Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!

After the little antic of Art and Lilith, the atmosphere of the group had considerably softened. With that, they all started marching away, heading deeper into the Deathland to train.

The large group naturally split into two clusters. On one side: Zyon, Art, Lilith, Freya, and Amelia. On the other: Leon, Evelyn, Celeste, Mia, and Verena.

Each party turned in a different direction, branching out across the sandy wasteland. They weren't exactly scattered to the winds, but they deliberately kept a slight distance, close enough to hear trouble, far enough to hunt without tripping over one another.

The Deathland was as barren and cruel as ever. Aside from the usual residents, the Dissect Scorpions, Icicle Rats, Deathworms, Doomsday Camels, Desert Squids, and the occasional Sand Globe, nothing particularly exotic wandered here.

The rest of the fauna were basic, bottom-of-the-barrel insects, unworthy of attention. If anything, their monotonous buzzing only made the silence stretch longer.

Finally, Amelia broke it.

"Guys, should we search for the rats?" she asked, her voice almost too casual. She twirled a strand of her hair, looking bored. "I mean… I'm tired of chewing the same old Deathworm and Camel meat. Maybe those rats taste better? Who knows, they could be… crispy?"

Freya visibly stiffened, as if the very word "rats" pulled her spine taut. "Ahh, don't make me remember those things!" she groaned, throwing her hands up. "Those pesky little demons chased me to hell and back on day one. Honestly, I still hear their squeaks in my nightmares."

She shivered once, then muttered, "If we're worrying about food, wouldn't it make more sense to hunt Scorpions instead? At least those drop plenty of meat."

Art couldn't resist. He tilted his head, smirking. "You wanna eat poison? Be my guest."

Freya's eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening. "Can't we… I don't know… remove the poison?"

Art rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't pop out of his skull. He threw both hands into the air, making an overly dramatic face as if explaining to a child.

"Woman, they're poisonous. You eat them, you die. That's how it works. They're not venomous. You don't just pluck out a neat little venom sac and call it a delicacy." He even mimed carving a gland out of an imaginary scorpion, his face twisted with grotesque exaggeration.

Freya's mouth opened, the retort forming on her tongue, only to be sliced clean off by Zyon's voice.

"Enough bickering, children," he said flatly, his tone cutting through their noise. His gaze had shifted elsewhere, sharp and unblinking. "We've found our target. Look over there."

He raised his forefinger, pointing toward a cluster of movement in the distance. A group of Icicle Rats, twenty to thirty strong, scampered across the sand in their usual erratic pattern.

Unfortunately for them, they had just been chosen by a band of training maniacs.

The group's eyes lit up instantly. Sparks of hunger, battle-lust, and wicked amusement flashed in their gazes. Amelia, in particular, had the sharpest glimmer, as if fate had leaned in just to validate her earlier words.

Zyon's lips curled, his tone absolute. "No need to waste time planning. You're all around the same rank. Losing to a bunch of oversized ice rodents would be… embarrassing. So, don't. Exercise caution, keep your guard, and attack. Bluntly."

His words hung in the air for a beat, heavy with authority.

Then came the chorus. A low hum of agreement, voices syncing as though their pulses had aligned.

And then they moved.

Their boots struck the sandy surface with a thunderous rhythm, detonating clouds of grit. Force exploded underfoot as their bodies blurred forward, propelled like arrows loosed from the string.

Whiss—!

Amelia was the first to break from the line. An icy rapier materialized in her hand, the blade forming with a crystalline hiss. With a graceful leap, she twisted midair, letting the desert wind whip against her cloak.

Her rapier shimmered, white light glistening along its edge. She thrust her arm, and the tip of her blade crackled with power. A brilliant surge erupted outward, a lance of frosted energy bursting from the weapon like a star breaking through the dark.

The attack struck the unprepared Icicle Rats head-on. Amelia's frosted lance of energy lanced through their ranks, catching four of the creatures in its crystalline light.

Crack—!

Their bodies froze stiff in an instant, ice locking their squealing forms mid-motion. But the Deathland sun showed no mercy. Under its burning gaze and the jostling rush of their fellow rats, the frozen shells began to fracture. Thin lines split across their surfaces, widening with sharp snaps until—

Shhhhk—!

—each body collapsed into shards of brittle ice and scattered blood.

