My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 140: Fickle Powers

Chapter 140: Fickle Powers

Torqa lumbered in, stone Ikona grinding, ochre shard pulsing, boots trailing sand. "Hit now," he growled, smashing a crate, splinters flying, Stone Crush flaring, demanding blood. Vexen’s hawk screeched, landing, amber eyes glowing, Signal Trace syncing with drones. "Patrols cycle hourly," she said, leaning on a crate, green shard pulsing, caution in her eyes.

Roachaline’s Coercive Pulse flared, level two, a ripple silencing Torqa’s growl, her shards sparking, Ikona’s claws snapping. "We bait," she said, voice biting, cigarette hissing out on the table. "Draw their shards, strip ’em, like the video says." Her attractive scowl burned, believers murmuring, "Rogues coming," their zeal fervent, a comm buzzing: "93 shard users, arena active."

Torqa’s stone Ikona rumbled, his eyes narrowing. "Ravel’s gone," he growled, voice low, challenging, ochre shard flaring. "You slipping?" Roachaline stepped close, violet shard humming, knife glinting, her power complex unyielding. "Test me," she snapped, Ikona hissing, her fierce beauty a blade. Torqa backed off, muttering, his shard dimming, believers watching, awed.

Sylira’s console beeped, wire Ikona sparking, her wit cutting. "Got their comm freq," she said, grin sly, screen flashing patrol grids. Vexen’s hawk circled, screeching, "Rogue’s six klicks." Roachaline exhaled smoke, knife twirling, ordering, "Scout tonight, Vexen. Sylira, sync drones. Torqa, leash it." Her Ikona skittered, believers chanting, "New blood!" the video’s threat alive, raid stakes rising.

The courtyard’s ash stung Roachaline’s throat, rubble crunching, Vardency’s winds swirling dust through broken walls. Ravel’s shrine glowed faintly, wilted roses, shard fragments, and knives piled high, red flags fluttering, believers kneeling, their chants soft now, "Power reigns." Her insect Ikona curled still, shards dim, red a faint spark, violet a low hum, the comm’s "93 shard users" burning in her ears.

She sat, muttering, "Ravel, you burned too fast," a rose clutched tight, petals crumbling, her fingers trembling, grief raw in her pale gray eyes. Her knife glinted, twirling slowly, cigarette smoke curling, her attractive scowl softening, fierce beauty stark against the shrine’s decay. "Rogues’ll bleed for you," she hissed, shards sparking, placing the rose, believers murmuring, "Video calls," their zeal a pulse.

A believer knelt, adding a shard fragment, chanting, "New blood joins." Roachaline’s violet shard hummed, her glare sharp, Domination Aura flickering, silencing their hum, her power complex commanding. Vardency’s plains stretched beyond, dusty and scarred, red-flagged outposts dotting the horizon, the hideout’s rusted walls looming, graffiti bold—"No Rules."

Her insect Ikona skittered, claws slashing air, Swarm Strike flaring, a shimmering arc slicing dust, believers gasping, their red flags surging. "New blood rises!" they roared, voices cracking, shard fragments glinting on Ravel’s shrine, wilted roses curling, knives piled high. Roachaline’s red shard sparked, her fierce beauty blazing, dark hair catching dawn’s gray light, scars flexing as she stepped forward, cigarette smoke curling, knife twirling in her calloused hand.

"Ravel’s fire lives," she said, voice sharp, cutting through the chants, a rose clutched tight, petals crumbling. Her fingers trembled, placing it on the shrine, grief flashing in her pale gray eyes, buried under a scowl. "Elara’s ice won’t break us," she growled, Domination Aura rippling, believers’ fists pounding, their zeal a pulse, "Video binds! Rogues come!" echoing, the recruitment’s threat alive.

Vexen shifted, hawk Ikona circling, amber eyes glowing, Signal Trace locking a rogue shard signal, eight klicks out. "It’s closing," she muttered, boots scuffing rubble, green shard pulsing at her neck, cropped hair glinting. Torqa loomed, stone Ikona grinding, Stone Crush ready, ochre shard flaring, guarding the shrine, his bulk a wall, eyes scanning believers’ fervor.

Sylira fiddled with a hacked speaker, wire Ikona sparking, Wire Hack amplifying the chants, blue shard flickering, her sly grin sharp. "Louder," she said, voice low, fingers dancing, speaker buzzing, "Let the rogues hear." Zykra slipped in, shadow Ikona coiling, Shadow Veil cloaking her steps, violet shard dim, her quiet gaze steady. Nexis followed, flame Ikona crackling, Flame Burst simmering, orange shard glowing, his grin wild, boots kicking dust.

A fodder soldier surged, zeal blazing, knife raised, shouting, "For Ravel, we kill!" Believers shoved, a scuffle erupting, shard fragments clattering. Roachaline’s violet shard flared, Domination Aura surging, her glare a blade, freezing the crowd, the soldier dropping, eyes wide. "Silence," she snapped, knife glinting, Ikona hissing, her attractive stance unyielding, power radiating, believers kneeling, chants faltering.

Her comm buzzed, screen flashing: "93 shard users, spiritual contest ongoing." Vexen leaned close, hawk screeching. "Rogue’s seven klicks," she said, voice clipped, brushing her hair. "Video’s pulling hard." Roachaline’s red shard sparked, tossing her cigarette, ember hissing in rubble. "They’ll bleed," she said, voice biting, turning, "We hit the Federation’s post—five thousand strong. Move."

Believers roared, "New blood!" flags waving, as Roachaline strode toward the corridor, shards pulsing, Ikona’s claws clicking, her fierce beauty a beacon, Vexen, Torqa, Sylira, Zykra, and Nexis trailing, their shards flaring—green, ochre, blue, violet, orange—a storm brewing, the command post’s shadow looming, Vardency’s dust swirling in their wake.

The corridors stretched rusted, graffiti slashing walls—"No Oversight" in bold red, "Power Reigns" etched in dust. Flickering shard-powered lights buzzed, crates of looted bandages and weapons teetering, Vardency’s winds rattling cracked windows, oil and smoke choking the air. Roachaline’s knife twirled, cigarette smoke curling, her insect Ikona skittering, claws scraping concrete, red shard sparking as she passed the training pit.

Torqa’s stone Ikona smashed a fodder soldier, sand flying, Stone Crush grinding, ochre shard flaring, his growl echoing, "Break!" Nexis laughed, flame Ikona crackling, Flame Burst flaring, orange shard glowing, igniting a crate, embers dancing. Believers cheered, red flags frayed, chanting, "Rogues join!" their zeal raw, the video’s threat pulsing, Vardency’s plains glinting through broken walls.

Vexen’s hawk flapped, amber eyes scanning, Signal Trace pulsing. "Rogue’s six klicks," she said, boots scuffing, green shard glowing, voice steady. Sylira’s wire Ikona sparked, hacked comm buzzing, blue shard flickering. "Post’s got turrets, shard signals," she said, sly grin flashing, "and rations." Zykra’s shadow Ikona coiled, violet shard dim, her steps silent, Shadow Veil shimmering, eyes sharp.

Roachaline’s violet shard hummed, her glare slicing a believer’s salute, their flag clutched tight, muttering, "Video’s calling rogues." She pushed into the main hall, shards sparking, her power complex commanding, fierce beauty stark, tossing her cigarette, ember hissing. The six gathered, Ikona humming—hawk, stone, wire, shadow, flame—a bloody promise, the command post waiting.