My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 163: Cracking Pressure

Chapter 163: Cracking Pressure

The cracked screens in the walls flickered again. One sparked. Another blinked out. Their reflections fell jagged across the group—each shape cast in sharp fragments.

Kikaru hadn’t moved, but the way she watched him now had changed.

Faye’s hands shook at her sides, her Ikona hovering closer than before.

Tidwell gripped his knife hard enough that his knuckles had gone pale.

Paul’s weight stayed back, but his eyes kept scanning the room.

Junjio stood frozen—shaking, but upright.

Wes stayed still, watching everything, saying nothing.

The pod’s door remained open. The corridor beyond stretched into dark. Pipes lined the walls, still dry, still polished. Sensors tracked overhead in quiet intervals. The chaos from B Block hadn’t crept closer—but it hadn’t gone far.

Vardency’s night waited outside.

Elias stepped forward.

Slow. No sudden movement. He approached Junjio without speaking at first. The boy’s arms trembled at his sides, his fists clenched but unsteady. The Ikona near his shoulder barely held form—a faint shimmer of light threatening to collapse.

"Don’t worry, kid," Elias said.

His voice came low. Even.

"Life’s better out there than stuck in this place."

He knelt beside him.

The floor crunched under his boots—glass or shell fragments maybe, broken during the scuffle. He placed one hand gently on Junjio’s shoulder, felt the shiver in the boy’s frame through the thin sleepwear.

The hum of the pod systems buzzed somewhere above them. Softer now. Almost calm.

His shard throbbed again beneath the skin.

Above his head, the prompt still glowed. Save a life. 24 minutes remaining.

The words didn’t say who. The explosion’s scream still echoed faintly behind his ears.

He looked up.

Vira stood just past the guard, her serpent Ikona still coiled tightly against her arm. Blood dripped from its mouth, the red line trailing down past her elbow.

"You mentioned his father," Elias said.

His voice didn’t rise. He just let the question settle.

Vira leaned against the side of a pod, one arm draped loosely over the metal casing. The serpent around her wrist shifted with slow, deliberate coils, its eyes catching the flicker of light overhead. Her shard pulsed again—dull and red—casting a faint ripple through the dim reflections dancing along the pod wall.

"Yeah," she said, tone smooth, almost distant. "He’s in one of the high-security wings."

She lifted her hand slightly, then flicked her fingers out. Blood scattered from her knuckles and hit the floor in uneven drops, trailing along the cracked tile.

"They clean it up real nice down there," she added. "For the guests they want to keep quiet. Bigwigs. Researchers. Visitors they don’t want to make a scene."

Her smile didn’t shift, but the air around it felt colder. Like something had stopped trying to pretend.

"That’s where your dad ended up."

The lights above her flared, then dipped. She didn’t react.

"What of it?"

The question came quiet—almost lazy—but something about it pressed. There was tension under the surface, thin and bitter, like the taste of metal left on the tongue.

Junjio’s lips parted.

He didn’t speak right away. His throat worked through a breath, and his eyes widened.

"Is he safe?"

The words cracked on their way out. Almost lost themself in the stillness. His Ikona flared behind his shoulder, the shimmer struggling to stay formed. A flare born more from fear than power.

Elias didn’t let go.

He kept one hand firm on the boy’s shoulder. Not restraining. Just anchoring. The tremble under his palm hadn’t stopped. Neither had the pulse of his own shard—still beating beneath his ribs, deeper now, dragging his nerves taut.

The air felt thinner.

Cube X’s systems hummed on, indifferent to what was being said. The smell of dried blood clung to the vents. The pod’s floor creaked faintly as the silence stretched.

Vira didn’t move.

Her serpent hissed, low and steady, its body winding once around her wrist before settling again. Her gaze flicked from Elias to Junjio and held there.

"What’s it matter to you?"

Her voice stayed soft, but it leaned sharper now.

"You think he’d be asking about you if it were the other way around?"

She stepped off the pod.

"You’re not part of their future. You’re a weapon they want to shelve when it’s done swinging."

She walked slowly. No rush. Boots tapping through streaked blood, crunching softly over the litter of glass and shrapnel scattered across the tile.

"I’ve seen the way they talk about people like him. How they log them. How they classify the ones with just enough value to keep breathing."

Her smile faded slightly. Just enough to show something colder underneath.

"He’s still alive. Last I checked, anyway."

She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug.

"Few bruises. Mouthy. Still got all his teeth. He’s cuffed at the end of the wing, probably wondering why the walls don’t echo anymore."

The serpent flexed with her words, curling tighter.

"I figured if the kid started lashing out, I’d use the old man as leverage. Calm him down. Keep the story tight."

Her eyes moved back to Junjio—slow, assessing.

"But I didn’t think he’d be this young."

She let the words hang, the pause stretching.

"Didn’t expect a preteen snot who couldn’t decide whether to cry or explode."

The last part came without malice—but not without intent. She was watching him for a reaction. Not mocking. Just calculating.

Junjio’s face twisted. Tears spilled down his cheeks in uneven streaks, his breath hitching between sobs that never found shape. The glow of his Ikona flared in a broken pulse behind him as he lunged forward, one fist raised, the motion born more from instinct than decision.

Elias caught him mid-stride, pulling him back before the swing could land. His grip locked around the boy’s wrist with just enough force to hold. He didn’t shout, didn’t brace—he just leaned in close and steadied him.

"Easy," he murmured, voice low but firm, hand still pressed to Junjio’s shoulder. The trembling didn’t stop. It ran through the kid’s frame like a current with nowhere to go, one held breath from breaking loose.