I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Four days into the Grayroot preparation period, Arthur returned to Training Hall Three after regular combat class for his final close-range assessment.

Morwenna had marked the same narrow ring used during his first disastrous evaluation. Leon and Alicia occupied a bench beside the wall while Emily stretched inside the boundary, rolling her shoulders as she waited.

The plain support band remained fastened around Arthur’s right wrist. He had spent weeks practising short escape drills after class, but knowing how to break a grip was very different from doing it while Emily tried to fold him into the floor.

Morwenna stepped outside the boundary and raised her whistle.

"First attempt. Begin."

Emily closed the distance and caught Arthur’s right wrist in one padded hand.

Arthur resisted the instinct to pull directly backward. He turned his forearm toward the gap near her thumb, struck the inside of her elbow with the handle of his training knife, and tore his wrist free.

He cleared the ring before she could catch him again.

"Acceptable," Morwenna said. "Reset."

Emily returned to the center, rolled her shoulders once, and gave Arthur a grin that had not been there during the first attempt.

The easy version of the assessment was over.

When Morwenna signalled again, Emily lunged for his left wrist instead.

Arthur hesitated only briefly. He reversed his stance, attacked the same weakness from the opposite side, and escaped before she could bring her second hand into play.

Morwenna ordered a third attempt.

This time, Emily ignored his wrists entirely. She seized the canvas sleeve near his elbow and stepped behind his hip, cutting off the route he had used twice already.

Arthur began the familiar escape and immediately felt the wrong angle. Instead of forcing it, he dropped his weight and turned his shoulder sharply.

The movement created enough room for one counter.

His training knife struck Emily across the ribs.

Arthur felt a brief flash of satisfaction and remained close one moment too long.

Emily hooked his leg, drove forward, and put him flat on the training mat. By the time he recovered from the impact, she had both of his arms pinned.

"You made the opening," Morwenna said from above him. "Then you stayed to admire it."

Emily released him and offered a hand. Arthur accepted it, allowing her to pull him upright.

"You do not need to defeat her," Morwenna continued. "You need one opening. Create it, leave, and return to the range where your class is useful. If you stay and trade blows, you lose."

She sent Emily toward the bench and called Alicia into the ring.

Alicia drew her training dagger before stepping across the boundary.

Emily had seized Arthur through strength and forced him to solve the grip afterward. Alicia did not give him that much time.

At the whistle, her hand closed around his arm and changed angle before he could settle his stance. Arthur attempted the fast escape he had just used against Emily, but Alicia followed the movement and folded his arm behind his back.

The joint lock stopped him before he completed half the turn.

"Again," Morwenna said.

Arthur reset.

When Alicia caught him a second time, he did not fight her hand. He stepped across her lead side and drove his shoulder into the turn, forcing her to move one foot to recover her balance.

Her grip loosened.

Arthur pulled free and crossed the boundary before she could establish another hold.

Alicia lowered her training dagger and gave him a short nod.

From the bench, Leon watched Arthur catch his breath.

"You are becoming irritating at every range, Vance."

Arthur slid his training knife back into its sheath. "I will accept that as the first sincere compliment you have given me."

"It was an observation."

"I accept those too."

Morwenna concluded the assessment before Leon could correct him again.

Arthur had improved enough to create space against a single-arm restraint. He still could not overpower Emily once she secured a full pin, and Alicia had demonstrated how quickly clean technique could ruin his first solution.

That was sufficient.

Morwenna had never expected him to become a close-range fighter. She only needed him to survive long enough to stop being one.

The students had begun collecting their training equipment when an Iron Anvil runner entered the hall. Soot marked his sleeves, and a small forge badge was pinned near the collar of his work shirt.

He handed Arthur a folded note.

Brunhilda had scheduled the final bracer fitting for two nights later. Beneath the time, she had requested one bow-to-dagger transition and one live Shadow Step redraw before approving the equipment for field use.

Arthur passed the note to Morwenna.

"She wants to test the bracer during a real transition."

Morwenna read the page twice before returning it.

"One supervised Shadow Step. No repeated attempts, and no improvising because the first one felt interesting."

"I rarely describe dangerous decisions as interesting."

"You describe them after they have already gone wrong."

Arthur folded the note.

Morwenna pointed toward the support band around his wrist. "Do not turn a smithing appointment into another injury report."

Arthur slipped the paper into his pocket without showing her the final sentence Brunhilda had pressed beneath the fitting time.

The letters had left marks on the back of the page.

Do not make me send for you twice.

Two nights later, Arthur arrived at the Iron Anvil at exactly the time written in Brunhilda’s note.

Brokk was fastening a wool cloak over his broad shoulders when Arthur entered. A leather case and several rolled guild papers waited beside the door.

"Smith-guild meeting," Brokk explained. "She has your piece ready in the back."

