CHAPTER 91: ARE THOSE YOUR ARMS OR PRETZELS?

Back in the days when the war between the two worlds raged, there were no rules, only the raw, savage urge to crush the other side.

It began when the demonic beasts and cursed beings of the Other World were hurled through rifts into this one, leaving trails of death and destruction in their wake.

Villages were burned, cities collapsed, and entire bloodlines were erased before the Blessed of Earth could rally to respond.

When they finally did, they didn’t come as protectors—they came as avengers.

The Blessed crossed over into the Other World in great numbers, and once they were there, everything in their path was slaughtered.

Peaceful beings, ancient forests, villages that had never even seen a soldier, they were all swept up in the flood of violence.

And in that war, propriety didn’t exist. Morality didn’t exist.

When you are faced with creatures who have already unleashed horrors upon your world, creatures who tore through your cities without care, your hatred begins to blur every line.

In the eyes of the Blessed, every face they saw in the Other World was the face of an enemy. Whether it was the snarling mouth of a cursed beast or the gentle, confused expression of a peaceful farmer, it didn’t matter.

What would normally have been condemned as an unspeakable war crime in any other conflict became commonplace.

Invading a harmless village and slaughtering its inhabitants?...Accepted.

Defiling survivors while their families watched?...Ignored.

Torturing captives until their minds broke?...Overlooked.

The reasoning was simple and cold: They started it. They brought destruction to our side. So we will destroy theirs, every single one of them.

That thinking burned deep into the hearts of the Blessed.

Even after the war ended and the two worlds, through years of slow, bitter negotiations, finally reached a peace, even after trade agreements were struck and the realms themselves began to merge, the poison of that mindset lingered.

The realms opened to one another. Goods and resources began to cross the boundaries. Cultures mixed. And yet...a great many of the Blessed still refused to see Otherworlders as living beings.

To them, they were nothing more than toys, bodies to be used, curiosities to be played with, objects to be broken when boredom set in.

And it wasn’t only the sentient being of the Other World they treated this way. The arrogance of their power made them cruel even to their own kind. But when it came to Otherworlders, their disregard was absolute.

That was why strict laws were created. Entire sections of the peace treaty were devoted to preventing such atrocities from happening again.

Violations were met with severe punishments, death, exile, stripping of one’s Blessing. But even these laws weren’t the strongest barrier to abuse.

The true protector was the Will of the World itself.

This Will, the unseen force that maintained balance, knew what would happen if it allowed rifts to open freely into weak realms, realms whose people could not defend themselves against the might of the Blessed. Such places would be wiped out within weeks, leaving nothing but ruin.

So it acted. It allowed portals to open only when the realm on the other side wanted contact, when they sought trade, culture, or mutual benefit.

The weak, isolated worlds remained untouched, protected under the Will’s silent guard. It was a safeguard that had saved countless civilizations from total annihilation.

But even the will of the world had its limits.

Some rifts weren’t opened through its blessing, they were torn open. Interference from cursed mana could rip holes between realms, bypassing the world’s control entirely. And when that happened, there was no guarantee that the other side would be prepared for what came through.

And even though it wasn’t the same reason, something similar happened here as the Will of the World went out of its way to open a rift for Mika to enter.

But to the people gathered here, that detail didn’t matter. What mattered was this: the rift had opened into a peaceful village.

A village without armies.

A village without defenders.

And that was rare.

Usually, if a portal opened at all, it was to a realm with enough power to fight back, beings with weapons, with magic, with warriors ready to repel invaders.

That meant the blessed had to be cautious, had to watch themselves. They couldn’t just follow every disgusting impulse.

But this time?

This time they could.

They could walk in and take whatever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, and nothing, nothing, would stop them.

That was why their eyes glittered. That was why they licked their lips when the woman spoke. That was why they were excited.

Not because they were about to explore a new realm.

But because they were about to walk into one they could ruin.

Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t one of those rare cases where cursed mana had tampered with space and created a random tear between worlds.

No...this rift had been opened by invitation.

The will of the world itself had called Mika here. That meant that only he was permitted to cross through.

The moment his task was done, the rift would seal shut, and it would stay shut and in a few minutes, every would-be intruder here would be cut off from their prize forever.

Which meant, if Mika wanted to, he could simply...walk away.

Do nothing.

Let the will of the world close the portal naturally and crawl into his bed for a long, peaceful sleep. Without him lifting a finger, everyone on the other side would remain untouched.

But was he going to do that?

Hehe...Of course not.

There was no way he could just leave it like that, not after everything.

