The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 33: Claiming Territory

The car rumbled to a stop, tires crunching over loose gravel.

For a long moment, no one moved.

The school loomed in front of them, a dark silhouette against the sky, its windows reflecting pale streaks of moonlight. A few dim security lights buzzed near the entrance, flickering faintly.

The building was completely intact.

No broken doors. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

No shattered glass.

No scorch marks or claw gouges in the walls.

Just... a school.

Jin rested his hands on the steering wheel, staring up at the structure. The front gate stood open, swaying slightly in the breeze. A rusted chain dangled from the latch, the padlock snapped and hanging loose.

No footprints in the dirt.

No bodies.

Nothing.

Joon stretched, cracking his back against the seat. "If this is a horror movie, this is the part where we go inside and die because of some monster."

No one laughed.

Seul leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Why does it look... normal?"

Echo rubbed his face, fingers dragging down his cheeks. "Maybe it wasn't hit."

Seul shook her head. "Everything was hit." She motioned toward the distant streets. Even from the school parking lot, they could see burnt-out cars and collapsed buildings in the distance — the lingering wreckage of whatever monsters had torn through the city in the system's first days.

Jin finally opened the door, stepping out into the cold air. The smell of charred debris and damp concrete lingered in the night. It clung to the streets, even out here.

But not the school.

Here, the air felt clean.

Too clean.

Seul followed, her boots scuffing against the pavement. She scanned the area slowly, her eyes sharp and steady. "No one's using the place as a shelter?"

Jin ran a hand along the chain-link fence, fingers scraping the metal. It was cold and stiff, rust flaking against his skin.

"If they are," he muttered, "they're not showing themselves."

Joon climbed out of the backseat, groaning as he stretched. "Maybe we finally caught a break. School's got food, power, no giant death lizards wandering around. We could hole up here for a while."

He slung his pack over his shoulder, stepping through the gate. "Honestly? Feels like we won the lottery."

Jin didn't answer.

He pushed the gate fully open, the hinges screeching in protest. The sound echoed across the campus like a warning bell, rattling through the empty courtyard.

Nobody came out to check.

Nothing stirred in the dark.

Echo slid out of the car, hood pulled up, shoulders hunched. "I dunno," he muttered, voice low. "Doesn't this feel kinda... wrong?"

Seul tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Echo licked his lips, glancing at the windows. "We've seen wrecked buildings, collapsed bridges, entire streets torn apart... but this place?"

He motioned toward the intact security lights and powered solar panels. "It's just... standing here. Like nothing happened."

Joon kicked a loose pebble across the ground. "Maybe we're just not used to seeing normal anymore."

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should've been.

Jin rested his hand against the front door handle. It felt cold, the metal biting against his palm.

No dust.

No grime.

Just clean, smooth steel.

Jin glanced back at the others.

Seul adjusted her gloves, fingers flexing. Joon rubbed his eyes, visibly dragging from exhaustion. Echo shifted on his feet, gaze flicking back to the car like he was already thinking about leaving.

They were too tired to care how strange this was.

Jin pulled the door open.

It swung wide without resistance.

The hallway stretched out in front of them, silent and pristine. The faint hum of working lights buzzed along the ceiling, casting long shadows against the walls.

Jin stood in the doorway, listening.

Waiting.

Nothing.

Just that low, steady hum of electricity.

Seul stepped past him, boots clicking against the polished floor. She ran her hand along a locker, frowning.

"...No dust."

Joon shoved his hands in his pockets, trudging inside. "Cool. Less cleaning for us."

Echo lingered near the entrance, rubbing his arms. "I hate this," he muttered, stepping in after them.

Jin let the door close behind them. The soft click of the latch echoed through the hallway, louder than it should have been.

His chest felt tight.

Like they'd just locked themselves in.

The hallway stretched into the dark, the faint hum of overhead lights buzzing through the silence.

Jin's boots echoed against the floor with every step, the sound too loud, too sharp. It made his skin crawl.

The school smelled... clean.

Not sterile, not like bleach or chemicals — just clean air. No rot, no mildew, no lingering traces of sweat or blood.

It felt like the place had been sealed off from the world.

Jin kept his footsteps light, shoulders tense as he passed rows of untouched lockers. Each one perfectly shut, their locks intact. He tried not to think about how many other buildings they'd passed — apartments, grocery stores, police stations — that had been completely ripped apart by monsters or desperate survivors.

But this place?

It felt like no one had even tried to take it.

Joon wandered ahead, dragging his fingers across the wall. "Man, I haven't been in a school since... what, high school?" He yawned, voice scratchy. "Didn't miss the vibe."

Echo trailed behind him, knuckles tapping absently against a locker as he walked. "You think they had a vending machine?"

Joon snorted. "What, you craving stale chips?"

"Better than the canned crap we've been eating."

Seul stayed close to Jin, her eyes flicking to each doorway they passed. She didn't say much, but her shoulders were tight, her body tense like she was waiting for something to go wrong.

