I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The Ruined Shrine was dead quiet, save for settling dust and heavy, exhausted breathing.

Both squads lay flat on their backs on the cracked stone floor, covered in mud, dried gore, and rusted iron dust. For a long moment, nobody moved.

Then Leon started to laugh. It wasn’t heroic or dignified—just the breathless chuckle of someone who had almost been crushed by a fifteen-foot construct and was simply happy his bones were still attached.

Emily joined in, her heavy steel gauntlets clanking against the floor as she grinned at the ceiling.

Cedric did not laugh. He lay perfectly flat, hidden entirely beneath his massive kite shield, refusing to move a single muscle.

A few feet away, Felix held his dented tower shield up to the light, pale with dread. ”The academy covers repair costs for evaluation damage, right? Someone please tell me they cover this.”

”No one answer him,” Emily laughed. ”Let him suffer.”

Arthur lay flat, staring up at the evaluation crystal. Every breath dragged a dull ache through his side, his bruised ribs throbbing mercilessly.

”This,” Arthur groaned, ”is why group projects are terrible.”

Alicia Valentine sat on a broken pillar nearby, her pristine uniform completely ruined. She stared at Arthur like she wanted to argue, but then she actually laughed.

Above them, the evaluation crystal finalized its verdict.

[Evaluation Result: Squad 1 and Squad 7 — Joint First Place]

A breakdown scrolled across the crystal.

[Squad 1 Distinctions: Combat Efficacy, Rescue Conduct, Boss Burst Damage, Formation Stability.]

[Squad 7 Distinctions: Resource Collection, Route Exploitation, Hazard Management, Survival Efficiency, Adaptive Strategy.]

Emily sat up, wincing as her shoulder popped. ”A tie? We got robbed! We fought way dirtier!”

Felix raised one hand weakly. ”Joint first gets the exact same reward tier, Emily. Please save your outrage for things that actually affect our budget.”

Arthur pressed a hand against his aching ribs. ”For once, listen to the accountant.”

Leon wiped rust dust from his jaw, smiling. ”I think that means we both won.”

”That is the exact optimistic nonsense I expect from you,” Arthur muttered.

Extraction portals began to open, blue-white rings of mana humming at the edges of the arena.

Emily pointed at Cedric’s shield-covered body. ”Is he alive?”

”I am reconsidering my career choices,” Cedric’s muffled voice echoed. ”Vance, if you use me as a launch platform one more time, I am filing a formal complaint.”

Arthur stood with a wince, dusting off his coat. ”Noted. Next time I’ll ask before stepping on you.”

”That is not better.”

High above the dungeon, the faculty observation booth was in an uproar.

Dozens of scrying panels replayed the final Guardian elimination. Instructor Morwenna stood by the glass, grinning.

”Disgusting,” Morwenna declared proudly. ”A perfect tie. Somehow heroic and completely shameless at the exact same time.”

An older combat theory professor adjusted his spectacles, staring at the replay. ”The final impact timing is absurd. Braveheart pierced the core, but Vance cracked it open first. The system called it a contested finish.”

Morwenna’s grin widened. ”Beautiful.”

Sitting at the tactical desk, Professor Elena Moon let out a very slow, quiet exhale.

Her posture remained perfect. Her expression was cold. But beneath the desk, her legs were crossed tightly.

Arthur’s shortcut hadn’t broken the exam. The dungeon adapted, the boss scaled, and it ended in a tie—messy enough to look legitimate, but impressive enough that no one could accuse him of bypassing the evaluation. He had exploited her intelligence perfectly, right in front of the entire faculty.

”This is highly irregular,” the older instructor complained. ”How did a first-year locate a restricted structural bypass?”

Elena adjusted her glasses, her voice ice-cold. ” Cadet Vance found a hidden route under pressure. That is still part of the evaluation..”

Morwenna slowly turned her head. ”You sound defensive, Moon.”

Elena didn’t blink. ”You sound unemployed.”

The booth went silent for a second before Morwenna barked a loud laugh. ”Gods, I like this cohort.”

Two hours later, the adrenaline was gone, replaced by the sterile smell of antiseptic herbs.

The academy medical wing was bright and warm. Both squads occupied a row of white cots, looking considerably less impressive in various states of bandaged humiliation.

Cedric had an ice pack over his eyes. Leon’s arm rested in a sling. Emily sat cross-legged, trying not to flex her salve-soaked hands.

Arthur sat shirtless on his cot, ribs half-wrapped. Standing over him was Matron Beatrice. She radiated a terrifying, maternal authority—warm enough to keep students from panicking, but strict enough to make them regret surviving.

She pressed two glowing fingers against Arthur’s ribs. He winced.

”Again, Vance?” Beatrice asked dryly.

”I missed your charming bedside manner,” Arthur replied.

”You were just here after the labyrinth, and before that, the Death Knight,” Beatrice noted, pressing harder against the bruised muscle. ”You are developing a worrying attachment to my cots.”

”Can it not be both?”

From the next cot, Cedric groaned. ”Does he always talk like this while injured?”

”Yes,” Beatrice said. ”His mouth appears to be the only part of him that never breaks.”

Beatrice’s healing glow sank deeper under Arthur’s skin. Her expression sharpened. ”Your squad healer did an exceptional job.”

She nodded at Chloe, who was organizing bandages. Chloe immediately straightened.

