I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The moment Arthur’s boots cleared the threshold, the silence broke.

GRIND-THUD.

The massive stone slab dropped instantly behind him, sealing perfectly into the floor. The sunlight vanished. The only illumination came from patches of glowing blue moss lining the walls, casting the room in a ghostly pallor.

The temperature plummeted. Arthur watched his breath mist in the freezing air. He was completely cut off.

He turned to look ahead. It was a massive, wide hall. The walls were carved with life-sized, incredibly intricate statues of Elven archers with their bows drawn.

But it was the floor that caught his attention.

It was entirely covered in a thick layer of dry, reddish-brown leaves. They were curled and brittle. Stepping on them normally would sound like crushing glass.

His high perception caught movement above.

He tilted his head back. Nestled among the high stone rafters were dozens of pale, emaciated humanoid figures. They had overly long limbs ending in curved claws, and completely smooth, faceless heads. No eyes. No mouths.

Blind Creepers.

The trial was obvious. The statues were a distraction. The leaves were the alarm. The faceless freaks roosting on the ceiling were the executioners.

Arthur checked his active traits.

[Trait: Soundless Steps (Lv. 4) is currently active.]

He took his first step. His heavy leather boot pressed down onto the brittle leaves.

Silence. The leaves didn’t even crack.

Arthur kept moving. Slow. Deliberate. Every step required extreme focus. He passed statue after statue. Above him, the Blind Creepers shifted occasionally, their eyeless faces turning blindly toward the empty air, listening for a target.

Ten yards. Thirty yards. He was halfway to the heavy wooden door at the far end of the hall.

Then, a random draft of freezing air swirled through the corridor.

It completely bypassed Arthur, blowing past his legs to rustle a single, curled leaf five feet away.

Rustle.

It was barely a whisper. But above him, every single Blind Creeper froze.

Five of them instantly detached from the ceiling. They dove with unnatural, silent grace, landing in a perfect circle around him.

Their smooth faces split open, revealing rows of jagged, needle-like teeth. They didn’t screech immediately. They were waiting to confirm the target before alerting the hive.

Arthur didn’t reach for his bow. At this range, it was useless.

He dropped the wooden bow silently onto the leaves and drew both steel daggers in a reverse grip.

The lead creeper lunged, claws extended for his throat.

Arthur dropped to his knees, sliding over the silent leaves. The creeper’s claws whistled over his head. As he slid past, Arthur drove his left dagger up into its armpit, severing the joint. It dropped with a silent gurgle.

The other four attacked simultaneously.

Arthur became a blur of raw dexterity. He slashed the throat of the one in front of him. He spun, driving his right dagger deep into the chest of the one on his left.

The fourth one caught him. Its claws raked violently across his extended left forearm.

The pain was searing, like white-hot acid injected straight into his veins.

Arthur bit his lip hard to keep from making a sound. He drove his dagger into the creeper’s neck, killing it instantly.

The fifth and final creeper unhinged its jaw, preparing to let out a deafening alarm screech.

Arthur spun on his heel and threw his left dagger. The steel blade buried itself directly between the monster’s jagged teeth, piercing the back of its throat.

It collapsed into the leaves. Silence returned to the hall.

Arthur stood among the dead bodies, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked up. The rest of the horde was still clinging to the ceiling, agitated, but the alarm hadn’t been triggered.

He looked down at his left arm. Three deep claw marks tore through his leather sleeve. The skin around the wound was already turning black.

[Status Effect: Caustic Poison (Lv. 2) applied.]

[-5 Stamina/min.]

Arthur gritted his teeth, yanking his dagger out of the dead creeper’s mouth. He wiped the blades on his pants and scooped up his bow.

He didn’t have time to harvest mana stones. His Stamina was draining fast.

He sprinted the remaining distance to the end of the hall. Every step was silent, but his pace was desperate. He hit the massive wooden door and shoved against it with his good shoulder.

The door gave way.

A wave of blinding, brilliant white light washed over him. Arthur stumbled through the doorway, shielding his eyes, leaving the Hall of Whispers behind.