Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 174. I want to Live

Back near the tents, the student encampment had begun to stir into reluctant life.

Inside one of the larger tents pitched near the edge of the field, Mia sat quietly beside Verena and Kaelira. The three had chosen not to mingle with the larger crowd, at least not yet.

The tent interior was surprisingly livable—three bunks stacked vertically, a table and chair bolted to the floor, a makeshift fan humming with minimal power, and a corner-mounted water filter dripping into a dented steel container.

Verena was busy rummaging through the drawers. A few seconds later, she pulled out a small white box, then another. She tilted one open, revealing silver foil packets and tiny glass vials.

"Well, look at that..." she muttered, juggling the bottles in one hand, her voice laced with bitterness. "Depression pills, anxiety meds... sleeping agents. They knew."

She turned to the other two girls, shaking her head in disbelief.

"They knew we’d suffer the moment we arrived. And yet they still dragged us here. Forcing children to fight."

Kaelira raised an eyebrow, not even looking up from her book. "Children? Really?" she said, flatly. "Girl... most of you are pushing twenty. Some of us already are. Don’t go lumping us into the toddler category just because you’re nostalgic."

Verena scoffed, "Yeah? And that’s not old? Do you even know how ancient some of our instructors are? Or the nobles who govern this continent?"

Kaelira shut the book with a thump. "No. Should I?"

Verena grinned, teeth flashing. "Miss Celia’s over two hundred years old."

Kaelira blinked. "Wait—what?"

"Yup," Verena said, tossing a bottle onto the bed. "Two hundred and ten, give or take. Most of the noble higher-ups are Rank ★★★★★★ or higher. Once you hit that level, you’re basically immortal for a while. Five hundred-year lifespans are the norm."

Kaelira’s jaw dropped slightly. "That’s not fair. That’s unnatural."

Mia, who had been silently listening, finally chimed in, her voice calm, matter-of-fact. "It’s the price of power. High-ranking nobles refine their mana into something purer—closer to a core that stabilizes their lifeforce. It slows decay. They get stronger, and time moves slower for them."

She glanced at the pills Verena had discarded.

"In comparison, we’re infants playing with makeshift weapons."

Verena gave a faint nod. "Exactly. If you actually studied the system curriculum, you’d know this. It’s not even that advanced."

Kaelira’s eyes narrowed, her voice tightening. "Yeah? Well, not all of us had the luxury to study in pristine academies. Some of us had real shit to deal with. So maybe keep your facts and condescension to yourself, miss textbook."

Verena flinched. The fire in Kaelira’s voice was sudden, but not uncalled for. The air in the tent tensed.

"I didn’t mean it like that..." Verena said after a moment, her voice softening. "I just—sorry. I assumed things. You hang around Cassius a lot, so I just... expected you to be like him."

Kaelira leaned back against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. She let out a long sigh.

"I assumed you would say that... you have deep seated hatred for the guy."

Verena waited, clearly expecting more.

Kaelira closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke quietly. "He helped me. With something... personal. Something I won’t share. But I owe him for it."

Verena looked unconvinced. "You talk like he’s some hero. A really good guy... mind you I would rather believe a monster capable of destroying the world is a cutesy cat then Cassius being a hero."

Kaelira opened her eyes. "He’s not. He’s cocky. A bit Rude. Mostly Detached. But he’s not heartless. He hides more than he lets on. There’s a scared side to him—buried deep, but it’s there. You just don’t see it unless you want to."

A silence passed.

Verena looked away first.

"Whatever," she muttered. "I don’t care enough to dig into his trauma. I just want to live through this freak show."

She tossed the pills back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

"Well," she continued, rising to her feet. "We probably shouldn’t hole up in here forever. Let’s go check if any of the other students are remotely useful. It wouldn’t hurt to get a few more members—assuming we can find anyone who doesn’t wet themselves at the sound of leaves rustling."

Mia nodded. "Agreed. But we need people who can contribute. If they’re weak, scared, or clinging to false bravado, they’ll just get us killed."

Kaelira grinned. "Yeah. Keep the team small. We’re not looking for VIP seats to the frontlines."

Verena smirked. "Like I said." freeweɓnovel-cøm

They stepped out of the tent.

The open field outside was a sea of unease. Students milled about like ants in a glass jar. Some were huddled together in tight circles. Others stood alone, arms folded, backs against trees or posts, eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

Then there were the ones who hadn’t found a group.

Dozens of them, sitting or crouched against the perimeter fencing, their uniforms dirtied, their faces pale. Shaking. Sobbing.

The sound of muffled cries carried through the thick air.

Verena’s hand hovered near her bow, her lips pressed into a hard line. "It’s worse than I thought..."

Mia didn’t speak at first. Her face had paled. She looked around, scanning the scattered students—the ones who weren’t even trying to stand, the ones who’d probably frozen when reality hit them too hard.

Kaelira squinted. "They failed their first mission, maybe. Faced death and broke. These are the privileged types—the ones who thought this world was all sunshine and rainbows."

A boy nearby vomited into the grass.

Another student sat with his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth, muttering numbers under his breath.

