My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 133: Stone Grind

Chapter 133: Stone Grind

The door hissed open, the training room’s air hitting like a wall—thick with sweat, the tang of ozone, the faint metallic bite of Ikona energy. Mats stretched worn and stained, their edges curling from countless fights.

Equipment racks lined the walls, weights dented, dummies patched with tape. The ceiling hummed, vents recycling air that never felt clean. Elias stepped in, boots sinking into the mat’s give, Colby’s heavier steps vibrating beside him.

Kikaru glanced over, her eyes sharp, pausing mid-kick. Paul’s shards slowed, his gaze flicking to Colby’s bulk. Faye’s hum softened, her Ikona’s feathers shimmering, a single note lingering like a question.

Elias rolled his shoulders, shard pulsing hotter, a steady thump syncing with his heart. Colby cracked his neck, muscles flexing under his tank top, no shard glowing, just raw mass. "Ready?" Colby said, stepping onto the mat, his boots scuffing a faint dust trail.

Dot’s flared, her blue glow brightening. "Let’s do this," she said, voice sharp, hovering at Elias’s shoulder. The group shifted, forming a loose circle—Kikaru leaning against a rack, Paul’s shards orbiting tighter, Faye’s hum fading but her eyes locked on the mat.

Elias squared up, fists raised, the mat cool under his boots. Colby moved first, lunging, his fist a blur—fast, heavy, air whistling. Elias sidestepped, the punch grazing his shoulder, mat creaking as he pivoted. Colby’s bulk filled the space, muscles rippling, his next swing a hammer aimed at Elias’s ribs. "Dot’s, hook!" Elias snapped, shard pulsing.

Dot’s spun, her glow flaring, a grappling hook snapping into existence—its chain coiled, glinting, shooting toward Colby’s arm. The hook snagged his wrist, chain tightening, jerking him off-balance. Colby grunted, boots skidding, but his free hand flicked—a small disc, lab-made, pulsing red. It hummed, a sharp crackle splitting the air. Dot’s flickered, her glow stuttering, the hook dissolving into motes of light, chain clattering to the mat.

Elias stumbled, sweat stinging his eyes, shard pulsing erratically. Colby charged, fist swinging low, a grunt ripping from his throat. Elias’s eyes caught the angle—Colby’s elbow too high, his weight forward. He ducked, the fist grazing his ear, and drove a jab into Colby’s ribs, the impact jarring his knuckles. Colby hissed, stepping back, his breath heavy, a faint wheeze in it.

"Dot’s, net!" Elias called, shard steadying. Dot’s flared again, weaker but sharp, a weighted net shimmering into being. It launched, cords spreading, tangling Colby’s legs. He roared, muscles bulging, tearing at the net—cords snapping, but slowing him. Elias moved, eyes flicking to Colby’s stance—knees bent too far, left side open. He lunged, a kick slamming Colby’s thigh, buckling it.

Colby swung wide, fist arcing, air hissing. Elias saw the tell—Colby’s shoulder twitched first, telegraphed. He weaved, the punch missing, and called, "Dot’s, rod!" A telescoping metal rod snapped into his hand, glinting, solid. He swung, cracking Colby’s forearm, the thud echoing. Colby staggered, boots scraping, his breath a ragged gasp.

Elias pressed, eyes locked on Colby’s chest—rising too slow, ribs exposed. He spun the rod, tripping Colby’s ankle, sending him crashing to the mat, dust puffing. Elias dropped, knee pinning Colby’s chest, rod at his throat. "Got you," he panted, sweat dripping, shard pulsing hot.

Colby froze, patched eye glinting, then grinned, rough and real. "Fuck," he rasped, tapping the mat. "Forgot you see shit like that." His chest heaved, sweat soaking his tank top, muscles still taut but yielding.

Elias eased off, rod dissolving, shard cooling. The system’s hum buzzed, his comm flashing: "Quest Complete. +100 points. 94 shard users remain. Next fight imminent." The words glowed cold, unyielding, the 90-user deadline a weight in the air.

Kikaru snorted, kicking a dummy, her Ikona pulsing faintly. Paul’s shards slowed, his nod brief, eyes on Colby’s bulk. Faye’s hum resumed, soft, her Ikona weaving a single shimmering disc that hovered, then popped. She met Elias’s glance, her lips twitching, a faint spark in her eyes.

Elias stood, wiping sweat, shard a steady thump. Colby rose, rubbing his ribs, his grin lingering. The training room’s air pressed heavy—sweat, ozone, the system’s hum. The next fight loomed, the twist a shadow at 90, the mission’s edge sharpening with every breath.

Elias slumped at a metal table, the cafeteria’s fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, casting stark shadows on the polished floor. His tray held a lump of gray porridge, its surface cracked like old pavement, and a slice of stale bread that smelled faintly of mold. Dot’s hovered beside him, her blue glow flickering, tiny form bobbing over the slop. "This is food?" she said, voice sharp. "Tastes like they scraped it off Cube X’s walls."

Kikaru sat across, blond hair catching the light, her spoon scraping the tray with a dull clink. "Eat it," she said, not looking up, her Ikona—a golden orb—pulsing faintly at her shoulder. "System doesn’t care if you like it." Her tone was clipped, eyes scanning the room, lingering on the modular screens along the walls. They glowed cold blue, flashing "94 shard users, arena active," the words a constant weight.

Paul leaned back, dark complexion blending with the dim corner, his glass shards orbiting in a lazy spiral. "Could be worse," he said, voice smooth but tired, popping a crumb into his mouth. "B Block’s rations are half this." His shards glinted, catching a guard’s eye at the retinal scanner near the door.

Junijo slouched beside him, lanky frame hunched, blue-streaked hair falling into his eyes. His chameleon Ikona clung to his arm, shifting from purple to gray, its nervous eyes darting. He poked the porridge, spoon trembling, and muttered, "Barely worth the points." His tray rattled as he shifted, boots scuffing the floor.

Tidwell grinned, sprawled in his chair, tossing a bread chunk and catching it. "Points, huh? Bet I could trade this slop for a system quest." His cloud Ikona drifted above, wisps curling like smoke, its fluffy form belying the tension in his grip. He flicked his eyes to a guard, who muttered to another, "B Block slowly thinking the Epics are good... damn..—torched a supply line last night."