I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur’s alarm went off at 6:30. He reached across the nightstand to kill it, then regretted moving when the soreness across his shoulders and back woke up with him.

Felix was already at his desk, still glaring at the half-finished subterranean evacuation map Professor Vale had ruined his weekend with.

Arthur pulled on his field clothes and grabbed the pack he’d finished the night before. He checked the quiver once before slinging it over his shoulder, making sure the silver-tipped arrows and the separate undead-treated shafts were still there.

The dorm door clicked open. Emily walked in, spotted Arthur’s open travel pack, and stole a piece of dried fruit from the top.

Arthur zipped the pack shut. ”That was mine.”

”It was unattended.”

Chloe arrived two minutes later, fully dressed in her reinforced field clothes with her heavy medical bag slung over one shoulder. She walked up to Arthur, caught his left hand, and rotated his wrist to check the canvas burn.

She didn’t ask how it felt. She just checked the skin, nodded, and let go.

Arthur flexed his fingers once after she released him. The burn barely pulled now, though the skin still looked ugly enough for Chloe to keep checking it whenever she got the chance.

”Ready?” Arthur asked.

Chloe adjusted her bag and the long iron-shod medical staff strapped beside it. ”Let’s go.”

The northbound transport ate most of the morning. Chloe had finished an infirmary shift the night before and lasted less than an hour before her head settled against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur kept one arm around her while going over the survey map.

Emily sat on his other side with her boots stretched beneath the opposite bench. When Arthur checked the saved pin west of the survey route again, she leaned over far enough to see the name.

”Saint Orlan’s?”

Arthur locked the screen. ”Old shrine near the road.”

Emily gave him a look. ”And that’s completely unrelated to why you picked this contract.”

”I didn’t say that.”

”Good.” She settled back into her seat. ”I hate obvious lies.”

Chloe made a tired sound against Arthur’s shoulder but didn’t open her eyes.

By late morning, the transport dropped them at the last serviced junction before the Old North Road.

The abandoned branch of the Old North Road wasn’t completely destroyed, but it had definitely seen better decades. The original stone paving was heavily cracked and choked with thick weeds. The drainage ditches on either side were collapsed, turning sections of the roadside into muddy bogs, and a wooden bridge railing spanning a narrow creek had completely rotted away.

Arthur pulled out a fresh survey sheet and started marking the obvious problems while they walked.

Emily tolerated that for about ten minutes before they reached a rotting tree limb blocking half the paving.

Arthur pointed at the heavy wood. ”You wanted something physical.”

Emily stared at him. ”I hate you.”

She grabbed the thickest part of the limb, dragged the entire mass off the road, and tossed it into the brush with a loud crash.

Chloe inspected a collapsed stone waystation while Arthur checked a set of deep wagon tracks cutting through the mud. They worked their way north, adding both to the survey sheet.

A few old distance markers were still standing along the roadside. Most had faded badly enough that Arthur had to walk up close before he could read them.

Then Chloe stopped near the edge of the road.

”Arthur,” she called out.

Arthur and Emily joined her at the edge of the road.

Chloe was pointing at the dirt near the treeline. Splattered across a cluster of flat stones was a patch of dried, dark blood.

Arthur knelt beside it. The blood was old, already flaking away from the rock.

He looked around the immediate area. A few feet away, one of the muddy wagon tracks dug much deeper into the earth, swerving sharply toward the ditch. The dirt was churned up, and a torn piece of thick canvas lay half-buried in the mud. There were clear drag marks leading away from the road and into the brush.

No corpse.

Arthur activated Eagle Eye. He followed the drag marks through the sharpened view, picking out broken twigs, disturbed brush, and anything moving deeper between the trees. He found older tracks cutting through the undergrowth, but nothing fresh enough to indicate an immediate threat waiting for them.

”Something happened here,” Arthur said, standing back up.

He kept Whisperwind in hand when they started walking again, an arrow resting loose against the grip. Emily moved closer to the center of the road.

