The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 40: The Face of Suffering

The plaza broke apart.

The ground cracked, and shadows bled from the fissures like liquid night, spreading across the concrete in writhing tendrils.

The air thickened, the weight of it pressing down on Jin's chest like he was being buried alive.

His breathing faltered.

His vision swam.

But he didn't lower the staff.

He just stared ahead, sweat dripping down his face, as the Qī Shā twisted and reformed in front of him.

Its torso stretched, flesh splitting apart with a wet tearing sound, and the Face of Violence crumbled, the broken remains melting into the body like wax.

Something else emerged in its place.

A new face, eyes weeping black ichor, mouth locked open in a soundless scream.

The flesh warped around it, ribs jutting outward like gnarled roots, the bones pulsating with every shuddering breath the creature took.

It dragged itself forward, fingertips scraping the ground, leaving smears of black decay that ate through the concrete like acid.

The Qī Shā lifted its head, and the other faces twisted in their flesh prisons, their mouths opening wide as if they were crying out — but no sound came.

Only the Face of Suffering spoke.

"YOU MADE US SUFFER," it whispered, voice splintering like fractured glass.

"NOW FEEL IT YOURSELVES."

The air vibrated.

Jin's heart seized.

And then the pain started.

Jin staggered, nearly dropping the staff as a sharp ache bloomed in his ribs, like something had just cracked them open.

He hadn't been hit.

He was perfectly fine.

But the pain was real.

It radiated outward, spreading to his chest, his arms, every inch of his body screaming like he'd just been through a meat grinder.

"What the hell is this?" Joon gasped, clutching his side like he'd been stabbed, even though there wasn't a scratch on him.

Seul fell to one knee, her gloved hand clutching her stomach, her breath ragged.

"I... I can't move," she whispered.

The Qī Shā didn't attack.

It just stood there, watching them crumble, its body twitching like it was barely holding itself together.

"EVERY WOUND YOU INFLICT," it whispered.

"EVERY DROP OF SUFFERING YOU GIVE..."

It grinned, black ichor dripping from its teeth.

"I RETURN TO YOU A THOUSANDFOLD."

Jin bit down hard, forcing himself to breathe through the pain.

His fingers clenched around the staff, knuckles bleaching white, and he stepped forward, muscles trembling with every movement.

"Don't stop," he muttered.

Seul snapped her head up, eyes wide.

"What?"

Jin kept walking, step by agonizing step, dragging the staff behind him.

"If we stop," he rasped, "we die."

The Qī Shā tilted its head, almost curious.

Then it lifted its arm, and the flesh rippled, a bone shard jutting out from its palm like a spear.

It threw the shard.

The projectile screamed through the air, whistling like a bullet — and Jin didn't dodge.

He just twisted the staff, catching the bone shard mid-flight with a perfectly timed deflection, the metal ringing from the impact.

But the moment the bone snapped in half —

His back arched, and a white-hot pain tore through his side as if he'd been impaled.

"AUGH—!"

Jin hit the ground, gasping, fingers digging into the concrete as he clawed for air.

The pain faded a second later, but the ache lingered, leaving him shaking.

The Qī Shā laughed softly, the sound like wet paper tearing.

"IT HURTS, DOESN'T IT?"

It stepped forward, each movement slow and deliberate, like it wanted to savor every second.

"IT WOULD BE EASIER IF YOU STOPPED FIGHTING."

"LIKE HELL IT WOULD!" Seul shouted.

Seul charged, her legs buckling from the pain, but she forced herself forward, her gloves glowing faintly.

She swung — a heavy punch, her gravity compressing as her fist slammed into the Qī Shā's ribs.

The impact rippled through its body, bones crunching.

And Seul screamed.

Her arm twisted, a phantom pain shattering through her muscles, and she collapsed, clutching her bicep, her face pale.

Joon cursed, his gloves crackling as he fired a bolt of electricity — and the moment the lightning hit, his entire body seized, every nerve frying as he convulsed and fell to his knees.

The Qī Shā watched them, the Face of Suffering trembling with joy.

"I LOVE YOU," it whispered.

"ALL OF YOU."

It stretched out its arms, flesh tearing as it reached for Jin —

And Jin stood up again.

Shaking. Bleeding. Barely breathing.

But he stood up.

He lifted the staff, wiping the blood from his mouth, and he spun it — a slow, deliberate motion, like he was recalibrating his body to the pain.

He exhaled slowly.

And then he smiled.

"Is that all you got?"

The Qī Shā froze.

Its grin twitched.

And for the first time since the fight began —

It looked genuinely intrigued.

The Qī Shā surged forward, a mass of twisted flesh dragging itself across the shattered plaza, its face locked in an eternal scream.

The concrete warped beneath its touch, the air vibrating with the weight of its presence, as if the world itself rejected it.

Jin's chest ached, his body screaming with phantom injuries he hadn't even sustained, but he kept the staff raised, feet steadying beneath him.

