My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 171: Grinding Stone

Chapter 171: Grinding Stone

The words barely hit before Oliver’s glare sharpened even more.

His jaw twisted, lips peeling back.

"This isn’t about your damn pride!" he snapped, the sound cutting sharp through the hub.

"Guards. Shard users. Civilians. They’re all on the line. Use the weapon—or I’ll have you court-martialed."

He didn’t wait for them to answer.

The launcher came up in his hands, quick and mechanical.

One trigger pull.

The canister shot out with a heavy thunk, arcing high across the wreckage before splitting apart in midair.

The cloud hit fast.

Sickly green, thick, and foul.

It clawed across the ground first — then into the air — hissing like something alive.

The stench slammed into them hard, sharp and chemical.

Then the heat followed, thick and crawling into the back of the throat.

Jasmine’s mist Ikona surged to meet it.

The silver light flared bright, desperate — folding itself tighter around her.

For a second, it held.

The mist writhed against the gas, layers of silver shearing back under the pressure.

Then it broke.

The green cloud punched through in a single, savage rush.

The first tendrils tore into her skin — burning, eating their way down fast and deep.

Jasmine screamed.

A raw, broken sound that ripped through the hub like a live wire.

Her knees buckled, the mist around her splintering apart in a rain of dead sparks.

The gas peeled across her body, blistering skin, bursting blood vessels just beneath the surface.

She hit the ground hard, smoke rising off her in greasy spirals.

The sharpness in her eyes — the edge that had cut so clean through the fight — flickered once, then bled out into nothing.

The stench of scorched flesh sank into the air, thick and clinging.

Culdrin’s roar tore out next — deep, defiant, ragged.

His bone armor flared in one last surge of white heat, the glow burning sharp against the creeping green.

For a second, it held.

Then the gas chewed through, sinking into the cracks.

The ivory plates sagged and melted, sliding off in thick, tar-like streams.

The smell hit first — burnt bone, blood, rot.

It curled under his skin, pulling him apart from the inside.

Culdrin staggered.

His fists tightened once — a broken reflex — before the muscles gave out.

His skin blackened.

Veins burst open, sending thick streams of blood splattering the ground around him.

The strength that had carried him — that had dragged him this far — crumbled faster than he could hold onto it.

He howled.

Not in rage.

Not even in defiance anymore.

Just pain, raw and open.

His legs folded under him, the last shards of his bone armor cracking into ash as he hit the floor.

Blood spread out under his body in heavy, steaming pools, soaking into the shattered tiles.

The brother he’d sworn to free was still somewhere down there —

Still trapped.

Still waiting.

Culdrin wouldn’t be the one to reach him.

Across the hub, Vira’s serpent Ikona snapped back, the coils glowing a deep, violent red.

Her breath came out ragged, her teeth flashing sharp in the poisoned air.

"You’ll pay for that, Oliver!" she spat.

She didn’t think.

She moved.

The gas tore into her skin instantly — burning, peeling — but she barely felt it.

Her blood Ikona blazed with her, the red light hammering faster, like a heartbeat trying to tear itself apart.

The tendrils whipped forward, hunting through the thick, hissing fog.

They found Jasmine first.

Then Culdrin.

Both crumpled.

Both broken.

Both too still.

Vira’s foot slipped slightly in the blood pooled around them.

She caught herself — and froze.

Jasmine’s scorched fingers twitched once, then fell still.

Culdrin’s blood still bubbled in the heat, steaming up in low, greasy spirals.

The red light of her Ikona pulsed hard against her ribs.

One beat.

Another.

Sharp enough to hurt.

Vira clenched her jaw.

Her throat worked against the gas clawing inside her lungs.

"I’m sorry," she thought, the words hollow and jagged and too late.

The tendrils snapped forward.

The blood Ikona wrapped around their corpses — tight, unrelenting.

Jasmine’s body jerked upright first, arms twitching like a marionette pulled too hard.

Culdrin followed, slower, the weight dragging at his ruined frame.

It didn’t matter.

Vira forced them both upright — stripped of whatever dignity death had given them — and shoved them back into the fight.

Their bodies jerked forward, dragged up by Vira’s blood Ikona.

Charred skin split with every forced movement.

Blood vessels pulsed under the burned flesh — thick, dark lines writhing just beneath the surface.

