The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill
Chapter 140: Marks Upon the World

The golden screens flickered once.

Then one floated forward — singling Jin out.

The Dokkaebi grinned wider, as if it had been waiting for this. Its form pulsed with joy like static wrapped in silk.

"Let's start," it purred, "with the anomaly."

Jin didn't flinch. But he felt the pressure change.

The screen before him glowed brilliant white-gold. Runes danced along its edge, and text began to shape itself from light.

Achievement Unlocked: Sword Saint of the New Era

Title Granted: Sword Saint

Reward Gained: Conceptual Skill — Sword Aura

The Dokkaebi practically coiled around the message, hands raised in reverence.

"Ohhh, what a title. Not given. Not earned. Marked. The system saw your blade split intent itself, and it remembered."

Jisoo leaned sideways. "Sword Saint?"

Yujin's brow furrowed. "That's… kind of a big name."

Jin said nothing. But his fingers twitched near the hilt on his back.

The Dokkaebi's smile sharpened. "Not just big. Historic. You see, long before the system came to your world, it visited others. Countless cycles. Countless wars. Countless warriors."

It traced a clawed finger through the air, and sparks spun off like stars. "And among them, there were only ever a few who achieved the state of Sword Saint. Not because they were strong…"

Its eyes turned on Jin.

"But because they understood. A sword is not an edge. It is an extension."

Text continued to scroll.

Sword Aura (Conceptual Skill):

"Grants the user the ability to extend slashes beyond the blade through will, rhythm, and mastery.

A strike that carves through distance, pressure, even resistance — not through brute force, but refined intent."

Effects scale with focus and combat clarity.

Jisoo blinked. "So… you can hit people without hitting them?"

The Dokkaebi snorted. "You make it sound so primitive. It's not a beam. It's not energy."

It floated forward again, voice lowering.

"He sliced into his shadow not with raw strength — but because he refused to be limited by what a sword should do."

Jin's gaze didn't shift. "So it's a skill that makes my technique count more."

"Exactly," the Dokkaebi said, pleased. "You aren't stronger. You're simply no longer bound."

Yujin exhaled low. "I saw it," she murmured. "That last move. You cut across the city. Like a ripple in space."

Jin stayed quiet.

But the sword on his back hummed like it knew something had changed.

The Dokkaebi twirled once, satisfied. "An achievement fit for a swordsman who shouldn't exist. You weren't trained in a holy temple. No secret scroll. No master to walk you through it. You simply fought, failed, and adapted."

It tilted its head, eyes narrowing with wicked delight.

"Let's see how far that title can carry you."

The second screen pulsed to life.

This time, it hovered in front of Yujin.

She stood still, the fight still humming through her blood. Her muscles hadn't fully settled. And then—suddenly, without meaning to—her back shifted.

A light crack of pressure rippled down her spine, and a sleek tail flicked into existence, lashing once through the air before fading again.

She exhaled.

Not from pain—but from a pulse she hadn't summoned consciously.

The Dokkaebi was already circling her.

Its tone changed again—not mocking, not theatrical. Almost reverent.

"This," it said softly, "is an honor rarely granted."

The golden text appeared above the screen, curling into existence like it had always been waiting for her to notice it.

Achievement Unlocked: One Hundred Faces, One Soul

Title Granted: Shifting Soul

Reward Gained: Item – Circlet of the 72 Earthly Forms

Yujin blinked. "A circlet?"

As if answering her, a silver ring shimmered into being in front of her—a simple band etched with patterns that seemed to change shape the longer she stared.

The Dokkaebi let it hang in the air a moment longer before continuing.

"The name," it said, "is borrowed from a legend even the system reveres. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven."

It smiled wide. "Yes, him. Sun Wukong. Trickster. Warrior. Immortal."

Jisoo raised an eyebrow. "The Monkey King? Isn't that… a story?"

The Dokkaebi spun lazily midair. "Aren't you all?"

Yujin reached out and took the circlet. The moment her fingers touched it, her vision shifted—just for a second. The shadows around her flickered. Her heartbeat spiked. Her instincts sharpened.

Power. Not overwhelming, not wild—but flexible.

Alive.

"This is no replica," the Dokkaebi said. "But it is an imitation. A constructed version of the legendary artifact once worn by the Monkey King himself."

"So… what does it do?" Yujin asked.

The screen beside her pulsed and expanded:

Circlet of the 72 Earthly Forms

While worn, allows transformation into non-beast entities: objects, humanoid structures, semi-sentient mimicry of individuals or appearances.

The more unnatural the form, the greater the stamina cost.

Requires intense focus to maintain any shift beyond beastkind. Losing control of your center may forcibly revert the transformation.

