Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 147: Volunteering

The moment of silence ended slowly, like the last echo of a distant drum fading into dusk. Liam took one last look at his friends—his battered, scarred, yet still standing friends—and then turned to the queen. Her regal figure stood in the faintest shimmer of what remained of her unbinding light, her long hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes still unreadable... but wiser, now. Older in a different way.

He stepped forward, his sword now sheathed at his side. The rest of them instinctively gave him space, even Eleanor, who stood like a sentinel at Sophia’s side.

"What do you know about the next test?" Liam asked.

His voice was quiet but firm. There was no anger in it, only resolve—like a soldier asking his commander what mountain he was expected to climb next, no matter how steep.

The queen looked at him. Her lips pressed together for a moment, and then her eyes fell—not out of guilt, but because the weight of her memories was too much to carry in silence.

"I know," she said softly, "that it is unlike anything you’ve faced before."

Jason stiffened, glancing at the others. Sophia’s grip on Liam’s arm grew a little tighter.

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked, eyes narrowing.

The queen exhaled slowly. "The final test... is not one of strength. It is not a battle of blades or power or flame. It is of the mind. Of the spirit. And it is cruel."

Cruel.

The word settled into the courtyard like a sudden frost.

"You must understand," she continued, "when this palace was cursed, the final seal was meant to be impenetrable. A fortress not of stone, but of will. It was designed to break men. To twist their minds, turn them against each other—or against themselves."

Silence again. The weight of her words pressed into the group like invisible chains.

"I do not know what shape it will take," the queen admitted. "Each who faces it sees something different. Their fears, their desires, their sins... even things they did not know they carried within them."

Sera’s face had gone pale again.

Sophia looked toward Liam. "Then how can we prepare for it?"

"You can’t," the queen said flatly. "No blade, no armor, no spell will help you in there."

Marcus swore under his breath and folded his arms, pacing a few steps away from the group. "So what—you’re saying it’s suicide?"

The queen didn’t respond to that. Instead, she turned to Liam once more, her tone lowering.

"If you are wise... you will not go as a group. It will take all of you. Piece by piece. One by one. And it will not stop until it breaks the last of you."

Liam frowned. "So what do you suggest?"

"That two of you go," she said, her tone final. "Only two. No more."

Von shook his head. "Why only two?"

"Because," the queen answered, "the more hearts it touches, the more likely it is to unravel them all. I am telling you this out of mercy, not fear. Two of you may still stand a chance. But if you all enter that place..." She looked at each of them now, slowly, as if measuring their souls. "None of you will come back."

The words fell like a hammer.

Nobody spoke.

Not even Marcus had a sarcastic retort. Not even Jason had a scoff. The weight of what she said bore down on them, real and heavy.

"Why would you doubt us?" Eleanor asked suddenly, her voice sharp, almost accusing. "After everything we’ve survived?"

The queen’s gaze was kind, but unwavering. "Because I’ve seen what that place does. There are trials of strength, and then there are trials of truth. The latter is the most brutal of all."

Sophia dropped her gaze, staring at the stone tiles beneath her feet.

The morale among them had shifted. The air had grown colder somehow.

Liam looked back at the others. They were quiet, still processing. Even Marcus—who never backed down from anything—seemed to be chewing the queen’s words over, a deep scowl on his face.

Only two.

Only two could go.

And they all knew that whoever went might not come back.

The queen stepped back, her voice softer now. "You have come further than anyone else ever did. That alone... is something to be proud of. But this last trial is different. It’s not about strength anymore."

Liam nodded slowly, jaw tight. He didn’t speak—not yet. He didn’t know what to say.

A strange silence passed between all of them again. It wasn’t fear, not really. It was the weight of reality settling in after the fire and chaos had finally ended.

They had made it this far.

But they weren’t at the end yet.

And the hardest part... was still ahead.

The fire had long gone out from the sky, leaving behind a low, brooding dusk that hung over the courtyard like a closing curtain. Silence returned, thick and strained, interrupted only by the occasional crack of crumbling stone or the shuffle of tired feet repositioning in the dust. Everyone stood still—tense, uncertain, glancing from one face to another. The queen’s warning still echoed in the air.

Only two.

Liam stepped forward, slow and measured. He exhaled through his nose, as if steadying something inside him. His voice, when it came, was calm. Certain.

"I’ll go."

Heads turned toward him.

"No way in hell I’m letting someone else take that step," Liam said, eyes focused dead ahead. "Not when I’ve been through all of this. Not when I’ve led us this far."

No one argued. Not yet.

He looked to the rest of them, his gaze sweeping from Marcus to Sophia, to Jason and Eleanor and the others.

"So," he said, "we need one more."

For a moment, nobody said anything. Until—

"I’m going with you," Marcus said, stepping forward. "You know why."

Liam met his eyes.

"Because of the blood," Marcus added. "Because whatever test is in there... it’s better faced with a brother."

Liam didn’t speak, but his look softened.

"I’ve had your back since the start," Marcus added. "Not about to stop now."

Before Liam could answer, another voice came from the side.

"Hold on," Jason said, raising a hand lazily, but his eyes were sharp. "You’re not the only one with history here. I’m not saying I’m the best choice, but I’ve seen things most of you haven’t. I know how to think sideways. If this is a mind test... that counts."

He stepped forward beside Marcus, folding his arms. "I’m volunteering."

"Well then you’ll have to wait," Eleanor said flatly, already stepping forward herself. "Because if it’s truly a trial of the soul, I might be more suited than any of you. I’ve kept mine guarded longer than all of you combined."

Jason smirked. "That’s not necessarily a good thing."

"I didn’t say it was," Eleanor replied, her tone cold.

Borik cleared his throat. "I should go."

They turned to the dwarf.

"I’m older than most of you," Borik said. "Seen more. Lost more. Fought under kings. Buried friends. If it’s about the weight of memory, I’ll carry it."

Sera opened her mouth as if to speak, but stopped. She leaned against one of the stone pillars, watching.

Then, slowly, Sophia stepped forward. Her legs were steadier now, her face still pale but her eyes alive.

"I’ll go," she said quietly.

Liam turned to her sharply. "Soph—"

"Don’t try to talk me out of it," she interrupted. "You said it yourself—we’ve come too far. If this is a trial of temptation or emotion... then I have something to fight for."

Marcus looked like he was about to speak again, but fell silent. His jaw was clenched.

Von stepped beside Sophia now, his massive arms crossed. "Then you’ll need to hear my name too. I’ve got no regrets, Liam. I’ve taken hits for this team. I’d rather go down trying than stand back and wonder if I could’ve helped."

Liam stared at the group in front of him—six people, each volunteering, each stepping forward, each willing to put themselves in the jaws of a test they barely understood... just for the chance to walk beside him.

It should’ve filled him with pride.

But instead, it filled him with a heavy, gut-turning dread.

Because they couldn’t all go.

He looked toward the queen, who remained by the broken steps of the courtyard’s eastern wing. She hadn’t moved. She didn’t need to. Her words lingered like a shadow: "Only two."

And Liam was one.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, tuning out the weight of expectation, of friendship, of loyalty. All he could feel was the burden of the choice ahead. No matter who went with him... the rest would be left behind. And if the queen was right—if this final test broke minds and twisted souls—then the one who walked beside him might not make it out.

When he opened his eyes, everyone was still staring.

Still waiting.

Still hopeful.

But no closer to an answer.

They stood there, in a tightening circle of unspoken tension, none of them willing to back down, none of them ready to admit they might not be the best for the job.

And so, the decision lingered—unresolved.