The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 52: Welcome to the Hospital

The brick crumbled to dust, bits of stone skittering across the pavement.

Joon lowered his hand, electricity flickering along his fingertips before fading out.

"...Okay," he muttered, rubbing his face. "That's where I draw the line."

Jin adjusted his grip on the staff, his muscles aching, and stepped forward, voice steady but sharp.

"Come out," he called, eyes scanning the area. "We know you're there."

For a moment, nothing.

Then — slow movement.

One by one, people emerged from the shadows.

From behind overturned gurneys, broken barricades, and rusted hospital vehicles, they crept into view. Their faces were gaunt, hollow-eyed, skin stretched too tight over their bones. Some held makeshift weapons — rusted pipes, shattered chair legs, pieces of broken glass.

They didn't look like fighters.

They looked like people who had been surviving by the skin of their teeth.

A woman stepped forward, her arm bound in bloodied bandages, clutching a jagged piece of metal like a knife. Her grip shook, fingers twitching around the sharp edge.

Her voice wavered.

"We... we don't want trouble," she rasped. "Just leave."

Joon snorted. "You threw a brick at us."

Seul crossed her arms, her tone dry. "And missed."

The woman flinched, her knuckles whitening.

Jin didn't lower his staff. His voice stayed low and even.

"We're not here to fight," he said.

"You're lying," someone snapped from the crowd. "Everyone lies."

Jin tilted his head.

"If we wanted you dead," he said calmly, "you'd already be dead."

The words hit like a sledgehammer.

Some of the survivors stepped back, panic flickering in their eyes.

"We can't risk it," the woman whispered, her voice breaking. "We lost too many people at the plaza..."

Seul's brow furrowed. "The plaza?"

The woman's breath caught.

"Everyone who went to the plaza..." Her voice cracked. "They didn't come back."

Jin's grip tightened on the staff.

His voice didn't waver.

"...We came back."

The woman's eyes widened.

Seul cracked her neck. "We wiped that place out."

"Every monster," Joon added, flexing his fingers. "Gone."

The survivors didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Like they couldn't comprehend the words.

"Liar," someone whispered.

"No," Jin said quietly. "We're not."

The woman shook her head violently, tears brimming in her eyes.

"You don't understand," she choked. "People died there. The monsters tore them apart. It was a slaughter."

She looked at them — really looked at them. The blood, the bruises, the exhaustion carved into their bodies.

"You shouldn't be alive," she whispered.

Joon wiped some dried blood off his cheek.

"Honestly?" he muttered. "Same."

Then —

A voice from the back of the crowd.

"Holy sh*t."

A man pushed through, stumbling into view, eyes wide with disbelief.

It was one of the survivors they'd met before — one of the people who had run from the plaza.

His face went pale.

"It's them," he gasped, pointing.

The other survivors turned to him, confused.

"They went into the plaza," the man rasped. "They went in after we ran."

His hands started to shake.

"And they're still alive."

The crowd rippled with quiet shock, some covering their mouths, others gripping their weapons tighter — like they thought Jin and the others were ghosts.

The woman's metal shard slipped from her fingers, clattering against the pavement.

Jin adjusted his grip on the staff, his voice calm but heavy.

"We survived," he said. "And we're here to help."

The survivors didn't respond.

They just stared.

Then —

The hospital doors creaked open.

A slow, deliberate sound.

A shadow stepped into view, leaning against the doorframe.

An older man, maybe in his late 50s or early 60s, with sharp eyes and a face lined with deep scars. His white hair was streaked with dirt, the remnants of a doctor's coat hanging loose over his frame.

He dragged a shotgun behind him, the barrel scraping against the floor with a metallic rasp.

The survivors parted as he stepped forward, creating a natural path between him and Jin.

The man studied them, eyes flicking over their injuries, their weapons, their exhaustion.

"You killed the monsters in the plaza?" he rasped, voice low and rough.

Jin didn't flinch.

"Every last one," he said.

The man stared for a long, heavy moment.

Then he laughed.

Low, bitter, and jagged.

"You really are out of your goddamn minds," he muttered, shaking his head.

Jin lifted his chin slightly.

"Nice to meet you, too," he said dryly.

The old man stepped closer, dragging the shotgun behind him like it was an afterthought.

The survivors hung back, watching him with a mixture of reverence and fear.

The man rested the shotgun against his shoulder, squinting at Jin with sharp, calculating eyes.

"You don't know what you've walked into," he muttered.

Jin didn't blink.

"Then tell us," he said.

The man smiled.

It wasn't cruel.

