The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 54: The Spark of Survival

The survivors charged.

It wasn't brave.

It wasn't coordinated.

It was desperate.

Jin watched them sprint across the room — bodies thin, knuckles bruised, eyes sunken with exhaustion.

They swung whatever they could find: mop handles, splintered chair legs, rusty IV poles.

Weapons made of fear.

Jin sidestepped a swing, barely moving.

The staff twisted in his hands, and with the faintest flick — he hooked it behind the attacker's knee and sent them crashing to the floor.

The man groaned, clutching his leg.

Jin didn't look down.

He turned to the next one.

They came at him, swinging a cracked metal tray like a shield.

Jin ducked, spun low, and swept their legs out from under them with the staff.

Clatter.

Another one down.

He hadn't even hit them hard.

They just collapsed.

Like their bodies couldn't handle the fight — like their minds had given up first.

Seul moved like a shadow.

She weaved through attacks with lazy, practiced ease, knocking weapons aside without even using her full strength.

Someone tried to hit her with a pole.

She caught it mid-swing.

Bent it in half.

The attacker dropped it and ran.

Joon barely tried.

One of the survivors swung a plank of wood at him — and he casually flipped a sphere up, letting it spin through the air and shatter the plank into splinters.

The pieces rained down like confetti.

Joon yawned.

"I've been hit harder by falling debris," he muttered.

Seul dodged another swing, hands in her pockets. "No wonder they lost the plaza."

Jin didn't say anything.

He watched.

Watched them fall.

Watched them crawl away.

Watched them look at their hands like their bodies didn't belong to them.

Nobody was using their skills.

Not even by accident.

They refused to.

Jin's jaw tightened.

Another survivor lunged at him.

Too slow.

Jin caught the attack with the edge of the staff, twisted the weapon, and snapped the IV pole in half.

The survivor froze, staring at the broken weapon.

Jin shoved him back with the tip of the staff, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Nobody helped him up.

The rest just staggered back — eyes wide, breath shaky, their hands trembling too much to hold onto their weapons anymore.

Their makeshift arsenal littered the floor.

Broken.

Pointless.

Just like their efforts.

Jin exhaled slowly, dragging the staff against the ground.

The jagged wood scraped against the floor like nails on glass.

"Are you even trying?" Jin muttered, voice low.

The survivors flinched.

Nobody answered.

Nobody moved.

They just stood there — panting, sweating, some of them already crying, but none of them fighting back.

Jin took a step forward.

People stepped back.

His grip tightened.

"You're scared," he said quietly. "I get it. We were too."

Jin scanned the room, voice cold but sharp.

"But being scared doesn't mean you stop fighting with everything you got."

He charged.

The survivors scattered.

Seul swerved through the chaos, knocking people over like they were made of paper.

Joon whipped his spheres through the air, electricity crackling as weapons shattered on contact.

Jin tore through them.

He disarmed.

Crushed.

Overwhelmed.

They couldn't touch him.

They didn't even try.

And then —

The kid moved.

Fast.

Too fast for someone his size.

Jin barely saw the flicker of motion before the kid blinked behind him, hand outstretched.

Jin twisted, blocking the grab with his staff.

But the kid disappeared again.

Reappeared behind Joon.

And grabbed the sphere.

The electricity arced through him.

The kid screamed — but he didn't let go.

He held on, even as his skin burned, smoke curling from his fingertips.

Joon froze, eyes wide.

"Yo, what the hell?!"

Jin's chest tightened.

He watched the kid twitch, body convulsing from the shock — but something about it was wrong.

The kid's body blurred, his outline smudging like ink in water.

Not teleporting.

It seemed more like he was slipping through the shadows around them.

The kid reappeared, hand outstretched toward Jin's staff.

Jin moved.

The staff slammed into the kid's ribs, sending him crashing to the ground.

He didn't get up.

Jin frowned, kneeling beside him.

"You okay, kid?"

The kid lurched up, grabbing the staff with both hands — and wouldn't let go.

Jin's eyes widened, and he tried to yank the weapon back, but the kid's grip was like iron.

The survivors stirred.

They stood up.

One by one.

Jin's pulse slowed.

He let go of the staff, stepping back as the crowd started to move in.

Joon snapped his fingers, lightning crackling between his spheres.

Seul flexed her fingers, gravity distorting the air around her gloves.

Jin's chest rose and fell.

He bent down, grabbed a metal crutch, and spun it like a spear.

"Good," Jin muttered, rolling his shoulders.

His voice dropped to a rasp.

"Now fight like you mean it."

The survivors charged again.

But this time — they didn't hesitate.

The kid still clung to Jin's staff, fingers white-knuckled, his chest heaving. Shadows curled around his body like they couldn't decide whether to swallow him or spit him back out.

Jin didn't try to take the staff back.

He didn't need to.

Because the people behind the kid were already moving.

Faster.

Sharper.

Angrier.

Someone sprinted at Seul, hands stretched out, their fingers flickering with a faint green glow.

She sidestepped easily — but the moment they touched the ground, vines erupted from the floor, twisting toward her like living ropes.

Seul leapt back, her eyes narrowing.

Jin caught the slight shift in her gloves — she'd lightened her body mid-jump, floating back like a feather to avoid being tangled.

The vines snapped shut around empty air.

Joon flicked a sphere, obliterating the vines with a crackling arc of electricity.

He whistled low.

"Okay, now they're trying."

A woman rushed him from the side, her fingers glowing red-hot.

She swung for his face — and Joon barely leaned back in time to avoid being burned.

