The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 65: Blades and Bindings

The space between them felt heavier than it had before. The recruits weren’t just watching for entertainment anymore. They were studying. Learning. Every fight before this had shown them something new—who was strong, who was fast, who hesitated, and who fought without fear.

Now, there were only a few of them left. No more hiding in the crowd.

Jin’s gaze flickered across the remaining fighters before settling on two.

"Areum. Byung-ho."

Areum tensed slightly at the sound of her name but stepped forward, rolling her wrists. She exhaled, her fingers twitching slightly as faint, glass-like energy flickered at her fingertips.

Byung-ho cracked his knuckles, rolling his broad shoulders. Unlike Areum, he didn’t look nervous. If anything, he looked excited.

"Guess I’m finally up," he said, flexing his fingers. "Been waiting to stretch a little."

Areum glanced at him, then looked back at Jin. "Um… are we really fighting? Like—fighting, fighting?"

Jin raised an eyebrow. "That’s what we’ve been doing."

"I know," Areum said quickly, shifting on her feet. "It’s just… my ability is, um—sharp. And Byung-ho is… well."

Byung-ho smirked. "Big? Strong? Handsome?"

Areum hesitated. "I was going to say ’unreasonably built like a walking refrigerator,’ but sure."

A few of the recruits snorted. Byung-ho let out a deep chuckle. "Don’t worry about me, Glass Girl. I’m not breaking that easy."

Jin studied them both, then nodded. "Areum, if you hesitate, you lose. If you can’t commit to your strikes, you might as well sit this out."

Areum’s expression tightened. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Byung-ho grinned. "Yeah, don’t hold back. I’ll give you a free shot to start."

He pounded his chest once with a fist. "Come on. Hit me."

Areum frowned, glancing at Jin. He didn’t say anything—he was leaving the choice to her.

She inhaled, lifted her hand—and summoned a thin, glass-like dagger.

It shimmered faintly, reflecting the evening light. She hesitated only a second before stepping forward and slashing toward Byung-ho’s arm.

The blade cut. Not deep—but it left a thin red line against his skin.

Areum gasped, taking a step back. "Oh! I’m so sorry—"

Byung-ho laughed.

He lifted his arm, glancing at the small cut before shaking his head. "That’s it? You call that an attack?"

Before Areum could react, he grabbed the blade with his bare hand.

The recruits stiffened as a sharp crack filled the air.

Byung-ho snapped the dagger apart like it was made of cheap plastic. Glass shards scattered to the dirt below.

Areum’s breath hitched.

Byung-ho grinned wider, stepping forward. "That’s not a real weapon. You’re playing like it is."

Jin’s voice cut through the moment. "Areum."

She snapped her head toward him.

"If you hesitate, you lose."

Areum swallowed hard. She looked at Byung-ho’s grin, then at her empty hand, then back at Jin.

Then, for the first time, she nodded.

A new blade flashed into existence in her grip. This time, her hands didn’t shake.

Jin raised his hand.

"Start."

Byung-ho didn’t waste time. The second Jin’s voice rang out, he lunged.

Areum barely had a second to react.

Her first instinct was to dodge—but Byung-ho was fast for his size.

He moved like someone who had fought before, his footwork more deliberate than some of the others. He wasn’t just swinging wildly—he was trying to corner her.

She twisted away, barely avoiding his grasp.

Her heart pounded. He’s not just strong. He knows how to grapple.

Byung-ho smirked, reading the realization in her face. "Yeah, I used to wrestle back in school. Didn’t lose much, either."

Areum didn’t answer. Instead, she took another step back and shifted her grip on her weapon. The short dagger she’d made earlier wouldn’t be enough—not against someone who could just grab her and snap it in half.

She extended the blade, turning it into a thin, shimmering saber.

Byung-ho’s grin widened. "Now we’re talking."

He charged again.

Areum moved first.

She ducked low, spinning on her heel as she slashed toward his ribs.

The blade made contact—but just barely.

A thin, shallow line opened across Byung-ho’s side.

Areum winced. "Sorry!"

Byung-ho didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked annoyed.

"Stop apologizing and hit me like you mean it!"

He lashed out with one hand, aiming for her wrist.

Areum jerked back just in time.

But he was still moving.

He threw a heavy hook with his other hand—and this time, he clipped her shoulder.

The force sent her stumbling backward. She barely kept her grip on her weapon, her pulse racing.

She looked at Byung-ho’s stance, at the way he kept pushing forward, at how little damage he was actually taking.

She had to stop playing defensive.

Areum exhaled sharply. Then, she tried something new.

She tightened her grip on her blade—and split it into two shorter knives.

Byung-ho raised an eyebrow. "That’s new."

Areum didn’t let him recover.

She charged forward, slashing fast, testing his reactions.

