The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 27: Resonance

Tae-Jun exhaled, stretching his shoulders as he rolled his neck from side to side. His boots scraped against the cracked pavement, shifting slightly as he sized up Echo.

"Haven't had a real fight since this whole system crap started," he mused, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see if you're any good"

Echo didn't respond.

His body was already in motion.

The moment Tae-Jun shifted his stance, Echo stepped forward—not away, not defensive. Forward.

His hands moved fast. Fingers curled slightly, adjusting his breathing. His body relaxed.

Then—

He inhaled.

And released.

A sharp boom erupted across the battlefield.

The sound of his foot slamming against the ground amplified instantly, surging outward in a shockwave of noise. The air trembled. The ground vibrated. The sound surged into every crevice, bouncing off walls, distorting the space around them.

Tae-Jun's hair flicked upward from the force of it, his body stiffening slightly.

Echo stepped into the movement. Pressed the attack.

His voice lashed out, cutting through the lingering vibrations—

"Collapse."

A distant explosion.

Behind Tae-Jun, a pile of rubble detonated, the sound stored and unleashed in an instant. Shards of concrete and dust burst into the air, blinding him for a moment.

A second later—Echo was already moving.

His body flickered in and out of the dust cloud, the distorted acoustics making his footsteps impossible to track. Every step he took sounded like it was coming from a different direction.

Tae-Jun cursed, jerking his body backward. Too late.

Echo struck.

A precise heel kick to the ribs, amplified by a burst of sound.

Tae-Jun grunted, staggering slightly.

Then—his foot shifted.

The instant his heel pressed into the dirt, the ground around him sank.

Echo's eyes flickered downward.

The pavement under Tae-Jun's feet had dried and crumbled—becoming sand.

Shit.

Echo stepped back instantly, but Tae-Jun's fingers twitched—and the sand twisted.

A solid wave of packed dirt slammed into Echo's legs. His footing wavered. His balance shifted.

Tae-Jun exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders again.

"Not bad," he admitted, flexing his fingers. "You move well. Hit harder than I thought, you would."

Echo clenched his jaw, already shifting his stance again.

Tae-Jun lifted his hand, sand curling around his fingers.

"But let's be real—"

He grinned.

"You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that."

The sand around Tae-Jun's fingers coiled and pulsed, shifting like it was alive, like it could breathe. Echo could almost feel it—the weight of the battlefield shifting.

This wasn't just some passive trick. Tae-Jun was controlling the entire terrain.

Echo exhaled slowly.

That's how it was, huh?

His stance shifted slightly. He could still feel the remnants of his last soundwaves lingering in the air, trapped inside the subtle hum of the environment.

The battlefield was shifting.

If Tae-Jun wanted to change it—

Then so would he.

He didn't move forward.

He didn't speak.

Instead—he snapped his fingers together.

A single, light sound.

It echoed everywhere.

Tae-Jun's head tilted slightly.

Then—he moved.

Fast.

His foot slammed down—and the pavement shattered beneath him.

A sharp crack rang out as thin fractures raced outward, jagged lines crawling across the street. Small sections of the ground hardened, then crumbled, shifting into loose sand.

Echo clicked his tongue, already darting backward.

Tae-Jun was fast, precise, and controlled.

His ability didn't just change him—it changed everything.

It spread across the battlefield like a slow-moving virus, creeping into every surface it touched.

Echo landed on solid pavement—but only for a second.

Then, the ground under his heel gave way.

His foot sank into something softer.

Shit.

Sand.

The moment the realization hit—

The sand lunged.

A curved spike of packed earth surged toward him, sharp and unforgiving.

Echo's breath hitched.

He stomped down.

The impact exploded outward.

A ripple of force detonated through the sand, breaking the spike apart just before it reached him.

But Tae-Jun was already moving.

Echo barely had time to react before another wave of sand shot up from behind.

He twisted sharply, kicking off the loose surface, pushing himself into a spin.

The moment he landed, he shifted his weight—

Then pressed his hand against the ground.

He didn't attack.

Not yet.

Instead, he listened.

The way the sand moved. The way it shifted.

Tae-Jun let out a low whistle.

"Alright. I'll admit—that was impressive."

He rolled his shoulders, flexing his hands as more sand coiled around his feet.

"But let's see how long you can keep dodging."

He threw his hand forward.

This time—it wasn't just one attack.

The entire battlefield moved.

Sand surged in waves.

A shifting mass, rolling toward him from every direction.

Echo's heart pounded.

He was running out of space.

And Tae-Jun knew it.

The sand surged.

Not like an avalanche—but like a flood.

Rolling. Dragging. Pulling everything into it.

Echo could feel the shift before it even reached him.

He pushed off his back foot, dodging left—but the sand didn't stop.

It moved with him.

Echo's pulse spiked.

He tried to push forward—but the ground wasn't solid anymore.

Wherever his foot landed, it sank.

Everywhere around him, the concrete had turned to sand.

Like quicksand.

Like a trap.

Echo cursed under his breath.

Tae-Jun wasn't going for a single, crushing blow.

He was slowly erasing all the ground Echo had left to stand on.

Piece by piece.

Until there was nothing left.

"You're quiet," Tae-Jun mused, flexing his fingers. More sand coiled around his arms, weaving through his fingers like it was alive.

"That means you know you're done for, huh?"

Echo exhaled sharply.

His voice would be useless here.

Any loud noise would be muffled by the thick, shifting sand.

