The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 43: Die Until You Learn To Live

The laughter echoed through the plaza like a death knell.

Deep.

Resonant.

Pleased.

Jin lay sprawled on the cold concrete, blood pooling beneath him, vision fractured like a shattered lens. Every breath scraped against broken ribs, and his fingers refused to move.

He couldn't tell if Seul and Joon were still breathing.

The Face of Honor stood tall, its bone armor cracked and charred, golden light pulsing slowly through the fractures. It lifted its glaive — not to strike, but to plant it into the ground, resting both hands on the weapon's hilt.

It watched them.

Patient.

Unmoving.

Like it had all the time in the world.

Then, without a word, it knelt, placing one skeletal hand against the ground.

A wave of golden energy rippled out, washing over the shattered plaza.

The blood-soaked ground drank in the light.

The corpses of the fallen crumbled to dust.

And their broken bodies knit themselves back together.

Jin's ribs snapped into place.

Seul's fractured limbs realigned.

Joon's burnt skin regenerated, the ache of the electric feedback fading like it had never existed.

Jin gasped, his lungs suddenly filling with air. He rolled onto his side, retching, trying to process the absence of pain.

He heard Seul coughing nearby, clutching her chest, and Joon groaning as he dragged himself onto his elbows.

They were alive.

Unhurt.

But they hadn't won.

The Face of Honor rose to its full height, lifting the glaive with a single, fluid motion.

"Again," it said.

Jin wiped the blood off his mouth, staggering upright, the staff scraping against the ground as he used it to steady himself.

Seul pushed herself to her feet, shaking out her limbs, and Joon stumbled, electricity flickering around his gloves like it wasn't sure whether to stay or die out.

Jin's chest heaved.

His fingers twitched around the staff.

Why?

Why heal them?

The Face of Honor turned its hollow gaze on him, as if it could hear the question.

"There is no honor in killing the weak," it said.

"You are brittle. Unrefined. You falter too quickly."

It slowly raised the glaive into a guard position, its golden eyes flaring.

"So I will break you," it whispered.

"Until you learn how to fight properly."

Then it moved.

It was faster this time.

Like it had been holding back before.

Jin swung the staff, aiming for its kneecap, trying to test if he could unbalance it —

But the Face of Honor caught the staff mid-swing, twisted its wrist, and ripped it out of his hands.

Jin barely had time to register the disarm before the blunt side of the glaive crashed into his sternum, lifting him off his feet and slamming him through another storefront.

Seul launched herself at the creature, increasing her gravity to slam her full weight into its side —

But the Face of Honor stepped into the momentum, twisting its body, and clotheslined her mid-air.

Seul hit the ground so hard the concrete cratered.

Joon tried to fire off a lightning barrage, channeling the energy like he had against the Face of Suffering —

But the creature slapped the bolts aside, closing the distance in a heartbeat.

It smashed the pommel of the glaive into his gut.

Then into his jaw.

Then into his chest again.

Joon hit the floor, convulsing, the air knocked out of him.

They lost.

Again.

The Face of Honor planted the glaive into the ground, just like before, and healed them.

Their bodies reset.

The pain vanished.

The cycle started over.

They fought.

They lost.

They got back up.

Over. And over. And over again.

Each time, the Face of Honor would destroy them with surgical precision, then restore them so they could fail again.

It never looked angry.

Never looked impatient.

If anything — it looked almost... bored.

"You hesitate," it told Jin, after shattering his arm for the third time.

"You fight as if you are afraid of your own strength."

"You are reckless," it told Seul, after crushing her with her own gravity pulse.

"Raw force is not skill. It is cowardice."

"You are narrow-minded," it told Joon, after dodging every arc blast he fired.

"Power without imagination is nothing but wasted potential."

They weren't just fighting a monster.

They were fighting themselves.

Their weaknesses laid bare.

Their flaws dissected in real-time.

And every time they failed, they got stronger.

Jin started picking up patterns, dodging the glaive swings by centimeters instead of inches.

Seul learned to layer her gravity shifts, flickering between light and heavy to move faster.

Joon stopped firing blindly, instead using precise, smaller shots to test reactions.

They still lost.

But it started taking the Face of Honor a little longer to beat them down.

Jin pulled himself up, panting, his hands trembling as he picked the staff back up.

Seul dragged herself up, spitting blood, her eyes burning with fury.

Joon got back up, his gloves crackling, the electricity flickering but steady.

They couldn't stop.

Wouldn't stop.

