The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill

They moved forward in silence, the tunnel curving low and wide around them. With each step, the roots grew thicker, tighter woven into the walls and floor like muscle cords pulled taut. The air felt denser now. Not just heavy with dust or age, but pressure. Like something vast was breathing, and they were inside its lungs.

No one needed to say it. They were close.

The glow pulsing through the floor and the base of the walls wasn’t just light. It was rhythm. Like veins beating with something old and buried. The roots shimmered faintly green every few seconds, and they followed the pulses like breadcrumbs.

The deeper they moved, the stranger it became.

Echo’s fingers twitched lightly beside his head. "There’s sound here," he murmured. "Not random. It’s patterned. Like a heartbeat with too many valves."

"Still coming from one direction?" Jin asked.

"Yeah," Echo said, voice lower. "And it’s getting stronger."

The tunnel sloped down again, the incline sharper now. They stepped carefully, boots crunching over soft moss and slick patches of root-skin. The ground beneath them began to shift in color paler in places, almost translucent, like the outermost layer of something alive.

Joon’s orbs floated in tighter now, the glow casting sharp-edged shadows.

Then the path opened wider, barely. Enough for them to spread out slightly as the roots arched above them in thick, woven layers.

Jin slowed.

The roots were moving.

Not fast. But steadily.

Their slow undulations matched the green pulse now, each beat a ripple through the tunnel’s walls.

He glanced at Seo.

"Why aren’t they dying?" he asked quietly.

Seo’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowed on the walls.

"They should be," she muttered. "The effect is still active. I haven’t ended it."

"Then... why not these?" Seul asked from behind them.

Seo didn’t answer at first. She stepped closer to the wall, reached a hand out, then stopped just short of touching it.

"I don’t know," she said.

Chul’s voice was low. "You think it’s... not plant?"

"I think it’s not affected," she replied. "Which might be worse."

They didn’t stop walking.

No one told them to.

Because the moment they paused, the tunnel would pulse again, green light sweeping down the walls in steady, living waves.

Like it was breathing them in.

They followed it deeper. No one spoke again.

And the tunnel opened up.

The ceiling stretched higher, the roots forming an archway that resembled ribs, massive and spiraling, like they were walking into the chest cavity of something asleep. The floor dipped subtly, forming a basin, and at the far end of the chamber, nestled in a thick knot of twisting root-flesh, was a shape.

It wasn’t large.

But it pulsed.

And the moment it came into view, the entire chamber shuddered. Just once.

Like it noticed them.

Echo froze. "...That wasn’t just sound."

Jin took a slow step forward. "No. It wasn’t."

They could feel it now—presence. Not in the monster’s form they had fought above, but something... denser. Lower. Older. Like the idea of growth before it had form.

The roots around the chamber hadn’t withered.

They had thickened.

Not randomly. Not in chaos. But deliberately.

Jin stepped slowly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the woven rootlines across the walls. They weren’t just growing, they were forming structure. Shape. Guiding lines that curved not only around the chamber but toward the center of it. Toward the pulsing core wrapped in a nest of green and bark.

The thing pulsed again, and the roots shifted with it, tightening, relaxing. Breathing.

Seo halted, raising a hand to stop the others. "Don’t get too close yet."

Echo tilted his head slightly, like listening to something too faint for the rest of them to catch.

"It’s aware," he said. "Not just reacting. Watching."

"Through what?" Joon asked. "It doesn’t have eyes."

"It doesn’t need them," Echo muttered. "The vibration in this room is... wrong. Not chaotic. Focused."

Chul leaned forward slightly, hands clenched at his sides. "It’s like it’s waiting."

"For what?" Seul asked.

Jin’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"For us to act," he said. "To show why we’re here."

No one moved for a moment.

Then Seo stepped forward, only a few paces. Her shoulders were squared, steady. The air around her shifted, the faint hum of her ability pressing outward like invisible pressure.

Still, the roots didn’t flinch. They didn’t burn. They didn’t recoil.

Jin glanced at her. "Still nothing?"

She shook her head once. "It’s not a normal plant system. Whatever this thing is... it doesn’t respond to my rule."

That sent a chill down Jin’s spine. Seo’s skill had taken down monsters, redirected forces of nature, split buildings. But here, in this place, it was being ignored.

The scout stepped forward finally, glancing around. "So this is the heart, huh?"

"You can feel it too?" Jin asked.

The boy nodded, tapping one of the rings clipped to his belt. "Like static in my ribs."

Seul crossed her arms. "Then now what?"

"We don’t attack yet," Seo said flatly. "Not until we understand what we’re even looking at."

The words barely left her lips before the root structure shifted.

The central core pulsed twice, violently, and the entire chamber quaked. Not just from movement, but from force. Intent.

The group staggered slightly, bracing themselves as dirt rained from above.

And then it came like a voice, but not.

A vibration. A pressure that pressed behind their eyes and inside their bones.

It wasn’t words. Not exactly.

But they all understood.

"Why have you come here?"

Jin sucked in a slow breath.

"What the hell," Joon whispered.

"I heard it too," Seul said tightly.

"Me three," Echo muttered. "But it didn’t come from outside. It came from—"

He tapped his chest.

"—inside."

Echo’s hand dropped slowly to his side, the silence stretching too long.

Jin’s pulse quickened. Every breath felt slower. He didn’t like this kind of stillness, it wasn’t peace. It was calculation.

"We came to figure out how to stop you from destroying the city. Why are you even doing all of this?" Joon asked

And then it came again.

Not as loud as before. Not even spoken.

Just... present.

"Your kind always asks why."

The root core pulsed, once.

"As if purpose changes the outcome."

Seo’s brow furrowed. "What is the outcome?"

The answer was immediate.

"Survival."