My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy-Chapter 235: Forced Hesitation

She didn’t know if it was from the cold... or from everything else.

I loved him, she thought.

Beyond the plexiglass, Torv’s eyes widened. His grip tightened around the rifle, arms tense, sights locked on the containment zone. His legs shifted into firing posture, but the barrel twitched slightly—uncertainty creeping in.

Beside him, Mira’s hand pressed firmly to his forearm. "Wait," she said, voice low, her braid swinging as she leaned toward the main terminal. "Let’s not jump."

A loud chirp blared from the central console. Motion detected. Integrity breach confirmed.

Lykos tapped his earpiece, voice gravel-thick and flat. "Commander’s en route. Hold your ground."

The containment chamber’s curtains parted a second later.

Elara burst through—shoulders squared, boots loud against the polished floor. Her uniform was crisp, but her posture had slipped. Golden strands of hair had pulled loose from her tight knot, one falling across her cheek as she scanned the fractured scene ahead.

Cubes followed close behind, its surface refracting ambient light, soft trails of chill vapor spreading through the entryway. The temperature dropped slightly. Enough to sharpen the edge of the ozone-rich air.

Elara stopped mid-stride.

Her eyes locked on Elias.

He was upright, barely.

Crystal debris littered the floor around him, jagged and uneven. His hands hovered out in front of him, fingers spread, unsure of their place. His breath came fast. Shoulders hunched. Sweat soaked the collar of his torn hospital shirt. The shard embedded in his shoulder caught the ceiling light just enough to betray a dull glint beneath the skin.

He didn’t seem aware of them yet.

Her throat tightened.

For a moment, the room was silent.

The only sound came from the overhead vent system and the soft creak of shifting containment panels rebalancing pressure after the rupture.

"He’s alive," she breathed, the words nearly caught behind her teeth. Then louder—steadier. "He’s alive."

But for how long?

The question rose unspoken, flickering behind her eyes. She pushed it down.

"Alert Warden Geras," she said, tone reverting to military default. "We need a secure link. I’ll go in for the initial debrief."

Lykos took half a step forward, brow creased. His tone stayed even. "I’d advise against that."

He didn’t raise the rifle. Not yet.

"He’s unstable," he said. "We don’t have enough data. Could be neural misfire. Could be post-sync trauma. We don’t even know if the containment rupture affected his physiology. You walk in there and he loses control—"

"Then let it kill me."

Her voice didn’t rise, but the edge in it cut deeper than volume would’ve.

Her eyes didn’t leave Elias.

Cubes floated beside her now, its body drawing vapor trails across the outer curtain. Static charge danced lightly across the surface, triggering a faint crackle along the layered plastic.

Frost crept upward along the barrier, traced by condensation and faint environmental bleed.

Mira leaned slightly toward Lykos, voice just above a whisper. "She’s reckless. They were close, right? Childhood?"

Lykos didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed on Elara’s hand, watching how it hovered near her belt—but didn’t touch a weapon. She was already inside her own head. That made her dangerous, but it also meant she wasn’t thinking tactically.

He nodded once. "Get backup on the line. Quietly."

Mira moved back toward the auxiliary station.

Lykos lowered his rifle—but didn’t deactivate it.

Elara stepped forward.

She pushed through the plastic curtain—layers stiff with cold, edges coated with thin crusts of reformed condensation. They dragged faintly across her shoulders and sleeves, the resistance just enough to register.

The lab’s temperature dropped further as Cubes followed. Pressure vented from the floor tiles, a subtle hiss rising beneath their steps.

The smell hit her next.

Ozone, sterilizer, and ruptured crystal material—the scent sharp, like cold metal and scorched circuitry.

She moved carefully, each step planting through broken fragments. The floor crunched beneath her boots, every shift drawing another glance toward Elias, who still hadn’t looked up.

His body swayed slightly, legs adjusting for balance he hadn’t yet recovered. His eyes were distant. Focused inward.

She wasn’t sure if he even knew he’d broken free.

But he had.

And that changed everything.

"Well, I’ll be damned," Elara said.

Her voice came out tight—not quite disbelief, not quite relief. Just... stunned. The kind of voice that didn’t trust what it was seeing yet. She stood frozen for a second, boots grounded against fractured tile, shoulders squared from training, but her focus had already slipped. She wasn’t tracking the perimeter. She was staring at him.

Elias stood with both feet unevenly placed in the debris field, arms hanging at odd angles. His hands were twitching slightly, fingers curling and uncurling with no real pattern. The lighting above threw his shadow forward, stretched across the jagged ring of shattered containment material circling him.

"You’re alive?" she asked, her tone softening just enough to cut through the static ringing in her ear.

He didn’t respond at first.

One hand lifted slowly, brushing over the side of his face, dragging across the line of his jaw, then down to the hollow of his throat. The movement looked mechanical. He paused halfway through, fingers pausing like they were confirming something—texture, breath, tension beneath the skin. They passed over stubble that hadn’t been there before, calluses tracing skin that felt half unfamiliar.

His eyes finally met hers.

They looked dry. Unfocused. But they didn’t drift.

"I... I think I am."

The words cracked halfway out. He swallowed after speaking, the effort noticeable. His voice had weight, but no steadiness. Each syllable sounded like it had to be wrestled out from somewhere deep, someplace that hadn’t been used in too long.

"I haven’t spoken," he said. "Or walked. Not in months. Not like this."

He tried to move again.

His right leg shifted forward.

Then locked.

The joint jerked unnaturally, and he pitched forward before he could correct. Arms flailed for balance but didn’t catch. His foot dragged across broken crystal. The back of his knee clipped a shard. He dropped fast, not from a stumble—more like his body rejected the order halfway through. freёwebnoѵel.com

He hit the floor.

Elara moved on instinct.

She dropped hard, one knee driving into the tile with a jolt that pushed up through her spine. Her arms wrapped around his ribs, catching his chest before it could slam flat. The sudden impact with his body almost knocked her off balance too, but she leaned into it, braced the weight, and steadied.

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