The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 53: Leader to Leader

The cafeteria buzzed with quiet chatter. People hunched over scraps of food, speaking in low voices, while the few guards still standing watched Jin's group like they were ticking bombs.

Jin barely noticed.

His gaze was locked on Sang-hoon, who leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable.

Jin tapped his fingers against the staff, jaw tight.

"We should talk," he muttered.

Sang-hoon rubbed his temples.

"We are talking."

"Alone," Jin said, voice low.

Sang-hoon raised a brow, but he didn't argue.

He gave a subtle nod to the people around them, and the room emptied almost instantly. No questions, no hesitation — just quiet compliance.

Seul and Joon exchanged a glance.

Jin tilted his head slightly, and they slipped out without a word, closing the door behind them.

Just the two of them now.

Jin exhaled slowly, his grip on the staff tightening.

"You're the one in charge," he muttered.

Sang-hoon leaned back, rubbing his jaw.

"That's what they tell me."

Jin didn't break eye contact.

"Then tell me why your group is falling apart."

The faintest flicker of irritation crossed Sang-hoon's face, but he masked it with a tired chuckle.

"You really don't waste time, huh?"

Jin pressed on.

"I met some of your people before the plaza," he muttered. "They said using their skills felt like giving in to the system." freēwēbηovel.c૦m

His voice sharpened.

"And that mindset got people killed."

Sang-hoon's laughter faded.

Jin leaned forward.

"Did you know about that?"

The older man rubbed his face.

"You think that's my fault?" he muttered, voice low. "You think I taught them that?"

Jin's jaw clenched.

"If you didn't stop them, you might as well have."

Sang-hoon's eyes darkened.

"You've been outside," he muttered. "You've seen what happens when people get a taste of power."

Jin didn't flinch.

"And I've also seen people die because they were too weak to survive without it."

Sang-hoon tapped his fingers on the table.

"You think I haven't?" he muttered. "I'm the one who's had to watch people starve. Watch them die from injuries we can't treat. Watch them crack under pressure and snap."

His voice dropped lower.

"You think I don't know people need to use their skills?" he muttered. "Of course I know that. But if I let everyone start experimenting with their powers, it's only a matter of time before someone decides they should be in charge."

His eyes sharpened.

"And then this whole place falls apart."

Jin's pulse thudded against his skull.

"You could've trained them," he muttered. "You could've built a group strong enough to protect each other."

Sang-hoon snorted.

"And how would I stop the strong from deciding they don't need the weak?" he muttered.

Jin's fingers curled so tightly around the staff his knuckles went white.

"You let people walk into a death trap because you're afraid of losing control," he hissed.

Sang-hoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"You don't get it," he muttered, voice razor-sharp. "Leadership isn't about making people strong. It's about keeping them alive."

He spread his hands, voice dripping with cold logic.

"If I let people think power equals authority, what happens when the wrong person survives longer than everyone else?"

Jin's chest burned.

He wanted to punch the guy in the face.

Because he wasn't wrong.

But he wasn't right, either.

Jin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, voice low and rough.

"...That's not survival," he muttered. "That's just another kind of death."

Sang-hoon studied him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.

"You've got conviction," he muttered. "I'll give you that."

He rubbed his temples.

"So what do you want?"

Jin didn't hesitate.

"Let us take some of your people," he muttered.

Sang-hoon lifted a brow.

"You want me to hand over survivors?"

"We'll take them back to our base," Jin said, voice steady. "Train them. Teach them how to actually use their skills."

Sang-hoon tilted his head.

"And what do I get out of this?"

Jin leaned back in his chair, wiping dried blood off his face with his sleeve.

"You get access to the resources from the plaza," he muttered. "Food. Weapons. System vending units."

Sang-hoon froze.

"What?"

Jin rubbed his temples, voice flat.

"When we beat the monsters at the plaza, the system absorbed all the resources there and transferred them to our school base," he muttered. "The whole place is picked clean."

Sang-hoon swore under his breath, rubbing his face.

Jin shrugged.

"But we can go back with your people," he muttered. "Search the surrounding areas. Whatever you find, you keep."

He leaned forward, meeting the older man's gaze.

"We don't need the supplies," he muttered. "We need people who want to survive."

