Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 142: Sever the chain

"Cut the crap," Marcus barked, his voice echoing down the corridor like a crack of thunder. His jaw was clenched, his body tense despite the weight of Mariel still in his arms. He adjusted her gently, but his eyes never left the hag. "We’re never gonna free you."

The old woman turned her sunken, lifeless eyes on him slowly. There was no surprise in her expression, only a tired silence, as if she had heard those words a thousand times before from a thousand other mouths.

"You’ve done too much evil here," Jason added sharply, his voice filled with disgust. "How many lives? How many souls did you swallow into the pit of your misery just to feel alive?" He took a step forward, eyes burning, but Borik groaned faintly in his arms and he stopped, regaining control.

"You’re never going back out into the world," he finished with venom. "You’ll rot in this place, the same way you have for centuries."

The old woman simply blinked, slowly. Her face did not change. No frown, no fury, no grief. Just that look of bone-deep weariness.

But Liam wasn’t shouting. Nor was Von. They stood slightly apart from the others, watching her in silence. The way her shoulders sagged. The way her hands barely moved anymore, shaking from the weight of time more than weakness. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"She’s not going to back down," Von said quietly, his voice low beside Liam. "She’s centuries into this curse. She’ll drag Eleanor with her to the grave if we don’t give her what she wants."

Liam nodded faintly. His eyes were fixed on the hag, searching her for even the faintest lie. But he couldn’t see one. Whatever she had been—monster, queen, liar, or prisoner—he could tell now that she meant what she said.

The flames from the torch flickered against the cracked walls, casting long shadows that stretched like twisted fingers around the chamber. The air felt dense. The stench of burnt soul, sulfur, and mold hung over them like a veil.

Liam’s voice cut through it.

"How the hell do we sever the chain that binds you to this place?"

The old hag didn’t respond.

She stood still, watching him through the gloom, her face unreadable. A wind from nowhere stirred her tattered robes, and for a moment, all that could be heard was the faint crackle of flame and the breathing of wounded comrades.

But she said nothing.

And that silence was heavier than any scream.

But Liam didn’t let the silence linger too long. He stepped forward, the torchlight washing his face in a flickering gold. His jaw was firm now, eyes cold with the kind of authority that only came from someone who had been through enough pain to finally speak without mercy.

"Before we do anything else..." he said slowly, each word weighed like iron, "you’re going to return some of the life you stole from them."

The old hag blinked.

Liam’s gaze shifted briefly to Sophia—her face pale and bruised even in unconsciousness, her chest barely rising in Von’s arms. Then to Jason, who held Borik with a grim expression. And finally to Sera, whose body lay still on the stone floor some feet away, her breathing shallow, her lips tinged with blue.

"They’re not dead," Liam said. "But they’re not whole either. You drained them. You took something that didn’t belong to you. So give it back."

The old woman’s face twitched. Not with guilt—but with frustration.

"I don’t have much left," she said finally, her voice brittle, like dried leaves crushed underfoot. "Do you not understand what that cursed fire has done to me? I’m already splintering. Holding myself together by threads.

"No," Liam said flatly. "You have to return some of their life energy now."

The hag’s lips parted in protest, but Liam didn’t raise his voice. He just took a step closer, eyes never leaving hers.

"You said you wanted freedom. You said you wanted release. Fine. Then start by returning something. Show us you’re not just the monster you became. Give them back what you can. Even if it’s not everything."

She looked at him for a long time.

Her hands trembled slightly, her gnarled fingers curling inwards as if protecting something unseen. Her face shifted, conflicted, the weight of centuries crawling up her spine like frost. For the first time since they’d met her in that weakened form, she looked... uncertain.

Marcus was staring at her now too, still furious, still unconvinced. Jason looked skeptical but said nothing. Von adjusted Sophia carefully in his arms, saying with his silence that he agreed with Liam.

The old hag’s shoulders rose, then fell.

"I... will try," she whispered. "But if I give too much... I may not have the strength left to undo the bond."

"That’s not my problem," Liam said quietly. "They were our friends. You want our help, you give something back first."

The old hag slowly raised her trembling arms, her fingers crooked like dying branches. Her face was pallid now—nearly gray—and the shimmer of power that once danced behind her eyes had dimmed to a fading ember. The group tensed, unsure what she was about to do, but Liam gave a sharp nod. She wouldn’t dare play tricks now. Not in her state.

A low, crackling hum escaped from her mouth, the sound ancient and coarse, like stone grinding against stone. Her hands glowed faintly—one with a sickly blue light, the other with a soft gold. She pointed one toward Sera, the other toward Sophia.

The moment the energy left her palms, it shimmered through the air like vapor trailing from a fire. The golden thread weaved through the dim, broken light of the room and slipped into Sophia’s body like water finding its source. The blue thread surged toward Sera, spiraling into her chest.

Sera winced slightly as the warmth entered her. Her breathing, once labored, grew steadier. Her hands stopped trembling. A little strength returned to her face as she blinked up toward the ceiling, chest slowly rising. She looked around in confusion, but didn’t speak.

Then, suddenly, Sophia gasped.

The sound cracked the silence like thunder.

Her eyes shot open, wide and wild with light, her body jerking as if pulled from the depths of a nightmare. She blinked, disoriented, then tried to sit up, breath hitching as her limbs trembled beneath her. Von steadied her gently, whispering something she didn’t quite register.

Everyone stared in stunned silence.

Even Marcus—who had been fuming moments ago—watched in disbelief.

Sophia looked around slowly, eyes blurry, lips parting to speak but no words came out yet.

And then, the old hag fell to her knees.

The glow in her palms extinguished.

Her breathing was shallow now, her body hunched forward as if her spine could no longer hold the centuries weighing down on her. She collapsed to the cold stone floor, hands scraping weakly at the ground. Her head dipped, white strands of brittle hair falling around her sunken face.