Verena sighed. "And these are supposed to be the future defenders of Cronica?"

Mia looked away. "They’re scared."

Kaelira scoffed. "Fear’s fine. Drowning in it is a choice."

None of them said anything more.

Suddenly, a figure stepped into the middle of the field—boldly, purposefully.

Blonde hair fell in elegant waves behind her. Her violet eyes, held something rare: resolve.

Freya Winterbane.

She wore no armor. No sword at her waist. Just a fitted student uniform and confidence. She stood tall in the center of the clearing, clasping her hands in front of her chest as if in silent prayer with her eyes closed.

Then, at last, she spoke.

"Guys..."

The word was soft, but it carried. The murmurs paused. Not entirely silenced, but hesitant. Curious.

Freya opened her eyes. She looked at the crowd—not above them, not through them, at them. Students who were pale with anxiety.

She didn’t flinch.

"We’re suffering," she said. "It’s true. No point denying that. This situation is horrible. Unjust. Frightening. And I know that. I feel that."

Some of the students began to shift. Their focus narrowed in on her. Not entirely convinced, but listening now.

Freya’s voice steadied. "But if we keep sitting here, waiting for something to save us, we’re going to die. If we don’t choose to change our situation... who will? If we let fear win, if we lose hope—then survival becomes impossible."

That’s when one of the students broke.

A girl, shaking and pale, with dried blood staining her uniform. Her face was streaked with tears, her mouth trembling with barely-contained rage.

She stood up.

Barely.

"They died," she spat. "My friends. My team. Do you know what happened to them? Do you know how they died?"

Freya said nothing.

The girl continued, voice rising, cracking. "They were ripped apart. By the monsters the instructors said were ’weaklings.’ They screamed. They begged. And I couldn’t help them. I ran. I ran like a coward."

A choked breath escaped her lips.

"They didn’t even get to die painlessly... they were torn apart. Bit by bit. Like the monsters were toying with them. And you’re telling me to keep hope?"

Verena, watching from the side, scoffed and leaned over to Kaelira, whispering under her breath, "She’s not sad because her friends died... she’s panicking because she knows she’s next."

Kaelira smirked. "Of course. You think any of them bonded enough to actually die for each other? Tch... I’d bet money she used her friends to get away. Wouldn’t even be surprised if she pushed one of them toward the beast to buy time."

Verena didn’t respond—just nodded slightly, the smirk fading into something colder.

Mia, however, stayed silent. Eyes forward. Lips sealed. She wasn’t interested in gossip.

Freya’s gaze softened. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t lash out. She simply tilted her head and asked, calmly:

"Then what?"

The girl blinked, thrown off. "What?"

Freya took a slow breath. "What’s your plan then? Cry until the monsters vanish? Sit here and shake until someone stronger saves you?"

The girl flinched. "That’s not what I—"

"I understand," Freya interrupted gently. "You’re scared. We all are. I’ve never faced death like this either. But if we don’t act—if we freeze—we’ll die the same way. Just slower."

A few more students turned toward her. The group was growing.

Freya nodded to herself and continued. "Miss Celia made it clear—this isn’t just about us anymore. The rifts are spreading. The world is fracturing. If we do nothing, people will die. Cities will fall. Not strangers. Not stories. Our families. Our homes."

The girl lowered her head, biting her lip, fighting fresh tears.

But Freya didn’t stop. Her words flowed now—measured, firm, yet oddly vulnerable.

"I don’t want to be a hero," she admitted. "I’m not chasing fame or medals or some grand legacy. I’m not here to ’honor’ my house name. I’m here because—truthfully?"

She hesitated.

"I’m a coward."

Gasps rippled through the students.

Freya nodded. "Yes. I said it. I’m terrified. I want to live. I want to grow up, fall in love, eat horrible food in some dingy market street, laugh at stupid jokes, and cry at sappy movies."

Her voice cracked slightly. Her hand curled tighter against her chest.

"I don’t want to die in this godforsaken forest. Not for pride. Not for reputation. Not for a name on a tombstone. I want to live."

And now... everyone was listening.

Dozens of eyes, wide and unblinking, were locked on her.

"But if I’m alone... I will die," she said simply. "We all will. You’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. The monsters are strong. But together, we have a chance. Not a promise. Not certainty. But a chance."

She looked around, at each frightened face. Even the sobbing girl had gone quiet.

"We can’t guarantee victory," Freya said. "But we can make sure we don’t go down without a fight. We can watch each other’s backs. We can cry, bleed, scream—but we’ll do it together. We’ll survive—not perfectly, not painlessly—but we will survive."

She took one step forward.

"So I ask you... will you help me?"

No one moved.

No one answered.

But their eyes—they weren’t hollow anymore.

The panic was still there. But so was something else.

A spark.

A flicker.

Hope.

Freya didn’t need applause. She just needed one of them to stand up.

And eventually... someone did.

A boy with a broken arm, limping, scarred—but standing. Then another. A girl who had lost her weapon but held a broken spear like a momento.

And slowly, the students began to rise—one by one.

Not because they believed they’d win.

But because they’d rather try together than die alone.

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