Jin couldn't blame her.

He pressed his hand against the nearest door and slowly pushed it open.

Classroom.

The desks were still neatly arranged in rows, the whiteboard wiped clean. A few textbooks sat on the shelves, and the clock on the wall still ticked, the second hand dragging in a slow, steady circle.

Jin scanned the room carefully.

Nothing.

No blood.

No signs of a struggle.

Not even an overturned chair.

It looked like the students had just... left for lunch and never came back.

He stepped inside, rubbing his thumb along the edge of a desk. The surface was smooth, untouched.

Seul lingered in the doorway, her voice low. "Anything?"

Jin shook his head.

She clicked her tongue, glancing down the hallway. "Too easy," she muttered. "It's weird."

Joon flopped into one of the chairs, leaning back until the front legs lifted off the ground.

"Weird or not, I'm not complaining. Place has power, food, and no psycho murder squads trying to stab us."

Echo peeked through the classroom window, scanning the courtyard. "Maybe we should stop questioning it and just... take it. A win, for once."

Jin didn't answer. He stood there, fingers flexing against the desk, trying to feel something wrong.

He couldn't.

No weird smells.

No cold spots.

Just a silent school that shouldn't exist.

He exhaled through his nose. "Let's check the rest of the building. Make sure it's really empty."

Joon groaned. "Or... hear me out... we call it a day, grab some snacks, and pass out on the gym mats."

Seul grabbed the back of his chair and yanked it, making the legs slam back onto the floor.

"Move."

Joon grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stood up. "Bossy."

They swept the school, room by room, section by section.

The library had dust-free shelves, fully stocked with books. A few bean bag chairs in the corner, and a faint smell of paper and ink.

The cafeteria's freezers were still running, filled with frozen food and bottled water. Shelves stocked with dry goods — rice, pasta, canned vegetables.

The gym was completely intact. The floor polished, the basketball hoops still hanging, and emergency solar panels hooked up to a small generator room.

Everything worked.

Everything was... fine.

By the time they finished, Jin could feel the weight pressing on his chest.

They should've found something.

A body.

A broken door.

Anything.

But there was nothing.

Just an empty building, waiting for someone to claim it.

By the time they circled back to the entrance, the exhaustion had settled deep in Jin's bones.

Joon collapsed onto the floor, arms spread out. "I'm sleeping right here. If I get eaten, just let me die."

Echo dropped into one of the chairs in the hallway, rubbing his face. "Man, I don't care anymore. If this is a trap, let it spring tomorrow."

Seul stayed standing, rubbing the back of her neck. "We can't stay in one place," she muttered. But her voice lacked conviction, her body swaying slightly from fatigue.

They hadn't slept in a long while.

Jin ran a hand down his face. His skin felt tight, his eyes burning.

"...We'll sleep here tonight," he muttered, voice rough. "Do another sweep in the morning."

Seul didn't argue. She just sank onto the steps, resting her elbows on her knees, fingers loosely laced together.

Jin sat down against the wall, stretching his legs out. His chest ached, the dull throb of fatigue making his limbs feel heavy.

He glanced at the others — their eyes already fluttering shut, breath slowing as they finally crashed.

Jin stayed awake the longest.

Listening.

Waiting.

But nothing came.

No footsteps.

No distant screams.

Just the soft buzz of the working lights and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall.

His fingers twitched against the rough fabric of his sleeve, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. The school was too quiet. Too perfect. He knew he should sleep—knew he needed to—but his body refused to relax.

His mind drifted, unbidden, to the life he had before.

Not that it had been anything special.

Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

A tiny apartment that always smelled faintly of instant noodles and cheap coffee. A fridge half-stocked with takeout containers he never got around to finishing. His biggest worry used to be whether he'd wake up in time for his alarm or if he had enough energy left to game for an hour before passing out.

It had been boring. Lonely, sometimes. But it was his.

And now?

Jin exhaled, staring at the ceiling. That life was gone, swallowed up by something far bigger than him. The system had torn the world apart, rewritten the rules, and left them all scrambling to survive.

He should've been afraid. Should've felt something clawing at his chest, some deep grief for the life he lost.

But all he felt was the weight of it. The crushing, empty space where his old world used to be.

Maybe that was why this place unsettled him.

The school felt untouched, frozen in time, like a relic of a world that didn't exist anymore. Everything else had changed—had been forced to change. Buildings collapsed. Streets burned. People died.

But here?

Here, the clock still ticked like time hadn't stopped. The lights still hummed like the system hadn't swallowed everything whole.

Jin flexed his fingers, forcing himself to focus on the present. On the weight of his body against the cool floor. On the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath.

There was no going back.

This was the world now.

His eyes burned, heavy with exhaustion. He fought against it for a few more seconds before finally giving in, his mind drifting somewhere between past and present.

As sleep pulled him under, he thought—just for a moment—that he could still hear the quiet beeping of his old alarm clock.