Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 57: Sword Practice

Midnight blanketed the sea in a veil of silver and shadows. The stars, endless and scattered like forgotten dust, twinkled overhead as the Sea Phantom glided smoothly across the open ocean. The sails whispered against the wind, and the slow creak of wood and rope added a quiet rhythm to the night.

Below deck, most of the ship had already fallen into the lull of sleep. The group — Eleanor, Sophia, Marcus, Jason, Sera and even the dwarf— had finally decided to retire. The motion of the sea, the salty air, and the steady roll of the ship had taken its toll. Marcus had mumbled something incoherent about his stomach and dreams of warm ale before passing out on his hammock. Jason, still clutching the crossbow he insisted on sleeping with, was snoring lightly.

But Liam couldn’t sleep. Not yet.

Something about the sea called to him.

He remained above deck, leaning over the railing near the stern, the rear end of the ship. The cool breeze brushed through his hair, bringing with it the scent of salt and deep waters. The sound of the waves below soothed his thoughts. His elbows rested firmly on the rail as he stared out into the inky vastness, the moon’s light shimmering across the black sea like scattered silver threads.

There was a peace in the solitude. A quiet that calmed him.

Somewhere behind him, a few crew members moved about, manning the ship through the night. They exchanged soft words among themselves or sang low, almost haunting sea songs to pass the time. Their voices drifted through the air like ghosts — half-song, half-prayer — but Liam wasn’t listening closely.

He was humming his own tune. A melody he didn’t even realize he remembered. Something old. Maybe a lullaby his mother once sang, or something from a movie — he didn’t know. It just came to him in the silence. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, carried away by the wind.

Then... he felt it.

That subtle pull in the air. A shift behind him — soft, delicate, but undeniable. He wasn’t alone.

Liam turned his head slightly, not alarmed, but curious.

And then he saw her.

Mariel.

She was standing just a few feet behind him, half-shrouded in moonlight. Her red dress clung gently to her form, its fabric fluttering at the edges from the wind. Her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, a little wild from the sea breeze. Her arms were crossed gently over her midsection, and her eyes were fixed not on him — but on the water.

For a brief moment, Liam was stunned.

He hadn’t heard her approach — not a footstep, not a breath. It was as though she’d just appeared out of the sea air itself. Her presence felt both quiet and intense, like the ocean before a storm.

Mariel finally turned to look at him. Her eyes, a deep, unreadable green, locked with his for just a moment.

"Didn’t expect to see anyone else up here," Liam said softly, trying not to sound surprised, even though he was.

Mariel’s gaze lingered on the sea, the moonlight catching the sharp line of her jaw as she tilted her head. "I needed some breeze," she replied simply, her tone light but carrying a weariness Liam could almost feel. There was something about her voice — steady, a little husky, like someone who’d seen more than she let on.

Liam gave a small nod, understanding without needing details.

She stepped closer, quietly, as if she were walking barefoot through a temple. The wood beneath her feet creaked gently, but her presence felt weightless. She came to stand beside him at the stern, her eyes sweeping the vast ocean ahead. The waves stretched on, endless, silvered by the moon.

For a time, neither of them spoke.

Liam let the silence linger, not uncomfortable but thoughtful. The night wind tousled his hair, and Mariel’s long locks danced behind her like ribbons. She folded her arms, then slowly unfolded them, her eyes darting toward Liam’s side.

Her gaze lingered on his arm, noticing the light flex of muscle beneath his shirt. Without thinking — or maybe very much on purpose — she reached out and brushed her fingers across his forearm. It was a casual touch, more instinctive than forward, but it still sent a jolt through Liam’s spine.

He stiffened slightly and instinctively pulled his arm back. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"Ah—sorry," he muttered, glancing sideways at her. He wasn’t entirely sure why he apologized. Maybe because of how quick his reaction had been, or maybe because her touch hadn’t felt unwelcome... just unexpected.

