Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 138: Bargaining

The sword didn’t stop burning.

Its fire licked along the hilt, down the blade, consuming the air around it with furious heat. The stone wall behind Sophia hissed and cracked from the intensity, and her body... her body was starting to blister where the flames curled around her side. The wound Liam had made wasn’t fatal—he had made sure of that—but the fire didn’t care. The fire was ruthless. It didn’t know friend from foe. It only knew the spirit, and it wanted to devour it.

Sophia’s head lolled to the side. She wasn’t conscious anymore. Her breathing was shallow. Skin red and angry now from the heat.

Marcus cursed, taking a step forward. "Liam—!"

Jason grabbed his arm and shook his head sharply. "No. Not yet. It’s still inside her."

Von was gripping the edge of a cracked pillar, blood still running from his ribs. He didn’t speak. He only watched, tight-lipped, every inch of him coiled in tension.

Liam didn’t respond to them. His face was hard—eyes locked, jaw clenched—but if any of them had looked closer, they’d have seen the shine in his eyes. The quiet grief.

Tears welled but didn’t fall.

He couldn’t afford that right now.

Because the spirit was screaming again. Writhing, twisting, cracking through Sophia’s skin like it was trying to claw its way free. Her arms thrashed once against the wall, as if something inside her was trying to push its way out. Her head snapped back.

And then—

With a sudden, violent burst of black smoke and shrieking wind—

It ripped free.

The force of it knocked dust and ash into the air, a wail of pure pain and rage echoing in the stone chamber. The spirit, no longer hidden behind flesh, flailed in midair like a flame caught in a storm. It had no real form—just a swirl of darkness, of long claws and jagged mist, glowing red eyes hovering within a mess of smoky tendrils.

It tried to vanish.

Tried to hurl itself across the room—toward the far wall, where maybe it could vanish into the stone.

But it was weak.

Too weak.

The fire had taken too much.

It barely made it halfway before stumbling in the air, its movement a twitching, chaotic burst of dying energy. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Liam’s hand moved fast.

He caught Sophia as she sagged forward, arm curled protectively around her head to keep her from hitting the floor. And in the same breath—without thinking—his right hand drew the sword free from her side.

The fire flared brighter as it left her flesh.

He didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t blink.

With a roar, Liam spun and hurled the sword across the room.

The flaming blade cut through the air like a bolt of vengeance, heat trailing behind it like a comet. The spirit shrieked again—saw it coming, tried to twist out of the way—but it was far too slow now.

The sword struck it dead center.

And it pinned it to the wall.

Though the spirit wasn’t physical, the blade still found it. Still hurt it. The fire wrapped around the formless mist and clung, burning into the very shape of it.

The spirit convulsed violently.

It screamed, twisting in place, smoke pouring from its center like it was coming apart at the seams. Its limbs—or what looked like limbs—lashed in every direction, trying to free itself, to pull away from the burning blade that now held it like a spear through the chest.

It wasn’t dead yet.

But it was close.

Closer than it had ever been.

Liam cradled Sophia close, his chest rising and falling fast, sweat mingling with tears on his face.

Jason stood frozen, mouth slightly open.

Marcus didn’t move, his eyes locked on the wall, on the spirit writhing against it.

Von let out a breath that rattled from his throat, eyes never leaving the flame.

And all of them heard it.

The sound of the spirit’s soul burning.

The final, pitiful wails of a creature that had once been nothing but power and terror—now reduced to a thrashing shadow pinned by fire and rage.

The room was still.

The group didn’t speak.

Not yet.

They just listened—to the flames—and waited to see if it would die.

Even as the spirit writhed on the wall, burning and breaking apart with every second that passed, its shrieks slowly began to shape into something more coherent—like a dying voice clawing for one last plea.

At first, no one could make it out. The scream was high and inhuman, stretched thin like metal scraping against glass. But as the pitch wavered, dipped lower, the voice slithered through the stone air and slid into their ears, twisting itself into words.

"I will... spare... the girl..."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Every breath, every heartbeat froze in place.

Liam’s eyes widened.

Von leaned forward despite his wound, eyes squinting through the flickering light of the blazing sword.

Jason was the first to whisper it aloud, his voice barely audible: "Eleanor...?"

The spirit twisted again. Smoke rolled off its form, and the fire burned holes in its shape, but it still managed to push itself forward slightly on the wall, clawing at the sword as if it could scrape the pain away.

"I’ll spare her..." it rasped, voice now a low, shivering growl. "I’ll let her go... unharmed... if you let me go."

The room tightened like a fist.

"No..." Marcus shook his head in disbelief. "She’s in one of the other rooms—just like we were. She’s—she’s fine. She has to be."

But the spirit laughed.

Even pinned, even breaking, it laughed—low and wheezing and full of menace.

"She was never... in a room," it spat. "She’s been in my keeping... since the moment I separated you. Your Eleanor... is mine."

Liam’s blood went cold.

Sophia still lay unconscious in his arms, and the sword—his only weapon—was sunk deep into the stone wall, still glowing hot but slowly dimming. The fire had done its work. The spirit had been reduced, weakened, battered... but not dead.

Not yet.

And now... it was bargaining.

Not with lies. No.

With leverage.

The kind Liam couldn’t ignore.

The others were silent. Even Von, ever brash and unflinching, said nothing now.

Because Eleanor wasn’t just a friend, she’s worth more.

And now she was a prisoner.

The trump card the spirit had been holding all this time.

Liam stared at the spirit—this crackling, sputtering thing of ash and smoke and glowing red eyes—and in his heart, he hated it. Truly hated it. Every instinct in him wanted to shove the sword deeper, to watch it burn until nothing remained.

But Eleanor...

He swallowed hard. His eyes met Von’s.

Von gave the faintest nod. There wasn’t approval in it. Not surrender either. Just understanding.

So Liam stepped forward.

One step.

Another.

He gently laid Sophia down on the floor, her body limp and her breathing soft. Then he wrapped both hands around the hilt of the sword and braced his body.

"Don’t do it," Jason whispered from behind.

"Liam—" Marcus started, stepping forward, but Von reached out and stopped him.

Liam didn’t look at them.

He pulled the sword free.

The second the blade left the wall, the spirit dropped like a pile of ash. Its form sagged, smoke trailing as it hit the ground with. For a second, it lay there in a black heap—no longer screaming, no longer fighting. Just breathing. Existing. Free.

The others held their breath, tense, waiting for it to lash out again.

But instead, something unexpected happened.

The spirit began to change.

Its form—no longer smoke alone—began to gather into shape, like shadows being knitted together. A figure started to form. Bones creaked. Skin wrinkled. White hair spilled out like tangled thread from a spinning wheel.

An old woman stood before them.

Bent, shriveled, cloaked in rotting cloth. Her eyes glowed red, and her mouth—too wide, filled with jagged black teeth—curled into a grin that made the torchlight dim for a moment.

It spoke in a hoarse voice that echoed like broken glass dragging across stone. "Now you see me..."

The group recoiled. Even Von took a step back.

Liam’s grip on the sword tightened. The fire still burned along its length, though weaker now. But he held it ready.

Jason’s voice cracked. "It... took a form..."

"No," Von muttered grimly. "It chose a form."

The old hag laughed—a rattling, dry laugh like air blowing through a crypt.

"I’m weak," it said simply, swaying slightly. "Too weak to hide in shadow. But not too weak... to hold my bargain."

Her head tilted, bones popping. "Would you like to see her now...?"

No one answered.

The firelight danced across the room, and for the first time since the battle began, the group realized just how quiet everything had gotten.