I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Later that morning, when Arthur pushed open the heavy oak doors to the first-year combat theory lecture hall, the chatter of seventy students died almost instantly.

For three awkward seconds, there was absolute silence. Then, the whispers started.

Arthur walked down the tiered steps toward their usual row, completely ignoring the stares. Emily walked beside him with her hands stuffed into her pockets, while Felix and Chloe trailed closely behind. Chloe had rejoined them after Beatrice’s brief infirmary orientation, the restricted healing manual still tucked under one arm.

They didn’t even have to strain their ears to hear the rumor mill working at full capacity.

”I heard they triggered three evaluation penalties in the caverns, but Instructor Morwenna removed them afterward,” a student muttered two rows up.

”That’s not true. I heard Vance stole an old maintenance map from the faculty archive and found a hidden treasure room,” another whispered back.

”Braveheart did all the actual fighting,” a noble-born student scoffed from the aisle. ”Vance just stole the final blow by using Braveheart’s vanguard as a springboard.”

”That one is actually true,” Cedric’s tired voice drifted over from Squad 1’s seating area.

Arthur smirked, dropping his bag onto a desk.

”Did you hear about the Stalker ambush?” a girl whispered loudly in the front row. ”I heard Thorne got completely crushed, and Vance had to drag her out of the forest.”

Emily stopped dead in her tracks.

She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto the terrified first-year who had whispered it.

”He didn’t carry me,” Emily said, her voice carrying across the hall. ”The Stalker threw him into a wall. Valentine stopped it from skewering him, and Leon and I broke it apart.”

Arthur leaned against the desk. ”I had the situation under control.”

Alicia’s voice came from the opposite row. ”You were bleeding on the floor.”

Emily pointed at her. ”See? Accurate rumors.”

She sat down heavily next to Arthur.

The whispers resumed, shifting to the new nicknames circulating through the student body.

”The Dungeon Thieves.”

”The Shortcut Squad.”

”The Deathwish Squad.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out. ”Shameless Survivors has a better ring to it. I think it’s good publicity.”

”Publicity does not pay for shield maintenance,” Felix grumbled, opening his textbook.

By lunchtime, the tension in the academy had shifted from awe to sheer, unabashed curiosity.

The main dining hall was packed. Arthur sat at the end of a long wooden table with Squad 7. A few minutes later, Leon, Alicia, Elara, and Cedric sat down directly across from them. The two joint-first squads eating together only made the rest of the cafeteria stare harder.

Arthur was in the middle of cutting a piece of spiced, roasted meat when a fork suddenly reached across his plate.

Chloe cut the fattiest section from Arthur’s roast, moved it onto her own plate, and replaced it with a portion of steamed vegetables.

Arthur paused, looking at his fork. ”What was that?”

”Beatrice said the healing draughts will already upset your stomach. You can keep the lean meat,” Chloe said calmly, not looking up.

Before Arthur could respond, a second fork reached across the table.

Emily stabbed the fatty piece directly off Chloe’s plate and dropped it firmly back onto Arthur’s.

”He needs calories to rebuild muscle tissue,” Emily countered, pointing her fork at Chloe. ”Vegetables don’t fix bones.”

Arthur looked at both of them. ”I am perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

”Capable and cooperative are different conditions,” Chloe said, reaching for the meat again.

Emily immediately blocked Chloe’s fork with her own. ”Stop managing his lunch.”

Across the table, Elara quietly picked up her water goblet and moved it a safe distance away before she choked trying to hold back a laugh.

Leon leaned forward, smiling brightly. ”Since our squads clearly work so well together, we should schedule joint training sessions this term. It would be highly beneficial.”

Alicia gracefully sliced her food, her posture perfect despite the stiffness in her shoulders. ”It is a practical arrangement. Their complete lack of orthodox tactics is good exposure for us.”

Arthur ate the disputed piece of meat. ”You can just call it friendship, Valentine.”

Alicia didn’t look up from her plate. ”I would rather fight the Guardian again.”

That afternoon, Advanced Mana Theory gave Arthur less room to enjoy himself.

Advanced Mana Theory was taught in a heavily warded observation theater. Professor Elena Moon stood at the front of the room, immaculate in her tailored coat, her sharp eyes sweeping over the first-year class.

”Mana control under extreme external pressure is not a luxury. It is a survival requirement,” Elena lectured smoothly, pacing in front of a pedestal that held a large, clear demonstration crystal.

She stopped and looked directly at the middle row.

”Cadet Vance. Step forward.”

Arthur stood up, ignoring the dull ache in his ribs, and walked down the steps to the front of the theater.

