The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 47: Threads of the Inevitable

The plaza twisted.

The ground splintered, debris rising into the air like it had been plucked by invisible hands.

The body at the center of the battlefield shifted, its flesh peeling away like burnt paper, revealing a thin, skeletal figure underneath.

It stood tall, its body wrapped in pale, bone-like plates, the joints creaking as it straightened.

Seven masks grew from its chest like grotesque relics, each one reflecting a previous face they'd fought — their twisted expressions frozen in agony.

But what stood out the most were the strings.

Hundreds of them.

Black, vein-like threads extended from its fingers, stretching into the sky and latching onto every piece of rubble in sight. The threads hummed with faint energy, vibrating like they were alive.

Seul staggered back, her breath hitching.

Her hand instinctively went to her leg — the exact spot where the string lady had controlled her.

Her chest tightened.

She swallowed, shaking her head.

"I don't like this," she muttered.

Joon shot her a quick glance, adjusting his blasters.

"Yeah, we got that part."

"No," Seul snapped, her voice sharp.

"I really don't like this."

Her skin crawled, every muscle in her body screaming to move.

"This feels wrong," she whispered.

"Familiar wrong."

Jin adjusted his stance, twirling the staff in his hands, his gaze locked on the creature.

He didn't dismiss her.

He'd seen Seul's gut instinct save them before.

"What do you mean?" Jin muttered, scanning the creature for any obvious weaknesses.

Seul licked her lips, flexing her fingers, trying to shake off the feeling.

"It's like… like it's already inside my skin," she whispered.

"Like it's already touching me."

Joon snorted, electricity sparking around his fingers.

"That's messed up," he muttered, stepping forward.

"Guess we better hit it before it gets handsy."

He fired.

The arc shot tore through the air, bright and searing —

And the strings shifted.

The thread moved on its own, bending like a serpent to catch the shot, absorbing the electricity without a scratch.

The lightning fizzled out, disappearing like it had never existed.

Joon froze.

"...Huh?"

Jin gritted his teeth.

"We move together," he muttered, stepping forward.

"Stay close."

They surged forward as one —

And the creature finally raised its hand.

The strings snapped tight, and the world lurched.

The rubble shifted, pieces of concrete and broken glass lifting into the air, creating a floating, ever-changing maze around them. The threads stretched through the debris, turning the entire battlefield into a death trap.

Then the threads touched them.

Seul screamed.

Her body locked up, her muscles seizing as a string wrapped around her ankle. She collapsed, gasping, clutching her leg like it had been set on fire.

"Seul!" Jin barked, spinning the staff to cut the string — but the moment he swung, the world glitched.

He snapped back to his starting position, like he'd never moved at all.

His chest heaved.

"What the hell...?"

The Face of Fate turned toward him, its voice like a funeral bell echoing across the plaza.

"YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR DESIGN."

Jin's stomach twisted.

Joon blasted another arc shot, but the thread caught it again, snuffing it out like a candle flame.

Seul clawed at the thread on her leg, her fingers bleeding as she tried to rip it free.

Her voice shook.

"It's like before," she gasped, chest heaving.

"But it's worse." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

The creature descended, floating down through the maze of rubble, its voice soft and hollow.

"YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO LIVE."

Jin ground his teeth, his body screaming to move, but the threads were everywhere.

The creature didn't rush them.

It just waited.

Like it already knew they'd lose.

Jin adjusted his grip, fingers aching around the staff.

"We can break this," he muttered, panting.

"There's always a way out."

The Face of Fate tilted its head.

"NOT FOR YOU."

Jin exhaled.

And he charged again.

Jin lunged forward, the staff spinning in his hands.

The threads snapped tight, and the world glitched again.

One second he was mid-swing, the staff an inch from the creature's skull —

The next, he was back where he started, his muscles screaming like he'd run a marathon in place.

Jin's chest heaved, his knuckles white against the staff.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, his voice raw.

