The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill

Jin moved first.

His feet cut the floor clean with his step — Muramasa already glowing with that heatless, burning light. Across the field, Seo Jun-Ho shifted fluidly, like his entire body was water given shape. No tension. No resistance.

And yet—

Their clash wasn't delayed.

Metal kissed air. Gel met steel. A shockwave burst out from their collision like a rupture in the sky.

Jin didn't wait for an opening.

He created it.

"Sankai—Heaven's Maw."

Muramasa whipped in a crescent — three-pointed bursts of pressure followed, each one layered with sword aura that now shimmered in white-blue arcs.

The first slash passed through Seo's shoulder. No reaction.

The second? Through his gut. The wound closed before Jin even pivoted.

The third curved upward — slicing along his chest.

Still nothing.

No blood. No break.

Just that smile.

Seo tilted his head. "Pretty. But still useless."

Jin didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the point of impact from the third strike. There — just for a second — a flicker. Not pain. Not recoil.

Memory.

He felt it again. Muramasa's voice, faint as ash caught on wind.

"My blade can cut anything."

"But only if you believe it must."

The voice had come weeks ago. A lesson he hadn't understood. One he'd dismissed.

But now—

Now it landed.

Jin stepped back, knees bent. Not in retreat. In preparation.

"You're hesitating," Seo said, tone dry, amused. "Even now? After all that?"

Jin rolled his shoulder. "Not hesitating."

Seo flexed a hand. The gelatinous form shimmered, liquid threads forming over his knuckles. "Then what are you doing?"

"Deciding what I need to become."

Seo blinked.

And then Jin began to move.

Not his body — his aura.

The light around him shifted. It was no longer the bright gold of heaven, nor the dark edge of underworld strikes. It was both. A dual tone that shimmered with violet-silver and deep crimson.

Heaven and Hell.

Sacred and profane.

"Muramasa," Jin whispered, his voice low, but steady. "The world's changed. The enemies are no longer men or beasts. They're systems. Powers beyond understanding."

"I thought I could reach them with heaven's light."

His foot slid back. The air thickened.

"And I thought hell's edge would carry my wrath."

The katana lowered, parallel to the floor, burning brighter now.

"But I was wrong."

"What I need—"

He stepped forward. Aura erupted like fire, but held no heat.

"—is something that belongs to both."

He raised his blade.

And named it.

"Style: Heavenly Demon Sword."

The pressure collapsed. Air folded inward. Muramasa erupted in a halo of searing white laced with bloodred streaks — not divine, not infernal.

Transcendent.

Seo's expression flickered — the first crack in his composure. "You're naming it now?"

Jin didn't answer.

Because he was already moving.

"First Fang—Heavenrend: Akatsuki Slash!"

The entire arena lit up. A bladed arc of aura exploded outward — X-shaped, not clean, but chaotic, turbulent, as if heaven itself had been torn open by a beast that didn't belong there.

The attack hit Seo dead on.

It didn't pass through.

It dug in.

Seo didn't move at first. Then — slowly — the gelatinous chest of his body cracked. An "X" carved deep, sizzling with residual power.

He stumbled back.

Then grinned.

"…That hurt."

Jin didn't relax. His shoulders trembled — not from fear, but from strain. The aura had taken more out of him than he admitted.

Seo straightened. "I didn't think you had that in you. That felt like a real sword. A real threat."

Then he stretched his hand forward.

"But let me show you what a real response looks like."

His body collapsed into itself — arms liquifying, body folding, reshaping — then surged forward like a tidal wave. The gelatin flesh didn't splash — it spiked, forming jagged spears mid-charge.

Jin twisted — blade intercepting.

CLANG!

He sliced through one spike.

But a second formed under his feet.

He leapt — a third whipped from behind.

He turned, ducked low — countered with a flat slash across the floor.

It connected. The spike dissolved.

Then the main body appeared again — Seo, now walking out of the rolling mass, face shadowed, voice low.

"Let me return the favor."

He raised his hand — index finger pointing down.

"Skill: Final Expression – Soma Collapse."

The ground warped.

Chains of gel burst from the floor in a star-pattern around Jin. Not just attacks — a formation.

Jin stepped once — but his foot sank half an inch into the floor.

It wasn't floor anymore.

It was Seo.

The arena was Seo.

Before he could move, spikes erupted in vertical pillars — aiming for limbs, chest, neck, heart.

Jin let go of breath.

And swung.

"Formless Form—Void Cut!"

He vanished for a second — reappearing ten feet back, Muramasa sheathed again, clean, untouched.

The arena behind him cracked.

But Seo still stood.

"I've seen that one," he said. "Slick. But what if you didn't have time to breathe?"

He raised both hands.

The entire left side of the field turned into a storm of gelatin chains, arcing like serpents.

Jin's eyes narrowed. "I should end this."

And in that moment—

He considered it.

The risk. The fallback.

The skill granted to him weeks ago. A hidden blade.

[Stat Override – Critical Apex Slash]

It would cut anything.

But at a cost.

Jin remembered what came after this. The trials. The future. And his hand hesitated over the invocation.

"No. Not now."

He tightened his grip.

"Second Fang—Demonrend: Crimson Downfall!"

The aura around Muramasa exploded.

A vertical drop slash — pure, unrelenting power — collided with Seo's central mass and ripped a trench through it.

Gel sprayed across the floor like shattered glass. Seo flew back — half his body torn apart.

Jin panted once.

The crowd held its breath.

Seo didn't get up.

Not for three seconds.

Then—

A sound.

Laughter.

Not maniacal. Not mad.

Amused.

And then—

Seo stood.

"I was really hoping you'd push me."

His body reassembled, the X-cut still visible but fading.

