I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur entered Training Hall Three the following morning in his academy training uniform. He carried Whisperwind, his personal daggers, and the folded red notice Morwenna had left for him. Brunhilda’s temporary leather wrap was strapped around his right forearm.

He didn’t need to look for his training partner. Emily was already waiting in the center of the room, wearing her academy training clothes and a pair of padded combat gloves.

Instructor Morwenna stood nearby, leaning casually against a wooden weapons rack.

Arthur stopped and looked at Emily. "You said you were participating. You neglected to mention that you were the punishment."

Emily rolled her shoulders. "I wanted you to sleep peacefully."

"You waited outside my room specifically to ruin that," Arthur pointed out.

Morwenna stepped forward and took the red notice from his hand. "Personal weapons on the table, Vance."

Arthur placed Whisperwind and his daggers onto the nearest bench. Morwenna’s eyes dropped to his right arm.

"The forge?" she asked, nodding at the leather.

"Temporary support," Arthur said.

"Good. Keep it on."

Morwenna picked up a piece of chalk and drew a broad, circular boundary across the padded training mats. Copies of Beatrice’s restrictions and Voss’s assessment rested on the bench beside the weapons rack.

She explained the problem plainly. "Your bow keeps enemies away. Shadow Step gets you away when they manage to come close. Today, you have neither."

"Your bow and real daggers stay on the bench. No skills, and no full-power mana."

Morwenna tossed him two blunt training knives. Their chalked edges left bright marks on clothing without cutting skin.

"First round is simple," Morwenna said, stepping out of the chalk circle. "Vance avoids being caught. Thorne catches him."

Arthur looked at Emily, who was adjusting the straps on her padded gloves.

"That seems heavily weighted toward the large violent woman," Arthur noted.

Morwenna didn’t blink. "Correct."

Morwenna blew a short whistle to signal the start.

Emily advanced directly, closing the distance in three strides.

Arthur stayed light on his feet, using his superior Dexterity to remain outside her reach. When Emily threw a probing jab, he slipped smoothly to the outside, tapping her wrist with the flat of his training knife. He ducked under a wide hook, circled behind her, marked the back of her shoulder with the second knife, and dragged the blade across the strap of her padded glove, leaving another bright mark before she could turn.

Emily scowled, clearly annoyed by his speed, but she didn’t become reckless.

Arthur backpedaled toward the center of the ring. "Three marks. Do I win?"

"No," Morwenna stated.

"You definitely don’t," Emily agreed.

Arthur was faster, but every dodge forced him to give ground. Emily stopped chasing him directly. She began controlling the space instead. Whenever he tried to circle left, she angled her shoulders to cut him off, steadily herding him toward the edge of the chalk boundary.

Morwenna watched silently, offering zero help.

Arthur realized what was happening. Emily wasn’t trying to punch him anymore. She was simply taking away his room to breathe.

Seeing the boundary line approaching his heels, Arthur spotted a brief gap near Emily’s right side. He stepped inside her guard and pressed the tip of the training knife against her ribs.

The knife landed cleanly beneath Emily’s ribs, exactly where Arthur would have aimed with a real blade.

But Emily didn’t dodge. She deliberately accepted the hit, letting the blunt knife press into her side. Before Arthur could withdraw his arm, her padded glove snapped up and locked onto his wrist.

Arthur slashed the second training knife across her forearm, but Emily accepted the mark and trapped his other wrist.

Emily simply raised her left arm, took the blunt impacts against her padding, and trapped his second wrist.

Arthur planted his feet and tried to twist free. Emily’s grip didn’t move an inch. He drove a knee upward toward her thigh, but she smoothly turned her leg, absorbing the blow without flinching.

Desperate, Arthur tried to step behind her ankle to sweep her footing.

Emily felt the shift in his weight. She pulled him sharply forward, stepped across his path, and hooked her foot behind his calf.

Arthur lost his balance. Emily controlled his arm as she lowered him onto the padded floor, keeping the impact away from his injured ribs.

She dropped one knee beside his hip and pinned both wrists above his head.

Arthur tested her grip once. He couldn’t move.

Emily looked down at him. "Perfect accuracy."

Arthur looked at the training knife still pressed harmlessly against her side. "That should count for something."

"It counted," Emily said casually. "You still got caught."

Morwenna blew the whistle to end the round.

Emily released him and stood up. Arthur sat up slowly, rubbing his right wrist where her grip had dug into his temporary brace.