Her movements were still sloppy, still unrefined—but she was adjusting.

She aimed lower this time—at his arms, at his legs. Instead of trying to land deep cuts, she went for quick, repeated strikes, wearing him down.

Byung-ho grunted, swiping at her—but she wasn’t staying still anymore.

She darted around him, ducking and weaving, cutting where she could.

The fight was changing.

For the first time, Byung-ho stopped advancing.

He planted his feet, shifting to a more defensive stance.

Areum narrowed her eyes. He’s waiting for me to get close again.

It’s a trap.

But she wasn’t backing down.

Instead, she tried something riskier.

She threw one of her daggers at him.

Byung-ho’s reflexes kicked in. He lifted his arm to block—

And in that split second—Areum was already moving.

Before he could react, she reformed the blade in her hand mid-charge and sliced upward toward his exposed ribs.

The strike landed hard.

Byung-ho hissed.

The cut was deeper than before.

For the first time, he took a step back.

The recruits watching all inhaled sharply.

Areum felt the shift. She pressed forward, lifting her blade again—

But Byung-ho reacted instantly.

Instead of dodging, he grabbed her arm.

Areum’s stomach dropped. Too close.

Byung-ho’s grip was iron.

Areum struggled, trying to twist out of it, but his hold didn’t budge. It was like being caught in a bear trap—every slight movement only seemed to make it worse.

"Nice trick," Byung-ho muttered, locking his stance. "But you still let me catch you."

He braced his foot, about to use his full strength to throw her—

And that’s when something in Areum snapped.

A loud CRACK echoed through the training ground.

Byung-ho’s smirk faltered for the first time.

Because Areum wasn’t holding a blade anymore.

Her entire arm was coated in jagged, crystalline spikes, sharp edges shimmering like fractured diamonds.

She wasn’t just making weapons—she was turning herself into one.

The recruits watching tensed.

Jin’s eyes narrowed.

Byung-ho didn’t let go.

He tightened his grip instead, ignoring the sharp edges pressing into his palm. "You serious?"

Areum didn’t answer.

Her breathing was fast, uneven. The rush of the fight, the need to win, the frustration of always holding back—it all swirled together in her chest.

She twisted suddenly, driving the spikes deeper into Byung-ho’s arm.

Byung-ho gritted his teeth, his muscles flexing as blood started to trickle down his forearm.

But Areum wasn’t done.

She lifted her free hand, energy surging to her fingertips—

This time, she wasn’t forming a dagger.

She was making a spear.

It was longer than any weapon she had summoned before, its razor-sharp point glinting under the fading light.

Her grip tightened.

And she drove it forward.

Byung-ho’s eyes flashed.

Even he realized—this was different.

She wasn’t just trying to win anymore. She was trying to end it.

But before the strike could land—

Jin moved.

Faster than anyone saw coming.

One second, he was standing at the edge of the fight. The next—

His hand caught Areum’s wrist mid-thrust.

The impact sent a sharp shockwave through the ground.

The recruits flinched.

For a brief second, no one spoke.

Areum’s breath hitched.

The energy around her flickered—her spear dissolving into fragments of light.

Her arm—still lined with jagged crystal—trembled.

Jin’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was absolute.

His voice was low, calm—but unmistakably firm.

"That’s enough."

Areum froze and clenched her fists.

Her breathing uneven.

No one said anything at first.

Some of the recruits exchanged glances, unsure whether they had just witnessed an impressive win or a near disaster. Byung-ho rolled his wrist again, flexing his fingers carefully. His arm was still bleeding, but he didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked amused.

"Well, that was fun," he muttered. "Didn’t expect you to try and impale me, though."

Areum flinched. "I—I wasn’t trying to—"

Jin stepped forward.

His voice cut through the tension, steady and measured.

"You went too far."

Areum swallowed hard, guilt flashing across her face.

"But," Jin continued, "that’s also how I know you’ll make it in this world."

Areum blinked. "What?"

"You adapted," Jin said simply. "You were losing, so you found a way to turn the fight in your favor. You didn’t just use your ability—you pushed it past what you thought it could do. That’s how you survive. That’s how you win."

Areum’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers loosening.

"But," Jin said, his tone dropping slightly, "you also lost yourself in it. You let the fight take over. If I hadn’t stepped in, you both would’ve been badly injured. And out there—" he nodded toward the ruins beyond the school walls—"there’s no one to stop you before you go too far."

Areum looked down at her hands.

The jagged crystals were gone, but she could still feel the energy humming under her skin, like it was waiting for her to use it again.

Jin didn’t look away. "Control it. Don’t let it control you."

Areum exhaled slowly. Then, finally, she nodded. "...Understood."

Jin studied her for a moment longer, then turned toward the rest of the recruits.

"Next fight."

No one hesitated this time.

The training wasn’t over yet.