Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 69: Droskyn

The thunderous exchange of cannonballs between the Sea Phantom and the monstrous Leviathan’s Howl continued, tearing through sails, cracking masts, and shaking both vessels to their very bones. Each boom lit up the smoky sky for a split second—enough to see chaos brewing on all sides.

But soon, the cannon fire ceased—not because the battle was over, but because it had reached a far more dangerous stage.

The Leviathan’s Howl pulled in dangerously close, its jagged metal hull scraping against the Sea Phantom with a teeth-grinding groan. The moment the gap narrowed, thick, knotted ropes were hurled across the air, snapping onto railings and masts. Iron grappling hooks dug into the wood with loud clanks, and soon after, rope ladders flung over both sides, swaying wildly in the ocean breeze.

And then—they came.

Pirates—dozens of them—scaled the ropes like rats swarming a sinking ship. Clad in rusted armor, bones, and blood-stained sashes, they roared and cackled as they climbed. Many wielded curved sabers, daggers, or makeshift weapons wrapped in barbed wire. The first to board let out a battle cry, followed by others who began to pour in like a tidal wave.

At the helm of his ship, Captain Droskyn stood like a monster unleashed. He was a towering man, bald with a face full of crude scars and a metal eyepatch shaped like a skull. His jaw was square, mouth curled into a wicked grin revealing rows of sharpened yellow teeth. His coat was stitched from the skins of sea beasts, flapping in the wind like torn wings. As he spotted Captain Ander across the gap between ships, his grin widened.

"ANDER!" he bellowed, his voice deep and echoing. "I see you haven’t sunk yet!"

Captain Ander, already kicking one pirate off the rail with his wooden leg, looked up and spat toward Droskyn’s direction. "Go back to the hole you crawled from, you sea roach!"

Droskyn only laughed in response, raising his axe high into the air and letting out a guttural war cry as more pirates surged behind him.

On the Sea Phantom, Liam reacted quickly. He sprinted toward the side where the ropes had latched on and began slicing them with sharp, clean strikes of his sword. Each cut sent a rope snapping loose and pirates tumbling into the ocean below with screams. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline roaring through his veins.

"Cut them down!" he shouted, sweat and seawater dripping down his face.

Marcus appeared beside him with blood trickling from the earlier wound on his arm. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he raised his axe high and hacked at a rope, slicing through it with brutal force.

"They just keep coming!" Marcus growled, slicing again. "We’re not a damn dock!"

Behind them, Sophia and Jason were a synchronized storm. Jason fired his crossbow with calm precision, sending bolts into the pirates still climbing the ladders. Some screamed and dropped into the sea with arrows through their necks. Sophia stood firm near the rear mast, loosing arrow after arrow into the swarm. Her aim was deadly, and her face, though tense, was locked in focus.

Eleanor had no patience for defense.

She was already among the pirates that had made it aboard, spinning with fluid grace as her twin blades danced with silver fury. One slash to the gut, a quick twist and a backstab—two pirates collapsed beside her. Another lunged at her, and she ducked, driving her blade upward through his chest before kicking his body away like discarded waste.

Near the helm, Mariel cowered behind her father, hands covering her ears as the screaming and bloodshed intensified. Captain Ander stood protectively before her, slashing down an incoming pirate with his cutlass and using his wooden leg to kick another back overboard.

And then came Von.

The giant charged into the fray with a massive wooden club thicker than most grown men’s torsos. He swung with brutal, unstoppable force—one pirate’s entire upper body cracked and folded from a single blow. Another tried to rush him, only to be kicked off the deck into the ocean like a broken doll. Von growled, his wild beard flaring as he swung and stomped with savage precision.

Despite all their efforts, the flood of pirates was endless.

More and more climbed over the rails, roaring as they poured across the deck. Liam cursed as he gave up cutting the ropes—they were too many now. He turned, sword gripped tightly, and ran into the thick of them.

His blade slashed through the chest of one pirate, spun, and sliced clean across another’s shoulder. A third came at him with a spear, and Liam ducked low, sweeping the man’s legs and driving his sword down through his back. Blood splashed onto the already soaked deck as Liam pressed forward, fighting beside Marcus, who was swinging his axe with primal rage, cutting down anyone who got too close.

There was no turning back now. The Sea Phantom was being overrun—and the only way out was to fight.

The shrieking of blades, the crack of gunpowder, and the roar of war cries echoed all around Liam like a fevered symphony of chaos. The deck had become a battlefield—a frenzy of sweat, blood, steel, and screaming. Liam’s arms were aching, his breaths sharp and shallow, but his resolve burned brighter than ever.

That was when three pirates charged at him at once.

They were fast, dirty, and merciless—one with a curved saber already stained with blood, the second wielding twin daggers, and the third a jagged pike that looked like it had been forged from broken spears. They came in a triangle, hoping to surround him in a blink.

But Liam didn’t panic.

He inhaled sharply and shifted his stance—his legs planted wide and firm, one foot slightly turned for better pivot. He lowered his body and held his sword close, entering a defensive position Jason had once teased him for practicing obsessively. Now, it saved his life.

The pirate with the saber struck first—overhead and aggressive. Liam blocked with the flat of his blade, steel screaming against steel. The second came in fast with his daggers, aiming for Liam’s side. Liam twisted his body, parrying one blade and taking a glancing scrape from the other. The third with the pike lunged, but Liam dropped into a low roll, narrowly dodging the thrust and rising behind him.

He didn’t hesitate.

His blade slashed upward through the pike-wielder’s back, cutting through cloth, flesh, and bone. The man screamed, gurgled, then fell limply forward. Liam spun, blocked the saber again, and ducked just as the dagger-wielding pirate lunged toward his neck. With a sharp grunt, Liam drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, sending him stumbling backward. In one clean arc, he sliced through the saber pirate’s leg—he collapsed screaming—and then turned on the last one.

Liam was breathing heavily now, but his eyes were sharp.

The dagger pirate tried one last desperate lunge, but Liam sidestepped him and drove his sword clean into his gut. The man gasped, blood pouring from his mouth, then crumpled to the deck, twitching before going still.

Liam staggered back, exhaling shakily. His sword dripped with blood.

And then—suddenly—a presence behind him.

A low growl.

He didn’t have time to turn.

A fourth pirate had snuck up, silently raising a cleaver high above his head, ready to bring it down on Liam’s neck. Liam only caught the faintest shadow in his peripheral vision when—

CRACK!

The sound was like thunder.

A blur of motion. A club the size of a tree trunk came crashing from the side and obliterated the pirate’s head mid-swing. Blood, bone, and brain matter exploded outward like a burst of red mist, splattering across Liam’s face and chest in a hot, sticky spray. The body dropped lifelessly to the deck with a dull thud, twitching once before going limp.

Liam stood there stunned, eyes wide, trying to wipe away the warm slick from his face, blinking through the gore.

Von stood behind him, towering and unfazed, breathing like a beast fresh out of battle. His massive club dripped with the remains of the pirate’s skull.

"No need to thank me," Von grunted with a grin, then immediately turned to crush another attacker who made the mistake of getting close.

Behind them, Marcus—still wielding his axe with one good arm—glanced over and let out a short, sharp laugh.

"Damn, Von... warn a man next time!" he barked, smirking. "Liam looks like he got kissed by a kraken."

Liam exhaled, shaking his head with a grin despite the chaos, wiping blood off his brow. He didn’t say anything, just turned back toward the fight, sword in hand.

There was still work to do.