"Keep moving," he growled.

Joon stumbled to his feet, electricity flickering weakly across his gloves.

Seul clutched her side, her breath shallow, but her eyes burned with determination.

None of them were backing down.

And the Qī Shā loved it.

"BEAUTIFUL," it moaned, dragging itself closer, the black ichor leaking from its eyes sizzling against the ground.

"YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL."

It lashed out — the bone shard arm stretching, moving like a whip.

Jin spun the staff, deflecting the attack, but the moment the bone cracked, an invisible pain stabbed through his ribcage, like he'd just been impaled. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

He almost collapsed, but he ground his teeth and kept fighting.

Because if he stopped, they were dead.

Jin twisted the staff, moving with surgical precision, every strike perfectly placed — but the pain feedback made him feel like he was tearing himself apart with every hit.

He swung low, cracking the Qī Shā's knee, and immediately felt his own kneecap snap in response.

His leg buckled, but he didn't stop.

He just adjusted.

He started timing his attacks, absorbing the pain and using it to fuel his rhythm — treating it like a drumbeat, a pulse that guided his body.

The Qī Shā noticed.

It cocked its head, watching him with a kind of sick curiosity, like it was fascinated by the way he was still standing.

"YOU CAN'T KEEP THIS UP," it whispered, dragging itself closer, its voice dripping with pleasure.

"YOU'LL TEAR YOURSELF TO PIECES."

Jin wiped the blood from his mouth, his vision blurry, but his hands steady.

"Maybe," he muttered.

"But you're going down with me."

"Not alone he's not," Seul snapped, sprinting back in.

She ducked low, her gloves shimmering, and she punched the ground — the gravity pulse rippling out, slamming into the Qī Shā's leg like a cannonball.

The creature's limb fractured, bending at an impossible angle, and Seul immediately screamed, grabbing her own shin as if she'd just snapped her own leg.

But she didn't stop.

She limped forward, and when the Qī Shā turned, she twisted her glove's gravity in reverse, making her next punch so light it blurred through the air like a bullet — before she reversed the gravity mid-strike, doubling the weight on impact.

The creature's ribs collapsed, black ichor spurting out, but Seul fell to her knees, choking on the pain, her arm trembling violently.

The Qī Shā shook, its body twitching, and then it laughed again.

"SUCH A LOVELY SOUND," it rasped.

"YOUR BONES BREAKING."

Seul collapsed, clutching her arm, her breath jagged, but her eyes burning.

"I'm not done," she hissed, trying to stand.

Her legs buckled.

Jin hauled her up, the staff trembling in his hands, his body wrecked with phantom injuries.

The feedback pain hadn't stopped.

It had just become part of him.

His body felt broken, but he moved anyway.

Because he had to.

The Qī Shā dragged itself closer, the thorn-like bones scraping against the plaza floor, leaving a trail of black decay in its wake.

"HOW MUCH MORE CAN YOU TAKE?" it cooed, its weeping face splitting wider into a grotesque grin.

"HOW MUCH LONGER CAN YOU FIGHT?"

Jin's breathing slowed, but he lifted the staff again, shifting his stance.

He knew the answer already.

"As long as I have to," he rasped.

The Qī Shā lunged, and Jin met it head-on.

The staff cracked against the creature's jaw, the impact sending shockwaves through Jin's body.

It felt like his teeth shattered.

But he kept swinging.

Seul limped behind him, her glove flickering, and she punched low, her gravity pulse bending the creature's leg backward with a wet crunch.

She screamed when her own shin snapped, but she still didn't stop.

The Qī Shā convulsed, teeth chattering, and then it twisted unnaturally, lashing out with its bone shard arm.

Jin blocked the strike, but the force hurled him back, his feet digging trenches in the ground.

He felt like he'd been hit by a truck.

"Joon!" Jin shouted, his voice splintering.

"We need you!"

Joon didn't move.

He was still crumpled on the ground, chest barely rising, gloves scorched black.

But his fingers twitched.

Joon's vision blurred, his body unresponsive, like he was locked inside himself.

He couldn't feel his hands.

Could barely breathe.

But he could hear everything.

Jin's voice breaking.

Seul crying out in pain.

The Qī Shā's voice, dripping with sick pleasure.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DOWN," the creature hissed, its jaw hanging loose, teeth dripping ichor.

Joon's pulse thudded in his skull.

His fingers twitched again.

The smallest movement.

But he felt the static trying to crawl back to life.

Like it was waiting for him.

Like it still wanted to fight.

"Not yet," Joon whispered, his voice cracked.

"I'm not done yet."

He dug his fingers into the ground, trying to push himself up, even as his muscles screamed in protest.

The Qī Shā noticed.

It twisted its body, its broken limbs contorting as it dragged itself toward him.

"SO FRAGILE," it rasped, crawling closer, its bone shard arm raised to finish him off.