Their heads lolled sideways, mouths hanging open, caught somewhere between a scream and silence.

Eyes stared blankly ahead, twitching with leftover nerves that hadn’t figured out they were dead yet.

Vira’s lips pulled back, breath rasping out against the gas clawing into her lungs.

"I’ll take your bodies," she hissed under her breath.

"You’re mine now."

The shard embedded in her chest burned hotter, throwing pulses of heat through her ribs.

She forced the corpses forward.

One step.

Another.

Each lurch dragged long ropes of blood from their shattered limbs, the splatter thickening across the floor with every move.

The screams from earlier still hung faintly in the air —

Trapped somehow inside the gas —

A broken echo twisting through the hissing fog.

The air pressed down heavier, thick enough to choke.

The mix of blood, venom, and burning chemicals glued itself to the inside of the lungs, slow and suffocating.

The hub shuddered under it.

Sparks shot out from the conduits along the walls, the metal casing peeling away in warped strips.

Plasma hissed out in thin jets from split lines, sharp and constant, cutting against the weight of the gas.

The lights overhead blinked and stuttered, throwing broken flashes across the chamber.

The corpses kept coming, dragging blood and venom across the shattered floor, their shadows twitching and stretching under the flickering lights.

Elias grabbed Junjio’s arm, pulling him toward the portal.

The ring shimmered and twisted, edges flickering hard like a wire about to snap.

But it held.

Just barely.

The corridor beyond wavered in the haze — a narrow strip of light against the choking dark.

"We’re getting your father — now!" Elias shouted.

His voice cut sharp through the screams and the gas-slicked air, carving a way forward by sound alone.

His shard pulsed in his chest, heavy and hard.

The timer burned in the corner of his vision — 10 minutes — ticking down with brutal finality.

The weight of it crawled across his back, dragging at his legs with every step.

"Asurik, cover us!" Elias snapped, head jerking toward the molten figure holding the line.

Asurik didn’t hesitate.

The magma Ikona flared bright, throwing molten light across the ruined hub.

A guard barely had time to turn before the stream hit — slamming him backwards, armor cracking apart under the impact.

The air distorted under the sudden heat, bending the world into ripples.

For a second, it built a wall between them and the chaos.

"Go," Asurik growled, the word low and rough like gravel scraping steel.

"I’ve got this."

Elias didn’t waste time.

He tightened his grip on Junjio’s arm and pulled harder, dragging the boy through the shifting waves of heat toward the portal.

Behind him, Asurik stood locked against the tide — the magma flowing around him in slow, steady pulses.

For a second, their eyes met.

There was something under the surface — a flicker, fast and buried.

Not just the heat.

Not just the fight.

Something older.

Something that hadn’t started here — but was ending here all the same.

Elias pushed it aside.

He had ten minutes.

He had a promise to keep.

Elias and Junjio stumbled through the portal, boots scraping hard against the brushed steel floor.

The portal snapped shut behind them with a soft crack, the faint shimmer around its edges vanishing into the still air.

The high-security wing waited — cold, sterile, silent.

Pipes ran in clean lines across the ceiling, polished surfaces catching the faint blue wash of recessed lights.

Conduits lined the walls, humming low under the faint buzz of the lights — almost too soft to hear over the pounding in Elias’s ears.

The air smelled sharp.

Metal.

Blood.

The tang of it curled at the edges of his breath, even before he spotted the faint trails of red spattered across the floor.

The chaos they’d left behind still clung to him — heat, screams, the choking burn of gas — but it pressed against him now like a memory he couldn’t shake loose.

He turned sharply, eyes locking onto Asurik.

"Where is he?" Elias asked.

The words came out clipped, rough around the edges.

The shard pulsed once against his ribs, harder this time.

The timer burned at the edge of his vision — 8 minutes — the numbers ticking down like a brand.

Asurik stood a few steps away, magma Ikona dimmed to a low, unsteady flicker at his shoulders.

The glow barely touched the walls now.

He didn’t answer right away.

His face stayed still, unreadable, like he was holding something back.

"End of the wing," Asurik said finally, voice low, the words slow and measured.

There was something behind it — something guarded — but Elias didn’t have time to dig for it.

He nodded once, hard, and turned toward the dark stretch of corridor ahead.