My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy-Chapter 244: Winter Sale

They’d send him off-world. No Ikona. No backup. No protection. Just a task.

He stayed upright, but his legs weren’t steady. Pressure built behind the knees. Not weakness—just impact.

He didn’t ask about Elara. About the one he’d betrayed. Or the woman who had kissed his forehead once and called it courage.

But they were there.

The memory of a hand at his back. The heat of a weapon at his ribs. A voice that had asked him not to die before he was ready.

Each image passed quickly. None stayed long enough to hold.

This really is a terrible deal.

The thought came dry. Too clean for how much it burned.

Somewhere deeper, the crucifix stirred—its presence threading behind the words, not loud, not forceful. Just there.

Is this the naïveté I never saw in myself?

It didn’t mock this time. It observed.

Like a hand holding up a mirror and letting him watch what he’d become. No shard. No Dot. No guarantees.

He’d shattered his way into this. Burned bridges in the arena. Tried to save someone who hadn’t asked to be saved.

And now—this room. These drones. This choice.

His jaw flexed once. Just enough to feel the ache behind his teeth.

Then Geras leaned in.

Not far. Just enough to shift the atmosphere between them.

"There’s another path," he said.

The voice was quieter now. Not cold. Not mechanical.

Option B.

"We fake your death."

The words landed without resistance. Like they’d already been tested.

"You vanish. No traces. We move you to Fruiez CrRieien—southern archipelago, off-grid, unimportant. You live out your days with no orders, no surveillance."

A pause followed.

Then: "It’s a favor."

Geras didn’t explain who had asked. He didn’t need to.

"For your father," he said. "And I can make it happen. No questions asked."

The way he said it wasn’t a promise.

It was an order already half-complete.

Elias felt his chest tighten. A sharp pang worked its way beneath his ribs, cutting into his breath before he could stop it.

This is the out.

The thought surfaced without emotion, but it held weight. He didn’t move, just let his mind follow the shape of what was being offered.

He pictured the terraces of Giselsin—red roofs baked under twin moons, bonewood trees shifting in slow wind. The gem’s promise flickered in his memory, glowing faintly in the crucifix’s silver eyes. Somewhere out there, past the noise and war, his father’s truth waited.

And now: Fruiez CrRieien.

A remote island, south of the continent. No drones. No orders. No missions. Just quiet. Just time.

He imagined the salt air. A kitchen with real fire. The hum of insect wings at dusk. Days without the Federation’s eyes on his back. Nights where he could dream without system alerts crawling through his skull.

He could wait. Build strength. Chase the gem when the time was right. Maybe even learn what really happened to Dorian Kael.

But the moment didn’t sit clean.

As soon as it rose, something else pulled at him—tighter, sharper.

Elara’s voice. Her hand on his before the crystal closed. The memory of another face, tear-streaked, holding a weapon too heavy for its rage. And behind them both, the echo of his mother’s last goodbye—soft, careful, hopeful in a way he hadn’t earned.

He shifted in the chair.

The offer was real. He could feel it. But so were the people he’d be walking away from.

Across the table, Geras’s tone softened again. It wasn’t official anymore.

"I want you to understand," he said. "You don’t have to throw yourself on a death mission."

His voice was steady, but it carried something quieter underneath. A kind of warning disguised as permission.

"They’re not sending a soldier. They want a body they can forget if it goes bad. You’d be infiltrating a base of power-drunk monsters, held together by fear and superstition."

Geras’s tone stayed quiet, his eyes not leaving Elias.

"I’ve seen what the Primed Epics are becoming," he said. "And I’ve seen what the Federation’s willing to spend to stop them."

Elias brought his hands together, fingers locking tight until his knuckles pressed pale against the strain.

His gaze dropped to the floor.

The sterile tiles reflected the overhead LEDs in sharp, uneven lines—like cracks in a mirrored sky. Nothing about this room breathed. Nothing bent.

In his mind, he pictured two shapes suspended before him.

Not shards. Not memories. Just choices.

One in each hand.

On the left: stay involved. Accept the assignment. Infiltrate the Primed Epics and get close enough to do something that mattered.

If he died, he could at least say he didn’t run. That he tried. That he stood between the people he loved and the storm that was coming.

But it meant risking everything. Both lives. Giselsin. Earth. He could lose it all and never know what happened to his father.

Still, that path burned.

It burned with Elara’s voice, sharp and unwavering. With the memory of a friend he’d failed, spear raised in betrayal. With his mother’s face on the day she’d sent him off, holding her fear behind her smile.

That flame wanted something from him.

It asked him to be the version of himself Geras thought he could become—the hero Dorian Kael had once been.

Then there was the other.

His right hand held something quieter. Softer.

Fruiez CrRieien. A distant island with no records and no requirements. Time. Space. A stove that didn’t issue orders.

He could wait there. Recover. Track the gem the crucifix had shown him. Follow the threads of soul energy back to Giselsin. Back to the vampire emissary who had named him something more than human. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

That life didn’t glow like the other. It pulsed.

Patient. Measured. Promising answers instead of sacrifices.

He could find out what really happened on Cradle Planet.

Maybe even find Dorian.

It was the obvious choice. The strategic one. The only option that didn’t end in fire.

But doubt crept in.

It dulled the edges of that quiet, glowing future. Turned the soft promise of Fruiez CrRieien into something colder.

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