Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 175. Night Before a Storm

Four hours had passed since Freya’s speech.

And now—just as the sky bled into evening, everyone stood outside, gathered once again.

But this time... all eyes were on her.

Freya Winterbane.

She stood tall at the center of the open space. Around her, the ever-present circle of elites remained—Zyon, Evelyn, Art, Leon, Amelia, Lilith, and Celeste.

Each one wore a faint smile. Their presence alone offered a false sense of stability to the anxious students huddled in small clumps.

Freya, however, kept her expression unreadable.

Then Art moved.

He strolled up casually, his hands shoved in his coat pockets, posture lazy but voice sharp with that signature cutting amusement.

He leaned in slightly and patted her on the shoulder. "Now, that’s the child of a war commander. Manipulative with a pinch of grace. Bravo."

His voice was low—only for her ears—but it struck harder than any scream.

Freya turned her head, her violet eyes narrowing. "That wasn’t manipulation," she whispered back. "There was no malice. I gave them hope. That’s what they needed."

Art let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Sure, sure... that’s what they all say. Leaders. Martyrs. Politicians. Saints. Same old song." His lips curled. "But hey, I’m not complaining. You got the job done, Commander. So... tell us. What’s the master plan now?"

Freya didn’t reply. Not to him.

Instead, she turned to face the gathered students. Dozens of faces. All ages. Some injured. Some terrified. Some trying too hard to look calm. All of them... looking to her for direction.

She swallowed down the weight in her throat.

"Friends," she began, voice rising above the low murmur of conversation, "We can’t afford to sit and wait for the monsters to strike. That would give them the advantage—and we can’t let that happen."

Her words rippled through the crowd. The tension simmered.

Freya continued. "So we’re taking the initiative. We’ll split up. Survey the surrounding terrain. Seek out the rifts before they overwhelm us. If we move first, we dictate the battlefield. Not them."

Her voice held firm.

"We need to form scouting teams. Groups that can safely navigate different sections of the forest and report any monster sights or signs of unstable mana. The faster we locate the rifts, the better our chances of surviving the next wave."

Someone from the crowd—thin, pale, his arm in a sling—raised a hand. His voice trembled as he asked, "H-How many people per team?"

Freya paused. Thought. Then spoke, "Ideally five. That’s the golden number. Enough to watch each other’s backs, not so many that stealth becomes impossible. But if you can’t get exactly five, do your best. Do not go alone."

More murmuring followed.

"Any other questions?" she asked.

Silence.

Freya gave a small bow of her head. "Good. Then we move forward."

She straightened. "You have one hour to form your teams. It’s already evening. We’ll begin our first survey sweep at nightfall. And remember—our goal is to scout, not engage. Avoid confrontation unless it’s absolutely necessary."

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away. Her steps were brisk, purposeful. Lilith and Celeste followed close behind, the three of them heading toward the temporary command tent at the edge of camp.

Once inside, the weight dropped off her shoulders.

The flap closed behind them, and for the first time all day, Freya let her guard down just enough to breathe.

She collapsed onto the lower bunk without ceremony, while Celeste climbed up to the top and Lilith dropped herself sideways onto the middle bed.

Lilith stretched like a cat, then rolled onto her side, grinning. "Hey~ that was pretty cool out there. You really looked like a real leader for once."

Freya smirked, turning her head on the pillow. "Looked like one? Not acted like one? Ouch. That hurts."

Lilith grinned wider. "Don’t worry. You’ll get better. You’ll have plenty of chances to fail before you start succeeding."

Freya snorted a laugh. "Encouragement, huh? That’s what passes for morale in this group?"

Lilith winked. "Morale? Babe, I’m just honest."

Freya’s smile softened. "It’s good to see you back to your usual self."

Lilith shrugged, tossing a pillow into the air. "Yeah, well. I’m not some pampered princess, y’know? I’ve had my share of nightmares. You don’t survive in a house like mine without growing a spine. That bastard was just... strong."

She winced dramatically. "That wasn’t even a fight. That guy just looked at me and I flew into a wall. Like a ragdoll. That wasn’t power. That was straight-up humiliation."

Celeste groaned from above, rolling over with a thud. "Ugh. Don’t remind me of that bastard. I still don’t know who he is. The way he acted... His existence is like a sore spot for me. I swear, I’ve never felt so... irrelevant."

She kicked her leg against the mattress. "Gods. Now my mood’s ruined again. Thanks Lilith!!"

Lilith blinked innocently. "How’s that my fault?"

Celeste leaned over the edge of her bed, glaring. "Because you brought him up!"

Lilith blinked again, deadpan. "I was processing trauma."

Celeste threw her pillow down at her. "Process quieter."

...

Night descended like a thick, suffocating curtain.

The camp, dimly lit by artificial mana lanterns and faint campfires, was now alive with movement. Teams had formed. Some well-coordinated.

Others hastily put together. The majority had four or five members each, just enough to move efficiently and defend themselves if the need arose.

