The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill

The silence following the system's disappearance was short-lived.

A new sound rolled through the center of the maze—not a siren or mechanical cue, but something older. A groan of shifting earth. A whisper that sounded too much like breath.

The runes along the newly opened corridors glowed brighter, pulse-like. Green flickers chased themselves along the stone, illuminating fractures in the floor that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Yujin's head tilted, her eyes narrowing as she sniffed the air. "…Smoke?"

"And blood," Jin added quietly.

Jisoo coughed once and made a face. "Yeah. That's not ominous at all."

The scent wasn't heavy, but it was there. Copper sharpness and something darker, meatier. A reminder. A warning.

Then a voice reached them—not loud, not aggressive. But clear.

"Sorry about this."

They all turned.

The far corridor dimmed. The runes didn't fade—they bent, like they were being pressed down by weight alone. And from the shadow at its center, something moved.

Not fast.

Not dramatic.

Just… steady.

The figure emerged in pieces—first a horn, white as bone, then a shoulder broader than a doorway. His outline took form slowly, not dragging but deliberate. Like he wasn't coming to fight, but simply to arrive.

When he finally stepped into full view, the torchlight caught him in full.

Massive.

Eight feet tall, easy. Covered in dense muscle not from vanity but necessity. His skin was a deep bronze, marked with old scarring and the faint, glowing traces of system lines. They pulsed like veins—sickly red, muted, but unmistakably alive.

He wore no armor beyond thick hide wraps and bronze plating that looked scavenged from older beasts. One massive cleaver dragged behind him—no elegance, no craftsmanship. Just a slab of cracked stone, strapped to a handle wrapped in leather and ash.

But it was his eyes that made them pause.

Not rage. Not hunger. Not even thrill.

Tired.

Old.

Aware.

They met Jin's without a hint of malice.

"This isn't about you," the Minotaur said, voice low, almost casual. "I don't even know you."

He stepped forward once. The stone cracked beneath his hoofed feet.

"But the hunger doesn't wait."

Yujin shifted slightly behind Jin. Her shoulders tensed.

"And the system doesn't let me die," the Minotaur continued, "until I feed."

Jisoo's stance widened. Her breath came quieter now, focused. She wasn't joking anymore.

Jin kept his hand near Muramasa's grip, eyes never leaving the being in front of them.

"Who are you?"

The Minotaur blinked once, then let out a breath through his nose. It sounded almost like a chuckle, but without humor.

"A mistake," he said. "A myth. A memory carved into a trial."

He raised the cleaver just a little, resting it against one shoulder. "But for tonight…"

He looked at them fully now.

"I am the Minotaur."

Silence held for a moment.

Jisoo murmured, "That doesn't sound like a warm-up fight."

Yujin's wings reformed quietly behind her, twitching once. "No. It doesn't."

The Minotaur took another step.

"You'll feel the walls shift," he said, as if reading the air. "That's not me. That's the system. It likes to make you earn this."

He looked toward the glowing corridors behind them—toward the ones that had opened just seconds ago.

"And if you're lucky," he added, "you'll never have to face what's deeper."

Jin frowned. "There's something worse than you in here?"

The Minotaur didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Instead, he rolled one shoulder again, like working out an ache, then looked at his cleaver and nodded slightly to himself.

"Try not to die in one hit," he said. "That'd be a waste of everything you've survived."

Jin stepped forward.

His voice was calm, but sharp.

"We're not dying here."

A pause.

The Minotaur smiled.

Not wide.

Not cruel.

Just… acknowledging.

"Good."

Then he moved.

No roar. No dramatic windup.

Just a clean, terrifying charge.

His hooves hit stone like hammers, sending vibrations racing across the chamber. The cleaver dragged sparks from the ground in a wide arc, a warning slash for anyone who thought they could meet him head-on.

"Scatter!" Jin barked.

Yujin leapt back with a twist, shifting mid-air—fur crawling across her arms, claws extending, spine flexing.

Jisoo vanished in a blur of motion, her dash carrying her behind a pillar just as the Minotaur's cleaver slammed down into where she'd stood.

BOOM.

Stone exploded in a shockwave of dust and sparks.

Jin slid to the left, Muramasa already drawn, aura flaring to meet the surge of kinetic force.

He planted one foot and turned—reading the Minotaur's pivot, seeing the second strike coming like a storm.

The cleaver rose again.

So did the pressure.

This wasn't just power.

This was hunger, made sentient.

And the fight had begun.

The ground shook.

The Minotaur didn't slow—if anything, it was accelerating, each stride turning into a stampede, cleaver dragging behind him like it wanted the world to bleed.

Jin gritted his teeth, Muramasa in hand. "This thing's getting faster—"

"No," Yujin interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "He's getting stronger."

