Chapter 162: A Moments Lapse

Chapter 162: A Moments Lapse Elias forced himself upright, knees shaking, shoulder screaming with every inch. The burn lanced through his arm as he pushed up on one elbow, then another. "Junjio, don’t!"

The shout broke through the tension like a dropped plate. His voice cracked at the end.

The prompt’s glow burned hot in his vision—Save a life. 23:52—and Elias felt the weight of it settle in.

I can’t save anyone like this. Not as the enemy.

His heart pounded hard against his ribs. Blood dripped again, slower now, from the soaked edge of his sleeve. Dot’s hum stayed steady near his side.

He leaned slightly, keeping his hand low.

"Dot," he whispered. "Follow my lead. I need a prop. Looks real. Shatters on impact."

The glow at her center pulsed once in answer—silent agreement.

Around them, the lights flickered overhead. Shadows jumped across the broken tiles and the torn seams of the pods. Somewhere beyond the open door, conduits sparked against the corridor wall.

The pulse of Vardency still lingered outside.



Elias stood fully, one hand braced on his side. Blood ran slow now, thick against his skin, but he didn’t hide it. The pain stayed where it was. A fireline down his shoulder. He faced Vira, and let none of it touch his voice.

"You win."

His words didn’t carry defiance. Just a calm kind of surrender.

"This place sucks."

He watched her reaction. Nothing flickered in her expression. Good.

He nodded toward Junjio, voice level.

"He’s the portal user. Young-looking one. I pulled him out of Vincent’s crew myself. The kid’s barely hanging on."

He paused, just long enough to let the blood drip once more onto the floor.

"I’m not doing the cage routine anymore."

He let that settle.

"Me?" He raised his hand slightly, palm open. "I materialize objects. That’s my trick. And my perception... it tells me the most efficient way to win."

Dot’s glow flared next to him. A brittle rod of metal formed cleanly in the air, its surface gleaming like tempered steel. The finish caught the flicker of the pod lights. It looked real. Weighty.

Kikaru flinched.

Her orb dimmed in an instant, the glow pulling inward. She took a half-step forward, confusion tightening her features.

"Elias... what?"

Her voice barely left her throat. A whisper—disbelief, not hesitation.

The stats that usually hovered at her side flared once and vanished again. Not dismissed. Just overridden by instinct. Distrust rolled off her in sharp waves, quiet but present.

Elias didn’t look back.

He stepped forward toward the nearest guard—the one with the broken neck, still twitching unnaturally. The fake rod Dot had formed was cold and solid in his grip. His fingers tightened.

His heart beat too fast.



One step. Two.

Then he swung.

The rod struck clean across the side of the guard’s head. A brittle crack followed—loud, sharp, louder than it needed to be. The metal shattered on impact, fragments spinning out across the pod floor. The guard slumped. Hard. His body dropped fast, the collapse unnatural but convincing enough in the chaos.

Elias stood over him, arm trembling from the swing, blood still leaking down from his shoulder. The pain pulled at the edges of his vision.

But his voice stayed firm.

"Time we superior shard users take a stand."

He didn’t shout it. Just raised it enough to cut through the stunned quiet. He put weight behind it—not passion. Authority. Something that could sell the lie.

The system prompt still hovered above, burning bright. 24:00.

Vira’s serpent eased slightly along her arm, its coils settling. She took a step into the room, her expression unchanged.

"Smart move," she said.

Her voice came out smooth—cold enough that the compliment felt like a test.

Blood dripped steadily from the tip of the serpent’s mouth. The pod’s air pressed in tighter now, filled with heat, rust, and the sharp taste of betrayal.

Asurik gave a low whistle.

His blade dipped at his side, but he didn’t sheath it. The magma Ikona along his shoulder flared once, a faint wave of heat brushing the nearby wall.

"Didn’t think you had it in you," he said.

He didn’t sound convinced. His eyes moved from Vira, to the downed guard, then back to Elias. Something in his face tensed. Not regret. Not belief either. His loyalty hadn’t landed yet.

The corridor behind them glinted faintly—pipes catching scattered light. Overhead, the sensors gave a faint pulse. Always watching. Always running.

Faye stepped forward.

Her Ikona hovered near her shoulder, wings drawn in close. The hum it gave was uneven.

"Elias?"

Her voice cracked halfway through the name. She didn’t try again.



Tidwell’s knife had stopped moving in his hand. He stared at Elias now, jaw tight.


"Hell," he muttered under his breath. Low. More frustration than surprise.

Paul didn’t speak. He looked toward the guard on the ground. Still breathing. Still bleeding.

Junjio hadn’t moved.

Wes shifted slightly in place, one hand brushing the side of his Ikona. No move to attack—just a preparation.

No one had drawn a conclusion yet.

The room held. Barely.

Cube X’s hum crawled through the walls like a current.

Elias stayed where he was.

His hands hung loose at his sides now, the false weapon long shattered, the lie still fresh in the air. The weight of what he’d done pressed down hard—more than just the pain in his shoulder. He could still hear Asurik’s low whistle, feel the chill behind Vira’s smile. Neither sound had faded. Both lingered like blades too close to his skin.

The guard he’d struck hadn’t moved. Blood continued to trail beneath the body in slow, patient lines, creeping through the cracks in the tile and pooling in small, sticky patches around fallen debris. The pod quarters hadn’t changed, but everything inside them had. The air smelled like copper and plastic. The scent clung to the back of his throat.

His shard gave another slow pulse—faint, but deeper now. The ache curled under his ribs, pushing against fabric already soaked in sweat. Dot stayed close, her soft glow brushing across his side. A hum vibrated gently beneath the sound of the pod systems, keeping him grounded. Present.