But not everyone was lucky.

Scattered near the fringes of the camp were the outliers—students with broken limbs, mana exhaustion, or those suffering mental damage from their first encounter with the horrors of the rift. No one wanted them. They were branded liabilities before even being given a chance.

And yet, Freya—who had taken command without ever asking for the role—made it a point to approach each of them.

One by one, she met their eyes.

One by one, she assigned them directions to scout.

With calm, firm words, she reminded them, "Do not engage. You’re not here to fight. Your job is to search, observe, and survive. Nothing more."

Once the orders were given, the teams began dispersing.

Some laughed nervously. Others stayed dead silent. Many simply looked straight ahead and walked, shoulders stiff and weapons clutched.

Among those teams was a three-member unit walking along a southern withered path that led toward the edge of the Weeping Forest’s southwestern rim.

Mia. Kaelira. Verena.

An unlikely trio, if there ever was one.

Earlier, Art had approached them with a condescending smile and an offer to "join the winning team," to which Verena very enthusiastically declined—with her middle finger.

The two had nearly come to blows. Verena’s short sword had already been halfway unsheathed before Mia stepped in, physically dragging her back.

Kaelira had been zero help—far too entertained, eyes sparkling as she silently rated their posture and reaction times.

Mia had to manage both of them alone.

Now, the three walked along the dried earth path.

To cut through the silence, Mia spoke first.

"I’m getting bored," she muttered. "Let’s pass time... I don’t know. Share something. Anything we like or hate."

Verena shrugged, kicking a rock aside as she looked up at the sky. "I don’t really like anything. But I sure as hell hate nobles. Every spoiled brat that breathes privilege and exhales arrogance. They walk like the world owes them applause just for existing. ’Oh, I’m a Von-this’ or ’Lady-that’—please. Most of them can’t even wipe their own asses without a maid."

Kaelira chuckled. "That’s actually pretty good."

She twirled a dagger between her fingers, eyes scanning the trees ahead lazily. "I guess I hate hypocrites. Especially the kind that blame others while being guilty of the exact same thing. You know, the ’How dare you betray me!’ types while they’re stabbing you in the back."

She looked sideways at Verena. "Honestly, you kind of look like one."

Verena stopped walking. A vein bulged near her temple.

"Oh, you little bi—" She raised her arm, halfway to slapping Kaelira upside the head.

Mia threw herself between them. "Stop!" fгeewebnovёl.com

She sighed, already feeling the headache bloom. "Why do you two bicker like this? No—worse. You two fight like bored children. At least kids argue over toys. You two do it because it’s fun."

Kaelira blinked. "Isn’t that why people live? To do what’s fun?"

Then her eyes drifted toward Mia with a smirk.

"Well... except your brother. That bastard lives for you, apparently."

Mia blinked. Her pace slowed.

"...What?"

Kaelira tilted her head, confused by Mia’s reaction. "What? He never told you?"

Mia shook her head slowly, wary. "...Told me what exactly?"

Kaelira’s expression became thoughtful. "I mean... he kind of bragged about it. He said his reason for living was his family. You, specifically. He didn’t say it like some poetic idiot or a philosopher. It was just... quiet. Matter-of-fact. Like he’d already decided a long time ago."

There was silence for a few moments.

Mia lowered her gaze, hands slowly curling into fists at her sides.

Verena, meanwhile, rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ugh. Please. He was manipulating you, Kaelira. The guy’s a walking con artist with a God complex. I bet he even knew what kind of sob story would work on you. You’re too innocent—he probably saw you as easy bait."

Kaelira snorted. "Innocent? Please. I’ve stabbed 120 people this year."

Verena blinked. "Wait—what?!"

Kaelira shrugged casually. "They were bandits. And one merchant who might have been a bandit. Or maybe I misread the vibe. He had weird teeth."

Verena just stared at her. "I... what is wrong with you?!"

Kaelira ignored her, turning back to Mia. "Anyway, I thought it was admirable, really. I mean, who even lives for someone else these days? Most people can’t even commit to themselves."

Mia stayed silent.

Her eyes lingered on the forest ahead, distant and unreadable. Something in her chest shifted—but she locked it away with practiced ease.

Verena crossed her arms. "Well, he is lying and that’s exactly why he’s impure. He just feels fake. Slimy. I swear, I can feel the wretchedness rolling off him. His soul must be black as soot."

Kaelira tilted her head innocently. "Maybe he’s impure because he’s not a virgin?"

Verena gagged. "What?! That has nothing to do with it!"

Kaelira looked serious. "It could be. Purity. Virginity. It’s all connected."

Then she smirked. "So am I pure then?"

Verena turned red. "Y-Yeah, I mean—obviously."

Kaelira pointed smugly at Mia. "See? Told you. He’s impure because he’s not a virgin."

Mia let out a long, long breath. "I can’t believe I’m risking my life with the two of you."

Kaelira grinned. "We keep things interesting."

Verena scowled. "You mean you keep things irritating."

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l