The rest of the swarm shrieked, the air filled with their frantic squeals. Panic rippled through the mass, but only for a moment. As if commanded by some unspoken instinct, they stabilized, rallying with terrifying speed.

The jagged icicles jutting from their backs began to glow, pulsing brighter and brighter until the azure light turned blinding.

And then—

Whooooosh—!

Dozens of glittering projectiles blasted forth at once, sharp blades of ice screaming through the air toward the advancing group.

For a heartbeat, it seemed the attack might connect—

—but Art stepped in.

Golden light shimmered across his frame, rippling outward as he snapped his fingers. A radiant sphere unfolded around them, a membrane of divine brilliance stretching wide. The incoming barrage slammed into the shield, exploding into shards.

Thunk-thunk-thunk—!

Each icicle bounced, cracked, or shattered harmlessly, their lethal momentum absorbed by Art's barrier.

He smirked as the air filled with fractured frost. "Cute. They thought they were supposed to be dangerous."

The rats squealed again, enraged but desperate. Their glow faltered, their bodies trembling as they scrambled to summon another volley. But charging their jagged icicles took time, and time was the one thing they didn't have.

Because the group wasn't waiting.

A fiery red-haired girl stepped forward, her expression carved with the thrill of battle. Lilith brandished her lance, flames roaring to life along its length. Heat shimmered around her, warping the air, and she lowered herself into a stance.

"Burn," she whispered, voice almost sweet—then thrust.

The flaming weapon surged forward, a streak of blazing wrath. It slammed into the cluster of rats, detonating a wave of fire.

Fwoooosh—!

Five of them screamed, their icy bodies unable to withstand the inferno. Their frozen armor cracked, melted, then collapsed into sizzling heaps of scorched meat and evaporating frost.

Lilith twirled her weapon, firelight painting her grin. "Strike!" she cheered to herself, as if delivering her own applause. A smile bloomed across her lips, bright and cruel.

But Freya was not about to let her hog the spotlight.

With a faint shimmer, the air around her warped. Sand quivered beneath her feet as she extended her hand, condensing grains together with her element [Stillness].

The desert floor heaved upward, pulled into a dense sphere, compacting tighter and tighter until a solid boulder the size of a carriage hung above her palm.

Her gaze sharpened, a wicked glint flashing in her eyes. "Run if you can."

She hurled the boulder forward.

The Icicle Rats squeaked and scattered, but their sudden darting movements froze mid-sprint. Freya's power pinned them in place, locking their frantic limbs.

The boulder crashed down, smashing their tiny bodies with a sickening crunch. Bones splintered, flesh pulped. What remained was little more than minced meat spread across the sand.

The battlefield stank of blood and smoke.

Still, ten of the creatures remained. Their fur bristled, their icicles glowing faintly again. They bared their sharp teeth and squealed, hostility dripping from every sound. But the threat in their eyes rang hollow.

None of the humans before them were people they could hope to scare.

Splurt—!

A geyser of blood erupted, spraying across the golden sand. Zyon had moved, silent as death, his fist obliterating one rat into an unrecognizable mass. Gore splattered across his clothes, painting crimson streaks on his chest and arms.

He didn't blink. Didn't flinch.

Instead, he tilted his head, the corners of his lips twitching faintly as if disgust barely registered. He cracked his neck once, slow and deliberate, before stepping forward.

The sand cracked beneath his feet. The sheer weight of his movement pressed the ground into submission, grains lifting into the air like smoke.

Then he struck again.

His left hand curled into a fist, veins bulging under his skin. The punch came down like a hammer—

BOOM—!

Another rat exploded, its body reduced to pulp in a single strike.

Zyon didn't pause. His hand shot out, seizing one rat by its jagged icicle. With a savage twist, he swung the creature like a weapon and smashed it into its brethren. The two collided, shrieking, their icicles piercing each other. Blood sprayed, staining their white fur crimson.

Before their bodies even hit the ground, Zyon had already pivoted. His leg lashed out, kicking another straight in the gut.

Crack—!

The rat's body burst apart, shredded from within by the sheer force of impact.

In a matter of seconds, the remaining creatures were torn apart—crushed, ripped, and scattered across the sand. Their squeals were silenced one after another until nothing but silence and gore remained.

Not a single scratch marked the group.