But Mariel didn’t even seem to notice. Her eyes were already fixed elsewhere — on the blade at his hip.

"Is that... your sword?" she asked, her voice carrying a trace of awe. She stepped in a bit closer, her gaze following the polished hilt and the black leather-wrapped grip.

"Yeah," Liam said, his fingers brushing against the hilt as if by habit.

Mariel bent slightly, inspecting it as if it were an artifact in a museum. "It’s beautiful," she murmured. "Simple... but strong. Balanced."

"You know swords?" Liam asked, surprised.

She gave a soft smile, standing up straight again. "Not really. But I always wanted to learn." Her fingers lingered near the weapon, not touching it, just close enough to feel its presence. "When I was younger, I used to sneak into the guardhouse just to watch the men train. I loved the way the blades moved — fast, sharp, dangerous... but elegant, too."

Liam’s brow lifted. He’d expected many things from this mysterious daughter of Ander — but that wasn’t one of them.

"You want to take a few swings?" he asked, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips.

Mariel’s eyes widened slightly. "What?"

Liam gestured toward an open stretch of deck, clear of barrels or rope. "Just a few. You said you’ve always wanted to learn, right?"

She hesitated... then her lips curved into a slow smile. "You’re serious?"

"As a sword to the gut," Liam said with a small chuckle, already unbuckling the sheath from his belt.

Mariel’s hands were already reaching out, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Then yes. Yes, I do."

He handed her the blade, hilt-first. She took it carefully, the weight of it surprising her as she wrapped her fingers around the grip.

She looked down at it, then back up at Liam.

And beneath the quiet night sky, the sea stretching endlessly around them, Mariel took her first step toward something she’d always dreamed of.

Mariel held the sword in both hands, fingers clenched a little too tightly around the grip. The blade wavered slightly, not from fear, but from inexperience — the sort of unsure tension that came from not knowing whether to hold something like it was sacred or dangerous. Probably both.

"Could you..." Her voice was soft now, hesitant, but not shy. "Could you move closer and teach me, please?"

Liam looked at her for a moment, weighing the question. He wasn’t entirely sure why he hesitated. Maybe it was the quiet in her voice, or the way the silver moonlight cast shadows across her face, softening her already soft features. Maybe it was because, for the first time, she didn’t seem like a stowaway or a captain’s spoiled daughter.

She just looked... curious. Honest.

He nodded slowly. "Alright," he said, stepping around behind her. "Just don’t stab me."

Mariel let out a quiet laugh — more breath than sound. She didn’t flinch as Liam approached, didn’t shy away as he stepped close enough for her to feel the warmth of his presence just behind her. There was no flicker of pride in her posture, no mockery in her gaze. Only stillness. And a hint of excitement.

"Okay," Liam began, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. "First... loosen up. You’re holding the sword like it owes you money."

Mariel smirked and relaxed slightly. "Sorry."

He chuckled, shifting her shoulders subtly, aligning her stance. His hands moved slowly, deliberately — not lingering, but not rushed either. He placed one hand over hers, adjusting her grip, then crouched slightly to check the position of her feet.

"Keep your left foot forward a bit... yeah, like that. You want to feel grounded. Balanced. The sword’s an extension of you, not a rock you’re dragging around."

She listened carefully, following every adjustment without question. No sass, no eye-rolls, no batting of lashes. For a girl so strikingly beautiful, she carried herself with a surprising humility. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She wasn’t teasing or flirtatious. She just wanted to learn.

And that somehow made her more striking.

Liam straightened up again, still behind her. "Alright. Try a swing — slow, controlled. Don’t rush."

Mariel exhaled and brought the sword up, mimicking what she’d seen from the guards back in her childhood, her eyes focused, her body slightly tense.

Liam watched her carefully. "Not bad," he murmured. "Not bad at all."

She glanced back over her shoulder with a small, proud grin. "You sure you’re not just saying that to be nice?"

Liam smirked. "I don’t do nice."