Sang-hoon rubbed his jaw, eyes narrow and calculating.

"You really believe that?" he muttered.

Jin's voice was low.

"I wouldn't still be alive if I didn't."

Sang-hoon tapped his fingers on the table.

Silent.

Thinking.

Then he chuckled, shaking his head.

"You've got some nerve," he muttered.

He stood, brushing the dirt off his pants.

"Alright," he muttered. "I'll let you take some people back with you."

His gaze sharpened.

"But if you screw this up, don't come back here."

Jin exhaled slowly, standing too, his body aching.

"We won't," he muttered.

And for the first time —

Sang-hoon almost looked like he believed him.

Though his words lingered like an echo.

"But if you screw this up, don't come back here."

Jin pushed open the cafeteria doors, the wood cool against his scraped knuckles.

The door creaked as it swung, the sound cutting through the room like a blade.

Conversations dulled.

Forks clinked against metal trays.

Heads turned.

But no one stood.

Jin stepped inside, the others following close behind.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above them, casting sharp shadows against the tiled floor.

Joon twist-tossed one of his spheres, the metal glinting as it spun through the air.

"Place feels like a morgue," he muttered.

Seul rubbed her shoulder, scanning the room.

"Maybe that's the problem," she muttered. "They've already decided they're dead."

Jin didn't respond.

He just walked forward, each step scraping against the floor.

There were about a hundred people.

The youngest looked around ten.

The oldest — maybe in their sixties.

A few wore scraps of armor.

A few clutched makeshift weapons.

But their shoulders sagged.

Their hands shook.

And their eyes were dull.

No fight.

Just fear.

Jin dragged the staff against the tile, the sound ringing sharp and harsh through the silence.

But no one flinched.

They weren't just tired.

They were numb.

Jin exhaled, rolling his neck.

"Food running low?" he asked, voice rough.

A few heads lifted.

He kept going.

"Medicine drying up?" he muttered. "Supplies starting to stretch thin?"

The room tensed.

"You think this place will hold?" Jin muttered, stepping closer. "Think these walls are enough?"

He spun the staff slowly.

"They're not," he rasped.

Sang-hoon had said it himself — people were already dying.

Resources were bleeding out.

And if the system pushed a real threat this way —

This place would fold like paper.

Seul stepped beside him, voice cold.

"You're not living," she muttered. "You're stockpiling corpses."

The tension in the room thickened.

Jin tightened his grip on the staff.

"You want resources?" he muttered. "There's plenty out there. But if you can't fight — you'll never get them."

A few people turned away.

One or two lowered their heads.

Jin's voice sharpened.

"We cleared the plaza," he muttered. "Beat every monster there."

More heads snapped up.

Joon's eyes flicked to the crowd, voice low.

"You really think you can keep going like this?" he muttered. "Waiting for the next group to die so your food lasts longer?"

The room felt like it was holding its breath.

Jin shifted his stance, digging the staff into the ground.

"I'm not here to save you," he muttered. "I'm here to see if you can save yourselves."

The wood of the staff creaked in his grip.

"If anyone can take this weapon from me," he muttered, voice sharp, "or land a hit on me or my crew —"

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.

"— you come with us."

The air turned electric.

Seul cracked her knuckles, her gloves shimmering with faint gravitational pulses.

Joon rolled his shoulders, his spheres orbiting him in slow, tight circles, static crackling.

Jin planted his feet, gaze steady.

And waited.

Seconds stretched.

Then —

A chair scraped against the floor.

Someone stood.

Thin frame.

Bruised knuckles.

Eyes hollow with exhaustion.

But their fists clenched tight.

Jin watched them carefully.

Then another person stood.

And another.

Soon, half the room was on its feet.

Jin's mouth curled into a grim smile.

He spun the staff, the splintered wood twisting under his fingers as he activated his skill — the weapon mutating, jagged edges twisting out like a living thing.

"Good," he muttered, rolling his shoulders.

The air in the room changed.

Seul stretched, her gloves shimmering as gravity warped around her fingers.

Joon spun the metal spheres in a tight orbit, lightning flickering between them like a miniature storm.

Jin adjusted his grip on the staff, muscles coiling.

His voice dropped to a rasp.

"Let's see if you can take it."