As if to confirm her words, the Minotaur's form twisted mid-charge. His shoulders bulked, muscles knotting with grotesque strength. The curve of his horns thickened, now lined with faint red cracks like veins of molten stone. His feet no longer pounded—they cratered.

Jisoo slid in low next to Jin, panting, sweat glistening along her temple. "That wasn't his full form. Wasn't even close."

A soft pulse of violet shimmered around her ankles.

Jin noticed it instantly. "Your boots—"

"They're waking up again," she muttered, flexing her calves. "The shoes—the Talaria—they're not just speed."

She pushed off the ground—and vanished.

Jin blinked. Not a blur. Not a streak. Gone.

Then—bang!

A sonic pop echoed high above as Jisoo appeared midair, arcing around the Minotaur's shoulder. She twisted her body mid-flight, the force tearing through the air like a bullet.

But the Minotaur turned his head. Just slightly.

His cleaver came up—not fast, not precise, but early.

It intercepted her knee in a flash of metal.

Jisoo grunted, rebounding off the flat of the weapon, spinning wildly midair. She landed in a crouch, boots skidding across the broken tiles.

Her foot hit the ground—then launched again.

Another sonic burst cracked the air.

She vanished—reappeared—twisting, rotating, momentum swirling around her like a gyroscope made of flesh and will.

This time, her heel smashed into the Minotaur's jaw. A shockwave burst outward, the sound rippling through the stone.

The Minotaur's head snapped sideways. A tooth—large, jagged, almost tusk-like—clattered across the ground.

He laughed.

"I like that one," he rumbled.

Then he slammed his foot down—and the floor surged.

Pillars of stone erupted upward in a burst of seismic rage, catching Jisoo mid-dash. She twisted—but too late. One clipped her shoulder, spinning her sideways. She crashed into the wall, coughing.

"Jisoo!" Yujin shouted—and the moment she did, her eyes glowed.

A shimmer passed through her—feet shifting, spine curling. Her body blurred into something half-hawk, half-cheetah. Wings shot from her back. Her muscles coiled and launched.

She was airbound in seconds, tailwind trailing.

"Shift midair!" Jin called. "Use something heavier!"

"I got it!" she yelled—and in that same breath, her form distorted again.

She twisted midair, body growing larger, more brutal—her form stabilizing into something between an eagle and a lion. Myth incarnate.

She dove, claws gleaming.

The Minotaur raised his arm to swat.

She dipped low—swooped—and slashed across his forearm, gouging deep into muscle. Black-red blood sprayed.

The Minotaur didn't flinch.

His other arm moved—and caught her wing with brutal precision.

"Gotcha."

He hurled her like a discus.

Yujin spiraled, caught herself with a half-flap, and used the motion to spin—her body shrinking midair, landing on the wall in a quadrupedal leap as a panther.

Jin, meanwhile, moved.

He slashed at the Minotaur's exposed leg—Muramasa ringing with each step. But the blade caught bone. Not hide. Bone—like the Minotaur's body had reinforced itself.

Jin leapt back, panting. "He's evolving."

The Minotaur tilted his head. "Of course I am."

He took another step. The walls rumbled again.

"This place is built to reflect challenge."

He pointed at Jin with the cleaver. "You're strong. She's faster. The other one's unpredictable. That's enough for the System to escalate."

"And you're okay with that?" Jin asked.

The Minotaur shrugged. "I don't have a say. It's either grow, or fade."

Jin said nothing. His mind turned.

Growth.

Reaction.

That's how this works.

He raised Muramasa.

A soft glow ran down the blade—red at first, but layered with something thinner. Lighter. A golden edge.

The aura flickered.

And then—it burned.

He stepped forward, blade humming.

"Try me, then."

Yujin darted past him, slashing again—using eagle claws to rip along the Minotaur's upper bicep.

Jisoo reappeared above, descending like a missile.

"Drill Form," she shouted, spinning in tight vertical spirals.

"Flash Descent—Typhon Thrust!"

Her heel met his skull.

The Minotaur staggered.

Jin stepped in.

"Ni no Kata—Raijin's Judgment."

Muramasa flashed white-gold.

The blade carved upward—not just cutting, but cleaving through resistance. The aura extended further than steel, slicing through the air like judgment from on high.

The Minotaur raised his cleaver—blocked—but the force still pushed him back three steps.

A crack split the wall behind him.

He looked down—at his arm.

A slice. Deep.

Real.

He smiled.

"Now we're getting somewhere."

Then he bellowed—and the cleaver ignited.

Not with fire. With hunger.

It drew the light inward—drank it.

He charged again.

Jin clenched his jaw. "Again!"

Yujin blurred forward. Jisoo came down from above.

And the clash reignited.

The real battle had only just begun.