My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 135: Fire Slicer

Chapter 135: Fire Slicer

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, "Elara’s kill was one of seven—system’s chewing through us."

Elias’s shard pulsed against his chest, a steady thump, his spoon pausing mid-air. The guard’s words hung, sharp in the cafeteria’s din—clattering trays, low voices, the hum of screens. He glanced at Kikaru, her jaw tight, then at Asurik, alone at a corner table. His hazel eyes locked on Kikaru, dark hair falling over his brow, lips curling. "B Block’s chasing shadows," he said, loud enough for Elias to hear, his shard glowing faintly at his wrist.

Faye slid onto the bench, red hair catching the light, dark eyeliner framing her eyes. Her bird-like Ikona perched on her shoulder, feathers shimmering like sound waves, humming a soft melody. The notes wove through the air, a shimmering wave that brushed the table, easing Junijo’s trembling spoon. "Morning," she said, voice light, tray untouched, her smile faint but warm.

"Some morning," Tidwell snorted, tossing his bread again. "System’s got us eating dirt and waiting for the arena to chew us up." His Ikona swirled, tendrils snapping playfully, but his knuckles whitened on the table’s edge.

Elias’s comm buzzed, a sharp chime cutting through the chatter. He flicked it open, the screen glowing: "Daily task: equipment check, 20 points." Dot’s spun, her glow dimming. "Busywork," she said, voice flat. "System’s keeping us on a leash." Elias pocketed the comm, shard pulsing hotter, the words "94 shard users" burning in his mind.

Kikaru pushed her tray away, eyes narrowing at Asurik. "Ignore him," she muttered, fingers tapping her Ikona’s orb. "He’s fishing for trouble." Her voice was low, but the tension in her shoulders screamed louder, Asurik’s warning from yesterday—her family’s past, her agenda—lingering like a bruise.

Faye’s melody softened, her Ikona’s wave pulsing gently, brushing Elias’s arm. He exhaled, the knot in his chest loosening, her eyes meeting his with a flicker of understanding. "Eat," she said, nodding at his tray. "You’ll need it." Her Ikona hummed again, a single note lingering, steadying the air.

Elias forced a bite, the porridge gritty on his tongue, shard pulsing in time with the cafeteria’s hum. The screens flickered, guards shifted, and Asurik’s stare burned, Elara’s kill echoing with the system’s relentless count.

The corridors stretched bright and sterile, modular screens lining the walls, flashing training logs and stats in cold blue. Elias’s boots echoed, the air heavy with ozone, a faint tang of recycled metal clinging to his throat. Kikaru walked beside him, her Ikona dim, her silence thicker than the corridor’s hum. Paul followed, glass shards orbiting tighter, his eyes on a guard’s rifle at a checkpoint. Junijo shuffled, his chameleon Ikona flickering nervously, while Tidwell’s grin stayed sharp, his cloud Ikona trailing like mist.

Dot’s bobbed ahead, her glow faint. "System’s got us running errands," she said, voice edged with disgust. "Equipment check? Might as well clean the guards’ boots." Elias’s comm buzzed again, screen glowing: "94 shard users, spiritual contest active." The words hit like a stone, the Entertainer’s death matches lurking in the night’s sleep, a fight they’d face in hours.

A viewport flashed by, Cube X’s metallic-blue bulk gleaming against desert greenery, its "X" emblem stark on the panels. Guards nodded, retinal scanners humming, their rifles glinting under flickering lights. Faye trailed behind, her Ikona’s hum weaving a faint note, a shimmering thread that brushed the group, softening Junijo’s hunched shoulders. "Keep up," she called, voice light, her red hair catching the screen’s glow.

Elias’s shard pulsed, a steady thump, the system’s alert echoing in his head. Kikaru’s boots scuffed, her eyes darting to a screen, then away. "Spiritual contest," she muttered, voice low. "Barbaric." Her Ikona flared briefly, gold pulsing, then dimmed, her fingers clenching.

Tidwell chuckled, nudging Junijo, who tripped, his Ikona shifting to gray. "Lighten up," Tidwell said, his Ikona swirling. "System’s just keeping us sharp." His grin didn’t reach his eyes, the guard’s words—Elara, seven, arena—hanging unspoken.

The lounge door hissed open, revealing sagging couches, a cracked table, and dim lights. The air smelled of recycled metal, vents humming faintly, a worn space A Block called home. Elias stepped in, shard pulsing, the system’s leash tightening with every step.

Elias sank into a couch, its springs groaning, the lounge’s dim lights casting soft shadows on the cracked table. Tidwell sprawled opposite, tossing a knife, his cloud Ikona curling above. "Cards," Elias said, glancing at Dot’s. "Make a deck." Her glow flared, a deck of metal cards shimmering into existence, edges glinting. He dealt, Tidwell grinning, slipping an extra card under his sleeve.

Paul leaned against the wall, glass shards hovering, his laugh low as Tidwell fumbled a bluff. "You’re terrible," Paul said, shards spinning slower, his fatigue showing in the slump of his shoulders. Junijo sat cross-legged, his chameleon Ikona perched on his knee, trying a portal—air rippling, then collapsing. "Damn it," he muttered, wiping sweat.

Kikaru paced, her Ikona pulsing gold, eyes flicking to the door. "Focus, Junijo," she snapped, her voice sharp, boots scuffing the floor. Her blond hair caught the light, but her tension screamed louder, Asurik’s words from breakfast lingering—B Block, shadows.