Does not enhance durability—transformed objects retain your own defense unless otherwise empowered.

Yujin's brows furrowed slightly.

"So… I can turn into a person? A chair? A… tower?"

"If you've seen it—and you understand it—yes," the Dokkaebi said, grinning. "But there's a cost. Power like this isn't cheap. Mimic too much, too fast, or without stability—"

Jisoo cut in. "And?"

The Dokkaebi tilted its head.

"You break."

The words echoed longer than they should have.

Yujin turned the circlet in her hand, watching as the carvings shifted—once a bird, then a blade, then a closed eye.

"I'll be careful," she said quietly.

The Dokkaebi chuckled. "I hope not. That's not how the Monkey King did it."

That earned a slight smirk from her.

Then something else—quiet, but curious—from Jin.

"You said it was an imitation," he said. "Does that mean… the real one's out there?"

The Dokkaebi's grin twisted.

"Oh, perhaps. Somewhere in this world, or another. The system doesn't always tell us what's real and what's borrowed. But you've already met legends, haven't you?"

The air felt heavier.

Jin stayed silent. So did Yujin.

Jisoo frowned. "You mean like the forest golem? Or the Qi Sha?"

The Dokkaebi turned a full circle, delight dancing in its gaze.

"All I'm saying," it purred, "is that if a sword spirit, a mountain beast, and a talking tree can exist—what's stopping the Sage from showing up?"

No one answered that.

Yujin slid the circlet onto her wrist—not her head. She wasn't ready yet.

But it pulsed once, warm. Listening.

"Every form must serve your soul," the Dokkaebi said. "That's what makes it yours. Don't lose it in the change."

The final screen slowed.

It hovered not in front of Jin or Yujin—this time, it glowed hot and gold before drifting toward Jisoo.

She cracked her neck once, one boot lightly scuffing the ground. Her expression wasn't smug—but she was ready. She hadn't come this far to be treated like the third wheel.

The Dokkaebi's grin didn't fade, but it sharpened. "Ah. You. The comet girl."

The air around the screen shimmered like heat rising off steel.

The text began to appear—not gently, but with impact. Like strikes against the sky.

Achievement Unlocked: One Who Outruns Heaven

Title Granted: Comet-Forged

Reward Gained: Item – Talaria, the Wings of Hermes

Jisoo's brows rose. "Wait, what?!"

Yujin muttered, "Okay… that's a title."

Jin's gaze narrowed slightly. Not in suspicion—just recognition.

He knew what names like that meant.

The Dokkaebi gave a theatrical twirl, then landed gently in the air like it was a stage.

"One Who Outruns Heaven. Not because you're the fastest. Not because you're reckless."

Its eyes met Jisoo's directly.

"But because when every instinct said to stop, you still moved. You kept pushing. Through walls. Through wounds. Through hesitation. Even when the world screamed no—you ran anyway."

Jisoo blinked.

Then smiled.

"...Yeah. I did."

The screen flashed once more.

A pair of boots shimmered into view.

But not normal ones.

They were sleek, metallic gold laced with faint silver threads. Wing-like curves trailed off the heels. Not feathers—just the suggestion of them, light that remembered flight.

And when they landed in her hands?

Weightless.

But full of potential.

Item Acquired: Talaria, the Wings of Hermes

Forged in memory of the Messenger God's legendary speed.

While worn:

Allows bursts of directional flight.

Dashes can now curve, rebound, or stall mid-air.

Creates residual momentum trails that can be redirected for secondary effects (impact, knockback, burst).

Bonus effect: "Mercury Pulse" — store momentum from motion and release it as a kinetic shockwave.

Jisoo's jaw went slack for a heartbeat. Then she grinned wide.

"I get god shoes?"

The Dokkaebi gave a slow, reverent nod. "You turned speed into choice. Into strategy. And in the eyes of the system... you're not just fast anymore."

"You're inevitable."

Jin let out a breath—not quite a laugh, but close.

"Fitting," he muttered.

Yujin tilted her head. "Talaria, though? Hermes' actual shoes?"

"Oh, not the originals," the Dokkaebi said, waving one clawed hand. "Inspired. Forged in a separate cycle by someone trying to imitate the divine. But still—functional. Legendary. And now yours."

Jisoo slipped the boots on.

They fit like she'd worn them for years.

The moment the clasps clicked, a soft pulse moved through the arena floor. Her aura flared—just for a second. Not loud, not explosive.

But fast.

Instant.

The Dokkaebi floated above them again.

"One defied limitation."

"One listened to the beast and rose."

"One turned movement into declaration."

It raised both arms, and the screens began to fade.

"These are the first marks of your legend."

"And soon… the next trial begins."

Darkness shifted again. The sky above rippled.

And something began to fall.