He opened the front door, then glanced at Arthur’s wrist.

"Try not to break this one before leaving the shop."

"I’ll make every reasonable effort."

Brokk considered the wording but apparently decided he was already late. He stepped into the street and closed the door behind him.

Brunhilda waited near the fitting-room archway. Once the front latch settled, she turned and led Arthur toward the worktable without wasting time on a greeting.

The finished bracer rested on a folded cloth.

It was built from dark fitted leather, with light metal protecting the outside of the forearm. The palm remained open, and the edge near his thumb had been cut smooth so it would not interfere with his dagger grip.

There were no unnecessary decorations and no long explanation.

Brunhilda held out her hand.

Arthur removed the temporary support band and allowed her to slide the finished bracer over his wrist. She tightened each strap, checked the clearance around his thumb, and made him open and close his hand several times.

"Outside," she said.

The rear yard contained three padded targets and enough open ground for a short movement test.

Arthur drew Whisperwind and released one ordinary shot. The bracer held his wrist steady without restricting the draw.

He lowered the bow, changed to his dagger, and tested the movement several times. The smoother edge cleared his sleeve and allowed his hand to close around the hilt without catching.

Brunhilda watched from beside the rear door.

"Now the step."

Arthur returned the dagger, raised Whisperwind, and selected the shadow cast by the farthest target.

Shadow Step pulled him across the yard.

He emerged low beside the target, planted one foot, and redrew immediately.

The bracer kept his wrist aligned during the sudden movement. Nothing caught against his sleeve, and the reinforced edge stopped the joint from folding when he settled into the new position.

The equipment did its job.

Arthur still had to do his.

His shoulder began to rise during the redraw. He noticed the mistake, corrected the posture Elara had drilled into him, and only then released the arrow.

The marker struck near the center of the target.

Arthur lowered the bow and flexed his fingers.

"It holds."

"Of course it holds."

Brunhilda walked across the yard and checked the straps. None had shifted during Shadow Step.

"Equipment can stop your wrist from folding," she said. "It cannot make you stop being careless."

Arthur followed her toward the workshop. "You sound like Beatrice."

Brunhilda locked the rear door behind them.

"Beatrice has never built anything this attractive."

Back inside the fitting room, Arthur placed Whisperwind beside the workbench. Brunhilda remained close while inspecting the bracer once more, her fingers moving from the metal edge to the straps beneath his wrist.

"The test is finished," Arthur said. "What remains?"

Brunhilda looked up at him.

"You returned when I ordered you to. That is an improvement."

"I had concerns about what might happen if you sent someone to collect me."

"You should."

She caught the front of his coat and pulled him down into a kiss.

There was no uncertainty between them. Their previous meetings had already established what happened when the forge was empty and Brunhilda decided that an equipment fitting required more privacy than Brokk would have considered necessary.

Arthur’s coat joined his bow near the workbench. Brunhilda’s apron followed.

The fitting-room door remained locked while the appointment became considerably less professional.

Later, they used the washbasin and clean cloths before restoring the room. Brunhilda wiped down the reinforced chair and returned several tools to the exact positions they had occupied earlier.

Arthur fastened his coat while she made one final inspection of the bracer.

She pulled each strap, checked the metal edge, and made him rotate his wrist twice.

"Nothing shifted," she said.

"I assume that means the stress test was successful."

"It means I built it properly."

Brunhilda released his arm but remained between him and the side door.

"Return when you want me," she said. "Not only when you damage something."

The statement carried none of the joking excuses they had used during earlier meetings.

Arthur looked at her for a moment before answering.

"That sounds like a standing order."

"You have finally learned to read one."

A cart rattled somewhere beyond the front of the forge.

Brunhilda glanced toward the sound. Brokk was not yet at the door, but the meeting had apparently ended earlier than expected.

Arthur collected Whisperwind and moved toward the side exit. Brunhilda returned to the workbench, picked up a pair of pliers, and resumed adjusting a metal buckle as though the fitting had remained entirely ordinary.

Arthur opened the side door.

"Vance."

He looked back.

Brunhilda pointed toward his right hand. "Do not wear the bracer while sleeping. Dry the leather if it gets wet. Bring it back if the straps begin pulling unevenly."

Arthur nodded.

"And return before breaking it?"

Her mouth curved slightly. "Preferably."

Arthur stepped into the cool night and closed the door behind him.

He had reached the end of the street when an academy messenger spotted him and hurried across the road.

The sealed letter carried Morwenna’s mark.

Arthur opened it beneath a shop lantern.

The Grayroot access request had cleared. Squad 7, Leon, and Alicia were ordered to report to Dungeon Logistics at first bell the following morning for the joint-team briefing.

Arthur folded the order and slipped it inside his coat.

The final assessment was complete. The bracer was fitted.

Now he had to see what was waiting beneath Grayroot.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!