Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 184: Possessing Liam

The king stood motionless for a breath—chest heaving, eyes empty yet boiling. The portal behind him finally collapsed in on itself with a low shriek, snapping shut like the jaws of some unseen beast. And with it, any hope he had of correcting the broken thread was gone.

Gone.

All because of her.

He turned.

The queen was still on the floor, half-curled, the folds of her gown smeared with dust, her arm twitching involuntarily. Her breathing came in shallow, shaky bursts. She didn’t even look up—her mind was fractured, barely holding onto the moment, reeling from what the king had torn out of her minutes ago.

She was helpless.

She was his enemy.

And now—she was in his way.

The king stepped forward. Once. Twice. The silence in the tomb tightened. The ancient spirits watching from their stone reliefs held their breath—or perhaps wept.

With no warning, his foot struck.

Right into her ribs.

A horrible crack sounded. The queen’s body jolted, her back arching off the floor as her face contorted in a silent scream. No magic. No divine power. Just raw violence. The kind a man uses when he forgets he was ever human.

Another kick—this time to her side. She coughed hard, blood spraying from her lips, a dark splatter against pale stone.

"YOU RUINED IT!" the king roared, voice reverberating like an avalanche. "YOU STUPID, DEFECTIVE, MORTAL-FILLED HALF-BREED! YOU—" he didn’t finish.

His fist came down.

Straight into her face.

Bone cracked.

Blood smeared.

Again.

And again.

There was no grace to it. No honor. This wasn’t war. It wasn’t retribution.

It was rage.

Rage so old it had fermented into something sour and putrid. The kind of hatred that only exists when a soul has festered too long without being loved. The king—this fragment of what he once was—was no longer even regal. No longer majestic.

He was a monster.

The queen’s body took the brunt of it all. Her face, once serene and proud, was now swollen and bruised, her lips split, blood trickling from her nose and ears. She didn’t even cry out anymore. There was no fight left in her. No defense. Her hands twitched, but her eyes... her eyes were still open.

Still watching.

Watching him.

And behind it all, at the other side of the chamber, Liam stood.

He hadn’t moved since the portal failed.

He hadn’t even blinked.

His eyes weren’t on the queen. Not on the king. Not on the violence erupting before him.

He was staring only at the spirit of Anna.

His little sister.

There she stood. Or floated, more accurately. A figure made of pale silver light, her young face aglow with warmth. She was looking back at him, her expression confused, a little sad.

Liam smiled at her gently, still kneeling on the smooth stone.

"You’ll be back soon," he whispered, almost dreamlike. "Don’t be scared. I promised you, remember?"

Another scream echoed behind him as the king drove a knee into the queen’s spine.

Liam didn’t flinch.

The stone beneath him was warm now. The ritual was still alive. Somehow. The exchange hadn’t fully failed. Anna’s spirit hadn’t vanished. The rite had paused, not collapsed. But he didn’t care about anything else.

Just her.

She looked so small. So innocent. So alive.

It had to be worth it.

He reached for her, almost touching.

Behind him, another thud. Another blow. Flesh against flesh. The wet sound of something breaking. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

The queen couldn’t scream anymore. She was just breathing—shallow, rapid, desperate.

Still, Liam didn’t turn.

The king raised his hand once more, blood dripping from his knuckles.

He wasn’t done.

He wasn’t nearly done.

Anna didn’t say a word. Her lips didn’t move. But her expression changed.

One moment she was just looking at Liam—softly, like a sister seeing her brother after too long apart. Then, her eyes shifted past him. Past his shoulder. Her brows furrowed. The corners of her mouth dropped into a trembling line. She lifted her hand.

And pointed.

Slowly.

Behind him.

Liam blinked, confused. "What?" he murmured, still kneeling, his voice barely a breath.

She kept pointing.

Liam turned.

And saw hell.

The queen—what was left of her—was slumped against the altar’s edge. Her arms hung useless at her sides, one wrist twisted at a strange angle. Her hair, once gleaming, now dripped with blood, clinging to her cheek and temple. One eye was swollen shut. Her mouth moved faintly, but no sound came.

The king stood above her, hands soaked in her blood. His once-immaculate robes now hung in tatters, stained dark and sticky. His face no longer held the elegance of a monarch. It was savage. Wild. A beast drunk on suffering.

He raised his hand again.

Liam was already on his feet.

He didn’t remember standing.

His legs moved before his brain could process. He stumbled forward—one step, two—heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted out. But he stopped.

Just short.

Just far enough.

He froze.

The realization hit him like ice: he was powerless. His strength was nothing. His will meant nothing. This wasn’t a fight he could win.

The king would kill him.

He’d swat him away like a fly.

To try and save her now... it was suicide.

Liam’s hands clenched into fists. His jaw tightened. "I have to help her," he whispered. "I have to..."

Behind him, Anna moved.

Her bare feet touched the stone.

She wasn’t just floating now.

She was approaching.

Liam didn’t hear her.

But he felt her.

A warmth. A strange pull.

Like sunlight cutting through a storm.

The queen let out a weak, choked breath as the king yanked her up by the hair. She barely responded. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flickered.

Liam stepped forward again—closer now. "Stop," he said, though it was barely more than air. "Please. Stop..."

The king didn’t even glance at him.

Liam gritted his teeth.

Took another step.

The king turned—slowly, deliberately. His eyes locked on Liam. There was no fear in them. No anger.

Just disgust.

"You’d really die for her?" he asked, voice low, filled with venom. "After all I offered you?"

Liam didn’t answer.

The king smirked, turning back to the queen.

And that’s when it happened.

The world went still.

Like someone had slammed their hand on time itself.

Liam gasped as a sudden force hit his chest. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t heat. It was like being emptied. Like something had slipped inside him without permission.

He looked down.

His hands were glowing.

A faint silver light—gentle, pulsing—like veins filled with moonlight.

Then he heard it.

Her voice.

Not outside.

Inside.

"Sorry, Liam," Anna said softly, her voice resonating through every part of him. "I couldn’t let you die. Not like this."

Liam’s eyes widened.

He looked around, spinning—but Anna was gone.

No.

She wasn’t gone.

She was inside him.

He staggered, gasping.

Something had just shifted.

Anna had done the unthinkable.

She had possessed him.

And now, both their souls burned in one body.