Muscles Are Always Right (1)
The special training had begun.
And so, Marosh thought.
'Someone like me… could I really become muscular?'
He didn't know.
No.
Truthfully, he had no confidence.
He had never needed muscles.
No—if anything, they had only been a burden.
Fifteen years in the cave.
The only food available was toxic moss.
During that time, muscles were useless.
No—they were just extra baggage.
The more muscles he had, the hungrier he became, the more toxic moss he had to scrape up and eat, and the more often his stomach hurt.
'After I became this scrawny… I only needed to eat moss once a day.'
The muscles in his legs were just enough to barely stand and walk slowly. The muscles in his arms were only enough to scrape off the soft moss.
That's the kind of body optimized for cave life he had become.
But now, everything has changed.
"One more! One more!"
"Uwooooooh!"
"Hoo! Taha! Hoo! Taha!"
"One moreee!"
Shouts flying from all directions around the clearing. No—cheers. Hundreds of voices slamming into him like a massive wave!
Marosh looked around, feeling overwhelmed.
There he stood in a shallow clearing.
Surrounded by hundreds of demons in a circle—what they called the Farming Corps of the Demon King.
All their gazes were fixed squarely on him.
And with one massive voice, they shouted,
"One more! One more!"
".......!"
Marosh's shoulders trembled.
This was the first time in his life hearing such a massive roar. And it wasn't even from his fellow orcs—but from terrifying demons.
Were they about to eat him alive? Or tear him limb from limb in seconds?
No—more than that…
'…It's too much pressure!'
But the ones shouting weren't just the Farming Corps.
Five hundred humans, called the Combat Engineering Corps, brought in from outside the Abandoned Land, were also screaming at him!
"One more! One more!"
"....!"
Stop it, you lunatics!
Barely holding back the urge to scream, Marosh timidly turned his head.
And with a trembling voice, called out to the person beside him.
"Excuse me…? Lord Credos?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Do we… really have to do this?"
He asked, on the verge of tears.
The one standing beside him.
The one who had brought him here.
Name: Credos.
The Demon King, no less.
"Why are you doing this to me…?"
The resentment welled up inside him like smoke.
But whether he understood Marosh's feelings or not, the wicked Demon King simply smiled and asked back,
"What do you mean, 'why'? I told you already. If you want to remove that sacred sword of Camilan with your own strength and hand it over to me, you need to build muscles."
"......"
Yeah.
That's true.
But still.
"Even so… do we really have to go this far…?"
"One more! One more!"
"Hoohoo! Ta! Hoohoo! Ta!"
In the center of a thunderous cheer.
With only a pair of dumbbells the size of fists sitting there with him.
Marosh pointed at the dumbbells and asked,
"You want me… to lift these?"
"Why? They're light, aren't they?"
"........"
No.
They're definitely not light.
The heads of the dumbbells were bigger than his fists!
"These must weigh several kilograms at least…"
"Yep, exactly 7 kilograms. Isn't that light? You just have to grab them and sit, then stand up, that's all."
"........"
"10 reps per set. 4 sets total."
"......."
"Is that hard? Baal? What do you think?"
"Baal lifts 7-kilogram dumbbells with his armpit hair!"
"See? Baal says it's easy."
"........"
Marosh felt even more wronged.
He wanted to shout with all his heart.
Maybe for strong demons like you, those dumbbells are nothing—but I'm different. For me, this isn't just hard—it's impossible. It's really impossible.
He felt like begging.
But he wasn't given the chance.
"Yeah. You're hesitant, huh. I get it. Anyone could tell just by looking at you—you've starved in that cave for years, lost all your muscle. You're skin and bones, a literal anchovy. And now you're being told to lift that weight out of nowhere. It's overwhelming, even scary, right?"
"Yes, yes! Exactly!"
"Right? I get it. That's why I prepared this cheer squad for you, with all my heart."
"One more! One more!"