"JUST DIE."

Joon's arms shook, his legs numb, but he kept forcing himself up.

Because if he stayed down — they'd die.

He slammed his gloves together, trying to build a charge.

The electricity flickered.

Then died.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Joon's arms shook, his legs numb, but he kept forcing himself up.

Because if he stayed down — they'd die.

He slammed his gloves together, trying to build a charge.

The electricity flickered.

Then died.

He tried again.

Nothing.

And the Qī Shā grinned.

"PATHETIC," it rasped, its bone shard arm twisting, the jagged edges sharpening with a sick, wet crack.

Joon's pulse spiked.

The creature wasn't just crawling toward him anymore.

It was aiming.

The bone shard split apart, jagged pieces snapping into a twisted, makeshift spear.

It reared its arm back, bones creaking, and threw the spear straight at Joon's chest.

Joon's body refused to move.

His fingers dug into the ground, muscles locked in place, and all he could do was watch death come for him.

Until Jin stepped in front of it.

Jin threw himself forward, the staff spinning, and he swung with everything he had, intercepting the bone spear mid-flight.

The impact hit like a freight train, the force alone enough to shatter the ground beneath him.

The vibration from the blow rocketed through his body, and something in his chest cracked — a sharp snap that made him gasp.

It felt like his ribs exploded.

He doubled over, coughing blood, his breath ragged, but he didn't collapse.

Didn't even stagger.

He just planted his feet, grit his teeth, and kept standing, even though every breath felt like he was inhaling knives.

"Get up," Jin growled, his voice guttural, as he swung the broken spear back at the Qī Shā, stabbing it straight through the face of suffering.

The creature howled, the wound steaming, but the pain feedback retaliated instantly.

Jin's head snapped back, a gash splitting across his cheek, like he'd been stabbed himself.

His legs wobbled.

But he held the line.

"I said get up," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

Joon froze.

Joon couldn't breathe.

He stared at the blood dripping from Jin's mouth, watched the way he kept fighting, even when his body was wrecked.

For him.

Again.

Jin should've been dead by now.

Anyone else would've collapsed.

But Jin never stopped.

Not when the system first dropped.

Not during Ryu's brutal two-week training.

Joon remembered it all — the last two weeks of fighting, struggling, and somehow surviving.

Jin was better than all of them in a fight.

But not because of his skill.

His Limitless Weapon Mastery didn't make him choose to fight.

It didn't make him step in front of danger every single time.

Jin did that on his own.

Even when he was exhausted, even when they all begged for a break, Jin would still drag himself out of the station at dawn to fight monsters alone, just to make sure he was ready for whatever came next.

Jin never hesitated.

Because he was terrified of failing them.

Because he knew they couldn't afford to break.

And Joon?

Joon had just been coasting through.

He made jokes to kill the tension.

Complained about training.

Whined whenever his gloves overheated and burned his skin.

And now, here they were.

Jin was falling apart.

Seul could barely stand.

And Joon was on his knees, too weak to even spark his own damn power.

The Qī Shā shifted, its weeping face twisting, the bone shard arm regrowing, jagged and javelin-like.

It turned toward Jin, who was panting, his chest heaving, the staff barely steady in his hands.

Jin lifted the staff anyway.

His knuckles white.

His breathing shallow.

He couldn't even stand straight.

But he was still trying.

Still standing there.

"RUN OUT OF TRICKS?" the Qī Shā rasped, its voice vibrating with delight.

"I'LL CARVE YOU TO PIECES."

It reeled back to throw the spear —

Joon moved without thinking.

He threw himself forward, his gloves crackling, and tackled Jin out of the way just as the javelin shot past them, skimming Joon's shoulder.

The flesh burned instantly, the wound searing black, but he didn't care.

Didn't even feel it.

Because something in him snapped.

The lightning surged, crawling up his arms, brighter than it had ever been — but it felt wrong.

It felt like it was pushing back.

Like he was trying to pull something out of himself that wasn't ready to come out yet.

He gritted his teeth, forced the current through, and threw his hands forward.

"MOVE!" Joon roared, and the arc shot blasted out, a compressed bolt of lightning tearing through the air, slamming into the Qī Shā's chest like a cannonball.

The creature screeched, its body convulsing, black ichor hissing as the electricity seared through it.

It skidded back, flesh smoking, but it didn't collapse.

It just laughed.

"YES," the Qī Shā whispered, its voice writhing with pleasure.

"MORE."

Joon collapsed, smoke rising from his gloves, his lungs on fire.

The arc shot had drained the last bit of strength he had left — and he'd barely even hurt the thing.

He slammed his fists against the ground, frustration burning in his chest.

Why wasn't it enough?

Why couldn't he just do it?

And then — the system pinged.

[Territory Leader Notice]

[Subordinate's Potential Detected]

[Joon Kim's potential is clashing against his limits.]