Jin lifted the staff, his arms shaking.

"One more time," he rasped, glaring at the creature.

The Face of Honor tilted its head, and for the first time, the golden light in its eyes glowed brighter.

Almost like it was smiling.

"Good," it said, stepping forward.

"Again."

The next fight lasted thirty seconds.

The one after that lasted a minute.

By the fifth fight, they made it to two minutes before the Face of Honor put them down again.

Every clash pushed them further past their limits.

Every failure carved their weaknesses into their bones.

But they kept standing up.

And they started learning.

Jin's muscles screamed, his fingers numb around the staff, his entire body a live wire of pain.

But he kept moving.

The Face of Honor swung the glaive in a deadly arc, aiming to cleave him in two — but this time, Jin didn't dodge away.

He stepped in closer.

The blade missed by a hair, and Jin drove the staff upward, aiming for the creature's chin.

The strike connected — the impact shaking his bones — but the Face of Honor barely flinched.

Instead, it grabbed the staff, yanked Jin off his feet, and smashed him into the ground hard enough to fracture the concrete.

Jin coughed, blood pooling in his mouth.

But he didn't hesitate this time.

The second his body hit the ground, he rolled to avoid the glaive's follow-up strike, then kipped back up, pivoting into another attack.

He didn't care that he was slower.

He didn't care that his strength wasn't enough.

He just kept swinging.

Kept attacking.

Like he was trying to force his body to adapt by sheer willpower alone.

The Face of Honor parried every blow, punished every mistake, and broke him down piece by piece.

But Jin kept getting up.

And his swings started getting tighter.

Sharper.

More refined.

Like the pain itself was teaching him.

Seul's chest heaved, her lungs burning, her gloves slick with her own blood.

Her bones ached from the repeated gravity feedback, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain win.

The Face of Honor lunged toward her, glaive whistling through the air — but instead of trying to dodge, she lowered her gravity, her body turning feather-light.

The blade barely missed, slicing past her like she was falling through air.

And in the same motion —

She maxed out her gravity mid-spin, accelerating her next punch so fast it sounded like a gunshot when it landed.

The impact buckled the creature's side, cracks spiderwebbing across its ribcage —

And then it grabbed her arm.

Its fingers tightened like a vice, and it crushed her wrist in an instant.

Seul screamed — but instead of pulling back, she increased her weight, dragging the creature's arm down with her as she collapsed.

If she was going down, she'd take something with her.

The Face of Honor snapped her arm like it was paper and kicked her aside, sending her skidding across the pavement.

But as she lay there, gasping for air, her fingers twitched.

She felt it.

The technique was almost right.

She just needed to be faster.

Be better.

Joon's gloves were cracked and smoking, the metal warped from overuse, but he didn't care.

His veins burned with electricity, and he refused to stop.

He strafed around the plaza, firing constant bursts of lightning, not even trying to hit the Face of Honor —

Just testing its defenses.

Every time the creature deflected a shot, Joon adjusted his next angle.

Every time the creature dodged, he corrected his timing.

He could feel the power building.

Could feel the surge crawling through his body, begging to be let out —

But he kept it contained.

Honed it.

Refined it.

And when the Face of Honor finally turned on him, swinging the glaive to cut him down —

Joon overloaded his gloves, firing a burst of lightning into the ground beneath him.

The force rocketed him upward, launching him over the glaive, and he twisted mid-air, firing a point-blank arc shot into the creature's head.

The attack did nothing.

The Face of Honor just snagged him out of the air, slammed him into the ground, and stepped on his chest, cracking ribs like twigs.

Joon spat blood, laughing through the pain.

He'd gotten higher that time.

He'd lasted longer.

The Face of Honor didn't speak.

It just kept fighting.

But something was changing.

Its attacks became sharper, harsher, like it was finally starting to test them seriously.

It stopped crushing them immediately.

Started prolonging the fights.

Almost like it was... curious.

Amused.

Like it was wondering how far they'd go.

How much further they could be pushed.

Jin collapsed, gasping for air, barely able to lift the staff.

Seul dragged herself up, her body barely responsive.

Joon rolled onto his side, clutching his chest, coughing blood — but still alive.

They were done.

Couldn't move.

Couldn't fight.

Could barely even breathe.

And then the Face of Honor knelt, pressed its hand to the ground, and healed them again.

The golden light faded, and their wounds sealed shut.

The Face of Honor slowly rose, its armor gleaming despite the countless fractures and scorch marks.