His brow lifted.

"Wait, are your hands a blowtorch?"

The woman growled, flames bursting from her knuckles as she swung again.

Joon blocked with his spheres, the metal heating up instantly.

"Okay, rude," he muttered, shaking the heat off with a crackle of static. "Could've just asked me to cook something."

A sharp whistle.

Jin turned just as a teenager pointed a finger at him — and a bullet of compressed air blasted forward.

Jin twisted, the attack skimming past his shoulder and slamming into the wall behind him with enough force to dent the plaster.

He frowned.

That could've killed someone.

The teen flinched when he missed, eyes wide, clutching his hand like he didn't even know how he'd done that.

They're not trained, Jin thought.

They're just throwing themselves at us.

But the attacks kept coming.

Someone's skin turned to stone mid-punch — Jin redirected their strike, feeling the weight of it ripple through his bones.

Another person spit acid onto the floor — the liquid hissing as it ate through the tiles.

One survivor darted toward Jin, their body splitting into multiple copies, each flickering in and out of focus like glitching specters.

Five of them.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

They blurred, phasing around the room in chaotic patterns, their afterimages crisscrossing like a fractured mirror.

Jin's eyes tracked each flicker.

Watched the subtle shifts.

Counted the seconds of delays.

He didn't move.

Not until the real one lunged.

Jin snatched an empty clipboard off the floor and swiped it upward, catching the illusionist's wrist before they could touch him.

The clipboard snapped in half, shards of plastic scattering across the ground.

But Jin didn't let go.

He twisted the kid's arm behind their back, kicked out their legs, and sent them crashing into a pile of broken chairs.

"Good try," Jin muttered, flicking the splinters off his fingers.

"But illusions won't save you."

The illusionist wheezed, holding their side — but they still tried to crawl back to their feet.

They didn't give up.

Jin smiled.

Finally.

A woman with the vine ability tried to sneak behind him again, her fingers glowing green as the plants snaked up from the ground.

Jin bent down and grabbed a rusty crutch, spinning it like a staff.

He slammed it into the vine woman's ankle, and she crumpled — but the vines kept writhing, trying to entangle him.

Jin didn't stop.

He flipped the crutch, used the end to hook her arm, and tossed her across the room like she weighed nothing.

The vines died the second she hit the ground.

Jin tossed the crutch aside and picked up a metal lunch tray without missing a beat.

Another survivor threw a scalpel at him — Jin deflected it with the tray, the tiny blade clanging harmlessly to the floor.

"Seriously?" Jin muttered, twisting the tray in his hand.

The tray shifted, the metal edges sharpening as his skill molded it into a jagged disk.

The air hummed around it.

The person who threw the scalpel backpedaled immediately.

Jin raised an eyebrow.

"Catch."

He flung the tray like a frisbee, and it embedded itself in the wall right next to the survivor's head, quivering from the force of impact.

The survivor yelped and collapsed, hands in the air.

"I surrender!"

Jin snorted.

Seul, meanwhile, was having fun.

She floated above the crowd, using her gloves to adjust her weight mid-air, kicking people in the face like she was a human wrecking ball.

One guy tried to grab her ankle — she made herself heavy, and they immediately buckled under her weight, slamming into the floor.

Joon flicked one of his spheres like a pinball, bouncing it between attackers and zapping everyone it touched.

"This is kinda fun," Joon said, cracking his knuckles.

"Like a battle royale, but we're the final boss."

Jin dodged another air bullet, caught a falling IV pole, and snapped it in half over his knee.

The pieces morphed into dual batons in his hands.

"Come on!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

"You're finally trying — so show me what you've got!"

The survivors were battered.

Bruised. freewebnσvel.cøm

Exhausted.

But they still fought.

One girl, bleeding from a gash in her forehead, used her skill to harden her skin into stone.

She rushed Jin like a living boulder, swinging her fists wildly.

Jin sidestepped, smashed one baton into her ribs, and then slammed the other into her knee — bringing her crashing to the floor.

The stone shattered, her skin reverting to normal.

She didn't try to stand up again.

More people dropped.

One by one.

Until only a handful were still conscious.

Breathing hard.

Barely standing.

But standing anyway.

Jin exhaled, his body aching, sweat dripping down his face.

And yet — he grinned.

Because even though they were losing...

Even though they were failing...

They weren't giving up.

They were fighting to live.

Jin tossed the battered batons aside, stepping over broken furniture and unconscious bodies.

He wiped blood from his mouth, adjusting his stance.

"You lost," he rasped, voice sharp but steady.

"But you didn't run."

The few survivors left standing wobbled, barely holding themselves upright.

One of them — the girl with the stone skin — laughed through bloody teeth.

Jin's chest tightened.

He planted his feet, letting the ache sink into his bones, and his voice dropped to a low mutter.

"That's what surviving looks like."

Joon sat on a collapsed table, rubbing his arm, and whistled low.

"Damn, boss. Got a little inspirational there."

Seul floated back to the ground, stretching her neck.

"I'll admit it," she said, her voice begrudging but honest.

"They didn't suck."

Jin nodded, scanning the room.

Half the group was unconscious.

The rest looked like they were seconds away from it.

But not a single one of them had tried to run.

Jin rubbed his face, sighing.

"We'll take them," he muttered.

Seul blinked.

"All of them?"

Joon snorted.

"Are we starting a cult?"

Jin shook his head, his mouth twitching into a faint smile.

"No," he muttered, stepping over the broken lunch tray and stretching out his sore shoulder.

"We're building an army."