I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

”I understand that the voucher is nontransferable,” Felix said, leaning heavily against the polished wood of the Evaluation Office counter. ”I’m asking whether the reinforced shield becomes transferable after I receive it.”

The administration clerk let out a long, exhausted sigh. ”No, Cadet.”

”Can I claim the shield upgrade as a recognized guild expense for tax purposes?”

”Still no.”

Arthur stood a few feet away, nursing his bruised ribs. He leaned in and spoke quietly. ”I’ll buy the voucher from you right now for sixty percent of its listed value in credits.”

Felix turned around and adjusted his glasses, looking at Arthur with absolute disgust. ”You are the reason these rules exist.”

”Rules are just negotiations written by the winning side,” Arthur replied smoothly.

Behind them, the rest of the joint-first winners stood in a loose, exhausted cluster. Everyone was visibly sore. Emily was rotating a stiff shoulder. Leon’s arm was still in a sling, and Cedric was holding his massive kite shield specifically at an angle that kept Arthur at least three feet away from him at all times.

The clerk cleared his throat, holding up a stack of heavy parchment. ”Let us finalize the selections so the rest of the line can proceed.”

He didn’t read out the entire menu. The choices had already been made.

”Cadet Vance,” the clerk called. ”Advanced Combat Technique Consultation. You requested a supervisor experienced with precision attacks, ranged weapons, mana ammunition, weapon switching, and mobility-based combat.”

”I did,” Arthur said.

”The office has assigned Professor Garran Voss from Applied Magical Weapons.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. ”Is he a bow specialist?”

”He is a ranged-weapon specialist,” the clerk corrected flatly.

The distinction immediately caught Arthur’s attention, but before he could ask, the clerk moved down the list.

”Cadet Thorne. Advanced impact-control technique. This includes archive access, a physical training scroll, and three supervised sessions. The technique will teach you to concentrate force, reduce wasted movement, break armor without destroying the floor beneath it, and control how deeply your impact travels.”

Emily frowned, looking entirely disappointed. ”So the reward teaches me to hit things less?”

”It teaches you to stop destroying academy property,” the clerk said dryly.

”A lost cause,” Arthur murmured.

The clerk looked at Felix next. ”Shield-reinforcement voucher.”

Felix immediately leaned back over the counter. ”I need a breakdown of the material limits, labor coverage limits, repair guarantees, cash-value equivalents of unused materials, and the accidental damage clauses.”

The clerk pointed a tired finger toward a smaller desk in the corner. ”Take it to Desk Four. You are holding up the line.”

Chloe received the Advanced Battlefield Healing package, which included restricted manual access, permission to copy approved sections, supervised infirmary practice, and eligibility for a field-healer assessment. One restricted section covered mana contamination and injuries that ordinary healing could worsen.

”Matron Beatrice will supervise your practical sessions,” the clerk added.

Squad 1’s choices were processed just as efficiently. Leon received his holy-combat consultation. Alicia unlocked restricted access to the high-tier sword archives. Elara obtained access to the academy’s nature-magic and mana-refinement records.

Cedric received a shield-enchantment voucher. He stepped up to the counter, looking very serious.

”Can the shield be enchanted to aggressively reject unauthorized footwear?” Cedric asked.

The clerk blinked. ”I do not understand the request.”

Cedric simply pointed a heavy, gauntleted finger directly at Arthur.

Once the rewards were processed, a senior evaluator called them into a back room for the post-exam debrief.

He didn’t make them sit through a recap of the midterm. He already had the crystal recordings. He only wanted to address the anomalies.

”The faculty is reviewing how adaptive strategy and support contributions are weighted,” the evaluator said. ”A squad led by a Level 27 cadet earning joint first against a squad led by Level 32 Leon Braveheart is unusual.”

”Good,” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair. ”I was worried nearly dying had gone completely unnoticed.”

The evaluator sighed, flipping a page on his clipboard. ”How exactly did you locate Grid 4-7?”

Arthur gave the perfectly safe, undeniable explanation. ”The mana lines beneath the rock were too regular to be natural. Two crystal anchors were reinforcing the edges, and the return through the center suggested hollow space behind it. Breaking the anchors opened the route and saved us time.”

He left Professor Elena Moon’s private mapping notes out of the explanation.

The evaluator tapped his quill against the desk. ”Grid 4-7 was retired from normal use five years ago. It was supposed to be structurally sealed. However, your breach proved it is still partially connected to the dungeon’s adaptive controls, which is why the system scaled the threat against you.”

Arthur sat up slightly. Grid 4-7 had not simply been forgotten. The dungeon still recognized it.

”Professor Caelum Rusk from Dungeon Logistics has formally requested your route notes, Squad 7’s map data, and the evaluation crystal records,” the evaluator noted, writing something down. ”He needs to assess the structural failure.”

Arthur noted the name. He would have to deliver the route records before the end of the week.

”Finally,” the evaluator said, looking at Cedric. ”Why exactly were you utilized as a launch platform?”

Cedric answered before Arthur could even open his mouth. ”Because Vance has absolutely no respect for defensive personnel.”

”You were the best available elevation,” Arthur reasoned.

