My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 107: Sliced Nerves

Chapter 107: Sliced Nerves

Hours passed, dragging into the late evening until Elias found himself stretched out on his bed, head tilted up toward the ceiling, legs crossed, his body finally unwinding after a long, scalding shower.

He let out a slow breath, feeling the warmth from the water still lingering in his muscles. For the first time all day, there was nothing to do, nowhere to be.

"Dot’s," he muttered, eyes still on the ceiling. "You ever feel like no matter how much we push forward, it still feels like we’re stuck at the start?"

A soft yawn vibrated from within his chest as Dot’s settled deeper inside the shard. "All the more reason to enjoy the now," she murmured sleepily. "You never know when today will be tomorrow’s nostalgia."

Elias smirked. "That was oddly poetic."

No response. Dot’s was already out.

He let his mind drift. No alarms. No training. No immediate threats. Just silence.

Then—he wasn’t in his pod anymore.

His hands gripped something solid, a wooden railing, and his body instinctively braced itself. His surroundings snapped into focus, and he found himself standing on a raised platform, staring out at a massive circular arena of gravel and compacted sand.

Lining the edges of the arena, nearly 100 people stood in silence.

Elias didn’t need a second guess. Shard Users. Every single one of them. Their postures were different, their energy unmistakable. This wasn’t just a dream.

He looked down. His usual clothes were gone, replaced with a white gi made of lightweight but sturdy fabric. The belt at his waist had empty sockets along its length, as if something was meant to be inserted there.

Elias rolled his shoulders, testing his movement. Nothing felt off. But nothing about this felt normal, either.

His eyes flicked across the crowd, scanning for familiar faces. Kikaru. Tidwell. Junijo. Anyone.

But before he could pick anyone out, a presence shifted nearby.

A voice cut through the stillness.

"Welcome," the speaker said, his voice calm, measured. "You’ve all made it this far. Now it’s time to see who truly belongs here."

He snapped his fingers.

Elias barely had a second to register the motion before a sharp, unnatural force zipped through his body—like something sliced through his presence itself.

His throat locked. He couldn’t speak.

His hand twitched toward his neck, his breaths controlled but sharp as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

A voice echoed in his mind. "Calm down and pay attention. This is to ensure I have your full, undivided focus."

Elias’s grip tightened on the wooden railing.

Dot’s voice cut through next. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—what is going on?! I can’t talk without just thinking in our minds!"

Elias didn’t answer. He just stared the man down, taking in every detail.

The speaker stood tall—6’2", his frame lean but poised with confidence. His blazer jacket flared at the tips, the fabric split into jagged, almost wind-blown shapes. A white shirt sat beneath, forming a deep V at his chest, loosely fitted but intentional. His blue slacks carried a faint shimmer of steam, a soft contrast to the sharp, glossy black shoes planted firmly beneath him.

But the wildest part?

The glasses.

One lens a red diamond, the other a blue diamond, both jutting unnaturally far from his face, like they weren’t meant to be worn by a human at all.

In his hand, he twirled a silver microphone, his fingers rolling the handle effortlessly.

And through it all—he grinned.

Elias didn’t blink.

Who the hell was this guy?

"I’m sure you’re all wondering where your favorite aged doctor is, ready to drop some of the hottest knowledge to keep you on your toes!"

The announcer’s grin stretched as he spread his arms wide, pacing along the edge of the platform.

"Well, bad news! You won’t be seeing him anytime soon! Not until we hit our lovely little quota of 90 Shard users remaining! And as of today..." He twirled the silver microphone between his fingers before snapping his free hand into the air.

Fireworks exploded behind him.

The moment the smoke cleared, two massive monitors flickered to life behind him, casting their glow over the entire arena.

"...That number will be dropping from 97 to 96!"

There was no sound in the crowd. No cheers, no boos. Nothing.

And the announcer loved it.

He placed a hand against his ear, pausing as if soaking in an invisible wave of energy before laughing out loud. "That’s right! None of you can talk! But don’t you worry, I can hear all of you screaming inside your own minds.You. Your Ikona. Your desperate little thoughts. It’s all so deliciously loud."

His grin widened, his free hand adjusting the red-and-blue diamond glasses perched on his nose.

"You all can call me the Crafter of the System."

He let the words hang there, letting the weight of them settle.

"If the good doctor is the man who pieced this all together, then view me as the one who decides who moves forward."

His fingers snapped again, another burst of fireworks kicking off.

"But enough about me! Let’s make today special!A good, old-fashioned, one-on-one!"

He threw out his arms again, his energy contagious, even in silence.

The massive screens behind him began cycling through dozens of faces. The arena lit up in a rapid shuffle, images blurring past like a high-speed lottery.

Elias narrowed his eyes, watching as the selection continued.

Then—it stopped.

The screen locked onto a single face.

Name: Randalp Sciuz

Affiliation: Military-Aligned

Hometown: Verris, Eastern Sector

Favorite Food: Marinated Short Ribs

Ikona Ability:Pulse Mantle – Generates a protective kinetic barrier that absorbs and redirects force.

Personal Ability:Strike Retaliation – The more he is hit, the stronger his next attack becomes.

The Crafter tilted his head, reading the details on his own placard.

"Oh-ho, well now! A military man, huh? Verris-born, loves his ribs, and gets harder to kill the more you try to put him down."

He twirled the microphone once more, turning toward the crowd.

"Randalp Sciuz!" His voice boomed across the silent arena. "Hope you’re ready, because today? You fight."