It wasn't malicious.

It was kind.

Fatherly, almost.

"I'm Dr. Kwon," he said. "I run this place."

He gestured toward the survivors behind him, voice steady.

"And if you're serious about helping," he continued, "you might've just saved a hell of a lot of lives."

He turned back toward the hospital, gesturing for them to follow.

"Come inside," he said. "Let's talk."

The hospital doors slid open with a faint hiss, the scent of antiseptic spilling out. The air inside was cold, sterile, but oddly... normal.

Jin stepped through first, his grip on the staff firm, eyes scanning every corner of the lobby.

And there were people.

A lot of people.

They filled the room in clusters — some sprawled across blankets, others sitting against the walls, heads resting on their knees. There were makeshift barricades around the reception desk, but they weren't manned.

People watched them, yes.

But with curiosity. Not fear.

Low murmurs filled the space, whispers rippling through the crowd as survivors peeked out from behind overturned desks and stacks of ration crates.

Joon rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around.

"...I thought there were only, like, twenty people left," he muttered.

Sang-hoon let out a tired laugh.

"That's the front-liners," he said. "The ones willing to fight."

He gestured around the room.

"This is the rest."

Seul scanned the room, her eyes sharp.

"They all look... rough," she whispered.

Jin didn't blame her for noticing.

People were thin. Gaunt. Some with bandages wrapped around their limbs or crude splints holding broken bones in place. But they were alive. And breathing.

Which, in this world, was a miracle in itself.

Sang-hoon walked ahead, leading them down the main corridor.

Jin followed, the others close behind, their footsteps echoing against the polished floor.

"There were more of us," Sang-hoon admitted quietly. "Before the plaza."

He rubbed his face, sighing.

"We had about three hundred people when this started. Now we're down to just over a hundred."

Seul's fingers twitched at her sides, her jaw clenching.

"You lost two-thirds of your people," she muttered.

Sang-hoon nodded, his expression grim.

"Most of them died trying to secure food. Supplies." His voice dropped lower. "Or defending the hospital when people tried to take it from us."

Jin exchanged a glance with Joon, who silently spun one of his spheres in his palm, his face unreadable.

The idea that survivors were attacking each other this early in the apocalypse wasn't surprising.

But hearing it out loud still felt heavy.

Sang-hoon led them into what looked like a cafeteria, the tables pushed aside to make room for rows of thin mattresses and sleeping bags.

Some people looked up as they passed.

Others kept their heads down, either too tired or too numb to care.

A few kids huddled in the corner, playing with broken medical equipment, their laughter oddly bright against the muted atmosphere.

Jin's chest ached. freёnovelkiss.com

They were just living.

Surviving.

No system shops. No constant combat. Just... holding on.

"You said you cleared the plaza," Sang-hoon said, sitting heavily in one of the cafeteria chairs. "Killed all the monsters?"

Jin nodded, lowering himself into a chair with a wince.

"Yeah," he rasped. "All of them."

Sang-hoon let out a long breath, leaning back and rubbing his eyes.

"That place was a death trap," he muttered. "I can't even imagine how you made it through."

Joon snorted, flopping into a seat.

"Almost didn't."

Seul sat too, rolling her shoulder, her voice dry.

"We had to kill death seven times."

Sang-hoon blinked.

"...What?"

Jin just shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered.

Sang-hoon studied them for a moment, then nodded.

"I believe you," he said, his voice quiet but certain.

Jin looked up, surprised.

Sang-hoon gestured vaguely at them.

"You look like hell," he said bluntly. "And your faces... you're not the type of people who would lie about something like that."

Joon raised a hand.

"I might," he offered.

Seul kicked his leg.

Sang-hoon chuckled, rubbing his temples.

"If you really did clear it," he muttered, "that means you saved people we couldn't."

Jin frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Sang-hoon exhaled slowly.

"Some of the people we lost at the plaza weren't killed," he said, voice rough. "They just... ran. Split off when things went bad."

He pressed his hands together, knuckles white.

"If they're still alive out there, and the plaza's safe..." His voice caught. "They might try to come back."

Jin leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face.

It made sense.

If people thought the plaza was still overrun, they'd avoid it. But once word got out that the threat was gone... survivors would start returning.

And maybe, just maybe —

They could help rebuild this place.

Seul rested her chin on her knees, her voice barely above a whisper.

"...We did something good," she muttered, like she almost couldn't believe it.

Jin stared at the ceiling, his body still aching, but the weight in his chest felt a little lighter.

For once —

It felt like they'd actually made a difference.