His face, as always, was calm. Relaxed, even. But deep beneath that stillness, the fury was boiling hot.

He thought of all the time he had spent shaping that world’s fragile beginnings. All the sleepless nights, the endless calculations, the failed integrations of mana nodes.

All the agony he endured in his own mind trying to create that one spell, a spell designed to wipe out the cursed beings who had threatened the villagers lives, so that they could grow in safety.

He thought of the days turning into weeks, weeks into months, months turning into centuries and the constant pain he felt drilling through his head as he refined every detail.

He thought of the moment he had finally succeeded, not for glory, not for power, but for the simple joy of seeing the villagers smile. Seeing Mina smile.

And now...

Now these rats wanted to walk in and ruin it. To twist those smiles into screams. To turn his villagers into toys.

The thought made his blood boil, not just because they were threatening people he cared about, but because they were about to destroy something he had built.

It was always easy to break.

But only he knew how much effort it took to create.

No, he wasn’t going to let this pass. But he also wasn’t just going to kill them outright. Death was too quick.

They needed to understand.

They needed to feel the same rage burning inside him. They needed to taste that same helplessness, to know exactly what it meant to have something precious torn away from them.

And that’s when it clicked.

Yes. He already knew the answer.

If they had made his blood boil...perhaps it was only fair that he made them feel the same thing.

A slow smile curved across his lips.

And just like that, the small boat he was seated on drifted lazily through the air, lowering until it hovered just at eye level with the intruders. They were still laughing among themselves, blissfully unaware of the storm about to break.

Then his voice came out of nowhere.

"Hey, guys." He called casually, as if greeting neighbors on a quiet afternoon. "Since you’re all so bored right now...want to play a small game with me? It’s quite simple. Won’t take any time at all."

Every single one of them stiffened.

The voice had come with no warning. No footsteps. No mana signature. No presence at all. Their eyes darted frantically, searching for the source, and then they saw him.

A young man. Dressed in loose loungewear, sitting comfortably in a small boat floating in midair. A faint, easy smile on his face, as if none of this was serious at all.

They hadn’t sensed him. Not even a whisper of his existence.

And that was enough for their steel-trained nerves to react instantly. They didn’t waste time questioning it.

The burly one’s muscles swelled grotesquely, veins bulging beneath his skin.

The bespectacled man’s eyes ignited with a sharp, unnatural glow.

The lithe girl’s body shimmered, metal sheening over her flesh until her very form became a living blade.

Flames coiled in the hands of the fourth, heat distorting the air.

They were ready to strike in an instant.

But Mika’s voice came again, just a touch sharper, just a shade annoyed.

"No, no...there’s no need to be so rude. Pulling out your blessings the moment I ask you a question? Honestly. No manners at all."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Maybe I should punish you for that."

Mika then muttered something under his breath, quiet syllables no one could catch, and then it happened.

[Pretzelbind, The Shackles Of Living Flesh And Twisted Bone]

The words were soft. But the moment they left his lips, something shifted in the air.

Their arms...changed.

One instant they were steady, ready to strike, then suddenly they felt loose, disconnected, like dead weight hanging from their shoulders.

Confusion flashed across their faces.

And then their arms moved.

Not by their will.

Whip!

They lashed back, twisting unnaturally, wrapping behind their own bodies. At first, it looked like they were simply being forced into a restraint, until the real horror began.

Crack! Break! Quelch!

Their arms melded.

The bones shifted, stretching, snapping with wet cracks as flesh warped and lengthened into grotesque tendrils.

Skin split in places, ligament stretched taut.

Their own arms were weaving together, binding themselves behind their backs in a mangled, skeletal braid, almost as if they had knotted their hands into pretzels.

This was no metal restraint that could be picked or broken. This was them, their own bodies, twisted into living chains.

The first screams tore out of their throats.

"AHHHH! MY ARMS! MY ARMS! GODDAMN IT, MY ARMS!"

"AUGHHHH!!!! LET GOOOO!!!!"

"KYAAA! IT HURTS! STOP IT! IT HURTS!"

"NOOO! AHHHH! MY HAND ARE GONE! HAUGHHH!"

Even the most battle-hardened among them had tears in their eyes from the sheer agony of it, their knees buckling as the makeshift handcuffs tightened.

And all the while, the boy in the boat sat there, watching them with that same faint smile, like he was idly enjoying the weather.

In that moment, they understood.

Tonight was not going to be the fun, lawless playground they had imagined.

Tonight was going to be much, much worse...