My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 205: Expanded Moments

Chapter 205: Expanded Moments

"You shattered your shard to protect your Ikona, your friends... or for whatever reason. I need your help saving a friend of mine now. He’s trapped in a prison much like I used to be."

He paused, then added, "To be frank... I still am. If I step outside this space, I’d be detected. Though, it’s still better than the prison I was in for so long."

He stepped back, the spires trembling as he moved, their whispers growing louder—a chorus of trapped souls that seemed to plead for release.

"There’s a world. A planet ravaged by a race that conquers and steals items to grow stronger. It used gems as a power source, but they were all robbed. And while that’s tragic and whatnot, there are more gems hidden under the main capital."

He raised the sphere slightly. "One of them—a master gem—is encoded with the key to unlock my friend."

His gaze sharpened.

"Spirit energy on that world has been twisted into a caste that crushes the weak," he said, his voice steady, unyielding, the red veins beneath his skin glowing brighter as he spoke.

"I want you to live your entire life out on that world. Form bonds. Friendships. Rebuild their broken civilization. And in time, once you’ve acquired the item for me... I will reunite you with your body on your prime planet."

Elias’s glow pulsed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and resolve.

"How... how do I know... you’ll keep your word?" he asked.

The ache of Kikaru’s absence. Of Dot’s capture. A weight that pressed against his fading form.

"In that much time... won’t everyone be long gone?"

The godless crucifix gave a slow nod, letting the mist curl back down around his boots.

"Time won’t move the same between them," he said. "On the world I’m sending you to, one hundred and twelve days equals one day on your prime planet."

Elias didn’t respond yet, but his glow pulsed tighter, drawn inward.

"That means," the crucifix continued, "if you live twenty years there... just over two months will pass back home."

He turned his gaze toward the orb in his hand—Dot’s light still curled and dim.

"Isn’t that right, my little Ikona friend?"

Dot stirred. The glow in her orb shivered, then stretched upward. Her small form blinked into visibility, hovering slightly above the translucent surface. Her light pulsed erratically, one side brighter than the other.

"Woah..." her voice echoed faintly. "Why do I see two visions? What’s going on?"

The crucifix tilted his head.

"Probably because you were split in half," he said. "But that works even better."

She wobbled in the air, wings flickering as she turned to look between the two lights pulsing in his hands.

He added, "It’s best if you don’t get captured again. And for now, we remain a secret to anyone outside of Kikaru. Do you understand, both of you?"

Elias pulsed, then spoke.

"I think so. But... you’re saying I’ll live twenty years, and barely any time will pass on my own world?"

"Yes," the crucifix said. "And for Dot, it will be stranger. Her view of both planes will be stretched—fast in one, slow in the other."

"I suppose I do," Elias said, his light dimming. "But... does that mean I’ll have new parents?"

He hesitated.

"Will Dot still be with me?"

The crucifix nodded once.

"She will. She’s bound to you. That won’t change."

Elias pulsed again, more sharply this time.

"And this world... you said it was torn apart by aliens. Are they the same ones that have been attacking my planet?"

"Yes," the crucifix answered. "I’ve seen them inside your memories. The same race. It’s impressive, what you managed to do—how long you held them off."

He turned his head slightly, silver eyes narrowing.

"Though I don’t imagine your world will survive much longer."

He said it without weight. Just truth.

The Shattered Expanse stretched out in all directions, a suspended void split between dimensions—fractured, slow-moving, silent. Its ground was a broken mosaic of obsidian tiles, each one floating apart but never drifting, veined with dark red threads that pulsed like they carried something still alive.

They did.

Spirit pressure bled up from beneath. Not breath. Not warmth. Just weight.

Jagged spires rose between the plates—crystalline bone, stretched and spiraled, each threaded with pale blue soul energy locked deep inside. The souls weren’t screaming. They’d moved past that. Their presence pressed low through the ground like trapped steam—steady, tired, ancient.

The air was thin. Dry. Ozone and rot layered together. Crimson mist swept along the base of the spires in lazy coils, never lifting, never clearing. It had no temperature. Just taste.

Above, the sky showed nothing natural. Stars—fractured. Frozen in place between jagged rifts. Through each tear, broken systems bled red. Half-worlds, burning loops, corrupted grids frozen mid-collapse. Not destroyed—failed. Still running long past their purpose.

He stood at the center.

Seven feet tall. Pale blue-white skin lit softly from within, red spirit lines moving beneath like slow lightning. His breath shimmered when it left his lips—converted soul energy still burning through his lungs after all this time.

White hair hung down over his shoulders, loose and clean, like the years never touched it. His silver eyes tracked nothing—and saw everything. When he looked, the Expanse shifted. Tiles angled subtly. Spires leaned.

In his left hand, he held a translucent ball of light—Elias’s soul half. Its soft blue glow pulsed faintly, trembling with a defiance that echoed the voice that had freed Dot in the liminal realm.

In his right hand, he cradled the see-through orb containing the other half of Dot. Her blue glow remained faint but steady, her tiny Ikona form resting in a curled sleep, her light pulsing in time with Elias’s soul, a tether that stretched across whatever divide separated them.

Elias’s glow responded—shaky, but not fading. His voice came faint, trembling, but steady, cutting through the low hum of the spires.

"Who are you exactly... or I guess what are you... to be able to do all of... this?" he asked. The words came slowly, flickering with effort, the ache of Kikaru’s absence still lodged behind every syllable. Dot’s silence weighed next to it—quiet, distant, and waiting.

The godless crucifix tilted his head. His silver eyes narrowed slightly, the faint smile still playing at the corners of his mouth as he studied Elias’s soul. When he finally spoke, his voice hummed through the Expanse with quiet resonance, the air around him bending as if to carry each syllable.