I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The next morning, the outdoor combat arena was packed.

The first-year cadets were gathered in a wide circle on the training dirt. The trauma of the crypt was still fresh, but academy classes didn’t pause for recovery.

Instructor Morwenna paced in the center of the ring. She wore her standard tactical instructor uniform, the dark, reinforced fabric clinging tightly to her athletic curves. She held a heavy wooden training dagger, tapping it rhythmically against her thigh.

”You all learned a very harsh lesson on Friday,” Morwenna projected, her ruby eyes scanning the battered students. ”Monsters don’t care about your noble sword forms. A Troll doesn’t care about your perfect parry, and a Death Knight won’t wait for you to finish your incantations. If a monster breaches your vanguard, you need to know exactly where its anatomical weak points are.”

She stopped pacing and pointed the wooden dagger at the crowd.

”If an Orc grabs your throat, you don’t stab its chest armor. You drive your blade upward under its jaw. If an Arachnid pins you, you shatter its leg joints, not its carapace. Survival is about fighting dirty.”

Morwenna tossed the wooden dagger into the dirt.

”I need a volunteer,” she announced, raising her empty hands. ”I will demonstrate a close-quarters counter-grapple against an opponent who relies purely on stats over technique.”

Immediately, Leon Braveheart stepped forward from the front row. The golden boy was still heavily bandaged, but his hero complex remained entirely intact.

”I can assist, Instructor,” Leon volunteered confidently.

Morwenna looked at him. She let out a dry, mocking laugh.

”Sit down, Braveheart,” Morwenna dismissed him completely. ”You fight with a heavy shield and a holy aura. If an Orc gets past your shield, you’re already dead. I don’t need a textbook knight.”

She scanned the crowd. Her ruby eyes zeroed in entirely on the back row.

”I need someone who actually knows how to survive in the dirt,” Morwenna purred. ”Vance. Front and center.”

The entire class turned to look at Arthur.

A week ago, being called out by Morwenna meant a brutal, humiliating beatdown for the class’s amusement. Today, nobody laughed. They parted like the Red Sea, giving the SSS-Ranker a clear path to the center of the ring.

Arthur sighed lazily, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He stepped into the dirt circle. He was a Phantom Sniper. He belonged in the shadows, three hundred yards away with a drawn bow. In hand-to-hand combat, he knew he was absolute garbage.

”Standard feral lunge,” Morwenna instructed the class, keeping her eyes locked entirely on Arthur. ”The attacker goes for the throat. The defender uses their momentum to break their center of gravity.”

She didn’t give a countdown. She moved.

Morwenna was terrifyingly fast. She closed the gap in a fraction of a second.

Thanks to his [Perception: 103], Arthur saw it coming perfectly. To his eyes, her movements were highly telegraphed. He saw her hands shooting up to grab his collar, and her leg sweeping out to kick his ankles.

But seeing an attack and knowing how to counter it were two entirely different things.

Arthur tried to use his high Dexterity to sidestep, shifting his weight backward to brace against the sweep. It was a massive rookie mistake.

Morwenna didn’t sweep his leg. It was a feint.

The moment Arthur shifted his weight backward, throwing himself completely off balance, Morwenna dropped her center of gravity. She grabbed his right wrist, stepped directly into his guard, and violently twisted her hips.

She used his own braced weight entirely against him.

Arthur was instantly airborne. The world spun.

SLAM.

Arthur hit the hard-packed dirt face-first. The impact violently knocked the air out of his lungs.

Before he could even twitch, Morwenna dropped her entire body weight onto his back. She yanked his right arm painfully behind his shoulder blades, locking the joint entirely, and drove her sharp knee directly into the base of his spine.

Arthur groaned, a mouthful of dirt grinding against his teeth. He was completely immobilized in less than two seconds.

”Your stats are high, Cadet,” Morwenna projected to the class, her voice ringing out over the silent cadets. ”But stats without mechanics are useless. He saw the attack coming, but his footwork was pathetic. He fights like a tavern drunk.”

The class watched in awe. The guy who defeated a level 45 boss monster had just been effortlessly folded like a cheap chair.

But down in the dirt, the dynamic was entirely different.

Morwenna leaned her upper body forward, pressing her chest flush against his back to maintain the pin. Her face dropped next to his ear. The physical contact was heavy and deliberate.

”You’re a terrifying archer, Arthur,” Morwenna whispered, her voice dropping into a dark, highly aroused purr meant only for him. ”But without your bow, you’re just prey.”

Down in the dirt, Morwenna leaned her upper body forward to maintain the pin. Her face dropped next to his ear.

”You may be an excellent archer, Vance,” Morwenna whispered quietly so only he could hear, the edge of her knee digging just a fraction deeper into his spine. ”But without your distance, you’re just prey.”

Arthur didn’t try to struggle. He coughed, tasting the dry dirt in his mouth, his shoulder throbbing from the joint lock.

”Can’t argue with that,” Arthur grunted practically, wincing. ”Good thing I plan on shooting things before they get this close. Mind letting my shoulder go before it pops?”

Morwenna let out a quiet, amused huff. She didn’t get a rise out of him. He knew exactly what his weaknesses were and didn’t let his ego get in the way. She held the lock for one more agonizing second, just to remind him who was in charge, before seamlessly releasing his arm and standing up.

”And that,” Morwenna announced to the class, her tone strictly professional, ”is why you never rely purely on your physical traits. Return to your formations.”

Arthur pushed himself up off the ground, spitting a clump of dirt out of his mouth. He rolled his aching right shoulder, feeling the sharp strain in his ligaments. He didn’t give her a cocky smirk. He just nodded in acknowledgment of the absolute beating he just took.

I will return this humiliation ten fold, Arthur thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked back toward Emily and Chloe. And I need to work on close combat too. This training session made me realize a big flaw. If I get grabbed, I’m dead.

The practical lesson continued, but Arthur had already learned exactly what he needed to know.