Half a mile farther north, they found the overturned cart.

An overturned merchant cart lay rotting in a ditch. Near the shattered axle, three figures were stumbling aimlessly through the tall grass.

Undead.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. He raised Whisperwind, drew a physical arrow back, and released.

The shaft punched through the first corpse’s eye socket and out through the back of its skull. It folded instantly into the grass.

The remaining two snapped their heads toward the sound and charged.

The closest one reached Emily. She stepped into the swing, ducked a clumsy swipe, and drove her reinforced gauntlet straight into its jaw. The bone shattered with a loud crack, the lower half of the creature’s face tearing away.

It kept coming with half its face hanging loose, lunging blindly toward her throat.

Arthur’s second arrow entered through the ruined cheek and punched straight into the base of the skull.

The corpse dropped at Emily’s feet.

Emily kicked the body away. ”That’s bullshit.”

The third one was faster. It bypassed Emily entirely, scrambling over the ruined cart and lunging straight toward Chloe.

Arthur drew his bow, tracking the target, but Emily stepped backward to intercept, completely crossing his firing lane.

Arthur held the draw and waited.

Chloe stepped back as the corpse came over the cart. She caught her heavy medical staff in both hands and drove the iron base into its knee.

The leg buckled with a sickening snap.

Emily turned, grabbed the staggering corpse by the shoulder, and violently shoved it sideways, clearing the lane.

Arthur released.

The arrow took the undead straight through the side of the skull. It hit the dirt and didn’t get back up.

Chloe walked over to the bodies, her boots crunching on the broken paving stones. She knelt beside the one Arthur had shot, her hands glowing faintly as she examined the rotting tissue.

”They’ve been dead for a while,” Chloe said. ”Basic animation magic. And all three have the same necrotic residue.”

”Same source?” Arthur asked.

”Probably.”

Arthur checked the bodies for anything useful. One wore the shredded remains of a heavy merchant coat, but there was nothing worth taking.

He pulled out his phone and checked their position. The tracks from the earlier attack had led west through the trees, and an old road branch farther north ran in the same direction.

Saint Orlan’s sat at the end of it.

They ate a quick lunch sitting on a fallen stone pillar a short distance from the wrecked cart.

Arthur wiped his arrows down and checked the fletching before sliding them back into his quiver. Chloe reorganized the bandages and salves in her bag that had shifted during the fight.

Emily reached over and grabbed a strip of dried meat off Arthur’s lap.

Arthur caught her wrist halfway to her mouth.

”Stop stealing my rations,” Arthur said.

”I’m hungry,” Emily argued, trying to pry his fingers off her wrist. ”I punched a zombie.”

While they were arguing, Chloe reached over, quietly plucked the dried meat out of Emily’s fingers, and took a bite.

Arthur and Emily both stopped and looked at her.

Chloe chewed the stolen meat. ”You two were taking too long.”

Emily stared at the missing strip for a second, then reached into Arthur’s bag for another one. Arthur slapped her hand away before she made it inside.

Arthur gave up on the argument.

They finished eating, packed the remaining food away, and spent the next few hours working north through the quieter sections of the road.

By late afternoon, the shadows from the treeline were starting to stretch across the cracked pavement.

They reached a fork in the road. The main path, still recognizable as a thoroughfare, continued north. A narrower, badly overgrown stone branch curved sharply to the west, disappearing into the dense woods.

An old stone marker sat at the intersection, almost entirely swallowed by thick green moss.

Emily stepped up to the stone and used her gauntlet to scrape the moss away from the carved lettering.

SAINT ORLAN’S WAYSHRINE

3 Miles

Arthur looked down the narrow western branch. The overgrown road matched the saved pin on his phone.

Emily looked from the marker to Arthur.

”That your shrine?” Emily asked.

”Looks like it.”

”Convenient.”

”Extremely,” Arthur agreed.

”We finish this stretch first,” Arthur said. ”Then we take the branch. If we’re running out of light, we camp before the shrine.”

They left the marker behind and continued north.