Musclemancy!

[WP] The world of Musclemancy: the buffer you are, the more mana you have. Instead of magic schools, witches and wizards hit the gym. Instead of potions, magic users drink whey. Instead of chanting spells, they flex their shredded abs. So when invaders came from the sky—they didn’t stand a chance.

*****

"Master Iron-Arms! There's an emergency!" It was an acolyte, barely 145 lbs soaking wet and probably struggled with benching the bar. Iron-Arms was sure that his voice alone could crush the poor lad.

"You want an emergency?!" Iron-Arms belched back at him, whey filled sweat dripping into his bulging eyes. "Then look at the earthquake caused by these weights baby!"

The herculean wizard proceeded to lay back down under his bench rack, Master Massive-Quads there to spot him in-case anything went wrong, though he knew that Iron-Arms could lift elephants. All around the gym the other master wizards stopped their iron shaking meditations and halted their body carving divinations to watch. The place was like a statue to fitness, men and woman who made Atlas look like Flatass. They were all ready to witness the epic glory that was Master Iron Arms benching over 1000 lbs.

"But Master!" The poor, puny acolyte couldn't possibly get through the muscled ear lobes of such fantastic wizards. His lungs could hardly carry his voice out of his own mouth, how could it make it into the ears of such titans?

But it was truly an emergency, the acolyte knew that he had to do something to get their attention? But what? What could possibly snap the greatest wizards on the planet out of their religious, pre-workout filled trance? What could save them from their dance with the dumbbell devil under such kale fueled might?

"I'm switching to CrossFit!" The young man squeaked out.

Weights dropped, jaws laid aghast, wizards from all around the room switched their eyes from the holy weight rack to the intruder of their sacred temple. Iron-Arms took his hands off of the bar and slowly raised back up, eyes filled with the fury of one-thousand storms. "You dare mention the dark magics in the House of Glorious Gains!?"

"We're being invaded!"

"That can wait! It can wait until we deal with the heretic that is speaking before me!"

The acolyte shook his head, hands shaking with anxiety as all of the mountainous wizards moving closer. "B-But, these people come from the sky, in giant metal ships... And they do something much worse than Crossfit."

"And what could that be!?"

"...Cardio."

"... Mother of god."

***

"I want as much creatine in those barrels as you can muster!" Iron-Arms was shouting instructions to the other master wizards. "Make sure the pre-workout can last us a month, we're going to be sniffing that stuff like it's white powder!"

The gym was moving like a stable of well-trained mustang horses. Sweating shirtless men and woman whose bodies shined with the glory of grid-iron gains moved with ruthless efficiency, preparing to take down the cardio invaders who threatened their very way of life.

"Master Perky-Pecs, you'll lead the left wing!"

"We'll eat them all!" He boomed back.

"Master Bulging-Biceps, the right!"

"I'll carry the whole world!" He screamed in a roid-filled rage.

"I'll lead the center charge!"

They all gathered in the center of the gym before leaving out. It was their temple, their holiest holy place, the room were the divines gifted their incredible muscles and allowed magic to flow through them like rivers of whey. And before them, plastered on the wall and looking down on them, was a picture of their strongest god.

Master Iron-Arms approached the wall and laid a loving hand on it, his face already burning red from the smelling salts. "Today, we ask for safe passage from the realm of mortal flesh into the realm of immortal steel."

Everyone nodded in agreement, some murmuring affirmations with him. "Blessed be the iron." Whispered one. "Lightweight baby." Said another.

"We take on the greatest threat the world of muscles magic as ever seen -- The cardio invaders. Please be with us on this faithful day." He backed away from the image of their deity, and they all joined in their salute to it.

The idol on the wall was a massive picture of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger, arms spread out before a crowd and the words "Conquer" plastered in white across the image. They all mimicked his wide arms and in perfect unison yelled out, "Ain’t nothin’ but a peanut!"

They marched out to battle a single sea of pulsing, pumped muscle.

The battlefield was ready. On one side was an army of tall, lanky green men all in perfect formation and dressed in silver battle armor. In their arms were advanced plasma rifles and behind them was a sea of floating artillery equipment that looked as if it could blast the rings off of Saturn.

