My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 119: Stoned Heat

Chapter 119: Stoned Heat

"Nothing at the site," Daya said quietly, running the scanner along his thigh. "Whatever was in there... it’s gone."

"Scar tissue’s fresh," said the other assistant. "It was here recently. Just didn’t stay."

"No readings at all?" asked the surgeon.

"None."

The neural monitor jumped. Two spikes. Then a steady buzz.

"Heart rate’s climbing. Is he waking up?"

"No. Still unresponsive."

"Then why—"

The body jerked.

"Back off," the surgeon snapped. "Don’t hold him."

The vitals spiked again.

One of the aides checked the spine feed. "His brain’s showing activity. Full stimulation."

"He’s not conscious."

"No, but something’s lighting him up."

Then Vincent’s shoulders shifted.

The muscle just above the clavicle began to tighten—first on the right, then the left. The skin pinched upward like something was pushing out from underneath.

"Something’s forming," Daya said, backing off the table.

"Implants?"

"No port readings."

The bulges tore through the skin. One from each side—curved like hooks, not clean, not symmetrical. They forced themselves out in uneven rhythm, holding for half a second before rooting along the bone.

"What the hell is that?" the surgeon asked.

No one had an answer.

Then the vitals dropped.

"Pulse crashing."

"He’s coding," Daya said.

"Get the—"

The door slammed open.

Silas stepped in without breaking stride. No coat. Sleeves rolled. Gloves in one hand.

"Clear the left," he said.

Everyone moved.

He reached the table, pulled open a drawer on the side wall, and grabbed the vial himself. One quick shake. No hesitation.

"Silas—" the surgeon started.

"Step back."

He pressed the injector directly into Vincent’s sternum and fired.

The pulse monitor gave nothing.

Silas’s jaw clenched. He moved his hand behind Vincent’s ribs and pressed twice—fast.

A weak pulse. Then another.

The monitor beeped.

"Stabilizing," Daya called out. "Weak rhythm, but consistent."

The surgeon stared at the two new protrusions. "That wasn’t here five minutes ago."

"I saw it push through," the second nurse said. "It came from inside. Like the first shard."

Silas didn’t speak.

He stared at Vincent’s face, then at the shoulders. One of the new shards twitched slightly. Barely visible.

"...Fucking hell," Silas muttered.

The aides looked at each other.

"Master Silas," the surgeon said. "What just happened?"

Silas stood still for a moment, eyes on the monitors.

"He just finished fighting," he said. "I’m not sure how to explain it. But it’s the same as before. Just like the first shard he had. And the second one I gave him—right before surgery started."

Daya stepped forward with a cloth, gently wiping the sweat from Vincent’s forehead. His body stayed motionless. The breathing assist ticked beside him.

"We need to keep his vitals stable," she said softly.

The lead surgeon adjusted the imaging scanner again. "Like I mentioned—I’m not sure how he’s even alive right now. Maybe it’s the shard. Maybe it’s luck."

He paused, frowning.

"His tendons and vital organs... some of them show minor regeneration. Nothing complete. But more than they should. He could still die, though. We’ve got to go in with plates and screws. Anchor the ribcage. Close up the fracture along the pelvis. The burns... might never heal."

Silas exhaled and rubbed his jaw.

"I’m aware. But ten billion to one odds wouldn’t be enough to keep Vincent down. He’ll just have to sit out the next plays."

He started to move toward the exit, then stopped.

"Keep me updated on his status."

"Of course, Master Silas."

The surgeon hesitated. "How are you holding up though, sir?"

Silas turned. "Me?"

He gave a short breath. "I’m fine. Just focusing on what I can control."

The surgeon smiled faintly. "Then I suppose I’ve got nothing to worry about."

Silas smirked back. "That’s right. Nothing is outside of my control. We’ll check back in the morning. Set up the plan for our next step."

"Of course."

Silas stepped into the hallway, boots quiet against the floor. He pulled a tablet from the wall dock as he passed, thumbed through the logs.

Video feeds flickered on the screen.

First Elias.

Then Vincent.

Then Elara.

His eyes narrowed.

Tch.

Had I played this better... they’d be with us now.

He stepped into another chamber. The door sealed behind him. Steam hissed quietly from the vents along the floor.

At the center of the room, an outfit hung suspended in low gravity—torn at the sleeves, dried blood still faint around the collar. It hovered slightly above the circular dais beneath it.

Silas stared at it.

But that’s fine.

I can’t control the past.

He reached forward, fingers brushing the edge of the cloth.

But the future...

...that’s mine to grasp.

He dropped into the chair beside the desk, tapping the glass once to pull up the new schematics.

"Once I get this mapped properly, I can run a few mockups. Not a full match, but close enough."

The material rotated on screen. Energy resistance, compression rate, tensile curve. He marked each.

"Only problem is the base weave—it’s flagged in three systems. If I request enough to line a vest, someone’s going to notice."

The door slid open behind him.

"You talking to yourself again?"

He didn’t turn. "Always."

Rirana stepped inside, arms still crossed from wherever she’d just come from. Her boots didn’t echo on the flooring. "You get the new scan?"

"Yeah."

She walked to the edge of the table and eyed the floating projection. "You think it’ll hold?"

"It’ll have to."

She leaned closer to the suit, then to the screen.

"...So how’s the study been going?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes flicked between each damaged segment. "It’s something seeing it up close like this. Makes me wonder how many of my creations I could cram inside."

Silas let out a breath—almost a laugh, but not quite. "I’ve made progress," he said. "Most of it’s shot to hell, though. Whatever fried the core left a blast pattern right through the upper failsafe."

He tapped the screen. A thin arc, blackened at the edges, looped beneath the chest harness. Parts of the mesh still sparked faintly in the rendered cross-section.