I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

After a quick shower to scrub off the dirt from Morwenna’s hellish training session, Arthur left the academy grounds. He hopped on a magi-bus heading straight into the city’s commercial district.

He had business to handle.

He walked into the Argent Guild. It was a massive merchant hub with polished marble floors and snooty receptionists. He bypassed the fancy displays and walked straight to a teller’s desk.

He dumped the heavy leather sack on the glass counter. Gold coins, silver coins, forty-two low-tier goblin mana stones, and two rusted steel daggers clattered loudly.

The teller blinked, then quickly started tallying the loot.

Ten minutes later, Arthur’s student scroll pinged.

[Balance Updated: 14,500 Credits]

Arthur let out a satisfied breath. He was officially out of the broke zone. That was more than enough to fund his potions, gear, and bus fare for the next few months.

Before leaving, he stopped at an appraisal booth in the corner. He handed the unidentified silver ring he found in the goblin stash to a grumpy old mage with a magnifying monocle.

The old man squinted at the ring, muttered a basic incantation, and frowned.

”Can’t read the mana signature, kid,” the appraiser grunted, tossing it back on the counter. ”Probably just a dud. I’ll give you fifty credits for the scrap silver.”

Arthur internally rolled his eyes.

Does this boomer really think I’m that stupid? Rule number one of fantasy transmigration: If a shady merchant can’t identify an item and tries to buy it for pocket change, it is absolutely a god-tier artifact. Selling it now was a rookie mistake.

”Nice try. I’ll keep it,” Arthur said, snatching the ring back.

He slipped the cool silver band onto his right index finger. It immediately shrank to fit perfectly. Definitely not a dud.

He grabbed a couple of meat skewers from a street vendor, ate on the go, and caught the bus back to the academy.

It was time for the afternoon session. Magic Theory.

Arthur walked into the amphitheater and took his usual seat in the back row. A minute later, the heavy oak doors opened.

Professor Elena Moon walked in.

Arthur almost choked on his own spit.

She had completely lost her mind. After a week of being utterly ignored by her favorite stalker, the High Elf’s exhibitionist kink was apparently in critical condition.

Her academic robes were practically a suggestion today. The neckline plunged so incredibly deep it was a miracle her massive boobs didn’t just fall out onto the floor. The slit on the side of her skirt was hiked all the way up to her hip bone, flashing an absurd amount of pale, bare thigh with every single step.

Half the boys in the classroom suddenly shifted in their seats, crossing their legs to hide the junior standing ovations pitching tents in their trousers.

Elena stood at the podium. She didn’t address the class. Her golden eyes shot straight to the back row, locking directly onto Arthur. She practically glared at him, silently demanding his filthy attention.

Arthur tapped his pen against his desk.

Last week, he had completely ignored her to grind his Intelligence stat. But staring at the sheer, desperate stunt she was pulling off today...

Well, Arthur thought, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes drag slowly down to her cleavage. I can always compensate for the INT stat in the library later.

He gave her exactly what she wanted. He stared directly at her massive chest, then let his eyes travel down to the slit in her skirt. Then, he looked up and met her gaze.

He smirked.

Elena saw it. She saw him finally looking. She saw the smirk.

A violent, dark red flush instantly exploded across her neck and cheeks. Her thighs squeezed together so hard her knees knocked against the wooden podium.

She cleared her throat, her voice visibly trembling. ”T-Turn your textbooks to page forty.”

****

The rest of the Magic Theory class was an absolute trainwreck.

For Professor Elena Moon, at least.

Arthur spent the entire two hours leaning back in his chair, his eyes locked dead onto her chest. He watched the way her massive boobs bounced under the thin silk of her undershirt when she wrote on the chalkboard. He watched the slit of her skirt ride high up her thigh every time she took a step.

He didn’t hide it. He didn’t take sneaky, nervous glances. He just stared.

Elena was falling apart. She dropped her chalk twice. She stuttered over basic mana equations. A dark, furious blush painted her pointed ears red for the entire lecture. She was completely intoxicated by the heavy, unapologetic heat in his gaze.

Yeah. Squirm, you crazy exhibitionist, Arthur thought, thoroughly enjoying the show. If you’re going to put it on display, I’m going to look.

When the bell finally rang, Elena practically sprinted out the back door to her private office, her breathing ragged and shallow.

Arthur just grabbed his bag and headed for the training grounds.

He had compensated for the INT stat earlier. Now it was time to put his new, troll-blooded muscles to the test.

The late afternoon sun beat down on the dirt fields. Most of the students had already gone back to the dorms or headed into the city for dinner. Arthur stripped off his grey academy jacket, tossing it onto a bench.

He started with the basics.

Pushups. Pullups. Core crunches. Weighted squats.

With his base Strength at 26 and Stamina at 15, his body didn’t break down like it used to. He pushed himself until his muscles screamed, tearing the fibers down so the system could rebuild them stronger.

Ding.

[Strength +0.1]

Arthur grunted, pulling his chin over the metal pullup bar for the fiftieth time.

It’s just fractions of a point, he thought, dropping down to the dirt and shaking out his arms. But drop by drop makes a sea. I just have to keep grinding.

Three stories up, looking down through the tinted glass of the staff room window, Morwenna took a sip of black coffee.

The Dark Elf instructor narrowed her ruby eyes, watching the lone figure sweating on the dirt field below.

She had been noticing him for the past week. Every single evening, long after the other students left, Arthur Vance was out there. Pulling empty bowstrings until he collapsed. Running until he coughed up blood.

And results were showing.

He dodged my cane, Morwenna thought, a dark, sadistic thrill twisting in her gut. A pathetic, unawakened scout dodged a killing strike from an instructor.

She watched him drop to the dirt and start clapping out rapid-fire pushups. His back was corded with tight, newly formed muscle.

”I read a book,” Morwenna muttered to herself, echoing his arrogant words from this morning.

She crushed the paper coffee cup in her hand, tossing it into the trash.

Arrogant little shit, she smirked. But you are working hard. I’ll give you that.

She liked students who bled for their progress. It made them so much more fun to break later.