The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 58: The Cost of Survival

The system alert burned across Jin's vision.

[Territory Alert: Unidentified Movement Detected]

He was on his feet before he fully processed the words. His chair scraped against the floor, toppling over in his rush to move. Across the table, Seul and Joon had already started for the door, their movements sharp, instinctual.

Echo let out a sigh, stretching his arms overhead. "Didn't even get to finish sitting down," he muttered, pushing off his chair to follow.

The recruits flinched at the sudden change in atmosphere. Just moments ago, they had been introducing themselves, talking, adjusting to the idea that they weren't alone anymore. Now, the air had shifted—tense, electric, bracing for impact.

Jin didn't stop to explain. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

They were already moving, pushing out of the cafeteria and into the halls.

Then the sound hit them.

A deep, metallic screech.

A crash followed, heavy and final.

Jin's chest tightened. The gate.

The sound was wrong. Not just broken—collapsed.

His pace quickened, feet pounding against the ground as they neared the entrance. The halls blurred past him, and by the time they reached the front of the school, the damage was clear.

The gate was gone.

Not forced open. Not broken in one spot. Completely torn down.

It lay in a twisted heap across the pavement, metal bent unnaturally, as if something had smashed through it with overwhelming force. Shattered concrete and torn fencing scattered across the ground, the wreckage forming an uneven path leading straight to the school's front steps.

And beyond the wreckage—they were waiting.

At least twenty of them.

Some were new. Fresh faces Jin didn't recognize. But others—he did.

The ones Echo had beaten earlier. The ones he had left tied up like discarded trash near the entrance.

Now they were standing. Bruised, angry, weapons in hand.

And leading them was a man Jin had never seen before.

Broad shoulders. Scarred knuckles. A heavy presence.

He stood at the front of the group, arms crossed, gaze locked onto Jin with a cold, simmering fury. His stance wasn't casual, nor was it forced. He stood like someone who was used to people following his orders.

A leader.

His lips curled into a sneer. "So," he said, voice rough. "You're the one in charge here."

Jin didn't respond.

The man stepped forward, boots grinding against broken concrete. He was controlled, but his eyes burned with something barely restrained.

"You think you can humiliate my men? Beat them, strip them of their dignity, leave them tied up like animals?"

Silence.

The recruits had gathered near the school entrance, hovering behind the doorway, watching. Some hesitated, unsure if they should be witnessing this.

The leader's jaw clenched. "You don't understand the mistake you've made."

Still, Jin didn't respond.

The man exhaled through his nose, the muscles in his arms tensing. His voice lowered, slow and deliberate.

"What?" He took another step forward. "You think standing there makes you strong?"

Jin said nothing.

"You think silence is power?"

Another step.

Still nothing.

The leader's sneer twisted into something uglier.

And then, he grabbed Jin by the collar.

The shift was immediate.

The air grew thick—almost suffocating.

For the first time, the man hesitated.

His fingers curled slightly against Jin's shirt, his grip tight but no longer steady. His breath hitched, his chest stilling for half a second.

Something in his instincts screamed at him to let go.

Then, it happened.

A flicker of something unnatural.

For a split second—so fast it barely registered—he saw it.

His own body. Lying in the dirt.

His throat was slit, blood pooling beneath him.

He saw himself fall.

Felt the moment his life slipped from his fingers.

A sharp, merciless death.

Then—it was gone.

The world snapped back into place. The weight lifted. The moment passed.

But his body didn't know that.

His body told him he was already dead.

The reaction was instant.

He let go of Jin, stumbling backward, breath ragged. His foot caught on a crack in the pavement, and he fell, landing hard against the ground.

His men stiffened, glancing at one another. They didn't understand what had just happened.

Their leader—the strongest among them, the one who had led them here for revenge—had just collapsed without a single blow being thrown.

For a moment, he stayed there. Chest heaving, face pale, body shaking like he'd seen something he wasn't meant to see.

Then rage replaced fear.

His eyes darkened. His breathing evened out. His jaw clenched, and he forced himself back up.

And in that instant—he lunged.

The attack never landed.

Because in the space of a single breath—

A Magnetron Sphere slammed into his chest.

The impact sent him flying backward, soaring through the air like a ragdoll. His body crashed through a building across the street, dust and debris exploding outward.

Silence.

Joon rolled his shoulder, casually tossing another sphere into the air before catching it again.

"Damn," he muttered. "My aim's getting too good."

Jin exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking to the broken gate.

Scattered among the wreckage was a piece of the metal frame—jagged, sharp, spear-like.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and picked it up.

It was solid. Heavy. A good weapon.

And then—

"Oi."

Jin barely had time to register the voice before something flew toward him.

He caught it.

A dented cafeteria tray.

Echo stood a few feet away, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried an edge.

"Sharp objects are off-limits for you right now," he said simply. "Work with that instead."

Jin looked between the tray and the makeshift spear in his other hand.

A beat.

Then, without a word, he dropped the jagged metal.

He adjusted his grip on the tray, flexing his fingers against its surface.

"Yeah," he muttered. "This'll work."

The rubble shifted.

A figure rose from the dust.

The leader stepped forward, blood dripping from his temple. But more than that—his body was changing.

His muscles bulged, skin stretching, veins thickening beneath the surface. His frame swelled, his breathing deepened, his hands clenched into fists.

Steam rolled off his body.

A slow, deep exhale left his mouth.

"You think I'm done?" His voice was lower now—deeper, heavier, something raw laced beneath the words.

"I'll break you."

Behind him, his men moved.

And then, they charged.

