The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill

Jin blinked.

The shooting star wasn’t streaking across the sky, it was falling and fast.

Too fast.

A second passed.

Then another.

And he realized it wasn’t a star at all, it looked far more like a person.

And it was aimed straight at them.

The looming hand of the Gugwe-mok had almost reached them, its barked limb splintering outward, vines twitching as if ready to cage them in once and for all. The gas had stopped, but their limbs still refused to move. Seul’s Event Horizon Shield had been broken. The vines had destroyed it and now they were open to any attack.

The figure of white-hot bolt of light slammed down from above like judgment from the heavens, a trail of heat and pressure and the sound of something tearing through the atmosphere slammed down with it.

The Gugwe-mok turned its half-formed face upward, just in time to meet it.

"SHOOTING—"

The voice echoed from the falling figure was louder than thunder.

"STAR—"

Its body glowed white-hot, the very air around it warping.

"IMPACT!"

The collision shook the entire block. The street buckled. Glass shattered in a wide radius. Wind pulsed outward in a massive ring of force, flattening what remained of nearby walls and rattling the bones of the buildings still standing.

The Gugwe-mok reeled back.

No, that would be an understatement.

It would be better to say it was flung back.

The force of the impact launched the monstrous figure down the road like it weighed nothing. Its limbs flailed, vines ripping from the ground, and it slammed into a building two streets down with a sound like a bomb going off. The structure folded around it, dust exploding outward in thick clouds.

Jin gasped as control returned to his limbs, whatever had been holding them in place shattered with the shockwave.

He staggered back a step, blinking away the light. The air buzzed with leftover static, heat shimmering in the cracks of pavement. The vines writhed on instinct, then fell limp.

And in the middle of the scorched zone where the monster had stood, a crater steamed.

In its center, a body stood hunched, chest heaving, one knee bent.

Smoke curled off his shoulders.

His fist was still embedded in the pavement.

Jin’s eyes widened.

"...No way."

The figure slowly turned his head. His face was familiar, though strangely his jaw was more defined than before.

Chul.

His clothes were torn from the descent, singed at the edges, but his eyes were steady. Sharp.

He coughed once, swaying slightly.

"Sorry I’m late," he muttered.

Then he collapsed.

The moment Chul hit the ground, Seul was already moving. She caught him before he could fully fall, dropping to her knees with a speed that ignored every ache in her body.

"Chul—!"

His breath was still there. Shallow. But strong enough.

Seul clutched his shoulders, shaking him gently.

Jin stumbled forward, gaze locked on the small crater, on the aftermath.

"...That fall should’ve killed him," Joon muttered from behind. "Where the hell did he even come from—?"

Echo didn’t answer but looked up into the sky once more.

Then they heard it.

Another sound.

Coming from above.

Wind whipped again, gentler this time. More controlled.

Another figure landed a short distance away, crouched low. The shape rose slowly, brushing dust from their uniform.

A man. Tall, broad. Hair pulled back into a short tail. Sharp eyes that immediately scanned the field.

He didn’t speak right away.

Just walked toward Chul, expression unreadable.

Jin squinted. Recognition clicked.

"...Wasn’t he one of the cops?" he asked quietly.

The man nodded once at Seul, then turned his gaze toward Jin.

"Thanks for holding out, its clear you guys got a lot stronger these last few days" he said simply.

Then his eyes flicked toward the direction of the collapsed building—where the Gugwe-mok was already beginning to stir.

"So that’s the monster you guys mentioned in your message, quite a beast if it cause all this destruction."

No one answered.

They didn’t have to.

The air still smelled like fire and bark.

The road behind them still trembled.

Jin looked down at Chul.

The kid was barely conscious.

But his hands were still clenched.

Like he wasn’t done yet.

Not even close.

Echo whistled low under his breath, wiping some ash off his jacket. "Okay, but seriously..." he muttered, glancing between Seul and the crater. "Can someone explain how he fell from the sky?"

The tall man who had landed just moments earlier raised a hand, like he was already expecting the question. "That’d be me."

Jin turned, eyebrows lifting.

The man scratched at his chin, looking slightly sheepish beneath the dust. "It was his idea."

Joon blinked. "Wait—you threw him?"

"More like launched him," the man said, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. "We were halfway across the city when the system pinged us about the joint defense. Saw the devastation on the way in. Knew it was serious."

He nodded toward Chul’s body, still held gently in Seul’s arms.

"Kid looked at me, said ’I’m not gonna be much use in a drawn-out fight,’ and asked how fast I could throw something."

Jin stared at him. "You’re kidding."

The man shrugged. "Told him I used to throw shotputs competitively. He said that was good enough." His mouth twitched. "Then he told me about his ability. The more kinetic energy he builds up, the more he can store."

Seul looked up. "That’s why he...?"

The man nodded. "Said if I could hurl him high enough, far enough... by the time he landed, he’d have enough juice to hit that monster like a meteor."

"And you just—what—threw him across half the city?" Echo said, eyes wide.

"I told him it was stupid," the man admitted. "But he looked me dead in the eyes and said if you all died while he sat back and did nothing, he’d never forgive himself."

He looked toward Chul again, expression softening.

"So yeah. I did it. Threw him so hard my arm still feels like it’s coming off. Watched him disappear into the sky."

Jin exhaled slowly.

Of course he did. Of course that kid—

"You got a name?" Joon asked.

The man nodded. "Detective Kang Hyun. Station 12. Been working with Ryu for years. He’s the one who told me to bring the kid."

Jin gave a small nod of thanks. "Appreciate you coming."

Hyun waved it off. "We’re not done yet."

Because the rubble was shifting again.

The building the Gugwe-mok had been hurled into—cracked and gutted—was already groaning with pressure.

A massive, vine-wrapped limb burst out from the top.

Jin stepped forward, fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. "It’s getting up."

"I can fight," Chul rasped suddenly.

Everyone turned.

He was pushing himself upright—barely, shoulders trembling, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"Absolutely not," Seul said, voice sharper than steel.

Chul gave her a weak grin. "You know I’m just gonna argue."

"You can argue flat on your back."

Jin knelt beside him, eyeing him carefully. "That hit took a lot out of you."

"I know." Chul’s jaw clenched. "But I couldn’t sit back while you all—"

"You didn’t," Jin said. "You got us breathing room. That’s more than enough."

Chul opened his mouth to protest, but Seul shot him a look that froze the words in his throat.

"Rest," she said. "That’s an order."

Hyun grunted. "Besides, you pulled off a miracle already. Don’t be greedy."

Chul slumped back, muttering, "Felt more like getting hit by a train than anything miraculous."

"Welcome to the job," Echo said dryly.

The ground shook again.

A deep groan filled the air.

Then the sound of cracking stone.

The Gugwe-mok emerged from the rubble—its form more twisted than before, bark blackened and burned in wide swaths. But it was still moving. Still massive.

Still alive.

It turned its heador what passed for one towards them.

Jin stood.

So did Joon.

Seul let go of her brother, rising to her feet, her jaw tight.

Echo stretched his fingers, the air around him beginning to hum.

Jin turned to Hyun. "Can you fight?"

The man smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Can I fight?" He stepped forward and whistled low. "I didn’t get here just to spectate."

They lined up again—four leaders and one cop. Behind them, Seul knelt beside her brother. Ahead of them, the monster began to move again, its steps slow and deliberate, like it was remembering how to hunt.

But Jin could feel it.

This time, they weren’t cornered.

This time, they had backup.

And they were far from done.

"Let’s make this count," Jin muttered, lifting the katana.

The blade gleamed under the moonlight—burnished and battered, but unyielding.

And the night wasn’t over yet.