Ark always dreamed of traveling the world, training his body and willpower far beyond what anyone thought a boy could endure. His childhood motto- "A strong will can gain strong muscles"-became his entire way of life. But one day, a wandering priest uncovered something strange within his small village: a power said to belong to the gods themselves... and that power resided in Ark.

With the ability to revive the dead, Ark becomes both a blessing and a curse. For while people celebrate his miracle, whispers grow louder: Where does the life he restores truly come from? The doubt gnaws at Ark's heart.

Alongside his foul-mouthed childhood friend Narsh (whose "demon tongue" terrifies even her parents) and Malrik, the sharp-eyed priest who guides them, Ark sets off on a journey that's equal parts dangerous and ridiculous. From absurd daily training routines to demon-tongued bickering, the group stumbles through comedic chaos on the road-while slowly uncovering the truth about factions like the mysterious Hound and Ark's divine burden.

In a world where laughter mixes with peril, Ark must face the weight of his strange gift, the meaning of his resolve, and the question that started it all:

"Sage, the life you gave... where did you take it from?"

The sun was bright, the wind was calm, the birds were chirping.


"ARK!" Narsh screamed. "We're WALKING to the capital, and you're doing push-ups in the middle of the road?!"


I grunted. "It's called multitasking. Strong will, strong muscles!"


"You're slowing us down, you dumb boulder!"


"Not true. Look—see? One-arm push-ups while moving forward."


Narsh stopped, staring at me as I shimmied along the road with one arm, somehow making progress.


The horse carrying Malrik snorted and trotted ahead, leaving me crawling after them like an idiot.


Malrik pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're traveling to the capital under suspicion of heresy. You need discretion. Dignity. Composure."


I flexed both arms. "I have muscles. That's dignified enough."


Narsh barked a laugh. "Yeah, real dignified—sweating like a pig and making the road look like it's giving birth to you."


I froze mid-push-up. "…That was unnecessarily vivid."


By noon, Malrik had tried three times to maintain order.


Narsh shouted at a flock of crows: "SHUT UP, YOU FEATHERED SH*T MACHINES!"


I balanced on one hand and declared, "No strength is ever wasted when it builds pecs of glory!"


"Please, for the love of the gods, be silent."


I whispered to Narsh, "Did he just say silent training?!"


Narsh smacked me in the head. "No, dumbass."


Malrik's eye twitched so hard it looked like he was about to exorcise himself.


Later that night, we camped in the woods.


Malrik tried to pray quietly by the fire.


I was in the corner doing squats with a log across my shoulders.


"Eight hundred… eight hundred one…"


Narsh, lying on her blanket, groaned. "If I hear one more number, Ark, I swear I'll carve it into your forehead."


I smiled. "Then I'll always remember my progress."


Narsh sat up, grabbed a rock, and threw it at me.


The log rolled off my shoulders and smashed into Malrik's prayer circle.


"…I should've left you both with the bandits."


And so, our first night on the road was filled with:


The road to the capital was going to be hell.


[Author's Note: The holy trinity—Muscles, Swears, and Suffering—marches on.]


Chapter 9 - Chapter 9: Road to Insanity (and the Capital)