"Hoohoo! Ta! Hoohoo! Ta!"
"......."
"Just imagine the cheers that'll erupt each time you finish a set. Feels thrilling, right?"
"....."
No.
It's horrifying.
Even more pressure!
He tried to object with his facial expression and eyes.
But that didn't work at all.
"Yeah. You're feeling the pressure. That's why I prepared something even more special for you."
"…Excuse me?"
Something special?
Again?
What the hell is he planning…
Marosh already felt anxious from the start.
And moments later, when Kim Jangcheol snapped his fingers with a sharp snap, Marosh witnessed the very moment his anxiety took physical form and descended upon the world.
Thud…!
A ground-shaking rumble echoed from somewhere.
The sound and vibration grew closer.
Eventually, parting the massive crowd of demon Farming Corps and the 500 Engineers, a huge cart appeared.
It was carrying Asurat, tightly bound to a stake.
"Say hello. This is your cheerleader, specially prepared for you."
".... "
"Oh yeah. I even upgraded him into a mobile lightning rod for today. The more I look, the prouder I feel."
"...…"
"Aren't you going to greet him?"
"…Ah, hello..."
"Mmph! Mmmgh! Mmph! Mmph!"
"The cheerleader says he's happy to see you too."
"...…"
No, he's not.
That's the look of someone who wants to tear me limb from limb.
The look of someone who'd throw off that straw mat, charge at me, and twist my head off without a second thought.
Marosh felt like crying.
At the same time, he genuinely wanted to ask:
Why is one of the Four Heavenly Kings the cheerleader? Why is someone dragged in like that the cheerleader? And… what even is a mobile lightning rod?
"...…"
He was not okay.
He felt like his stomach ulcer was about to flare up.
But reality was cold and cruel.
"Well then, that's all for the announcements before our noble training begins. Now, let's get to lifting… no, stoning."
"......!"
"Alright, head trainer?"
"Baal! Will train! Marosh! Grab the dumbbells!"
At Baal's command, which was more like a roar, Marosh's whole body shook like an inflatable doll in a storm.
It was the intensity.
Frightened out of his wits, Marosh instinctively grabbed the dumbbells.
Baal's orders continued.
"Marosh! Deadlift! Stand up! One!"
"One more! One more!"
"...!"
Marosh's eyes trembled as he awkwardly gripped the dumbbells.
The daunting weight pressing down on his hands.
The pressure of having to lift that weight.
The crushing anxiety that multiplied that pressure a hundredfold.
The roaring cheers.
All eyes focused on him.
What if he failed with everyone watching? What if he couldn't stand up? What if he looked like a useless fool?
Would they really… let him live?
".....Urghrk!"
Marosh instinctively poured out every ounce of strength he had. He tried to stand up with the dumbbells. He strained to straighten his knees. Pushed with his hips. Forced his back upward. He gave it his all.
But it was too much.
For someone at true anchovy-level weakness, a 14-kilogram deadlift was simply too much.
"Ghuuuurgh…!"
Thud!
Amidst the roaring cheers, the dumbbells slipped from his hands. Just 7 kilograms each. The soft thud of those modest dumbbells hitting the ground was enough to silence the crowd in an instant.
…Whoooosh.
A chilly breeze blew across the clearing, now dead quiet.
In that stillness, Marosh froze completely.
Then, he started looking around nervously.
And he noticed—
"......."
Everyone's breath had gone quiet.
But even in that silence, hundreds of eyes were locked squarely on him.
Should he swallow his dry saliva?
No. It might be loud enough for everyone to hear.
Then should he just hold his breath and die like this?
…That was the moment he thought that.
"Ah, a faiiilure."
Demon King Credos spoke.
And just like that, the deadly silence exploded into a chaotic uproar.
"Waaaaagh! So close!"
"You gotta use your hips more! Tighten those glutes!"
"Don't curl your spine! No, like this! Yeah, like that!"