On the other side, and to the baffled confusion of the aliens, was an group of 50 shirtless and absurdly buff men and woman. Their veins popped out of their muscles like rivers and their hearts pumped their skin with so many different illegal workout supplements that it would scare Pablo Escobar.

Iron-Arms stepped forward, his weight-belt strapped tightly across him. "Who represents your weak kind!?!"

The aliens traded confused glances, then their leader stood up from their pre-dug trenches and straightened his medal filled jacket. "Um... Me... Uh, is this all of this planets army?"

Gasps and angry murmurs arose from the wizards. "Is this all!?" Iron-Arms repeated angrily. "Do you not see the mountain of muscle before you?"

"Where... Where are your weapons?"

More gasps and looks of disbeliefs from the wizards. "Where are the weapons!?!" His voice was half laughing and half yelling. "Do you not see these arms!?"

"...Okay, this is a joke right?" The leader of the aliens turned to his men and shrugged his arms as if they'd have answers for him. "Did one of you set this up? What's going on here?"

"Enough!" Iron-Arms yelled with resolute power. "We're going to finish this."

"Okay, this is sounding like a Zorb script. Zorb, did you set all of this up?"

"Wasn't me boss?" A random alien in the back replied.

Iron-Arms cracked his knuckled and lowered his head, laughing lightly to himself. "Hey kid, play the song."

The acolyte from before was waiting in the back with a humongous array of speakers and sub-woofers. He stumbled to his feet upon hearing the words and flipped on a switch from the board before him. Suddenly the entire battlefield was being coated in the bass-boosted, dubstep mix of Numb by Linkin Park.

"Wizards!" Iron-Arms yelled with a smile. "...Flex on them."

The group of fifty wizards broke into their groups as instructed before, then when in place began twisting and turning their body's in ways that'd make Michelangelo feint with excitement. Muscles pumped with all of the glory of god, flexes so strong and powerful that you could hear the muscles grinding into place like tightening steel cables!

Then, as if matching the energy of the muscles, the sky cracked open and glorious lightning began reining down on aliens. The earth shattered like weights had been dropped on it and swallowed battalions whole. The aliens began firing in the most confused panic of their lives, but to their horror the plasma shots bounced off of the chiseled, bronzer covered muscles like nothing. The leader screamed for the cannons to fire everything at Iron-Arms while the other battalions tried to understand the sheer display of testosterone going on before them.

Iron-Arms became engulfed by green plasma explosions that lifted hundreds of feet into the air and blew the leaves off of trees miles off. The other wizards stopped their absurdly muscled flexing and watched, for they knew what was next.

The aliens halted as well, seeing that the lightning stopped falling from the sky and the strange muscled people stopped twisting. Everyone was watching the series of explosions that was obliterating the ground that Iron-Arms once stood on. After a solid minute of pure green plasmatic mayhem the alien leader raised his fist to halt the barrage, sure that not even atoms were left were he once stood.

But as the smoke began to clear, and the bass-boosted dupstep remix of Numb approached its epic drop, a figure arose from the smoke. Suspended in air and glowing with blue zapping lightning, Iron-Eyes floated into the sky, eyes bright blue with sheer steroid induced power. He was doing it, he was hitting the famous crucifix pose, a pose considered too powerful for mere mortals.

He rose higher into the sky, his fellow wizards bowing in understanding of his sacrifice -- For no one can survive the flexing required to pull off the impossible pose. Numb hit its drop and Iron-Arms screamed in the manliest, most primal scream ever produced, and everyone understood that he was no longer a mere man, but a Gorilla god.

The aliens became washed over by a sonic boom of electric grid-iron power that blew their armor clean off of their backs and sent them tumbling back into their ships. Some screamed in yells of squeaky terror, for what creature could look upon such epic power and not be reduced to mice?

After that fateful day Iron-Arms was introduced into the pantheon of Gym Gods, and his name was canonized in all self-respecting wizard's mind. The few aliens that lived returned to their puny cardio based lifestyles in utter shock and confusion. Every ounce of testosterone had been sucked form their bones, and their society was beginning to collapse under its own weight.

A new monument was erected to Iron-Arms back on Earth. Across its base was the motto that he lived by, and encouraged all who followed him to live by as well. They are words that won the day for mankind, and deserve respect:

"Bicep curls for the pretty girls."

*****

THE END