He needed something else.

Something sharper.

His mind raced.

Tae-Jun flicked his wrist.

The ground in front of Echo collapsed.

And then the sand swallowed his foot whole.

Echo gasped as his leg sank up to his knee.

Shit.

Tae-Jun smiled.

"There we go."

He thrust his hand forward.

A column of hardened sand shot up—aimed directly at Echo's chest.

Echo reacted on instinct.

His hand slammed down against his trapped leg—

And a loud sound rang out.

The sound didn't come from his mouth.

It came from the ground.

A pulse. A vibration. A stored resonance.

The moment the column of sand shot toward him—

The entire battlefield trembled.

Echo's body lurched backward, the force of the release launching him out of the sand's grip.

His back hit the ground hard, rolling once before he caught himself.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

Close.

Too close.

Tae-Jun tilted his head.

"...Huh."

His fingers curled slightly—but this time, he didn't move.

He was watching now.

Observing.

Echo slowly got back to his feet.

His fingers twitched.

He could still feel it—his voice, lingering in the air, buried inside the sand.

That's it.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He could use this.

But only if Tae-Jun didn't realize what he was doing.

So—Echo smirked.

"You're getting quiet, too," he said, voice light.

"That means you know you're done for, huh?"

Tae-Jun's eyes flickered.

Then—he grinned.

And the battlefield moved again.

Tae-Jun flicked his wrist—and the battlefield collapsed.

The ground didn't just shift. It sank.

The sand surged again, swallowing more of the solid earth beneath their feet, stealing Echo's footing inch by inch.

A slow suffocation. A slow death.

Echo braced himself.

He couldn't afford to panic.

Tae-Jun rolled his shoulders. "You're quick," he admitted. "Annoying—but quick."

Sand slithered up his arms, winding around his fingers like gloves. The grains hardened, turning his hands into something heavier. Stronger.

"Let's see how long you can keep running."

He lunged.

Fast.

Echo's pulse spiked.

His body moved before his mind did. He dodged left, barely missing a sweeping strike—but the sand followed.

It rushed up from the ground, curling around Tae-Jun's legs, boosting his momentum, twisting the battlefield to his advantage.

Every time Echo stepped, the sand softened—slowing him down, forcing him to adjust.

Tae-Jun wasn't just fast.

The battlefield was working for him.

Echo exhaled sharply. This wasn't good.

He needed an opening. Something.

Anything.

Tae-Jun slammed his foot down.

A burst of sand shot toward Echo's chest.

Echo barely dodged.

His shoulder clipped the edge, knocking him off balance. He stumbled—and Tae-Jun was already there.

A sand-coated fist lashed out, aiming for his ribs.

Echo had no time to react.

So—he braced.

The punch landed.

And Echo grinned.

Because that's exactly what he wanted.

Tae-Jun barely had time to register it.

The sound was already inside him.

The moment his fist made contact, Echo's voice latched directly onto his body.

Not a scream.

Not an explosion.

A pulse.

A quiet hum, buried beneath his skin.

Echo staggered back, coughing slightly.

Tae-Jun didn't move.

His head tilted slightly.

Then—he smirked.

"That all you got?"

He raised his hand again, preparing another strike.

Echo's fingers twitched.

His throat burned.

He felt the hum still lingering inside Tae-Jun's arm.

Still building.

Echo exhaled sharply.

He just had to wait.

Just a little longer.

And then—

"Resonate"

The resonance triggered.

It wasn't a physical strike. It was an eruption from within.

Tae-Jun's fist stopped—then violently recoiled back, like something had punched him from the inside.

His entire body seized.

The sand around them shuddered.

And then—the battlefield exploded.

Not with fire. Not with force.

With sound.

A deep, guttural vibration ripped through Tae-Jun's body.

Echo felt it—the pulse he'd planted earlier, buried beneath layers of sand and muscle, finally detonating.

Tae-Jun staggered. His footing faltered. The sand that had moved with him so effortlessly wavered, slipping from his control.

For the first time—he looked unsteady.

Echo didn't waste it.

He clenched his fist—and stepped forward.

The moment his foot hit the ground, another burst of stored resonance shot through the battlefield.

Tae-Jun jerked violently.

The soundwaves slammed into him from all directions—small tremors, tiny disruptions, cascading through his body like shockwaves.

His own arena—his domain—was betraying him.

Tae-Jun gritted his teeth, digging his feet into the sand.

His hands twitched—but they didn't lift.

He was still trying to control the battlefield.

Still trying to mold the sand to his will.

Too late.

Echo lunged.

A fist—coated in sound, reinforced by resonance—drove straight into Tae-Jun's gut.

The hit wasn't heavy.

But the impact didn't matter.

Because the moment Echo's hand connected—

He let every sound he'd stored inside Tae-Jun's body detonate at once.

BOOM.

Tae-Jun's body convulsed.

Every vibration Echo had planted—every stored hum, every pulse, every quiet echo—collapsed in on itself.

Tae-Jun choked.

The force rippled through his core, rattling his skull, disrupting his focus.

The sand faltered.

His grip on the battlefield shattered.

And then—he collapsed.

The battlefield went silent.

Echo let out a slow breath, shaking the pain from his arms.

His throat burned.

His legs felt like lead.

But he stayed standing.

He exhaled sharply, glancing down at Tae-Jun's motionless form.

Then—he scoffed.

He turned away.

His job was done.