”Place your hands on the crystal,” Elena ordered. ”Channel a sustained, neutral flow. Do not let the output spike.”

Arthur placed his palms against the smooth glass. The crystal instantly began to glow with a steady, pale blue light.

Elena stepped close behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders. Her familiar frost-and-lily perfume reached him as she adjusted his elbows. The correction lasted a second longer than it needed to. No one in the rows behind them appeared to notice.

”Your posture is tense,” Elena said, her voice carrying clearly through the observation theater.

Arthur kept his expression neutral.

When her fingers moved down his forearm, he shifted a thin pulse through the point of contact. Warm mana ran back into her hand—too small for anyone in the rows above to notice, but deliberate enough that Elena would understand.

Her lecture continued without a pause.

”Notice how the cadet’s flow remains stable under direct correction.”

Her index finger touched the base of Arthur’s spine.

A compact burst of cold mana punched through his channel.

Arthur’s shoulders locked. The demonstration crystal flashed, its steady blue light jumping dangerously toward white. He bit the inside of his cheek and forced the output back under control.

The warmth he had sent into Elena’s hand vanished immediately.

She leaned closer, her voice dropping so only he could hear.

External pressure can expose weak control. Maintain your composure, Cadet.

Then she stepped away.

The cold pressure disappeared with her.

Arthur steadied the crystal before it could overload, though sweat had already formed along his neck.

”Thank you, Cadet Vance,” Elena said, her expression perfectly composed. ”A highly strained demonstration. You may return to your seat.”

Arthur released the crystal and returned to his seat. Elena continued her lecture without so much as looking in his direction.

When the final bell rang, Arthur headed for the infirmary instead of the dormitories.

Beatrice had ordered him to report before the full weapons assessment, and ignoring her twice in one day seemed unnecessarily ambitious.

He found Chloe standing beside an examination cot with her sleeves rolled up and the restricted manual open on a nearby table. Beatrice stood behind her, watching with folded arms.

”You actually came,” Beatrice said.

Arthur set his bag beside the cot. ”Your faith in me is touching.”

”My faith is why I kept the restraints nearby.”

Chloe looked nervously toward the leather straps hanging beneath the cot.

Beatrice did not explain whether she was joking.

Arthur removed his uniform coat, unbuttoned his shirt, and sat on the edge of the cot with the bandages exposed. Chloe stepped forward, placed two fingers against his wrist, and began the examination.

She checked his breathing first, then the bruising along his ribs. Her hands still hesitated whenever she needed to touch bare skin, but her voice remained steady.

”The fractures haven’t worsened,” Chloe said. ”There’s still swelling on the left side. His mana flow is rough around the wrist and shoulder, but I don’t feel any fresh damage.”

Beatrice nodded. ”What did you miss?”

Chloe frowned and checked again.

Arthur watched her concentrate.

”His pulse rises whenever I press near the lower ribs.”

”Because it hurts,” Beatrice said. ”And because he was hoping you would not notice.”

Arthur smiled. ”I was giving her an independent assessment.”

Beatrice pressed the same spot with two fingers.

Pain shot through his side.

Arthur’s smile tightened.

”Patients lie,” Beatrice told Chloe. ”Their bodies are usually less creative.”

Chloe nodded and returned to the examination with more confidence.

When she finished, Beatrice inspected the rib wrapping and Arthur’s wrist herself.

”You are cleared for controlled weapons testing,” she said. ”No full-force physical drills, and no pretending that pain is a tactical inconvenience.”

Arthur pulled his shirt back into place. ”That last condition feels targeted.”

”It is.”

Chloe closed the manual.

”If his wrist starts shaking, he stops,” she said, looking directly at Arthur. ”Even if he thinks he can continue.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Beatrice looked pleased. ”Good. He heard you.”

”I heard an unreasonable proposal.”

Chloe held his gaze despite the color rising in her cheeks.

”You stop.”

Arthur let the silence hang for a moment before nodding.

”Fine.”

The following afternoon, Arthur entered the Applied Magical Weapons range carrying Whisperwind, his twin daggers, a borrowed academy crossbow, and a pouch of weighted throwing knives.

Professor Voss stood in the center of the empty range with his arms folded.

His eyes moved across the weapons.

”At least you followed one instruction.”

Arthur set the crossbow onto the nearest table.

”Try not to sound surprised, Professor.”

Voss picked up the weapon and checked its draw lever.

”I’ll decide how surprised to be after you miss something.”

Arthur looked toward the moving targets rising at the far end of the range.

”Then you may be waiting a while.”