I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The morning sunlight was streaming through the tavern window. Pinned beneath his right arm was Roxanne. She was sleeping dead to the world, her naked body tangled in the messy bedsheets. Her face was buried in his chest, her long bunny ears completely relaxed against the pillows.

Arthur smirked, tracing a hand over her wide, bare hip.

What a weekend, he thought.

He carefully slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake the exhausted widow. He walked over to the wooden chair where he had draped his clothes. The clothes from her late husband fit him surprisingly well now. The Troll Blood hadn’t just changed his stats; it had packed dense, solid muscle onto his previously scrawny, malnourished frame.

He pulled up his system interface.

[Inventory]

Low-Tier Mana Stones x 42

Gold Coins x 15

Silver Coins x 30

Steel Daggers x 2

Mana Ring (Unidentified)

I should get these mana stones and daggers appraised and sold at the Hunter’s Guild, Arthur planned, splashing some water on his face at the basin. And I need to visit the bank to exchange these coins for digital credits. Though gold and silver were universal currencies in this world, carrying heavy pouches of metal around the academy was a massive hassle. Better to load it all onto his student scroll.

He finished dressing and walked back to the bed. He pulled a blanket up over Roxanne’s massive boobs, leaning down to give her thick ass a firm, waking slap.

”Mmnph,” Roxanne stirred, rubbing her eyes. She looked up at him, her ruby eyes instantly softening with heavy devotion. ”You’re leaving?”

”I have classes tomorrow,” Arthur said, strapping his hunting knife to his belt. ”I need to get back to the city today and sort out my gear.”

Roxanne pouted, sitting up and letting the blanket fall, completely exposing her heavy chest again. ”When will I see you?”

”Next weekend,” Arthur promised, walking to the door. ”Keep your legs closed until then.”

Monday morning felt entirely different.

Arthur didn’t wake up feeling like a rotting corpse. He stretched his arms over his head, hearing his joints pop with satisfying snaps.

He took a quick, cold shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he took a moment to actually admire the physical changes. It wasn’t just numbers on a status panel. The lean, hunched posture of the original Arthur was gone. His shoulders were broader, his chest was firm, and his abdominals were clearly defined.

He put on his freshly washed academy uniform.

Damn. It’s actually tight on me now, he realized, rolling his shoulders against the fabric of the dark grey jacket.

He stepped out of the first-year dorms and started the long walk to the main academy building.

Last week, this exact walk had been a literal death march that left him collapsed against a pillar. Today, Arthur didn’t even break a sweat. With his base Strength at 26 and Stamina at 15, the steep incline felt like walking on flat ground.

He didn’t head toward the academic halls today. Monday mornings were entirely dedicated to practical combat training.

He arrived at the dirt fields of the training grounds ten minutes early.

The entire first-year combat class was already gathering. This was the core class, meaning the entire ”Golden Generation” of the novel was present.

Arthur leaned against the chain-link fence, silently observing the protagonist’s party.

Leon Braveheart was standing in the center of the field, laughing loudly and demonstrating a wide sword swing to Cedric Ashford. Cedric, the massive, hulking tank, clapped Leon on the back with a booming laugh.

Standing a few feet away were the girls.

Alicia Valentine stood with perfect posture, her fiery red hair tied back in a strict ponytail, quietly polishing the hilt of her practice sword. Emily Thorne, the martial artist, was stretching her legs, her thick, athletic thighs flexing with every movement. And Elara, the Elf Princess, stood slightly apart from them, looking bored and naturally superior to everyone around her.

Arthur’s gaze swept over them. His [Perception: 86] automatically logged their stances, their breathing patterns, and their muscle tension.

They’re strong, Arthur noted objectively, his eyes narrowing. Leon’s base Strength is probably pushing 50 already. Alicia’s Agility is terrifying. He wasn’t planning to fight them. He just needed to know exactly where he stood in the food chain. Satisfied with his analysis, Arthur looked away and began doing light shoulder stretches, entirely ignoring them.

Across the dirt field, Emily stopped mid-stretch. She blinked, her brown eyes locking onto the figure by the fence.

She nudged Alicia’s arm. ”Hey. Is it just me, or does Vance look... different?”

Alicia paused her polishing and looked over. Her sharp green eyes narrowed in assessment.

Normally, Arthur Vance stood with a hunched, pathetic posture. He was always coughing into his hand, his eyes constantly darting around to steal disgusting, filthy glances at their chests and legs.

But right now, he was standing perfectly straight. The academy uniform, which usually hung loosely on his frail frame like a sack, looked distinctly tighter around his chest and shoulders.

And most importantly... he wasn’t looking at them. He was staring straight ahead at the archery targets, completely focused on his own warm-up.

”He’s not coughing,” Alicia noted quietly, her knightly instincts picking up the subtle details. ”And his stance is completely grounded. He used to sway when he stood still.”

”Did he hit a massive growth spurt over the weekend?” Emily whispered, genuinely confused.

Before they could analyze the creeping stalker any further, a sharp, piercing whistle blew across the field.

FWEEEEET!

”Line up, maggots!” a harsh, sadistic voice echoed across the dirt.

The casual chatter instantly died. The entire class scrambled to form neat horizontal lines.

Arthur stepped into the back row, his eyes locking onto the instructor walking onto the field.

It was Morwenna. The Dark Elf Combat Instructor.

She was terrifyingly beautiful. Her skin was a flawless, dark obsidian, contrasting sharply with her stark white hair, which was braided tightly against her scalp. She wore a skin-tight, sleeveless black combat suit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her body was incredibly athletic, possessing a huge, firm ass and thick, powerful thighs built for crushing skulls.

She carried a heavy wooden training cane, tapping it against her open palm as she paced back and forth in front of the students.

”Today is a baseline assessment for ranged combat!” she barked.

Morwenna’s voice cracked across the dirt field like a whip.

”Whether you are a vanguard, a tank, or a mage, you need to know how to handle a projectile in an emergency. Grab a training bow and line up at the fifty-yard mark!”

The students groaned. They dragged their feet toward the weapon racks.

Arthur casually picked up a standard wooden longbow and a quiver of blunt-tipped arrows.

It was the exact same type of bow that had sent him into a paralyzing muscle cramp just five days ago.

He stepped up to the firing line. He took his position at the far end, purposely keeping his distance from Leon’s group.

”Three shots! On my mark!” Morwenna yelled. ”Fire!”