The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 102: Steel Meets Shadow

The first clash was quiet.

No grand shouts.

No charging blows.

Just the sound of boots grating over stone, the low rasp of air pulled into steady lungs.

Jin moved first, the broken katana sliding through the air in a tight, lethal arc aimed at Hanuel’s shoulder.

The boy stepped lightly aside, barely shifting his stance, pole snapping up in a lazy parry that deflected the blow without committing his balance.

Jin adjusted immediately, cutting low toward the ribs.

Hanuel ducked, body folding like a shadow itself, pole swinging back across his body to guard his side.

Fast.

Loose.

But not careless.

They separated without a sound, drifting back into their orbits, watching.

Jin narrowed his eyes. Hanuel’s base footwork was solid, clean lines, no wasted steps. But there was still a hint of hesitation when he shifted shadows. A fraction of a second where the real body was visible before the darkness took over.

A weakness.

Not enough to exploit yet.

But something to note.

Jin pressed forward again, blade flickering up in a feint toward the throat before dropping sharply toward the thigh. Hanuel blocked smoothly, pole shivering under the impact, the crack of wood on steel echoing sharp in the warm air.

Then Hanuel moved.

He stabbed the pole down into a puddle of shadow stretching from one of the broken stone pillars, and the darkness answered.

Lines of black shot outward, snapping across the ground like spiderwebs.

Before Jin could shift position, Hanuel’s pole vanished into one shadow and erupted out another, stabbing toward his ribs from an impossible angle.

Jin twisted aside, the thrust scraping against his shirt, almost catching him.

The pole disappeared again, diving into a different patch of shadow and spearing out near his ankle.

He pivoted, slicing downward with the broken katana, deflecting the strike away — but it immediately slipped into another shadow and came again, now aiming for his back.

The attacks came faster now.

Not random.

Calculated.

Flowing.

Jin gritted his teeth, feet gliding over the stone as he dodged and parried, the broken blade flashing in the sun like a shard of defiance.

"Good," Jin muttered under his breath, stepping into a low crouch to avoid another thrust. "But you’re showing your anchor points too much."

Hanuel said nothing. Only shifted, letting the pole dance between darkness like a living thing.

Jin narrowed his focus.

The pole traveled fastest through deep, solid shadows, slower when the connections were thinner, weaker.

He adjusted his stance, keeping to the shallower patches of light, forcing Hanuel to overextend the chain each time he attacked.

Another thrust.

Another dodge.

Jin slashed at the shadow itself, not at the pole, disrupting its path mid-leap.

The pole clattered off the stone harmlessly, Hanuel clicking his tongue in annoyance before re-centering.

"You’re adapting fast," Hanuel said, voice tight with focus.

"You’re making it easy," Jin shot back, lips curling into a grin.

Then Hanuel changed tactics.

The shadows around him thickened, swirling into misty tendrils that cloaked his body. Illusions, partial, half-real.

Now every movement birthed three, four copies.

Real strike?

Fake strike?

Jin couldn’t tell with sight alone.

He forced his body to move instead of think.

A thrust appeared at his shoulder, he ducked.

Another flashed at his knee, he twisted, blade slashing downward.

Each cut was a clean line through darkness, his form compact, breathing steady.

The Heian style he had studied guided his motions, no wide arcs, no wasted energy.

Every pivot was a whisper across stone.

Every strike a brush of wind.

Hanuel pushed harder, pole blurring into a web of attacks.

Jin stayed low, weaving through the assaults, broken katana deflecting or slicing apart the shadow extensions wherever they got close.

A sharp impact rattled his wrist as one thrust grazed his guard, Jin grunted, sliding back two steps to reset his footing.

Hanuel pressed forward, spinning the pole wide, trying to drive him toward a cluster of deep shadows where the chained strikes would be unstoppable.

Jin smiled faintly.

Not today.

He shifted his angle sharply, moving toward the open sunlight instead, forcing Hanuel to come to him.

The pole lunged again, Jin parried once, twice, then stepped in tight, breaking the rhythm.

One cut sliced through a thick tendril of shadow feeding the pole.

The second cut, quicker, lower, smashed into the pole itself.

There was a sharp crack.

Wood splintered.

The pole bent violently, the force of Jin’s cut nearly shearing it in half.

Hanuel staggered back, gripping the broken weapon, his breathing rough.

Jin didn’t press the advantage.

He dropped into a defensive stance and waited.

Hanuel straightened slowly, grimacing at the ruined pole. For a moment, neither of them moved.

The only sound was the wind brushing over the broken stones.

Then Hanuel exhaled through his nose, almost laughing.

"Guess I need better materials," he muttered, tossing the shattered pole aside.