The evaluator nodded slowly and wrote the exchange down on his official parchment.

Cedric looked alarmed. ”Do not put that in the official record.”

As the debrief concluded, the evaluator handed out their official clearance forms.

Arthur received his consultation approval along with a second form bordered in red.

”Before you participate in any full practical session, you need medical clearance from Matron Beatrice and a recovery assessment from Instructor Morwenna,” the evaluator stated. ”Professor Voss will conduct the initial equipment screening.”

Arthur stared at the three mandatory appointments. ”Winning has given me more homework.”

”That is because your body is actively attempting to resign,” Alicia pointed out, adjusting her scabbard.

Emily laughed. ”His ribs were too bad to outrun Leon, so he turned Cedric into a launch platform and dropped onto the core with his daggers.”

”It worked,” Arthur said.

”Then you hit the floor hard enough for Chloe to sprint across the shrine.”

”A separate tactical event.”

Nobody believed him.

As the students filed out of the Evaluation Office and into the morning sunlight, Matron Beatrice waited in the courtyard with her attention fixed on Chloe.

”Chloe,” Beatrice said, her sharp eyes settling on the first-year healer. She tapped the restricted manual Chloe was holding. ”The academy gave you access to that because you performed well under pressure. That does not mean you are ready to use every technique in the book.”

Chloe nodded seriously, clutching the book to her chest. ”Yes, Matron.”

”Your first lesson begins immediately in the infirmary,” Beatrice explained. ”We will cover deciding who actually needs treatment first, how to identify mana contamination before sealing a wound, when healing magic can actively worsen an injury, and how to tell reckless squad leaders to sit down.”

Beatrice looked directly at Arthur as she delivered the final point.

Arthur ignored the glare, but Beatrice wasn’t finished. She stepped closer, her experienced eyes sweeping over Arthur’s uniform. It was sitting slightly unevenly over his chest.

”You loosened the rib wrapping,” Beatrice said, her voice going flat.

”It was restricting my breathing,” Arthur said casually.

”That was the point,” Beatrice replied.

She stepped into his space, slipped two fingers inside his collar, and checked the edge of the bandage with brisk, clinical efficiency.

Arthur looked down at her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. ”You could have just asked me to remove the shirt.”

Beatrice didn’t smile. She hooked a finger under the loose linen wrap and pulled it sharply to the side, tightening the binding with enough force to make Arthur wince visibly.

”Report to my infirmary before your weapons assessment, Vance,” Beatrice said smoothly, stepping back.

She turned and walked away across the courtyard, Chloe hurrying to keep up.

Emily watched Arthur rub his aching ribs. ”She enjoys doing that far too much.”

”Her methods require review,” Arthur grunted.

They had barely crossed the administration courtyard when a short, broad-shouldered man in a soot-stained academy coat stepped into Arthur’s path. A compact, high-tension training crossbow rested in one hand.

He looked up as Arthur approached, reading the name off a consultation form.

”Phantom Sniper,” the man said.

”Professor Voss,” Arthur greeted.

Without warning, Voss tossed the heavy crossbow toward Arthur’s waiting hands.

Arthur caught it purely on reflex.

”Hit the red plate,” Voss ordered, pointing toward an empty testing lane at the edge of the courtyard.

An apple-sized mechanical target darted between three practice pylons.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. He checked the weight of the frame, tested the trigger tension, adjusted the bolt angle, accounted for the crosswind blowing through the arches, and fired.

Thwack.

The blunt training bolt struck the red plate dead center, producing a sharp metallic crack as the target continued along its track.

Emily crossed her arms, looking genuinely impressed despite herself.

Professor Voss was not. ”Again.”

Arthur reached for the loading mechanism. The high-tension draw barely moved. Arthur braced the stock against his hip and fought the lever with both hands. By the time the string locked, the target had vanished behind the final pylon.

Voss stepped forward and snatched the crossbow out of Arthur’s hands.

”Excellent eyes,” Voss stated bluntly. ”Poor reload speed. Insufficient draw strength. Too dependent on one weapon type.”

Arthur frowned. ”You reached all of that from two shots?”

”One shot,” Voss corrected. ”You never fired the second.”

Voss tapped the consultation form against the crossbow. ”Phantom Sniper is not an archery class. Whisperwind is simply the best ranged weapon you own. Your class helps with distance, trajectory, concealment, and weak-point targeting. It can support crossbows, precision throwing weapons, and magical bolt launchers, but it will not load them or teach you unfamiliar mechanics. You still have to train.”

Voss pulled a small, brass-stamped appointment card from his pocket and shoved it into Arthur’s hand.

”Tomorrow. Second afternoon bell. The Applied Magical Weapons range,” Voss ordered. ”Bring the bow, the daggers, and two unfamiliar ranged weapons you can borrow.”

Arthur looked at the card. ”Why the daggers?”

”Because enemies rarely respect your preferred distance,” Voss said, turning to walk away.

Emily stood beside Arthur, cracking her knuckles with a series of loud, heavy pops.

”I could help demonstrate,” Emily offered, grinning.

Arthur looked at the appointment card, and then down at her heavy steel gauntlets.

”You are exactly why I need ranged weapons.”