The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill

The silhouette of the Gugwe-mok loomed ahead, etched in outlines of ash and twisted metal. Even from this distance, it looked wrong, its form a mass of living roots and pulsing wood, anchored to the cracked streets like it belonged there more than the buildings ever had.

Jin adjusted the grip on his sword. Every step forward felt like moving toward a storm that didn’t yet know it was breaking.

Seo walked slightly ahead, her pace measured, unhurried. As they approached the edge of the next clearing, once a plaza, now just a sunken sprawl of debris, she lifted a hand, motioning the others to pause.

She turned her head slightly. "Stay sharp. We’re in range."

Her voice had that same unshakable tone it always did before issuing a command. And sure enough, a second later:

"New Order," she said. "For the next thirty minutes, no harm may come to my allies."

The world shifted.

Not visually. Not audibly.

But something in the air pulled tighter, like invisible wires drawing taut between every person standing behind her. It wasn’t light or sound, it was tension given form, pressing down from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Jin felt the weight settle in his chest. Familiar. Protective. Unnatural.

But Seo, she staggered.

Just half a step. A sway. A single breath out of place.

Blood gathered at the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with the back of her glove and straightened, spine stiff.

"You didn’t cough blood the last time," Jin said under his breath. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"We weren’t this close the last time," she replied calmly. "And I’ve been using this power more than I’d like since morning. Another group tried to breach our eastern line just before your message came through."

"Let me guess. You didn’t rest."

"No time," she said. "Still isn’t."

She rolled her shoulder like she was trying to shake the fatigue loose from her bones and nodded once. "We move."

They did.

Down from the broken edge of the rooftop. Across fractured alleys where weeds had once crept, now charred and lifeless. Through the wind-scoured bones of collapsed buildings. The horizon shimmered with the first streaks of light. The dawn bled pale pink over the far side of the city, but the Gugwe-mok stood untouched by it, as if the sun itself hesitated to claim that space.

Their formation tightened instinctively.

Joon moved beside Echo, electricity crackling in the faint space between his palms and the orbiting spheres at his sides. Seul hovered just above the cracked earth, gravity folding around her like a cloak. Hanuel flowed in and out of shadow, stepping through small pools of darkness that darted between ruin and rubble. Areum’s hands were bare, but the glint of glass shimmered faintly around her, translucent blades dancing in the air.

Chul stood to Seul’s left, his stance wide, balanced. Still pale, still not fully recovered, but his fists clenched like he hadn’t noticed.

The ring user, still unnamed, still smiling faintly, walked beside Jun-taek, casually flipping one of his spinning discs between his fingers. He kept glancing around the edges of the buildings, almost like he was trying to find new spots to launch escape routes from.

And ahead of them, always one step ahead, were Seo’s generals.

Daeho’s form was already bulking up, bones groaning beneath his skin as muscles swelled in controlled increments. He didn’t look at anyone. Just forward. Focused.

Kyungjoon blinked in and out, short-range teleportation already mapping the best paths. He reappeared in a crouch atop a rusted car and gave a sharp whistle, pointing down a wide corridor of broken avenue.

Seungmin strolled like he was walking to a late-night convenience store. Until a glint of metal shimmered at his wrist and a blade extended briefly from his arm before melting back into flesh.

"Coming up fast," Kyungjoon called.

They crested the last incline.

And there it was.

Fully.

No buildings to shield it. No angles to obscure its mass.

The Gugwe-mok.

Its shape pulsed faintly. Roots twitched beneath it, extending like limbs made from rope and tendons. Its head, if it could be called that, was tilted slightly toward them.

Watching.

It didn’t move.

Didn’t lash out.

Didn’t roar.

But its body shifted slightly. Something coiled inside its chest. A low hum thrummed across the cracked pavement.

A voice followed.

Not from the sky. Not from the air.

From inside each of them.

"Leave."

Seo’s fingers twitched, but she didn’t speak.

"You have defended your place well," the voice said. "But there is no more time. This city’s life must feed mine."

Joon scowled. "You already offered that deal."

"And you refused."

Jin stepped forward, katana drawn. "And we still refuse."

A beat passed.

Then—

"I gave you a chance," it said, slower now.

"You want to survive?" Jin asked, voice calm. "So do we. So did the people who lived here. Who died hiding in buildings you crushed. Who burned in the fire you used to defend yourself."

Its vines twitched.

"You’re not the only one trying to live," Jin continued. "But this city? It’s ours. We built it. We bled for it."

He raised the sword.

"And we’ll protect it."

The hum deepened.

Vines began to move again, not like before, not in slow flexes or probing tests. They slithered out in all directions, wrapping around streetlamps, coiling through sewer grates. Something stirred in the ground beneath their feet.

Then Jin saw it.

Roots from above, thick, dark, laced with green pulses, descending like skeletal arms.

Reaching toward the body.

"It’s merging again," Echo said. "No... it’s reinforcing. Drawing everything back to itself."

Jun-taek’s voice was quiet. "This is it."

Seo didn’t blink.

"Then let’s make it count."

The ground cracked beneath them as they surged forward.

And now, up close, they could finally see it.

Not just a blur of bark and mass.

Its form was unmistakably humanoid now, shaped by purpose and design. Thick bark armor rippled across its body, gnarled and dark as scorched earth. Two massive vine bundles twisted from its shoulders, long and serpentine, anchoring it to the ground for movement. Another pair of thinner, corded vines dangled from its sides, sharper, whip-like, twitching with lethal precision.

All four limbs glowed with a sickly green pulse, as if alive with breath it had stolen from the city itself.

Jin’s breath caught.

The others slowed, momentarily stunned.

It wasn’t just bigger, it was focused.

Prepared.

Ready to finish this.

Daeho stepped forward, cracking his neck once. His muscles began to expand rapidly, shirt splitting at the seams as his form grew—seven feet. Eight. Then more. His eyes locked on the creature, and with one deafening stomp, he launched forward.