Seul was still on the ground, clutching her leg, her body locked in place like the thread was rooted in her bones.

Joon blasted arc shots in rapid succession, trying to burn the strings away — but each shot veered off course, as if the air itself bent to avoid hitting the creature.

The Face of Fate watched them impassively, its voice dripping with indifference.

"YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO STRIKE ME."

Jin wiped the blood from his mouth, forcing himself to breathe through the pain.

"We've hit things way tougher than you," he rasped.

The creature tilted its head.

"ALL WHO DEFY THEIR DESIGN SAY THE SAME."

Jin pushed forward again, trying a different angle, aiming for the creature's legs this time.

Glitch.

He snapped back to the starting point, his body wracked with the phantom strain of all the movement he couldn't complete.

Jin bit down a curse, sweat dripping into his eyes.

It was like the creature was reversing time.

Like it wouldn't allow him to land a hit because, in its view —

He was never meant to.

Seul let out a choked breath, her fingers twitching as she clawed at the string still wrapped around her ankle.

"It's... different," she gasped, her eyes wide.

"It's not just controlling us — it's locking us into a path."

Her voice shook.

"Like it's... deciding what happens."

Jin's stomach tightened.

Fate.

This wasn't like the string lady at the station.

This was worse.

Joon gritted his teeth, his body sparking violently.

He lifted his blasters, ignoring the pain of his muscles seizing from overuse.

"Then we break the path," he growled.

He fired a focused beam of lightning — a continuous stream of electricity, tearing through the air like a storm condensed into a single point.

The creature didn't even flinch.

The strings caught the lightning, weaving it into the web, and the energy spread through the threads, crawling up the walls and through the rubble like it was being absorbed into the environment itself.

Joon's jaw locked.

He pushed harder, the stream intensifying.

"I don't care what it wants," he snarled, electricity building.

"If it can catch the shots — I'll just fry the whole damn field."

The creature's empty sockets flicked to him, its bony hand slowly raising.

The strings convulsed, and Joon's body snapped forward like a puppet.

His feet dragged across the ground, his arms contorting, and his back arched painfully as the threads forced him into a crucifix position, his blasters aimed at his own chest.

Joon's breath caught.

"...Oh, come on."

The creature's voice lowered, almost gentle.

"THIS IS THE ONLY END YOU EVER HAD."

Joon fought against it, his muscles trembling as he tried to wrench his arms free, but the threads only tightened, digging into his skin like wire traps.

Seul's voice shook.

"Let him go!" she snapped, trying to lift her hand to activate her gravity — but the string around her ankle tightened, and her body locked up again.

Jin moved, slamming the staff against the threads, trying to break them —

But the moment he struck, he glitched back to his original position.

Jin staggered, panting, his vision blurring.

They couldn't even touch it.

They couldn't even get close.

The creature slowly descended, its voice dripping with finality.

"YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO WIN."

Jin ground his teeth, his body trembling — but he refused to stop moving.

He lunged again.

Glitch.

Again.

Glitch.

He tried to flip the staff, to feint, to do anything different —

Glitch.

Every attack was rewritten.

Every step they took toward victory was unmade.

Jin's chest heaved, his body breaking down, but he still dragged himself upright, his grip on the staff so tight his fingers split open.

Because if he didn't —

Joon would die.

Seul would die.

They'd all die.

The creature finally floated down to Jin's level, its featureless face just inches away from his.

"THE THREADS CANNOT BE CUT."

It raised its hand — the threads pulling Joon's blasters tighter, the energy humming dangerously.

"FALL."

Jin's heartbeat pounded.

His mind spun, searching for an answer.

An opening.

Anything.

And then he saw it.

The threads weren't perfect.

The ones around their bodies were thicker.

More deliberate.

As if they required more power to hold them in place.

Jin's mind raced.

If the threads were physical enough to wrap around them —

Then they were physical enough to break.

Jin exhaled, blood dripping down his face.