"I landed four clean hits," Arthur objected, looking at Morwenna.

"And then chose to remain close enough for her to grab you," Morwenna replied.

Arthur pointed at the bright mark on the side of Emily’s vest. "That would have been a real knife."

"And she would still have had enough time to grab you," Morwenna said. "A serious wound is not an instant disappearance."

Emily offered Arthur a hand up.

Arthur ignored the hand and stood up by himself.

"A clean hit gives you an opening," Morwenna said. "Use it and get away. Do not remain close enough for the opponent to grab you."

Arthur brushed off his training jacket. "You practice these speeches beforehand?"

"Only for difficult students," Morwenna said. "Round two. Escape."

She changed the parameters. Emily started the round with one hand already gripping Arthur’s wrist. His objective was to escape before she could secure his second arm and take him down.

At the whistle, Arthur planted his feet and pulled directly backward.

Emily didn’t budge. She simply stepped into his pulling momentum and caught his other wrist effortlessly.

Morwenna blew the whistle. "You are trying to overpower her."

"I noticed it wasn’t working," Arthur muttered.

Morwenna stepped into the ring. She simply showed him.

Morwenna stepped into the circle and took Arthur’s trapped wrist.

"Turn toward the gap beside her thumb," she said, guiding the movement. "Step sideways instead of pulling backward. Strike the inside of her elbow with the knife handle, then leave before she catches you again."

They reset the position.

Emily gripped his wrist. Arthur turned his arm, snapping it against her thumb joint, stepped sharply to the side, and struck the inside of her elbow with the heavy handle of the training knife.

Emily’s grip broke. Arthur slipped out and immediately ducked behind her. Emily spun, her padded fingers brushing the sleeve of his training jacket, but Arthur lunged backward and cleared the chalk boundary first.

Morwenna nodded. "Successful escape."

Emily looked down at her empty hand. "Do it again."

"You sound offended," Arthur noted.

"I am."

For the final round, Morwenna erased half of the chalk circle.

"Less room," Arthur observed.

"Enemies rarely provide ideal working conditions," Morwenna replied.

The method worked twice.

On the third attempt, Emily stopped reaching for his wrists. She lowered her center of gravity and drove forward with her entire body, cutting off his escape route.

Arthur tried to pivot around her. Emily dropped her weight, stepped across his escape path, and caught him around the hips below the injured ribs.

Arthur widened his stance, but Emily kept driving forward. It was like trying to stop a stone pillar.

She lifted him just enough to take his feet off the mat, then lowered him onto the mat and trapped both of his arms before he could recover.

Emily looked down at him. "Better."

Arthur exhaled a long breath beneath her. "Your praise lacks warmth."

"You’re alive," Emily said. "That is the warm version."

Morwenna blew the whistle, ending the assessment.

"At range, you are dangerous," Morwenna concluded bluntly as Arthur got to his feet. "While moving, you are difficult to catch. Once someone stronger gets both hands on you, the fight is over."

"Encouraging," Arthur said.

"So don’t let them get both hands on you," Morwenna told him. "Ten minutes of close-range escape practice after every combat class. Thorne is your first partner. Once you can escape her consistently, I’ll assign fighters with different styles."

Emily looked visibly pleased by the arrangement.

Arthur sighed. "Was this assessment designed specifically to improve her week?"

"That was a fortunate side effect," Morwenna said.

Before they left, Morwenna gave Arthur one final warning.

"No full-power training until Beatrice clears your ribs. One controlled Shadow Step per supervised practice. Wear the forge wrap during your next approved field assignment. And stop assuming a clean hit ends the fight."

Arthur collected Whisperwind and his daggers before leaving the hall with Emily.

She bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm.

"You lasted longer than most people."

"You pinned me twice," Arthur reminded her.

"Most people don’t require the second attempt," Emily said.

An academy messenger hurried down the corridor and stopped in front of them. He held out a black envelope sealed with the silver crest of the Obsidian Adventurer Guild.

Arthur opened it.

Weekly squad report required.

Additional field contract available.

Report to the Obsidian Guild tomorrow morning.

Emily read over his shoulder.

"Another dungeon?"

"Probably."

Her eyes dropped to the temporary wrap around his wrist.

"Try not to break the rest of yourself before the real bracer is finished."

Arthur adjusted the strap.

"I’ll do my best to damage only the approved equipment."

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