Jin lowered his sword.

"You’re strong," Jin said, voice level. "Fast. Creative. But you lean too much on the pole itself. Your ability’s the real weapon."

Hanuel blinked, surprised.

"You already mastered your form," Jin continued, voice steady but not unkind. "You’ve spent your life learning how to move the pole like an extension of yourself. That’s good. But now you need to let your ability lead. Not the stick."

Hanuel nodded slowly, absorbing the words.

Jin flicked the broken katana once, shaking off the sting in his arms.

"And get something that won’t snap in half next time," he added with a small grin.

Hanuel smiled back, wide and genuine.

"Yeah. I think I saw a metal one in the shop listings," he said. "Might be time."

They stood there for a moment, sweat and bruises cooling under the afternoon sun.

No need for grand speeches.

Just the quiet understanding of two fighters pushing each other further than they could’ve gone alone.

Hanuel picked up the broken remains of his pole and nodded once.

"Thanks, Jin."

Jin shrugged, sliding the katana back into its sheath.

"Thank yourself. You’re the one stepping forward."

Hanuel grinned wider and turned, jogging off toward the school building, already tapping open the system shop interface with a swipe of his hand.

Jin watched him go for a moment before turning back toward the open yard.

His muscles ached.

His hands throbbed.

The sword at his side pulsed faintly again, the bond growing—

slow, steady, patient.

Just like everything worth having.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the blade settle against him, and moved back into stance.

Practice wasn’t over yet.

Not by a long shot.

Jin stayed there for a while after Hanuel left.

The training yard was quieter now.

The sun drooped lower in the sky, dragging the shadows longer, stretching them across the cracked stones like dark rivers.

He shifted back into stance automatically, body moving without needing to think.

The broken katana whispered through the air once more — low, clean arcs, the blade tracing invisible cuts against the dying light.

No rush.

No pressure.

Just breathing.

Moving.

He ran the River’s Edge form again, slower this time, each pivot and slash grounding deeper into muscle memory. The ache in his arms sharpened with every swing, but he didn’t fight it.

He welcomed it.

Every pull of tired muscles meant another inch of progress.

Another crack driven into the wall between him and the sword.

The katana pulsed faintly against his hand with each completed sequence — subtle, quiet, like a heartbeat syncing with his own.

Jin finished one final low sweep, exhaled through his nose, and straightened slowly.

The sky was bruised now, deep purple bleeding into streaks of gold along the horizon.

The wind had shifted cooler, bringing the smell of trees and earth from beyond the school’s walls.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiffness setting into the joints, and finally lowered the blade fully.

Enough for now.

Jin turned his gaze toward the main building.

He could hear it faintly, laughter, the dull rhythmic thud of fists hitting pads, the crack of training weapons.

The recruits were still working.

Probably losing track of time.

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Hard work was good.

Burning themselves out wasn’t.

Jin sheathed the broken katana carefully, feeling the sword settle into place like an old promise.

Then he started toward the building at a slow, steady pace, boots crunching lightly over the gravel path.

The aches in his legs and arms spoke with every step, but there was a steadiness in his chest now that hadn’t been there before.

A quiet certainty.

He wasn’t there yet.

But he was moving.

The porch lights of the main hall were already glowing, casting long, pale beams across the training yard. Inside, he could make out the shifting shapes of Seul and Joon running drills with the recruits, Echo leaning lazily against the far wall, shouting the occasional bit of advice.

Areum spun wild arcs with her glass blade, trying to maintain form while dodging imaginary attacks.

Hanuel, fresh pole already in hand, practiced faint, flickering thrusts, testing the new weapon’s balance carefully.

Doyun worked in the corner, spitting small globs of acid at targets and adjusting his aim based on Seul’s sharp corrections.

They were tired.

Messy.

But they were trying.

Jin paused for a moment at the threshold, watching them.

Watching what they were building.

Then he knocked lightly against the doorframe with the back of his knuckles, drawing their attention.

"Wrap it up," he said, voice calm but firm. "Sun’s almost down. You’ve earned the rest."

The recruits brightened immediately, some with relieved grins, others just slumping forward in exhaustion.

Even Seul cracked a small smile as she turned toward him, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

Joon tossed Echo a mock glare as the sound guy made a show of yawning loudly.

Areum darted forward first, chattering about how she totally wasn’t tired and could totally keep going if they needed but Jin just shook his head with a quiet laugh and waved her off.

They deserved the break.

Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Tonight, they could breathe.

Jin leaned lightly against the wall, letting the cool evening air settle over his shoulders as the recruits began packing up equipment, laughing softly among themselves.

The broken katana pulsed once more at his side.

Content.

Waiting.

Ready for whatever came next.