He flipped the staff, spinning it into a reverse grip — and he lunged one more time.

The world glitched — but this time, Jin didn't try to hit the creature.

He struck the threads on his arms.

The moment he connected, the feedback hit like a sledgehammer, and Jin's bones cracked from the phantom pain —

But the thread snapped.

The Face of Fate froze.

For the first time — it actually looked surprised.

Jin staggered, barely able to stay standing, and he turned to Joon, his voice a broken rasp.

"Joon," he coughed.

"Burn the strings."

Joon's blasters hummed, the electricity building so violently that the air around him warped, distorting like heat rising off asphalt.

His body shook, the sheer force of the current threatening to rip him apart — but he didn't stop.

He just grinned through the pain.

"Burn it?" he rasped, his voice barely audible over the crackling energy.

"Gladly."

The Face of Fate tilted its head, raising a hand —

But this time, Jin moved first.

He spun the staff, shattered the strings wrapped around his body, and lunged forward, ignoring the feedback pain ripping through his chest like he'd just been crushed under a boulder.

"SEUL!" Jin barked, voice raw.

"Get the rubble up — NOW!"

Seul, still gasping from the pain, forced herself upright, her gloves glowing as she lifted chunks of broken concrete and metal debris into the air.

The creature turned toward her, the threads snaking out —

But Seul was ready.

She threw the rubble high, making it as light as paper, before snapping the gravity back at the last second.

The debris came down like a meteor shower.

Joon unleashed the charge, and a storm of lightning exploded across the field.

The electricity clashed with the falling rubble, turning every piece of debris into a live conductor, creating an electric net that tore through the thread maze, burning dozens of strings out of existence.

The Face of Fate shuddered, its body twitching violently, the masks on its chest cracking from the sheer force of the combined assault.

Jin hit the ground, coughing blood, his limbs barely responding — but he still dragged himself forward, stabbing the staff into the dirt to pull himself up.

They were breaking through.

They could kill this thing.

But the creature didn't fall.

The broken strings simply rewove themselves, new threads spinning from its fingertips like silk, restoring the maze as if nothing had happened at all.

Joon's eyes went wide.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

The creature slowly turned to them, charred and cracked but still standing, and its voice echoed through the smoke-filled plaza like a judge delivering a sentence.

"FATE CANNOT BE UNMADE."

Seul doubled over, clutching her knees, her chest heaving.

"I — I don't get it," she gasped.

"We hit it — why isn't it staying down?"

Jin stared at the creature, the gears in his head turning, every nerve in his body screaming as he tried to think through the pain.

Every time they hit it —

It rewound them.

But not the environment.

Jin's eyes flicked to the rubble scattered around the plaza.

The debris Seul had thrown was still burnt and shattered.

The electricity still lingered on the ground.

It didn't reset the world.

It only reset them.

Jin's chest tightened.

They weren't being rewound in time.

They were being rewritten.

Like their actions didn't belong to them anymore — like their choices were invalid.

Like Fate itself was correcting them.

His hands shook around the staff.

"...It's not fate," he muttered.

"It's a script."

Seul blinked, her face pale.

"A script?"

Jin's breathing steadied, the pieces finally clicking together.

"It doesn't rewind the environment," he rasped, wiping blood from his mouth.

"Just us."

His heart pounded.

"Its strings can only control living things."

Joon's brow furrowed, electricity dancing across his fingertips.

"So?"

Jin lifted the staff, using it to steady himself.

"So we hit it with something that's already dead."

Seul's eyes widened.

"The rubble," she whispered.

Jin nodded, wiping his face.

"If we can pin it down with debris — we might be able to kill it without touching it."

Joon grinned, electricity crackling.

"Oh, I like this plan."

Seul lifted her hands, the remaining chunks of rubble floating up again.

"But if we miss, we'll just be right back where we started," she said, voice tight.

Jin adjusted his grip, ignoring the way his fingers throbbed.

"Then we don't miss."