The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 82: Horizon Severance

The earth trembled.

The battlefield was still shifting, cracks splitting the ground in uneven patterns, stone jutting up in unpredictable angles from the impact of Echo’s power. The air was thick with dust and the lingering scent of scorched debris.

Jin adjusted his grip on his three-section staff, his breathing steady but his body tight with readiness. Beside him, Hanuel remained poised, his sharp eyes locked onto their opponent.

The soldier, on the other hand, was unfazed.

"Tch." He rolled his shoulders, the bulk of his muscles shifting unnaturally under his uniform. "All that shaking. That little brat must’ve pulled off something big."

He flexed his fingers. His sheer size had increased—his body wider, arms denser, veins bulging slightly beneath his skin. Each motion carried a weight that wasn’t there before.

"But terrain shifts don’t mean a damn thing," he continued, smirking. "Strength? That’s the only thing that matters."

With no more than a step forward, he lunged.

Jin barely had time to react.

The soldier’s speed should have been impossible for someone his size, but he was already in front of them—his fist a blur of sheer force as it swung down. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Jin twisted, pivoting on his heel, using the staff to deflect the strike. But the impact was like getting hit by a truck. The shock traveled through his arms, almost sending him skidding back.

Hanuel took the moment to move. He vanished from sight—appearing behind the soldier in an instant—his blade slicing down toward the exposed neck.

A brutal clang echoed.

Hanuel’s blade skidded against thickened skin, barely leaving a scratch.

The soldier grinned. "That all you got?"

He spun, elbow snapping backward like a hammer. Hanuel ducked at the last second, sliding under the strike and using the uneven terrain to launch himself back toward Jin.

Jin’s mind was already running calculations.

Something was off.

"He’s not just durable," Jin muttered, keeping his voice low. "Every hit we land... he’s absorbing them."

Hanuel glanced at him, brow furrowing. "What?"

Jin watched as the soldier rolled his shoulders again—and there it was. A subtle shift. Every time they struck, his muscles thickened slightly. His body wasn’t just taking damage.

It was converting it.

Jin’s stomach sank.

This is the same ability Seul’s brother, Chul, had... but more refined.

"You lied," Jin said out loud.

The soldier cocked his head. "Oh?"

"You said you get stronger when you’re angry," Jin continued, tightening his grip on his weapon. "But that’s not it, is it? You store every hit you take, don’t you? You convert it into raw power."

The soldier smirked.

"A good soldier never reveals his hand," he said smoothly. Then his grin widened. "But you? You won’t live long enough for it to matter."

Hanuel moved again—his blade flickering in the dust-filled air as he aimed for the same spot. This time, his footwork adjusted, redirecting his weight with precise force.

Another hit landed.

Another clang.

Barely a scratch.

Hanuel cursed, flipping back to Jin’s side. "Jin. How did you take him down last time?"

Jin hesitated.

He didn’t want to say it. But in a fight like this, holding back information could be deadly.

"...I used my skill," he admitted. "Phantom Strike."

Hanuel’s expression didn’t shift. "What’s it do?"

Jin sighed. "Any hit I land completely ignores defense. Doesn’t matter how strong they are, if I connect, it’ll hurt."

Hanuel’s eyes sharpened. "Then why aren’t you using it?"

Jin exhaled sharply, dodging a sudden punch from the soldier and using his staff to push the massive arm away.

"Because it comes at a cost," Jin answered. "It drains my stats for a while. If this fight goes on too long and I use it too early... I could be useless by the time we actually need to finish him off."

Hanuel processed this, his mind racing.

His gaze flickered to the soldier—still grinning, still absorbing.

Then, a memory surfaced.

The cafeteria. Jin, taking him down in one clean hit.

A technique that completely ignores defense...

Hanuel’s breathing steadied. Genshu had something similar.

Not a skill. A technique.

One meant to do the impossible.

His master’s words echoed in his mind.

"Genshu is the art of adaptation. You will never be the strongest. You will never be the fastest. But you will always be the last one standing."

A technique meant to break through all barriers, no matter how strong the opponent.

It was forbidden.

Not because it was too powerful.

But because no one had ever survived being hit by it.

Hanuel adjusted his stance.

Jin noticed. "What are you—"

Hanuel didn’t answer.

The soldier’s smirk faltered.

"...What’s with the stance? You trying something new?"

Hanuel vanished.

A single strike.

A final line.

"Genshu’s Forbidden Art... Horizon Severance."

The world froze in the instant before impact.

Hanuel’s pole arced through the air, an invisible force trailing behind it. The weight of the moment pressed against his chest, but his mind was clear. Focused.

A single strike. Horizon Severance.

His master’s words echoed in his head.

"The strongest technique is not one that simply breaks through an opponent. It is the one that leaves nothing left to withstand it."

The pole collided.

A shockwave burst outward, splitting the dust-covered ground beneath them. The sheer force of the strike sent a gust of air ripping through the battlefield. It was fast—too fast to react to, too precise to avoid.

But something was wrong.

The soldier’s body twisted— not in defeat, but in resistance.

Hanuel’s eyes widened as the impact failed to cut through. The soldier’s bulk absorbed the hit, his skin buckling like stretched metal before returning to its reinforced state. He barely staggered.

And then, his laughter boomed.

"Hah! That’s all?"

Hanuel’s stomach twisted.

It didn’t work.

His hands tightened around his pole as he backstepped, creating distance.

Jin’s voice cut through the dust. "What happened?!"

Hanuel didn’t answer immediately. He was still processing it himself.

Why didn’t it work?

He had landed it perfectly—his stance, his timing, his speed. The strike had hit its mark. So why was the soldier still standing?

The soldier smirked, rolling his shoulders again. His muscles flexed, and Hanuel could see it now—the stored energy being distributed, reinforcing his body further.

"You’re fast, I’ll give you that," the soldier said. "And that hit? It was clean. Real clean." He lifted his arm, rolling his neck as if shaking off stiffness. "But I’ve taken artillery blasts and kept walking. You think some fancy swing is enough?"

Jin cursed under his breath, stepping forward, staff in hand. "Tch... we need a new plan."

But Hanuel barely heard him.

His mind was racing.

This technique is forbidden for a reason. But why?

He could feel it—the potential of the strike. The power that should have severed everything in its path.

And then it clicked.

His master’s words returned, this time sharper.

"Power is only half of what makes a technique lethal."

"The moment you commit to this strike, your opponent is already dead. If they survive... then you never used it correctly."

Hanuel inhaled sharply.

That was it.

It wasn’t just about force.

It wasn’t about speed.

It was about certainty.

Horizon Severance was a technique that left no chance of survival.

But he had made a fatal mistake.

"Your skill gives you speed, Hanuel, but speed is not execution."

His near-instantaneous movement allowed him to strike before an opponent could react. But this technique? It wasn’t about landing a hit before someone could block it. It wasn’t about being too fast.

It was about making sure that once the strike landed, there was no reality where the opponent remained standing.

And his skill had nothing to do with that.

For the first time, his ability wouldn’t help him.

If he wanted to pull this off, he had to do it without relying on his skill.

The realization settled in his chest like a weight.

This was true martial mastery.

"You can’t skip steps. You can’t rely on shortcuts. If you wish to sever something from existence, you must make it so that reality itself cannot hold it together."

Hanuel clenched his jaw. That meant...

He had to do it again.

But this time, he had to execute it perfectly.