When the dust (and swearing) finally settled, my friend and I realized something terrifying.
Our village was half-burned.
Old man Jiro's house? Gone.
The chicken coop? Gone.
My beloved Olympus Gym™? …also gone.
But worst of all—our parents and neighbors were missing.
"Sh*t," I muttered. "This isn't just arson. They kidnapped everyone."
"Wow, Sherlock," my friend spat. "Took you long enough. What are you gonna do? Push-up them to death?"
"…Actually, that's not a bad idea."
She facepalmed so hard I thought she'd slap herself unconscious.
---
That was when I saw it.
A piece of cloth, trampled into the dirt, with the symbol of the so-called priest.
A twisted cross, smeared with blood.
"Fake priest bastard…" I clenched my fists. "He'll regret messing with my village. And my gym."
"…Your gym again? Really?"
"Shut up. Muscles are eternal."
---
[Author's Note:
At this point, the protagonist is about to declare his epic quest for revenge, but let's be honest—he's still a 16-year-old with biceps bigger than his brain.]
---
"I'm going after them," I said.
"What, alone?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You'll die."
"I'll die ripped."
"…You absolute f*cking moron."
And just like that, my demon-tongued childhood friend reluctantly decided to come with me.
Not because she cared about me, of course.
But because she couldn't trust me not to get myself killed in the dumbest way possible.
---
We followed the trail of smoke and footprints up the mountain pass.
It didn't take long before we found them—bandits in tattered armor, laughing while dragging our villagers in chains.
At the front stood the bald "priest," his holy robes now torn open, revealing tattoos of skulls across his chest.
So yeah. Definitely not a priest.
"Villagers of dirt and sweat!" he bellowed. "You belong to me now! Sell the old ones, raise the kids as thieves! HAHAHA!"
My friend whispered, "Holy sh*t, he's actually a discount villain."
I whispered back, "He destroyed my gym. He dies first."
She rolled her eyes. "Not the villagers? The gym?"
"Priorities."
---
I stepped out of the bushes and shouted.
"HEY, BALDY!"
The fake priest turned, sneering. "What's this? A boy with sticks for arms?"
I flexed. Muscles popped like steel cables.
The bandits actually flinched.
"…Holy sh*t," one muttered. "That's a 12-year-old?"
"His arms look like tree trunks!" another said.
"NO," I corrected. "They're more like Olympus pillars.™"
[Author's Note: Trademarked, apparently.]
The priest smirked. "So, the little monkey thinks he can fight?"
"Not think." I cracked my knuckles. "KNOW."
---
What followed was less of a battle and more of… well… a massacre.
One bandit charged with a sword. I slapped him. He flew ten meters.
Another tried to stab me from behind. I flexed my back muscles and broke the blade.
A third swung a club. I caught it with my abs. Yes, ABS.
"WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU MADE OF?!" the bandits screamed.
"PROTEIN AND DETERMINATION!" I roared.
Meanwhile, my friend…
Well, she picked up rocks and hurled them at bandits' heads while cursing them into the afterlife.
"DIE YOU FCKING GOBLIN TURDS!" WHACK
"CHOKE ON MY SHT-TALKING, YOU ASS GREMLINS!" BONK
Honestly, she was scarier than me.
---
Finally, it was just me and the fake priest.
He raised a staff, dark energy swirling.
"You brat… You're no ordinary child."
"Yeah," I grinned. "I'm extraordinary."
He hurled black flames at me—
I punched them.
The flames shattered.
His jaw dropped. "That's impossible…"
"It's called muscle magic," I said. "You wouldn't understand."
And then I punched him so hard his bald head shined brighter than the sun as he flew into the horizon.
Like… literally Team Rocket blasting off again style.
---
The bandits fled in terror. The villagers cheered.
But… something strange happened.
When the fake priest's body vanished into the sky, I felt it.
A tingle in my chest.
A pulse of… power.
Not my muscle power. Something else.
Something terrifying.
[Author's Note: Ooooh, foreshadowing. Spooky.]
---
My childhood friend, the demon-tongued girl, glared at me.
"Oi, Ark. You feel that?"
"…Yeah, Narsh. I felt it."
"What the hell was that?"
"I… don't know."
And for the first time, Ark—the boy who believed muscles could solve everything—realized there might be something out there that even his strength couldn't punch away.
But Narsh, with her sharp tongue and sharper rocks, was right beside him.
Whether she liked it or not.
---