Morning in the small village was peaceful.
Roosters crowed. Farmers tended their fields.
Children played tag.
And then there was me.
"ONE! TWO! THREE!"
I was outside the inn, shirtless, carrying two cows on my shoulders while doing squats.
Villagers stopped and stared.
One farmer dropped his rake.
A kid shouted, "MAMA! THE MUSCLE DEMON IS BACK!"
Narsh sat on a barrel, yawning. "Idiot's at it again."
---
Malrik stormed out of the inn, robes fluttering.
"ARK! For the love of the gods, put those cows DOWN!"
I grinned. "Relax, priest! They make great weights."
The cows mooed in protest.
The farmer who owned them fell to his knees.
"PLEASE, STRANGE MUSCLE BOY, THOSE ARE MY MILKING COWS!"
I squatted again.
"Not anymore—they're MILK GAINS!"
Narsh spat her drink, cackling. "Milk gains… oh f*ck, that's actually good."
---
Later, Malrik forced me to return the cows.
But peace didn't last.
Because then I tried to "train" the village kids.
"ALRIGHT, LITTLE WARRIORS! TEN PUSH-UPS EACH! STRONG WILL MAKES STRONG MUSCLES!"
The kids cheered and dropped to the ground.
Their parents screamed.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO OUR BABIES?!"
Narsh facepalmed. "He's gonna get us lynched."
Malrik groaned. "I left the capital for THIS?"
---
The chaos peaked when I turned the village well into a "training tower."
"ONE-HANDED ROPE CLIMBS! HELL YEAH!"
I shimmied up the well's pulley rope, shouting encouragement.
The rope snapped.
CRASH!
I landed in the trough, soaking wet, chickens scattering everywhere.
Narsh laughed so hard she almost fell over.
"YOU LOOK LIKE A WET MUSCLE RAT!"
Malrik rubbed his temples. "The gods truly hate me."
---
By evening, the whole village knew me.
Some kids called me "Muscle Hero."
Some elders called me "Demon Spawn."
One woman just called me "Shirtless Menace."
But me?
I flexed at the sunset and declared:
"Ark will never stop training!"
Narsh muttered, "I really should've let you drown in that trough."
---
[Author's Note: Chaos level—Maximum. Respect for Ark in the village—Minimum. Malrik's patience—Negative.]