The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 91: The Days Ahead

Steam rose from the bowls laid out across every table. The clatter of spoons, the low scrape of benches shifting, and the soft shuffle of feet filled the cafeteria with a kind of quiet energy. It wasn’t loud—no shouting or laughter—but there was a hum of life in the room. Of people gathered. Of people waiting.

Seul and Areum moved steadily between rows, setting down extra bowls, refilling trays. Areum’s expression was focused, but calm—her movements smoother than they had been a few days ago. Seul carried a pot of broth in one hand like it weighed nothing, using her other to ladle out portions with practiced ease.

Jin stood near the front of the room, hands in his pockets. Behind him, the long table where the leadership usually sat was empty—save for Echo, Joon, and Seul, who had finally made her way back over once the last tray was set down.

He didn’t speak right away. Didn’t raise his voice. Just stood there a moment, eyes scanning the room. From Taesung near the entrance to the wide-eyed new recruits who still looked like they weren’t sure what kind of world they’d stepped into. All of them were watching him now.

Jin exhaled slowly. Then stepped forward.

"When we left a few days ago," he began, voice carrying just enough to reach the corners of the room, "our goal was simple. Find another territory. Secure resources. Build alliances, if possible."

His tone was even. Clear. Not overly commanding—just... grounded.

"We found one."

There was a pause. Not dramatic—just honest.

"They didn’t exactly welcome us."

That earned a few quiet chuckles—nervous, but real.

"We ran into a group of fighters—three of them. Strong. Smarter than the ones we’d fought before. They weren’t just surviving—they had a system. Military experience. Structure. Coordination. And they weren’t holding back."

He let that sink in.

"I’m not gonna lie to you—we got pushed. Hard."

Echo, seated to the side, tapped his fingers lightly against the table. Joon had his arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful.

Jin continued.

"There was a moment in that fight—when we were losing control. And Echo, trying to give us a shot, used his ability to split the enemy up."

Echo didn’t look up, just sighed.

Jin glanced back at him for a second. "He didn’t mean to cause a small earthquake, but... it happened."

More murmurs from the room. Areum froze mid-step, then kept moving with the tray.

"The destruction was... bad. And then she showed up."

That shifted the energy.

"She?"

Jin nodded. "Yewon. The leader of that territory. She didn’t yell. Didn’t posture. Just said a single sentence. And everything—everything—stopped. The tremors. The shaking. Even the three guys we’d been fighting snapped to attention like they were in front of a general."

He paused, letting the weight of that memory hang.

"She has a skill called New Rule. We still don’t fully understand it, but... whatever she says becomes real. At least in some way."

A few gasps echoed near the back.

Jin didn’t dramatize it. He didn’t need to.

"After seeing what she could do—we decided not to push it further. She called off her people. We backed down. And in return... they offered us medical help, supplies, and an alliance."

He stepped back slightly, glancing to the others at the table.

"We didn’t win that fight. Not really. But we didn’t lose it either. We gained something. Something important."

A silence settled over the room—not heavy, not fearful. Just thoughtful.

"We’re not the strongest," Jin said, quieter now. "But we’re not weak either. And after seeing what people out there are capable of... I know one thing for sure."

He looked across the faces in the room. At the kids with dirt on their faces. At the ones who were still bandaged. At the ones who looked tired, but alive.

"We need to get better. All of us."

He let that hang in the air for a beat longer than he needed to, then slowly nodded.

The silence returned, deeper now. Not uncomfortable—just settling.

Jin shifted his stance slightly, eyes scanning the faces in the room again. "We weren’t the strongest in that room," he said, quieter this time. "Not even close."

He didn’t say it with shame. Just truth.

"We held our own, sure. We didn’t back down. But we survived because we worked together. Because we moved fast. Because Echo nearly broke the world trying to split up our enemies."

That got a small laugh, mostly from the leadership table—Echo rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.

Jin let a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth, but then he straightened again.

"That’s not going to be enough next time. We can’t keep relying on instinct. Or luck. Or pushing past the edge when we’re already half broken."

Joon leaned forward on his elbows, nodding slightly, his gaze distant. Echo watched the room, unreadable.

Jin’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

"This world isn’t slowing down. The system doesn’t care if we’re tired. It doesn’t care how long we’ve been awake or how many people we’ve lost."

He let that settle.

"We don’t know what the next quest is going to be. Or the next threat. But we do know this: it’s coming. Soon."

