My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy
Chapter 246: Karated Gold

Chapter 246: Karated Gold

The ship’s hum ran deep—low and steady, like a current buried under steel.

It rattled up through the floor, through the bolts, through the soles of his feet and into his spine. The vibration reached into Elias’s chest before his mind caught up.

He stirred.

Not fully—just enough to register motion.

A haze still clung to him, thick and slow. The sedative hadn’t worn off completely. It dulled the edges of his thoughts, left a sharp ache pulsing behind his eyes like someone had pressed metal rods into his skull and left them there.

His eyelids lifted.

Everything blurred.

Light leaked in through dim overhead strips, thin and cold. The walls around him curved—narrow steel lined with seams and black cables. A transport hull, Federation standard.

He looked down.

Shackles crossed his wrists—triple-bound with interlocked rings and locking rods. The metal was tight against the skin, not meant for comfort. Cold radiated up through the cuffs like the steel wanted to outlast him.

His arms twitched. Reflex. Pain followed.

It felt like his muscles had been cut and stitched back together in the wrong order.

His legs were bound the same way. Movement there only made the pressure worse. Ankles locked to the chair with reinforced plates. No give.

A muzzle clamped his mouth—thin bars arced over his jaw, pressed against his lips with just enough force to keep him silent but breathing. The taste of iron sat heavy on his tongue.

Fabric wrapped his torso in thick folds—not uniform, not armor. More like a canvas restraint. Coarse, heavy, layered with something unfamiliar across his back. Straps cut over his shoulders. A backpack, maybe. Something weighted.

Whatever was inside it pressed against his spine with deliberate force.

Then the ship jumped.

A hard bounce. Low altitude shift. Inertia snapped through the hull, and every chain on him shifted with it. The restraints caught first—steel jolting against steel, a loud clank that rang off the walls.

Elias winced. Breath caught in his throat.

What the hell is going on?

The question moved slowly through Elias’s head, like it had to push through water to surface. His thoughts didn’t come clean. They staggered—half-formed, disconnected, like someone had split them across two different worlds and stitched them back together out of order.

He shifted against the restraints.

His arms strained. The canvas around his shoulders stretched just enough to let the pressure reach his spine. Something sharp clicked at his wrist—a lock giving way.

One of the metal rings popped free.

It dropped against the floor with a hard, clean clatter. The sound cut through the drone of the ship like a blade. Small. Sharp. Defiant.

The echo carried longer than it should have.

"Hey," a voice called out. "You awake, old man?"

The tone wasn’t urgent, but it wasn’t relaxed either. It slid in from the dark—rough, familiar, edged with something between irritation and relief.

Elias’s breath caught.

Even without seeing the face, he knew it.

Marcus.

The name hit like a current. It dragged him back—past the chair, past the dart, back to Geras’s desk and the quiet deal that might’ve only worked on paper.

His eyes narrowed.

Did he actually pull it off?

"I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, to be honest."

Marcus’s voice was closer now—more distinct, laced with tension that sat just under the words. Not panic. Just raw frustration.

Elias squinted through the dim light. The figure across the hold shifted, restrained in the same triple-bind setup. An orange jumpsuit clashed hard against the steel backdrop, the color too loud for a place built to erase identity.

"I was in the middle of my graduation ceremony," Marcus continued. "Three, maybe four hours ago. They pulled me right off the stage."

He shifted, chains rattling as he adjusted his shoulders against the restraints.

"Told me you picked me. Said I was the perfect guy for some covert op you had cooked up."

Elias didn’t respond.

"I had family there, man," Marcus said, tone harder now. "My parents. They were watching me walk. I was supposed to be getting placed into my advanced role. Real tech work. Labs. Field access."

Marcus’s words didn’t stop.

Each one landed heavier than the last, layered with anger and disbelief. Elias felt it settle in his gut, sharp and hollow—guilt that bit deeper than the metal around his wrists.

"Right now?" Marcus said, voice rising. "My face is probably all over every Federation channel for stealing high-tech intel and breaking you out of prison."

He shifted again, the chains clinking hard against his seat restraints.

"They gave me a black eye. Tied me up. Threw me on this ship like I was part of the plan from the start."

A pause.

"Right before they shut the door, someone said you’d take it from here. And—oh, yeah—Warden Geras said you should thank him for the present he left you."

Marcus’s tone twisted on that last part. Dry. Unamused.

"Not sure what that means, but... yeah."

Elias exhaled. The sound barely escaped the muzzle, filtered through steel and frustration. His thoughts scrambled to make sense of what he’d just heard.

A present?

He didn’t have time to process it.

"...Well, shit," he said, voice low through the metal. "Sorry, Marcus."

The apology came without deflection. Just weight.

"When I came up with this idea, I didn’t know what it would look like. No details. Just a framework."

He blinked, gaze drifting toward the floor as the hum of the ship droned on.

"If it makes you feel any better," Elias added, "I have no idea what’s going on either."

A short silence followed.

It didn’t stretch long, but it carried weight—thick with Marcus’s frustration, heavy enough to feel in the space between words.

"Did you not just hear me say they told me you’d know what to do next, old man?!"

His voice cracked sharper than before. No filter. Just heat boiling through the cracks.

Elias gave a short, dry laugh.

It came rough through the muzzle, more breath than sound.

"Something I’ve learned," he said, "is that the Federation loves dropping people into messes without a map. Sorry to say, we’re both pretty expendable if this doesn’t work."