Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 137: No hesitation

Liam’s gaze stayed locked on her—on the twisted shell of Sophia—the firelight reflecting off his sword and casting erratic shadows across the walls. The others didn’t speak. They could sense the shift in him. Not just in his stance or his eyes, but in the stillness of his breath. In the way he planted his feet.

He had made a decision.

He wasn’t going to stand there anymore, waiting.

He was going to act.

But not recklessly.

Not to kill.

To hurt her—just enough to save her.

It went against everything inside him. Every instinct that had always moved to protect her. But this wasn’t about comfort. This wasn’t about safety. This was survival, and he knew Sophia would sacrifice herself to ensure the group’s survival.

So he gritted his teeth. Not in anger, but in acceptance. Of what had to be done. His knuckles were white around the hilt now, but the sword felt light in his hands. The fire still pulsed along the blade, more steady now than before, as though it too understood the burden it carried.

He watched the spirit.

No—he studied it.

It had patterns. It didn’t know it did—but it did. A rhythm. A subtle twitch of the shoulder, a flick of the wrist, the tilt of Sophia’s head right before she vanished.

But most importantly—something else.

Liam had noticed it five moves ago.

Each time the spirit teleported, it left behind a ripple. Not sound. Not even light. But a visual anomaly, something just a little too dark in one place. A ripple in the air. Like shadows bleeding through a seam in the world. The space it would reappear in always gave a single, fleeting sign—black matter, faint and shivering, gathering in the blink of an eye.

Most would miss it.

But Liam was fast. Sharper than most. And now... he wasn’t just fast.

He was ready.

The spirit didn’t know.

That was the advantage.

And Liam kept it close, hidden behind a blank expression and unreadable eyes.

The spirit possessing Sophia sneered again, voice dripping with malice. "What’s the plan now, hero? Gonna watch me take your friends apart piece by piece?"

Liam didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

He just waited.

Waited for the twitch.

For the tell.

And when it came—when that tiny shiver of black appeared to his left, three feet away—he moved.

Not just his body.

His mind.

Everything.

In one breath, he stepped back and to the side, his blazing sword arcing through the air in a clean, deliberate slash.

The spirit had already vanished from its current spot, moving exactly where Liam predicted it would.

And it came face to face with fire.

The edge of the blade grazed Sophia’s side—not deep, not fatal—but enough.

Enough for the spirit to feel it.

To scream.

It recoiled immediately, teleporting again in a burst of fury, clawing at the air with a ragged, distorted cry.

Sophia’s voice came out mid-scream, tangled in pain and something else.

Fear.

But Liam didn’t flinch. He had felt the impact. It wasn’t Sophia that had screamed—it was the thing inside her. The fire had touched them both, yes. But he had judged it right. The wound would not kill her.

The spirit didn’t know how he’d done it.

It didn’t know that he could see it now.

And Liam would keep it that way.

"Whatever you are," he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the room for the next ripple of shadow, "you picked the wrong host."

The sword burned brighter.

And Liam braced himself.

The next time, he wouldn’t hesitate.

He’d do whatever it took to drive that monster out.

Even if it meant hurting the one person he couldn’t bear to lose.

The spirit was faster this time.

Or maybe just more desperate.

It lunged again, claws ready to tear, eyes wild with rage that flickered behind Sophia’s face. But Liam didn’t panic—he was already moving before it had even vanished. His feet shifted, his stance lowered, and he dropped his shoulder just as the ripple bloomed in the air beside him.

He knew.

He knew.

The dark shimmer, like oil bleeding through cloth, gave it away every time. And this time, he didn’t just wait.

He attacked.

The spirit landed hard—right into the force of Liam’s rising shoulder. The impact sent a jolt through both of them, Sophia’s possessed body staggering backwards with a startled grunt. But Liam didn’t give it space, didn’t give it a breath.

He followed through, pushing forward, catching the spirit’s momentum and driving it back—fast and brutal—until its back hit the stone wall with a bone-jarring thud.

It snarled at him, raising its hands to vanish again.

Too late.

Liam’s blazing sword was already moving.

He didn’t go for the chest. Not for the heart. That would kill her. He went lower—deliberately—aiming just beside the ribcage, at the side of her abdomen. His grip tightened, jaw clenched, and with a cry of effort and pain and resolve, he plunged the burning blade straight into Sophia’s side—through skin and flesh and spirit—pinning her to the wall.

The spirit screamed.

The fire hissed and cracked around the blade, licking at the wound like it was starved for vengeance. The spirit twisted and thrashed, but it couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape. The sword anchored it there, fire burning into its essence, burning through its lies and possession.

Sophia’s eyes went wide.

Blood ran down her side—but not much. The wound wasn’t deep enough to end her. Just enough to trap.

The others gasped behind him. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Marcus froze mid-step, mouth open.

Jason took a half-step forward, but didn’t move closer.

Von, still gripping his ribs, stared with wide eyes.

Even Borik’s head lifted a little, in disbelief.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t have to.

They all saw it.

Liam had just stabbed Sophia.

But they also saw why.

Because she didn’t scream.

Not her.

It did.

The sound was... unbearable.

Not like anything that belonged in this world. A shriek that tore at the fabric of the air itself. It didn’t echo—it pierced. High and sharp and layered with dozens of voices, like a thousand souls crying out at once. The fire in the sword roared higher in response, almost as if it was feeding on the spirit’s agony.

The group staggered.

Marcus dropped to one knee, clutching his ears.

Jason cursed, eyes wide in panic, blood beginning to trickle from one ear.

Even Von, hardened and bruised, grimaced in pain, one hand pressed tight against his head.

Liam stood firm.

Barely.

The scream was in his bones, in his teeth, vibrating every part of him. But he held fast, knuckles white around the hilt, forcing the sword to stay exactly where it was.

The spirit wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

But it was trapped.

It was hurting.

And now it knew—truly knew—that Liam wasn’t going to hesitate anymore.