He held his hands out wide.

"Now I'll stop playing."

He pulled one arm back — and from his torso, a hardened spike of translucent violet gel extended.

"Let me show you…"

"'Simplicity.'"

He launched the spike.

It wasn't fast.

It was inevitable.

Jin blocked.

The spike exploded — revealing a dozen smaller barbs hidden within.

He spun — slicing them down—

But that was the feint.

The real attack—

From beneath.

A spike launched up.

Through his guard.

Through the blind spot.

Jin's eyes widened—

And everything went black.

And then—

Weight. Not pain. Not pressure. Just weight. Like something vast was pressing against Jin's skin from the inside out.

He didn't dream. He didn't drift.

He was simply… not.

Until he was again.

A sharp intake of air pulled him back.

Jin gasped, eyes flying open as the world swam back into focus. Light. Heat. The distant sound of something cracking. He blinked once—twice—until the haze faded from his eyes and he realized he was upright.

Glass in front of him. A ceiling above. A steady pulse of white system-light humming from the edges of a floating cube.

He was back in the box.

Jin groaned under his breath, leaning forward slightly and bracing himself against the transparent wall. His arms were sluggish. His head buzzed—not with pain, but with that same heavy dullness he'd felt in the instant before passing out.

What happened…?

He forced himself to sit upright. Slowly. His muscles didn't ache, not exactly—they were just slow to answer him, like they'd been stunned.

The last thing he remembered—

The slash.

The system.

Seo.

The blade at his side had vanished. He panicked for half a second, hand flying to his hip—then stopped, opened his interface with a blink, and sighed in relief.

[Inventory – 1 New Item Stored]

[Weapon: Muramasa (Bonded – Dormant State)]

There.

Still there.

He let the screen fade with a breath of quiet relief and finally glanced left and right.

The glass cube beside him was lit now. Inside, Yujin sat crouched, her arms draped loosely over her knees as she stared out at the arena, expression unreadable.

Jisoo was on his right, tapping her foot with a rhythm that was more tension than boredom. Her shoulders were tense. She looked like she was on edge. Like she'd been waiting.

Jin opened his mouth, but the sound caught. His throat was dry. He swallowed hard once, then knocked his knuckle lightly against the glass divider.

Jisoo turned instantly. Her eyes widened.

"Finally," she mouthed, then made a gesture like someone collapsing. "You scared the hell out of us."

He offered a faint shrug and mouthed back, "How long?"

She held up three fingers, then two.

Thirty?

Thirty what?

Seconds? Minutes?

No—based on her expression and the tension in her shoulders… minutes wouldn't be enough.

Thirty fights?

His brows furrowed. Jisoo gave a faint nod.

Thirty rounds. My Virtual Library Empire (M V L E M P Y R) appreciates your readership at the source.

He'd been out that long?

Jin let that settle. The boxes. The arena. That meant at least sixty names had been called. Sixty people had fought. At least that many had either died, surrendered, or been broken.

He looked around, trying to place the pattern of who was left—but the glass walls and glare made it hard to tell.

He leaned back again, pressing his shoulder blades to the wall and letting his head rest against the cool surface.

That bastard…

Jin closed his eyes for a moment, calling the last moment back.

The piercing strike. The paralysis that spread the instant the tip of Seo's extended gel-form blade met his thigh.

He didn't scream. Didn't even feel pain. Just… nothing. And then everything at once.

Some part of his mind still played that scene—rewinding it, replaying the hesitation he'd had. He should've ended the fight when he had the chance. Used that risky skill, the one that let him bypass all defense.

But at the cost of all his stats dropping until the next sunrise.

Too risky. He'd hesitated. Tried to win with control.

And Seo?

He didn't hesitate at all.

Jin's fingers twitched, curling slightly against his palm. A reminder. The only reason he was alive—Seo let him live.

And worse?

He didn't do it out of mercy.

He did it out of curiosity.

Jin forced the image from his mind, shaking his head once. No. He'd be ready next time. Stronger. Smarter. More than just a swordsman who trained in named techniques. His style—he'd given it a name now. Rooted it. "Heavenly Demon Style." Not for flair. For purpose. For memory.

But naming a style meant nothing if he couldn't deliver when it mattered.

He looked down at his hands.

Still steady.

Still calm.

But something inside had changed.

The system message that came before he passed out hadn't registered then—but now, fragments of it filtered back.

[Victory: Seo Jun-Ho]

[Loss: Jin Yeong]

[Combat Record Updated]

[Skill Reflection: Under Review]

Skill Reflection?

What…?

But before he could focus on that—

The wheel in the center of the arena spun again.

Bright. Golden. Unrelenting.

It spun with the force of judgment—pulling the eyes of every combatant still conscious toward its gleaming letters.

Names whirled across the surface. Jin watched, silent, as two more were selected. Then two more. Each time, the stage shifted to accommodate. New fighters. New power. More loss.

And he just sat there.

Watching.

Recovering.

Fighting himself more than the pain.

Yujin tapped the glass once with her knuckle. He looked over.

She nodded once.

You okay?

He offered a weak smile. Enough of one to pass.

She didn't look convinced.

Neither was he.

But that didn't matter.

He was still breathing.

Still thinking.

And that meant he could fight again.

Eventually.

Jin leaned forward, eyes narrowing as a burst of flame exploded from the arena below.

He didn't know who these new fighters were.

Didn't know what drove them.

But the battlefield didn't care.

It only made room for strength.

And somewhere, deep inside—

He was already calculating.

For next time.

For the next threat.

Because Seo wasn't the end.

He was just the proof that some monsters walked like men.

And if they walked…

They could bleed.

Jin would make sure of it.

Even if it killed him.