”Clean mana control. Fast pressure sealing,” Beatrice praised. ”You kept him functional.”

Chloe’s face lit up. The praise was clinical and earned, which made it hit harder.

”However,” Beatrice glared at Arthur, ”functional does not mean fixed. You aggravated the bruising by channeling Shadow Step and launching yourself off another student’s shield like an idiot with excellent aim.”

”Technically, I threw myself off Cedric.”

”I heard that,” Cedric muttered weakly.

Beatrice finished the wrap with a firm tug. ”Listen carefully. If you keep treating your body like disposable equipment, one day something important will tear faster than I can fix.”

Arthur looked down at his bandages and nodded seriously. Beatrice’s expression softened slightly before she turned to Emily.

”Thorne. Stop flexing your fingers or I’m making you drink the bitter potion.”

Emily instantly froze. Felix looked up. ”There’s a bitter potion?”

”There is always a bitter potion,” Beatrice promised.

Chloe stepped up to collect Arthur’s bloody tunic. Arthur reached out, his hand wrapping gently but firmly around her wrist. It was a grounded, unmistakably public touch.

Chloe froze.

”You kept us alive today, Chloe,” Arthur said quietly.

The words landed harder than any private praise. This wasn’t whispered in a dark hallway; it was absolute, undeniable validation in front of everyone. Her fingers tightened fiercely around his ruined shirt.

For one dangerous second, she looked like she might throw herself into his arms. Instead, she flushed a proud red and gave a devoted nod. ”I’ll do better next time.”

”You did enough,” Arthur softened.

A few cots away, Alicia noticed. She didn’t judge, but her sharp eyes tracked the intense loyalty radiating from the healer. Beatrice noticed too, filing the dynamic away with calm precision.

Leon walked over next, offering his good hand. ”Excellent coordination in the Shrine. Thank you.”

Arthur shook it. ”You made a decent distraction.”

Leon laughed. ”Next time, I’m getting the final blow.”

”Next time, try being faster than a man with cracked ribs.”

Leon chuckled and returned to his squad, leaving Alicia standing before Arthur. There was no haughty glare or noble superiority—just battle-hardened respect.

”Your methods are vulgar, reckless, and offensive to every honorable fighting tradition,” Alicia stated flatly.

Arthur leaned back. ”Careful, Valentine. You’re making me blush.”

”But,” Alicia folded her arms, ”they work. I would rather compete beside you than have to explain your corpse to the academy.”

For Alicia, that was basically a handshake, an apology, and a declaration of respect all crushed into one stiff sentence. Arthur simply gave her a slight nod. The animosity had burned away in the Ruined Shrine.

A glowing blue projection appeared on the wall.

[Mid-Term Evaluation Rewards: Joint First Place]

[Report Monday morning to the Evaluation Office for reward selection.]

[Options: Academy Credits, Skill Scroll Access, Equipment Vouchers, Elective Priority, Restricted Library Hours, Combat Technique Consultation.]

”Finally,” Arthur said. ”Something useful.”

”I want an offensive technique,” Emily declared.

”We are getting an armor voucher,” Felix argued.

”I’d like a healing manual,” Chloe added quietly.

Arthur didn’t say anything. He knew exactly what he wanted: someone qualified to look at his skills properly and tell him how far he could push them without breaking himself.

That evening, Leon rented a massive private dining room at The Gilded Griffin. Both squads pushed two tables together, eating like starving wolves.

The atmosphere was chaotic. Emily and Cedric engaged in a violent arm-wrestling match. Felix held the running tab, looking faint every time Leon ordered expensive meat.

”This is financial arson,” Felix groaned.

”I like celebrations,” Arthur said, taking a bite of perfectly cooked steak.

”You would,” Alicia noted, watching him ignore every rule of noble dining etiquette.

Chloe sat beside Arthur, practically glowing. She kept his cup full and quietly ensured he got the best cuts of meat. Emily noticed and narrowed her eyes.

”Chloe, are you feeding him?”

Chloe froze. Arthur didn’t. ”She has excellent battlefield instincts.”

”This is not a battlefield,” Alicia sighed.

Arthur pointed at Emily slamming Cedric’s wrist down. ”Debatable.”

At the end of the table, Elara sipped expensive wine with dry elegance. ”Human victory rituals are just overeating with witnesses.”

”Correct,” Arthur said. ”Try the ribs.”

For once, nobody was bleeding, investigating a warehouse, or pretending a death trap counted as training. Just food, noise, and the fragile comfort of surviving something together.

It was well past midnight when Arthur finally returned to his dorm. Felix was already snoring.

Arthur tossed his coat onto his desk chair and sat on the edge of his bed. For the first time all day, no one needed orders or healing.

He let out a long, exhausted sigh. Between the guild takeover, the combat drills, and the evaluation, he hadn’t checked his raw numbers in weeks.

He closed his eyes and called up the interface. A crisp blue screen materialized in the dark.

[Mid-Term Dungeon Evaluation Complete]

[Result: Joint First Place]

[Reputation Updated: Squad 7 — Shameless Survivors]

[Pending: Status Review / Attribute Check / Party Record Update]

His ribs still ached beneath the bandages. His muscles were exhausted. But the screen was waiting.

Arthur leaned back against the wall, cracked his neck, and opened the primary status window.

”Let’s see what nearly dying was worth.”