Jin barely had time to adjust his grip before the first enemy reached him.

A steel pipe whistled through the air, swinging straight for his skull.

Jin moved—quick, efficient, controlled. He raised the cafeteria tray, angling it at the last second to catch the blow at an angle. The impact rang through his arms, metal clashing against metal in a sharp, brutal clang.

The attacker hesitated, momentarily thrown off by how easily Jin had blocked it.

Jin didn't hesitate.

He stepped in, shifting his weight. The tray wasn't just for blocking. He twisted his body and drove the edge of it into the man's gut.

A sharp exhale. A staggered step back.

Not enough.

Jin followed through, turning the momentum into an upward swing—catching the man under the chin with the full force of the tray.

The sound was dull, but the effect was immediate. The attacker's head snapped back, and he crumpled to the pavement.

Jin turned—just in time to see Seul engage two opponents at once.

One of them swung a crowbar at her. The other came from behind, reaching for her shoulder.

Neither made it.

Seul raised a hand—and gravity shifted.

The air around her pulsed, and both attackers suddenly lurched sideways as if an invisible force had yanked them off their feet.

They barely had time to process what was happening before Seul stepped forward, planting a brutal kick into the ribs of the one holding the crowbar.

The moment her foot connected—he went flying.

The second attacker scrambled to rise, his body heavy, sluggish, weighed down by the shift in gravity. He gritted his teeth, struggling against the invisible force pressing down on him.

Seul exhaled. Then, with a flick of her fingers—the pressure disappeared.

The sudden shift in weight threw the attacker off balance. He stumbled forward—right into Seul's waiting fist.

A single punch. Clean. Controlled.

He hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

Electricity crackled through the air.

Joon's Magnetron Spheres shot forward, bouncing between three opponents. Each impact sent arcs of electricity through their bodies, muscles spasming violently as they collapsed.

One of them—a little tougher than the rest—managed to keep his footing. His legs shook, his grip on his weapon unsteady, but he was still standing.

Joon grinned. "Not bad."

He extended his palm, and the Magnetron Spheres hovered back toward him, humming with energy. "But not good enough."

The man lunged—Joon caught him mid-swing, stepping into his space and slamming an electrically charged fist into his gut.

A short burst of energy—controlled, focused.

The man's body jerked as if he'd been hit by a live wire. Then he collapsed.

Behind them, Echo moved like a shadow slipping through cracks in reality.

An enemy swung at him with a rusted axe—but the strike never connected.

Echo wasn't there.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind the attacker.

His fingers snapped.

A sharp concussive force detonated outward.

The man's body lurched forward, knocked off balance by the invisible pressure crashing through his chest. He choked, knees buckling—then collapsed, unconscious.

It was over in seconds.

The weaker enemies were already down.

Now, only one remained.

Jin exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he turned toward the leader.

The man stood at the center of the battlefield, his body rising and falling with slow, measured breaths.

He was bigger now. Bulkier. His muscles pulsed beneath his skin, his entire frame swollen with raw strength.

Steam rose from his shoulders as his body adjusted to its new form.

Jin narrowed his eyes. "That's a skill, isn't it?"

The leader cracked his neck. His voice was deeper, heavier. "Berserker's Wrath," he said. "Every hit I take makes me stronger."

Jin adjusted his grip on the tray. "That's a bad matchup for you."

The leader sneered. "You think so?"

Then, he moved.

For something so massive, he was fast.

Jin barely had time to raise the tray before—

A punch crashed into him.

The force sent Jin skidding back, boots grinding against pavement.

His arms ached from absorbing the blow. Even with the tray absorbing some of the impact, the sheer force was overwhelming.

The leader smirked. "You can't win against me like that."

Jin didn't answer.

Instead, he adjusted his stance.

He exhaled, flexing his fingers against the cafeteria tray.

This wasn't going to work.

The more damage this guy took, the stronger he got.

Which meant Jin had to end this now.

A flicker of light pulsed across his vision.

[Phantom Strike: Ready]

Jin's grip on the tray tightened.

His voice was quiet. "That skill of yours—it only works if you can take the hit."

The leader frowned. "What?"

Jin exhaled.

Then, he activated it.

For a single moment—just one fraction of a second—his next attack ignored all defenses.

The leader lunged again, throwing another devastating punch.

Jin didn't dodge.

He stepped in.

The tray crashed into the leader's chest.

The moment it connected, everything bypassed his defense.

His body didn't absorb the impact. His strength didn't increase.

Instead—he felt everything.

The force rippled through his ribcage, his lungs collapsing inward.

His eyes widened in pure, unfiltered shock.

Then—for the first time—he fell.

His body hit the ground with a heavy thud. The pavement cracked beneath him.

Silence.

Then, movement.

His men hesitated. Looked at Jin. Looked at their leader.

Then—they moved.

They grabbed him, dragging his unconscious body back with them.

No threats. No words.

They just left.

Jin exhaled, adjusting his grip on the tray. His arms were heavy, his body already feeling the drain from Phantom Strike's temporary stat loss.

But then—

Cheering.

The recruits flooded out from the school.

"That was insane!"

"Holy shit, we're following the right people!"

"Did you see what they just did?!"

Some ran to Seul, Joon, and Echo, asking about their techniques. Others just stared at Jin, wide-eyed.

Jisoo nudged Haneul, grinning. "I can't believe we almost didn't join these guys."

Haneul didn't respond.

He was still watching Jin.

Jin exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

The recruits were relieved. Excited. They thought this was over.

But Jin knew better.

This wasn't over.

It was just the beginning.