My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 136: Blaster’s Barrel

Chapter 136: Blaster’s Barrel

Faye sat on the floor, humming, her bird-like Ikona weaving a shimmering disc from the melody, its edges pulsing with sound. The disc hovered, steadying Junijo’s trembling hands, his Ikona shifting to purple. "Thanks," he mumbled, Faye’s smile soft, her eyes distant but kind.

A woman passed the doorway, her snake-like Ikona coiled around her arm, scales glinting under the light. She glanced at the group, eyes cold, then moved on, boots clicking down the corridor. Asurik leaned in the doorframe, shard glowing at his wrist, his voice low. "B Block’s itching for chaos," he said, eyes on Kikaru. "No scanners, no leashes."

Elias’s shard pulsed, cards slipping in his fingers. Kikaru froze, her Ikona flaring gold, then turned away, jaw tight. "Keep dreaming," she muttered, her voice sharp, fingers clenching her orb. Asurik’s lips twitched, his gaze lingering, then he slipped out, the corridor’s hum swallowing his steps.

A comm buzzed, screens flashing: "94 shard users, arena at 0000." The room stilled, Tidwell’s knife pausing mid-air, Paul’s shards slowing. Junijo’s Ikona dimmed, his breath hitching. Faye’s melody faltered, her disc dissolving, but she hummed again, softer, steadying the air.

Tidwell tossed his knife, grinning. "Elara’s ice-cold kill, one of seven," he said, voice light but forced. "System’s keeping score." His Ikona swirled, tendrils playful, but his eyes flicked to the screen, the Entertainer’s arena looming. Paul snorted, shards glinting. "She’s a machine," he said, leaning back, his fatigue heavier now.

Elias dealt another card, shard pulsing hot, his fingers brushing the metal edges. "Seven down," he said, voice low, the arena’s weight settling in his chest. Faye’s hum pulsed, her Ikona weaving a faint wave, brushing Junijo’s arm. He exhaled, his Ikona shifting to blue, steadier now.

Kikaru stopped pacing, her Ikona dimming, eyes on the screen. "System’s barbaric," she muttered, fingers tapping her orb, her blond hair catching the dim light. The lounge’s air pressed heavy, vents humming, the arena’s shadow stretching over them all.

The training zone smelled of sweat and metal, worn mats creaking under Elias’s boots, dented dummies patched with tape. Screens glowed with training logs, vents humming overhead, the air thick with ozone. Elias knelt by a dummy, Dot’s manifesting a wrench, its metal cool in his hand. He tightened a bolt, her glow flickering. "System’s petty," she said, voice sharp. "Bolts for points?"

Paul stood nearby, glass shards carving air patterns, precise but slow, his breath heavy. "Keeps us moving," he said, shards glinting, his eyes on a screen flashing "94 shard users." Junijo’s chameleon Ikona clung to a dummy, portal rippling—then collapsing. "Fuck," he spat, sweat dripping, his blue-streaked hair sticking to his brow.

Kikaru dodged a shard, her Ikona flaring gold, pivoting with a grunt. "Focus, Junijo," she said, voice cutting, her blond hair sticking to her neck. She glanced at Elias, eyes sharp, then away, the lounge’s tension—Asurik’s words—still clinging to her.

Faye sat on a mat, humming, her bird-like Ikona weaving a sound wave, sharp and clear. It cracked a dummy’s arm, splintering wood, drawing Tidwell’s grin. "Nice," he said, tossing his knife, his cloud Ikona swirling. Faye’s smile flickered, her melody steadying Junijo’s trembling hands as he tried another portal.

The snake-like Ikona user sparred in a corner, her Ikona coiling around her arm, scales glinting as it struck a dummy, wood splintering. She ignored the group, her movements precise, boots scuffing the mat. Elias’s comm buzzed: "Task complete: +20 points." He stood, wrench dissolving, shard pulsing hot.

Kikaru sparred with Paul, her Ikona flashing, dodging shards with a hiss. "Keep up," she said, her voice sharp, gold orb pulsing brighter. Paul’s shards spun faster, a faint smile breaking through his fatigue, his dark complexion catching the screen’s glow.

Junijo’s portal shimmered, holding longer, air rippling. Faye’s melody pulsed, her Ikona’s wave brushing his arm, his chameleon shifting to purple, steadier. "Got it," he muttered, sweat beading, his Ikona’s eyes less frantic.

Tidwell caught his knife, leaning against a rack. "Elara’s seven," he said, voice low, Ikona swirling. "System’s carving us up." His grin faded, the arena’s shadow heavy, the Entertainer’s fights waiting in sleep. Paul’s shards slowed, his nod brief, eyes on the screen.

Elias wiped sweat, shard pulsing, the arena’s count—94, seven gone—echoing with Faye’s steady hum, Kikaru’s sharp glance, Junijo’s shaky breath. The training zone’s air pressed close, metal and sweat, the system’s hum relentless.

Elias’s pod was a metal box, walls cold and bare, the mattress creaking under his weight. The clock glowed 23:00, its red light cutting the dark, recycled air stale on his tongue. His shard pulsed, a faint thump, Dot’s hovering above, her blue glow dim. "Arena’s bloody math," she said, voice soft, almost a whisper. "Elara’s one of seven, and it’s not slowing."

He pressed his palm to the scanner, its surface cool, a crisp female voice chiming, "Access granted, Elias Kael." The door hummed, sliding up like a steel curtain, revealing a polished dark laminate floor that caught the clock’s glow. Elias stepped in, boots scuffing softly, the space wider than he’d expected, air heavy with a metallic tang.

He dropped onto the bed, green sheets crisp, corners folded sharp, the frame groaning under him. His shard pulsed hotter, fingers brushing the dresser’s edge, four drawers stacked neat, a 45-inch TV atop it, screen blank, reflecting his shadow. Dot’s flared, manifesting a metal cube, its edges glinting. He rolled it, the weight steady in his palm, eyes tracing the room’s cold lines.

His comm buzzed, screen flashing: "Spiritual contest at 0000, 94 shard users." Elias’s grip tightened, cube digging in, Junijo’s shaky hands, Kikaru’s glare, Faye’s hum echoing. "Seven," he muttered, voice rough, tossing the cube, catching it mid-air. Dot’s bobbed closer, glow flickering. "Sleep’s a blade," she said, voice sharp. "Entertainer’s counting."

The TV’s dark surface stared back, Paul’s tired laugh, Tidwell’s knife toss playing in his head. Elias exhaled, shard’s thump slowing, fingers loosening on the cube. The sheets rustled, clock’s glow steady, vents humming faint. He shut his eyes, bed creaking, sleep pulling him under, heavy as steel.