone knew unofficial small-scale clashes were practically daily routine.

"Lieutenant Olkor of the Freesel Strategic Command got grabbed by resistance fighters while on leave. They've gone to ground in Rumel Forest."

"A rescue mission."

My expression hardened. I'd run rescue ops twice before. Both had failed. The hostages had died under enemy torture before we could reach them.

"This one's a little different. Rescue is secondary. Priority one is elimination."

"…So the military's cutting him loose."

"It's not only that. There's intel saying this guy is a Hapail spy. Nothing confirmed, but… command decided to clean house while they have the chance. If you can extract him comfortably, extraction is still the goal."

"Capture" felt like a more accurate word than "rescue," but I didn't push it.

Looking at the crease between Lexy's brows, I could tell she wasn't thrilled about this mission either.

"What about support?"

"None. Just the two of us. Rumel Forest is border territory — support isn't possible. Hapail has eyes on the area too. One wrong move and you start a war. And we're running this as mercenaries, not soldiers."

"…That's going to be rough."

"Not 'rough.' Extremely rough. They call it a forest, but Rumel's basically a jungle."

I pictured a jungle. It was awful. Felt like getting dropped straight into hell. I'd have taken the northern snow mountains over this any day.

"Isn't this the kind of job special forces should be handling?"

I grumbled even though I already knew what she'd say. I couldn't help myself.

"You're an outstanding sniper, so you'll end up in special forces eventually. Strategic Command wants to give you the experience early. It'll be hard work, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it's not that difficult a mission."

"How many days are we looking at?"

"Two, if we're lucky? We'll just have to pray nothing goes sideways."

I let my shoulders sag. Lexy laughed, planted both hands on my shoulders, and kneaded them.

"Why so gloomy? First date with this big sis in forever and you're already sulking?"

"…A life-or-death date in a sweltering forest, yeah."

"Hahaha. It's all experience, experience. Drink something and cheer up."

"Thank you, Instructor Lexy."

The orange juice that had been descending toward me went right back up.

"You can call me Sis Lexy, you know?"

She said it with a warm, familiar smile.

"…Sis Lexy."

The orange juice came back down.

I drank it while studying the Rumel Forest map. It was identical to the one I'd seen in the Dark Moon game.

Conveniently, the thing I want is in Rumel Forest. Probably hidden in the exact same spot as in the game.

I cooled the rising excitement with another swallow of orange juice.

The real problem is staying out of Lexy's sight… Here's hoping something unexpected happens on the mission.