It lifted its glaive, resting the blunt end against the ground, and gazed down at them with a quiet, almost reverent intensity.

Then, it spoke.

"You are strong enough now."

The creature lifted the glaive, settling into a killing stance.

"Strong enough to die by my hand."

Jin wiped blood from his mouth, using the staff to push himself upright.

This is it.

They wouldn't get another reset.

If they lost this time — they'd die for real.

Joon staggered to his feet, his gloves flickering with unstable sparks, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon through hell.

Seul clenched her fists, her arms trembling, but her gaze sharp and unyielding, like she'd rather shatter her bones than stay down.

They were broken.

Exhausted.

But they were ready.

Jin rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache fade into the background as he gripped the staff tighter.

"One more shot," he rasped.

"Let's end this."

Seul cracked her neck, flexing her fingers.

"Call it."

Jin's eyes locked onto the Face of Honor, and he slowly lowered into a stance.

"Joon, charge up."

"Seul, set him up."

"I'll finish it."

They nodded once.

No hesitation.

No doubts.

Just trust.

The creature tilted its head, watching them with a slow, measured curiosity — and then it vanished.

The Face of Honor materialized behind them, its glaive swinging for Joon's neck like a guillotine —

Jin appeared in front of Joon, the staff intercepting the glaive, the impact sending shockwaves through the air.

Jin's arms buckled, bones fracturing from the force — but he held the block, letting Seul and Joon move freely.

"GO!" Jin roared.

Seul sprinted past them, her body flickering as she shifted her gravity to triple her speed.

She leapt, flipping mid-air, and slammed a gravity pulse into the creature's back, knocking it forward —

Right into Joon's range.

Joon planted his feet, electricity surging through his entire body, the cracks in his gloves glowing white-hot.

He channeled everything he had, letting the lightning crawl through his veins, the sheer voltage blistering his skin.

His muscles locked up, his bones aching — but he kept pushing.

The power built up.

Compressed.

And when the Face of Honor turned to him, glaive raised —

Joon released it all at once.

The blast wasn't a beam.

It wasn't a stream.

It was a storm.

The lightning ripped through the air, tearing apart the ground beneath it, and slammed into the creature, the energy arcing through its armor, burning through its body, supercharging every nerve.

The Face of Honor didn't dodge.

It tanked the hit head-on.

And kept moving.

Its body smoked, the bone armor melting, but it still dragged itself forward, blade raised, golden light pouring from its wounds like liquid fire.

It refused to fall.

Until Seul made sure it did.

Seul dashed in, her body moving on pure adrenaline, ignoring the way her limbs screamed.

She slid to a stop, her gloves glowing black, and she raised her arms, her fingers clenching shut like she was crushing something invisible.

The air compressed.

The ground fractured.

And a gravity well formed, a localized singularity that yanked the creature back, locking it in place.

The Face of Honor struggled, its body warping under the pressure, the glaive cracking apart.

Jin ran.

The plaza blurred, his body a blur of motion, the staff spinning so fast it sang through the air.

The Face of Honor didn't move.

It just watched him come, lowering its glaive, its stance open — like it was offering itself to the final blow.

Jin kicked off the ground, flipping upward, and as he descended —

He struck.

The staff came down like a comet, the sheer force of the strike splitting the air, a shockwave blasting outward as the impact shattered the creature's skull, sending cracks rippling through its entire body.

Jin landed in a crouch, his body finally giving out, chest heaving as the staff clattered to the ground beside him.

The Face of Honor didn't crumble.

Not yet.

It knelt, placing its glaive across its lap, and bowed its head.

Golden light spilled from the fractures in its body, flickering like an ember on its last breath.

It looked at them.

And it smiled.

"Thank you," it said, voice echoing like a distant chime.

Seul froze, her breath hitching.

Joon wiped his face, turning away, eyes red.

Jin just stared, his fingers digging into the ground, his chest so tight he couldn't even breathe.

"You gave me the death I longed for," the creature whispered, its golden eyes dimming.

"A death worthy of a warrior."

Jin's throat closed, and before he could stop it, a single tear slid down his face, mixing with the blood and sweat.

The creature saw it.

And its smile faded.

"Shed no tears for me," it said, voice gentle.

"There is no honor in mourning a fallen foe."

The light in its chest flickered.

"Stand tall, humans."

"The battle is not yet over."

Its body crumbled to ash, the glaive disintegrating, and the system pinged.

[The Face of Honor Defeated]

[Phase 4 Initiating: The Face of Regret]