NOVEL WEB Chapter 138: Princess carry!
"Pitiful."
Artis shook his head like a disappointed father catching his son failing at arm wrestling a toddler.
The entire room was frozen in time. Eyes stretched wide, jaws unhinged, brains struggling to comprehend the absolute fuckery they were witnessing.
Even Lily—who had tried, tried to preserve some shred of dignity—had her face buried in her hands.
But not completely.
Oh no.
Between her fingers, a small gap remained—just enough to witness the incoming carnage.
Even Biceps Guy, who had finally caught up—huffing, wheezing, sweat pouring—stood there, eyes bugging out like a fish gasping for air.
His mouth was already hanging open, so there was no need for further dramatics. He was already at maximum shock capacity.
And the poor bastard whose pants had been violated by the gods of destruction?
He twitched.
Desperately, frantically, he tried to cover his very underwhelming, fully traumatized, cowardly little soldier—but before he could even react—
SNAP. SNAP.
Something cracked.
Two things, actually.
His hands.
His fucking hands.
No pain. No warning. No dramatic scream. Just—gone. Just disconnected from his ability to function like a proper human being.
He went to move them and—nothing. His fingers were there, but they weren't listening. Like a drunk man trying to stand but his knees were on strike.
His eyes shook.
No, no, no, no, no.
He didn't dare look at the demon crouching beside him, his presence so ominous it felt like death itself had paused to watch the show.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Prayed. Begged. Made a silent contract with every single god in the universe to spare his poor, humiliated, shrinking little dick from whatever horrors were about to unfold.
But then—
A voice.
That voice.
Calm. Amused. Unholy.
"Just a moment, please. You wanted Lily, right?"
The broken man froze.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
"How about I give you a small peek at her?"
The words didn't even register in his shattered, malfunctioning brain. He just nodded. Desperate. Oblivious. Ready to agree to anything if it meant this walking nightmare would go away.
But oh, poor bastard.
Artis wasn't going anywhere.
Not until the real fun began.
Meanwhile, Biceps Guy—who had briefly stopped to process the absolute clownery before him—groaned and started moving again.
His body ached, his patience was non-existent, and his fists were ready to introduce themselves to the pretty-ass face of this lunatic.
And there Artis was. Still crouching. Just a meter away. Like a smug little gremlin who knew he was untouchable.
Biceps Guy gritted his teeth.
'If I can just knee this bastard straight in his jaw, it's over. Done. Instant KO. He won't be smirking after that.'
Just as he clenched his muscles, ready to launch himself forward—
POOF.
Artis disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next? Gone.
Biceps Guy blinked, disoriented. Then his instincts screamed at him to look behind.
And there he was.
Running again.
Like a menace.
Like an agent of chaos.
Like a fucking raccoon that had just stolen something valuable and was high-tailing it out of the crime scene.
Biceps Guy's soul left his body for a second.
'Oh, for fuck's sake.'
He cursed internally, clenched his fists, and—again—took off after the bastard.
Meanwhile, Lily—who had been trying to pretend none of this was happening—had definitely heard what Artis had said earlier.
And she did not like it.
Her frown deepened.
And when she saw him charging toward her?
She took an instinctive step back.
But it didn't matter.
He closed the distance in a blink, grabbed her hands—firm, unyielding—and beamed at her like they were about to commit the greatest scandal in history.
"Come on," he announced, like some cult leader delivering a sermon. "Let us be a beacon to support a movement."
Lily stared.
"…Wh-what movement?"
She blurted out, utterly lost in whatever the hell he was talking about.
But oh. She didn't get an answer.
Of course she didn't get an answer.
Because before she could even process what was happening—
She was airborne.
Lifted. Snatched. Scooped the fuck up.
One moment, her feet were on the ground. The next? She was in his arms.
A full-on princess carry.
Her entire body stiffened. Her brain screamed.
Because this?
This was not allowed.
This was somehow—and she didn't even know why—way too damn intimate.
Her face burned.
"Put me down—"
"No," he said, tone absolute, chest solid beneath her, grip firm. "We're making history, Lily."
'Oh. What the fuck.'
Then, he moved.
Like a fucking rocket.
"HUPP!!!" Lily shrieked, instinctively clinging to Artis's neck like a startled kitten being yeeted into battle—purely for balance, of course.
Definitely not because the bastard's grip was firm or because his body felt obscenely stable beneath her.
Nope.
No thoughts. No feelings. No unwanted warmth in weird places.
Meanwhile, Biceps Guy—who was about to drop dead from pure exhaustion—saw Artis charging straight at him again.
Again.
His brain short-circuited. He tried to grin, but his jaw was so tense from stress that his face muscles straight-up refused to cooperate.
No. No smiling. No happiness. Only pain.
'Got you, bitch.'
He internally screeched like a villain about to achieve his long-awaited revenge.
With a desperate lunge, he outstretched his arm—the plan? Simple. Let the bastard collide headfirst into his meaty-ass bicep and finally go the fuck down.
But, oh.
The universe was not on his side.
Because just as he thought victory was his—
WHOOSH.
Artis became a blur.
Again.
Like a goddamn ninja.
Ducked. Twisted. SLID under his outstretched arm.
And then?
Gone.
Just gone.
Biceps Guy stood there, hand still frozen mid-air, his body betrayed by physics, reality, and every single deity he had ever believed in. Stay tuned for updates on My Virtual Library Empire
'FUCK ME!!!'
He cursed loudly in his soul as he stopped in his tracks for the third time.
At this point, his spirit was on its knees, begging for mercy. His legs? Jelly. His lungs? Fried. But like a man possessed, he started running again—SLOW AS FUCK—but with raw, stupid enthusiasm.