Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 154: I don’t know what to do.

"What’s the test?" Liam asked again, his voice low but hard, like stone grinding against stone.

His older self didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head, gazing out of the illusionary window across the vibrant palace gardens. Birds chirped. Flags waved lazily in the warm breeze. The sound of distant laughter drifted on the air, so soft it felt like memory.

When he finally spoke, the older Liam’s tone was thoughtful—almost admiring. "When the queen said only two should enter to complete your mission... she wasn’t just being cautious. She was wise. Clever, even. I’ve got to give her that."

Liam narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"She must’ve suspected the truth... at least part of it," the older version continued. "Because if all of you had come into that tomb, trying to get the treasure together—if even three or four of you had entered this place—the odds of anyone surviving would’ve dropped to nearly nothing."

Liam’s fists clenched. "Stop speaking in riddles," he snapped. "What’s the damn test?!"

The older Liam turned to him then. His expression wasn’t cold—but it had hardened into something solemn and final. "The truth, Liam?" he asked quietly. "The truth is... only one of you will leave that tomb. Even if both of you pass every test laid before you, only one of you walks out alive."

The words hit Liam like a hammer. He froze, his mind going blank for a second as he just stared at the older man—stared at himself. It was like the air had been punched out of him. "What?"

"You heard me," his older self said, eyes never leaving his. "The test isn’t just about mental strength, Liam. It’s about choice. And consequence."

Liam turned away slowly, jaw tightening. His pulse thundered in his ears as the illusion of the room—of the peaceful palace, the elegant hallways, the garden blooming with serenity—suddenly felt like a prison. One he couldn’t escape.

"So now you know," his older self said gently, coming to stand beside him again. "It’s either you... or the ancient queen."

"Will you sacrifice the ancient queen," the older Liam said quietly, "for this great future?" He lifted his hand and gestured toward the room where Sophia sat cradling the baby, humming softly to it in a voice full of warmth and peace. A mother’s song. The picture was beautiful. Fragile. Almost sacred.

Liam didn’t answer.

His chest rose and fell, slow and heavy, like each breath cost him something. His eyes were locked on Sophia. The way her fingers gently brushed the baby’s cheek. The way her hair fell across her face, messy in that way only mothers allow. She was smiling—just slightly—and even though she was unaware of him watching, she looked... content.

He wanted that peace. God, he wanted it so badly it ached.

But now, all of it—all of this—had been placed on a scale. The ancient queen’s life... for his future.

His thoughts scattered like broken glass in his mind. Jagged edges, impossible to pick up cleanly. He thought about everything they’d been through. How they had nearly died in the ritual. How she had stood beside him through fire and darkness. How she had bled and fought and stayed strong, even when she was scared.

He thought about the queen too. About her sad eyes. Her voice layered with centuries of regret. He remembered what she said—how she had consumed souls not out of malice, but despair. A selfish, cruel choice perhaps... but born from sorrow, not hatred. She had been wronged, betrayed, bound in torment. Yes, she had done terrible things. But hadn’t she paid for them, over and over again, in loneliness and guilt?

Liam shook his head slowly, overwhelmed.

It should have been an easy decision.

The queen had lived long enough. She had taken lives. Done evil. If sacrifice was the price, then she should pay it.

It should have been easy.

And yet...

He found himself frozen, unable to speak. To move. To decide.

Why?

Because in his heart, something pulled at him. Something stubborn and foolish. Something pure.

He exhaled, barely a whisper escaping him—half breath, half truth.

"There’s too much goodness in my heart," Liam muttered, barely realizing he had spoken aloud.

His older self heard it.

The man smiled, but it wasn’t one of joy. It was knowing. Heavy. A smile carved by time and worn down by the sharp edge of reality.

"You’re right," the older Liam said, voice low like a whisper through a thick forest. "But you need to understand something—really understand it, Liam. This world... this life... it wasn’t built on righteousness and goodness alone. That’s not what keeps things moving."

Liam glanced over, silent, the weight of the moment dragging down on his shoulders like a mountain.

"Goodness doesn’t exist without evil. Sacrifice doesn’t exist without selfishness," his older self continued. "They compliment each other. They define each other. Without the dark, you’d never appreciate the light."

He gestured around them—at the vibrant illusions, the flourishing palace, the peaceful hum of life beyond the walls. "None of this... not the baby, not Sophia’s smile, not your peace... none of it comes for free. There’s always a price, Liam."

Liam looked down at his hands.

So much blood had already stained them. So many choices he’d made. Some right, some wrong. All of them heavy.

He finally asked, almost afraid of the answer. "The queen... is she going through the same test as me?"

His older self nodded, slow and certain. "Yes."

Liam looked up.

"She’s being shown what her heart desires most," the older man said. "Just like you."

Liam sighed, the sound barely audible in the thick, golden silence of the chamber. It wasn’t just the breath leaving his lungs—it was a sigh steeped in uncertainty, pressure, and the crushing weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts. He stood there, surrounded by visions of a perfect life—one that promised peace, love, and legacy—yet felt more lost than ever.

His eyes drifted again to Sophia cradling the child. Her face, so serene, so warm, stirred something deep in his chest. It wasn’t just desire. It was longing. The ache for a life without battles. Without loss. Without having to make decisions that tore pieces of his soul out every time.

And yet, the path to that peace was soaked in fire.

He turned to look at his older self, who stood quietly now, hands clasped behind his back, watching him like a statue carved from time itself. There was no pressure in his gaze. No judgment. Just the weight of truth. That cold, immovable truth Liam had come to know too well on this journey—nothing worth having came without pain.

"I don’t know what to do," Liam finally whispered.

The words felt small in the room. Helpless.

But it was the only honest thing he could say.