The moment the silence was broken, hundreds of bits of advice flew in from all directions.
Thanks to that, Marosh was actually relieved.
"......"
They're… not going to eat me?
They're not going to rip me apart?
Even though I failed?
Even though I let them down?
'Then I…'
Does that mean… I can keep trying?
"...!"
A surge of emotion rose up in him before he even realized. For the first time, he could feel it. The cheers from hundreds that had only felt like pressure—were not threats, but encouragement.
'Khuh!'
Tears welled up in his eyes without his consent.
Suddenly, the past came to mind.
When he was rejected by his tribe.
Mocked and cast aside for being a weakling who talked too much. The memory of being betrayed and abandoned in that cave.
All this time, he'd had no one on his side.
He thought that would always be the case.
But it wasn't.
Now he realized—this place was…
"Ahhh. Failing right at the start. How tragic."
"I, I'm sorry!"
Demon King Credos's words no longer sounded scary. That oddly smug tone of his—it even felt… oddly endearing?
And so,
Marosh once again reached for the dumbbells with renewed determination.
But then—
"Whoa there. Hold up. Don't grab the dumbbells just yet."
"Huh?"
"For our dear Marosh who failed his first attempt, the cheerleader has prepared a special event."
"Excuse me?"
A special event… for me?
'How much more could they possibly want to cheer me on…'
Thump, thump.
They really mean it. They're truly cheering for me.
Marosh felt his two atria and two ventricles pounding with bashful emotion.
And then, he witnessed it.
The Demon King slicing open the back of his hand in a self-inflicted wound.
Swosh!
'...Huh?'
With his fingernail, the Demon King slashed his hand open. Blood flowed. He flung it—toward the cheerleader, Asurat, still tied to the mobile lightning rod.
He shouted.
"Lightning!"
Crack-kra-kra-KRAK!
"....!"
A red bolt of lightning slammed down into the lightning rod in an instant!
Asurat's entire body, skeleton and all, lit up in a flashing display!
"...Kkieeeyaaahhh!"
The cheerleader Asurat let out a passionate cheer(?). His whole body was scorched black in one strike. Slumping into a groggy heap, he growled with a dying voice,
"Grrrk…guhh… if you… fail again… I'll… kill… you…"
"And that's what our cheerleader has to say!"
"Woooooaaaaaaaaaahhh!"
"One more! One more!"
"…!"
Marosh's pupils and eardrums shook violently.
Kim Jangcheol casually added in a smooth tone,
"Aaah, what a disaster. If Marosh fails his set, our cheerleader gets struck by lightning."
".......!"
"Oof, sizzling hot and zappy. The cheerleader's singing now. One more. One more."
".......!"
"So let's do better this time, yeah?"
".......!"
The Demon King smiled brightly as he offered his encouragement(?).
Marosh grabbed the dumbbells at light speed. With a newfound resolve, he steadied his posture.
And pushed with all his strength.
"Ghh… Eeeeeeek!"
"Woooooaaaaaaahhh!"
"One more! One more!"
"…If…you…fail again…I'll…electrocute…you…"
"Gkhh… Ahhhhiiiyack!"
Marosh gathered strength in every part of his body. Straightening his back. Locking his knees. Pushing the ground beneath his feet as if to launch himself.
With utter desperation!
'Please…! These people… are insane!'
He realized now—these lunatics would tie down a Four Heavenly King to a post and electrocute him just because Marosh failed a set.
So then, what would they do… to him?
'If I keep failing… they'll turn me into that. I'll be strapped to the lightning rod. I can see it now—these guys, they're exactly the type to do it! And if that happens… I don't wanna die as grilled meat!'
He became desperate.
His eyes rolled back.
He unleashed a guttural cry of ultimate effort.
"...KkkiiiiEEEEEK!"
Thud!
With a historic first screech, Marosh stood up tall—dumbbells in hand.
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