Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 100: Empty

Liam stood at the edge of the jungle clearing for a moment, watching the firelight flicker across the faces of the others. They were exactly where he’d left them—some still tending to their weapons, others lost in their own thoughts. The mood was subdued. No one was speaking now. There was no laughter, no jokes. Not even Marcus had a word to say.

But more than their silence, something else troubled Liam.

The system notification.

The others hadn’t received one.

Not Marcus. Not Jason. Not Sophia or Eleanor.

Just him.

He’d returned to the group quietly, expecting maybe a surprised glance or even a congratulation. But they didn’t so much as look his way. Their expressions were weary, blank. It wasn’t like before, back in Arthalon, when a level-up was something they all shared—when they celebrated new abilities, laughed about new stats.

This time... nothing.

He sat beside the fire and said nothing either, but his mind was racing. Why only me? Why now?

The only explanation that came to mind, however absurd, was that the jungle natives had changed something. Ever since he killed the giant, since they knelt to him, since they called him "god." That title from the system... God of the Jungle Natives... it wasn’t random.

He had been marked.

Whatever had been watching them—whatever system Nexus Corp had put in place—it recognized him as something else now. Something more.

And that didn’t sit right with him.

After a long moment, he stood and looked around. The fire popped and crackled. No one stirred. They were too exhausted to care. But Liam had questions now—questions that went beyond the game, beyond his stats.

He turned toward Borik, who was seated slightly away from the others, oiling the blade of his axe in quiet concentration. His face was smudged with soot and dirt, his hands calloused, but his eyes were alert beneath lowered brows.

"Borik," Liam said.

The man looked up slowly, reluctant.

"Can we talk?"

Borik gave a small sigh, but nodded and stood, stretching out his sore limbs before following Liam a few steps away from the fire. They didn’t go far, just enough to speak without the others overhearing.

"What is it?" Borik asked, voice low but guarded.

Liam folded his arms. "The ruin."

Borik’s jaw clenched slightly.

Liam continued. "What is it really about?"

Borik glanced toward the fire, as if looking to Marcus or Sera for some invisible cue, then shook his head. "We’ll find out when we get there. That’s all that matters."

"No," Liam said firmly, stepping closer. "That’s not enough anymore."

Borik frowned. "It’s not your concern—"

"It is my concern," Liam interrupted. "After everything we’ve been through—The ocean, the tribe, the sacrifice, the giants—after everything I’ve done to keep us alive, you’re still hiding things?"

"I’m not telling you shit until we get to the ruins." Borik’s words hit Liam like a slap.

There was no hesitation in Borik’s voice, no room for negotiation. He said it plainly, like it was law—like that was the end of it. But Liam wasn’t having it. Not now. Not after everything.

Liam took a slow, menacing step forward. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with rage, and his eyes burned with the weight of every life he’d risked, every drop of blood they’d spilled to stay alive on this godforsaken journey. He unsheathed his sword halfway from its scabbard. The metal slid with a soft but chilling hiss, catching the faint light of the fire.

"What the fuck do you mean you’re not telling me shit?" he growled, his voice low, sharp, barely containing the explosion behind it. "You think this is still some petty errand? You think after all we’ve survived I’m just gonna follow along blind like a goddamn sheep?"

The threat in his tone was as clear as the steel at his hip.

Borik didn’t flinch. He stood firm, arms crossed, jaw locked like iron. "I said what I said."

Liam stepped closer. The tension between them thickened like tar.

Then—

A sound. A sharp, sudden noise behind him. A gasp. A stifled groan.

Liam froze.

He turned his head sharply, eyes scanning the campfire.

Marcus.

Marcus was on his knees by the fire, one hand gripping his chest, the other bracing the ground. His face was twisted in pain, teeth gritted, sweat already streaking his temple.

The sight knocked the breath out of Liam.

He didn’t need anyone to explain. He knew. He understood right away.

The covenant.

The blood oath Marcus had made with Sera—it was more than just some symbolic ritual. It was binding, literal. Physical. When Liam threatened Borik... when he drew that sword and gave voice to violence... Marcus took the hit.

The pain that should have been Borik’s went straight into Marcus.

Liam stared, horrified, as Marcus struggled to breathe.

Sophia was already at his side, steadying him, her voice low, urgent. Eleanor rushed over next, crouching with a hand on his back.

"Shit," Liam muttered under his breath, every vein in his body going cold.

He backed away.

Quietly, he slid the sword back into its sheath.

The moment it clicked into place, Marcus seemed to gasp in relief. The pressure in his chest eased slightly. His breathing steadied. But he was still pale. Still shaking.

Liam turned away, unable to face anyone now. He felt the weight of every eye on him—even if no one said a word. The fire still crackled behind him, but it felt distant now. The whole world felt distant.

He walked across the clearing, shoulders hunched, jaw tight.

He found a fallen tree, half-rotten and covered in moss, and sank down onto it like a man suddenly twice his age. His hands were shaking. His breath unsteady.

What the hell am I doing?

He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t anything. He was just... empty.

Threatening Borik had been stupid. Reckless. And Marcus had paid the price for it.

And the worst part?

Borik still hadn’t told him anything.

The jungle had grown darker. The sounds of the wild picked up again—night birds, insects, distant rustling in the leaves. But around Liam, it was quiet. The fire cast long shadows through the clearing, dancing across the faces of his companions.

He didn’t look back at them.

He didn’t want to.

He sat there alone, the blade at his side, the weight of guilt settling in heavy on his shoulders.

And the ruin—whatever it held—still waited out there, cloaked in mystery, dragging them all forward whether they were ready or not.