That was enough to shift the room again—postures straightening, shoulders tensing. They all felt it. The edge they were walking on.

"So starting tomorrow," Jin said, "we train."

He didn’t wait for a reaction.

"I’m not asking anyone here to become a master in three days. I’m not expecting anyone to be perfect. But we can get better. Smarter. More in sync."

He looked at the recruits, really looked.

"You don’t have to fight like me. Or Joon. Or Seul or Echo. But you need to understand how you fight. You need to understand what you bring to the group—and how to use it."

There were nods around the room now. Quiet ones. Determined ones.

"You’ll get to choose who you want to train under. We all have our strengths, and our job isn’t to turn you into something you’re not. It’s to help you figure out what you are. And how far you can push it."

He paused, breathing in through his nose. The weight of everything—from the fights to the alliance to the healer who didn’t remember them—hung behind his words. But he didn’t let it take over.

"I know this is a lot," he said, softer now. "I know some of you are still catching your breath. So am I."

He gave a small, self-aware smile. One that made him look more like the man they’d met when the world was normal—and less like the one who had stood on a battlefield against men who could level buildings.

"I’m not a general. I didn’t ask for this. But I’ve seen what happens when we don’t have someone making the call. So here I am."

He looked around the room one last time.

"We adapt. Or we don’t make it. But I believe we can. I really do."

Then, finally—he stepped back, nodding once. "Eat up. Rest. Training starts at sunrise."

There was no applause. No loud cheering. Just a quiet ripple across the room—a shift in energy. The kind of focus that wasn’t loud, but certain.

They had their next goal.

And for now, that was enough.

Areum leaned back in her seat, the last few bites of her food untouched. Her gaze was fixed on her plate, but her eyes were distant—staring through it, really.

"You think we’ll actually be ready?" she asked softly.

Hanuel took a slow sip from his water before answering. "Not in three days," he said, honest as always. "But that’s not what he said, is it?"

She looked up.

"He said we just have to push. Learn each other. Figure it out as we go."

Areum gave a faint, almost tired smile. "Not exactly comforting."

"No," Hanuel agreed. "But it’s real."

Nearby, Doyun tapped his spoon against his bowl, loud enough to draw attention from the nearby table. "Alright," he said, glancing between the others. "So which one of the big four are we picking for training?"

Some laughter broke out—low, unsure, but welcome. A few shoulders eased up. Someone down the table muttered, "I’m not going with Joon. Guy throws lightning like it’s nothing. I’m trying to live through this."

Another voice piped up, "Echo’s scary fast, but I heard he can actually explain things."

"Seul for me," someone else said. "I heard she’s strict but actually patient."

Doyun grinned. "And Jin?"

Everyone quieted for a second, then someone said quietly, "He’s the one who made us feel like we could belong here."

Silence fell for a heartbeat.

Then Areum, eyes still on her plate, said, "He’s the one who got us back alive."

The quiet held, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt steady. Solid.

Chairs shifted again, trays being scraped clean. Plates cleared.

The mood wasn’t jubilant—but it wasn’t grim either.

A group of recruits began talking softly about the training. Who might help with what. What they hoped to learn. What they were afraid of. Someone even joked about doing pushups until their arms fell off, and it somehow spiraled into an exaggerated story about Seul kicking down the cafeteria door during morning drills.

It was enough to make Hanuel chuckle under his breath. "They’re not wrong," he murmured.

Doyun raised an eyebrow. "She really that intense?"

"She’s serious," Hanuel replied, lifting his cup in a small salute. "But she’s fair."

At the front, Jin caught a glimpse of them talking—saw the change happening in real time.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

But a shift all the same.

Joon was half-dozing beside him, head tilted back like he hadn’t just spent days in battle. Echo was leaning forward, quietly finishing his food but watching the room just like Jin was. Taking it all in.

Seul had her arms crossed, but the ghost of a smile was tugging at her lips.

Jin looked around the cafeteria again. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

He wasn’t sure what the next quest would bring.

He wasn’t sure how many of them would still be here the next time they had to gather like this.

But right now?

They were fed.

They were alive.

And they were ready to try.

Outside, the moon hung low in the sky, casting soft silver light through the narrow cafeteria windows. A breeze rolled through the trees, quiet and constant. The world hadn’t stopped—not for them, not for anyone.

But inside these walls, for just this moment, there was peace.

And tomorrow, they’d get to work.