The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1157 - 176 - The First Expedition (6)

We decided to rest by building tents.

That decision came directly from Miss Shredica. She advised us that building tents was far better than sleeping inside one of the nearby cabins. According to her, doing so would eventually sharpen our awareness. It wasn’t just about having a place to sleep for her, I guess, and it was about how we slept, and what kind of danger we allowed ourselves to be exposed to. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Sleeping in a tent meant vulnerability. There were no solid walls, no doors to lock, no illusion of safety. If something attacked us while we were asleep, we would feel it immediately. The cold air, the rustling of fabric, the faintest disturbance—everything would force us to react. It felt intentional, like she wanted to push us into discomfort so our senses wouldn’t dull.

Since sleeping in tents meant we had a real chance of getting attacked while unconscious, it seemed pretty obvious that she was trying to train our awareness and instincts. If we could survive like this, then maybe we wouldn’t end up dead the moment we let our guard down.

To be honest, the way she handled things was actually beneficial.

Harsh, sure. Uncomfortable? Definitely. But useful.

And honestly, I wasn’t really going to complain about how she did things.

As long as there was some kind of benefit to it—some lesson as well as some improvement—I was willing to try. That had been my mindset ever since we were dragged into this world. Complaining didn’t keep you alive. Adapting did.

I was still eating my breakfast when Hasegawa-sensei came over to me.

"Ah~..." she let out a long, tired yawn.

Her posture was loose, shoulders slumped, and her eyes looked like they were barely staying open. She looked exhausted, like she might just collapse if she stopped moving for more than a few seconds. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her at all.

We were all tired.

Walking from the castle all the way to this place had been no joke. Even though it felt like our stamina and endurance had improved ever since we became heroes in this world, it was still a long trek. Heavy armor weighed down on our bodies the entire time, grinding against our muscles with every step. No matter how much stronger we had become, distance was still distance.

"Oh, hello there, Asada-san," she said sleepily. "You’re still not done eating?"

I glanced down at my bowl.

Most of the others were already finished, some cleaning their gear, others quietly chatting or resting. Meanwhile, my food sat there, barely touched. It had been sitting in front of me for a while now.

I smiled faintly and answered her honestly.

"I didn’t really have much of an appetite," I said.

"You have to eat," she said immediately, her voice sharpening just a bit. "Just look at your bowl. You barely touched it. You need to eat properly and store up energy. Especially since those people are going to make you fight scary monsters tomorrow!"

There was frustration in her voice, mixed with worry. It wasn’t directed at me—it was aimed at the situation itself.

"You don’t have to worry, Sensei," I replied, offering her a calm smile. "I think I can handle myself pretty well."

"But you’re still a child!" she snapped back. "Even if you say that, you’re still a child, and they’re making you fight! All of you shouldn’t have to shoulder this kind of responsibility! No one would blame you if you ran away, you know?!"

Her voice rose sharply near the end. She sounded almost hysterical, like she had been holding all of this in for far too long and it was finally spilling out.

She had always been like this.

Out of everyone here, she was the most vocal about how wrong this entire situation was. She openly criticized the people of this world for yanking us out of our own lives and forcing us to fight their battles. To her, it wasn’t heroic—it was cruel. Inhumane.

She tried everything she could to make her voice heard.

I had heard her.

I think many of us had.

But unfortunately, none of the people in charge seemed willing to listen. To them, we were resources. Weapons. Tools meant to solve their problems.

It was a little ironic hearing her call me a child.

I was already eighteen. By this world’s and our world’s standards, that made me an adult. More than that, I was already expected to fight, kill, and survive like one.

And honestly, it was even more ironic when you considered her appearance.

She looked more like a child than I did, mostly because of her height. She was short, with a small frame, and the wizard’s robe she wore only emphasized it. At least, I thought it was a wizard’s robe. It flowed loosely around her body, sleeves hanging low, fabric brushing against the ground.

Her role was a healer, but she was also a magician.

In this world, magicians were split into three general categories. They were healer, attacker, and mana master.

I fell under the mana master category. I used mana alongside my swordsmanship, weaving magic directly into my movements and techniques. That alone technically made me an attacker as well. And in certain situations, I could even act as a healer.

In the end, those categories didn’t really matter all that much. Being called a magician just meant you had some level of control over mana. You could be one, two, or all three types at once.

I specialized in mana control.

Hasegawa-sensei, on the other hand, was far more proficient in healing. That suited her perfectly. She would stay in the backline, supporting everyone else. It made sense—not just strategically, but personally.

She was someone who genuinely didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

"I’ll be careful," I told her gently. "By the way, Sensei... you look really tired. Aren’t you going to sleep?"

She lifted her hand and pinched her own skin, hard.

It looked painful.

"I’m not going to sleep," she said. "They want you all sleeping out here, exposed to danger. I can’t allow that."

She pinched herself again, forcing her eyes to stay open. Her determination was almost frightening. I felt a mix of surprise and admiration, but also concern.

She was pushing herself too hard.

By refusing to rest, she was only putting herself in more danger. Fatigue dulled judgment. Slowed reactions. In a situation like this, that could be deadly.

"As the only adult here, I have to take responsibility," she said, her voice quieter now. "I have to bring you all home."

Those words stuck with me.

Honestly, it felt like she was the only person here we could truly trust.

She wasn’t doing this for glory. She wasn’t doing it because she believed in some prophecy or destiny. She was doing it because she cared.

She was someone who truly wanted the best for us.

And in a world that treated us like disposable heroes, that meant everything.