I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The cafeteria of Lornfell Academy was as massive and loud as a military mess hall.

Arthur grabbed a wooden tray and piled it with roasted red meat, steamed vegetables, and a tall glass of water. His weak body desperately needed protein, but he was careful. He kept the portions strict. If he overate, his pathetic stomach would just throw it right back up. Eating too much would do more harm than good right now.

He found an empty table in the corner, sat down, and began to eat.

Across the hall, sitting at the most prominent table in the center of the room, was the golden boy.

Leon Braveheart, Arthur thought, chewing a piece of steak. Tsk. What a cliché name. Absolute zero effort in the naming department.

Leon was the classic protagonist. He had bright blonde hair, an easy, confident smile, and what could only be described as a ’golden retriever’ aura. He was currently laughing at a joke, surrounded by an orbit of beautiful girls and loyal friends.

Arthur scanned the protagonist’s party, recalling their character files from the game.

Sitting next to Leon was Alicia Valentine. Daughter of the Valentine Duchy, a genius swordswoman with fiery red hair and a strict, knightly demeanor. Next to her was Emily Thorne. A martial artist from a wealthy merchant family, sporting short brown hair and a thick, athletic build. Then there was Cedric Ashford. The tank of the group. Despite his massive, hulking, six-foot-four frame, he was currently laughing loudly, a jolly and easygoing giant.

And sitting at the edge of the table, picking at a salad, was Elara. The Elf Princess from his morning class.

Arthur just gave them a single, evaluating glance before looking down and focusing entirely on his meal.

But across the room, the dynamic at the protagonist’s table was shifting.

Leon and Cedric were completely clueless, swapping stories about their morning combat drills. But the girls were exchanging quiet, uncomfortable glances.

Alicia, Emily, and Elara all felt it.

Usually, sitting in the cafeteria meant enduring the crawling, filthy sensation of Arthur Vance’s gaze. The resident creep was always sitting in a corner, staring at Alicia’s chest, Emily’s thighs, or Elara’s legs with wide, disgusting eyes.

Today? Nothing.

They looked over at the corner table. Arthur was just... eating. He was carefully cutting his steak, entirely absorbed in his food. He hadn’t looked at their table once.

It was a relief, obviously. But internally, the girls felt a strange, scratching sense of confusion. A tiny, irrational speck of their egos felt slighted. Did we do something wrong? Emily thought, adjusting her collar.

Arthur didn’t care about their internal crises. He finished his meal, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

He had places to be.

The training grounds were deafening. The clash of steel, the crackle of low-level elemental magic, and the shouts of instructors echoed across the sprawling dirt fields.

When Arthur walked through the iron gates, heads turned.

”Is that Vance?” a burly second-year muttered. ”What’s that creep doing at the training grounds?” a girl whispered, sneering. ”He can’t even walk from the dorms without coughing up a lung.”

Arthur didn’t heed them any mind.

To survive in this world, a person needed strength. And strength required training.

He pulled up his status window as he walked toward the weapon racks.

[Class: Scout (Unawakened)]

What a trash class, Arthur thought, dismissing the window. It’s literally just a class built for voyeurism.

The only saving grace was that the class was still in its ’Unawakened’ state. That meant it could still be evolved and branched into a proper combat role.

He had a specific class in mind. Archer.

Staying far away from the frontlines. Sniping monsters from a safe, comfortable distance. It aligned perfectly with his absurd stats. His [Eagle Eye (Lv.5)] gave him insane dynamic vision, and his [Perception: 85] and [Dexterity: 82] were already at a cheat level for a first-year.

An Assassin class was also an option due to his [Soundless Steps] trait, but melee fighting was a death wish right now. With his strength and health pool, one stray hit from a Goblin would snap his spine in half.

So, archery suited him best.

Arthur walked up to the rack of training weapons and picked up a heavy, wooden longbow.

He didn’t grab an arrow. He just needed to do a dry test.

I just need to check if I can pull this thick bowstring to its limit and hold it for at least 10 seconds, he thought, adjusting his grip on the polished wood.

He stood sideways, planting his feet firmly in the dirt. He inhaled deeply and held his breath.

He forced blood flow into his contracted muscles, consciously expanding his deltoids and back. Even without an arrow, he sharpened his gaze, locking his high-perception vision onto an imaginary target fifty yards away.

Then, he pulled the bowstring with all his might.

—Sssrrrk.

The thick bowstring stretched taut with heavy resistance. Arthur clenched his molars, his arm trembling violently as he pulled the invisible arrow shaft backward, stretching the string to its absolute limit.

One... Two... Three...

He fought to hold the tension.

But soon after.

[Weak Lungs (Lv. 3) activates.]

The air trapped in his chest suddenly felt like acid. Arthur’s eyes widened, and he immediately broke his stance, hunching forward as a violent, hacking cough ripped through his throat.

He gasped for air, his vision blurring. But the misfortune didn’t stop there.

A bright blue screen flashed in his face.

[Extreme muscle expansion without warm-up causes severe cramping.]

”Ngggh!”

The trait effect hit him the second the bowstring snapped back. A searing, white-hot pain shot through his right shoulder.

Arthur threw the longbow onto the dirt and clutched his right deltoid, his knees buckling. Just one pull of a heavy bowstring had caused a massive, paralyzing cramp in every single muscle of his right arm.

Another screen popped up.

[10 minutes of rest required.]

”Ngggh...” Arthur groaned, literally rolling onto the dirt floor of the training ground, clutching his arm in agony.

This bastard, he cursed, gritting his teeth as the cramp locked his arm into a claw.

A Hunter Academy student gets muscle cramps just because he didn’t warm up?! Later, if I encounter a monster in a dungeon raid, am I supposed to politely request a timeout? ’Sorry, Mr. Goblin, could you give me five minutes to stretch? My muscles are very precious.’

”Arthur... ngggh... you fucking... son of a bitch!” he hissed through his teeth, cursing the original owner of his body.

After just one physical test revealing this pathetic excuse for a human vessel, Arthur was forced to writhe in the dirt for quite some time just to relieve the agonizing cramp.

I definitely need to do something about this damn sickly trait first, he realized, staring up at the bright sky while waiting for his muscles to unlock. The difficulty level of starting this new life is way too high.

All around him, the murmurs of the other students had turned into outright laughter.

”Look at him!”

”He just pulled an empty bow and collapsed! What a pathetic joke!”

”Did he pull a muscle? I can’t breathe!”

The snickering and mocking echoed across the training grounds.

Arthur just closed his eyes, taking slow, deliberate breaths. Let them laugh. The grind had to start somewhere.