Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 71: Dangerous Plan

The cold wind swept across the deck of the Sea Phantom, dragging the scent of gunpowder and death in its wake. The crew remained kneeling, bruised, bloodied, and bound—some silent, others trembling with rage or fear. The air was tense, too still, as if the very ocean held its breath.

Droskyn paced in front of them with the swagger of a man who believed he had already won. His long, tattered coat flapped at his heels, the color soaked with sea salt and dried blood. A crooked grin carved across his weathered face as he stopped in front of Captain Ander again, who sat upright, tied tightly to a thick post near the mast. Blood trickled from his mouth and a purple bruise had started to swell over his cheekbone.

"Well, well..." Droskyn said, circling Ander like a vulture. "Still got some pride in you, do you, Ander?"

The old captain didn’t respond. He met Droskyn’s sneer with a silent glare, his only answer the tight clench of his jaw.

Droskyn laughed and kicked one of the barrels beside him. "You see this? This is what pride gets you!" He turned and jabbed a finger into Ander’s chest. "You’re not a captain anymore. You’re a dog now. A dog with nothing. So go on—lick my boot."

Ander’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t move.

"I said lick it!" Droskyn barked, lifting his heavy boot and shoving it in front of Ander’s face, the sole still muddy from the docks of some distant plundered port.

The rest of the crew watched in stunned silence. Sophia’s fists tightened against the ropes that held her. Eleanor’s eyes burned with fury, though a tear had begun to form in the corner of one eye. Von looked on, his jaw locked tight. And Mariel, trembling, pressed herself tighter behind her father, staring at the pirate captain with barely concealed terror.

But Ander didn’t budge. He stared straight ahead, silent.

Droskyn’s grin faded.

"Tsk," he said, slowly reaching into his robe. "Wrong answer."

And before anyone could react, a sharp bang rang out. Smoke hissed from the small flintlock pistol in Droskyn’s hand as a Sea Phantom crewman—young, barely older than Mariel—slumped forward beside Marcus, blood gushing from the wound in his head. His lifeless body hit the deck with a wet thud, and the sickening splash of brain matter painted across Marcus’s cheek and tunic.

"NO!" Marcus screamed, snapping his head toward the fallen crewmate. "You filthy piece of—!"

Smack!

Droskyn’s hand cracked across Marcus’s face with a vicious slap, the sound echoing across the stunned ship. Blood sprayed from Marcus’s split lip as he fell sideways, spitting and snarling.

"Learn your place," Droskyn growled. "You’re all worms now. Dirt beneath my boots."

The pirates laughed, some cheering and banging their weapons against the railings, feeding off the cruelty like animals.

But not everyone was frozen in fear.

While the distraction unfolded, Jason sat perfectly still—his face lowered, breath steady, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Behind his back, his fingers moved with painstaking care, working a tiny blade—hardly more than a sharpened scrap of metal—along the rope that bound his wrists. It had been hidden in the seam of his trousers, a precaution he’d nearly forgotten about. But now, it was his only chance.

Little by little, the rope began to loosen. He dared not look around. Dared not breathe too hard. He simply kept sawing, rhythmically, waiting for his moment.

Meanwhile, Droskyn returned to Captain Ander again. He crouched low, bringing his face close to the grizzled old sailor. His breath stank of rum and rot.

"Lick it," he hissed. "Lick it, or I paint the deck with another one of your men’s heads."

Ander’s eyes flicked to the pistol. To the crew. Then to Mariel, who was silently crying behind him.

Still, he said nothing.

Droskyn stood, raised the pistol again. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Bang!

Another crewman slumped forward, gurgling, a hole in his temple. Blood sprayed across the planks like spilled wine.

"You’re going to kill them all, old man," Droskyn chuckled darkly, spinning the pistol once on his finger. "One by one. Until it’s just you... licking my boot, surrounded by corpses."

Jason kept sawing. The rope was nearly there.

The crew remained frozen in horror. Sophia turned her head away, unable to look anymore. Eleanor cursed beneath her breath. Even Von, for all his strength, was seething in silent rage, knowing that even if he broke free, the pirates would kill the others in retaliation.

And somewhere in the back of their minds, every one of them clung to a single hope—that Liam, wherever he was, had a plan.

Because time was running out.

The cries of agony echoed through the deck of the Sea Phantom as Captain Ander was dragged forward by two burly pirates. Droskyn didn’t speak. He only gestured, a sharp flick of his hand, and the pirates began their brutal work. Fists slammed into Ander’s ribs, boots stomped against his legs and back, and one pirate used the hilt of his sword to smash against his jaw.

"NO!" Mariel screamed, struggling against the arms that held her back. Her voice cracked with despair. "Please stop! Please!"

But Droskyn only laughed, leaning against the mast like a king watching his jester. "What a brave little dove," he mocked. "You might just be more entertaining than your father."

Blood trickled down the side of Ander’s face as he groaned, barely conscious now. The crew and Liam’s companions could do nothing—still bound, still under the threat of death. Sophia clenched her fists so tight her knuckles went white. Marcus, despite his pain, snarled like a cornered wolf. Eleanor’s jaw tightened, and even Jason momentarily paused his rope-cutting, the horror drawing his eyes forward.

Liam had swum under the hull of the Sea Phantom, pushing himself silently and steadily through the freezing waters. The cold was biting—sharp enough to numb his muscles, sharp enough to steal his breath—but he grit his teeth and pressed on. He kept low, hidden in the dark shadows cast by the ship’s curve and the ropes hanging loosely over the water.

When he reached the far side of the enemy vessel—the Leviathan’s Howl—he paused beneath the stern, his chest heaving with silent gasps. The ship was massive, far larger than the Sea Phantom, its frame thick with blackened wood and steel bracing. Rotting bones hung from the railings like grotesque trophies, and dark tattered sails loomed high above, casting jagged silhouettes against the sky.

Liam reached up, found a handhold, and pulled himself aboard as silently as a ghost.

The deck of the Leviathan’s Howl was quiet—eerily so. Most of the crew had stormed the Sea Phantom. But a few remained behind. Patrols. Guards. Watchmen.

Liam crouched low and moved fast.

The first pirate was alone near the railing, humming some crude sea shanty under his breath. Liam slid behind him like a shadow, clamped one arm around the man’s neck and the other over his mouth. The pirate struggled—but it lasted barely a second before Liam twisted sharply.

Crack.

The body slumped to the floor. Liam eased it down silently.

He moved again. Another one, leaning lazily near the mast. Liam snuck up, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed his head against the wooden post—once, twice—until the pirate went limp. Blood streaked down the mast.

A third pirate turned a corner and froze—just as Liam hurled a small dagger he’d taken from the second pirate. The blade struck clean into the man’s throat. He gurgled, clawed at the wound, and dropped.

Liam pulled the body behind a barrel, heart racing, drenched in cold and blood. But he didn’t stop.

He descended below deck.

The air grew heavier. Damp wood, salt, and oil filled his nostrils. Flickering lanterns cast dim light across stacks of cargo, crates, barrels...

And then he saw it.

Gunpowder.

Barrels and barrels of it—piled and stacked from floor to ceiling. Liam’s eyes widened slightly, and a slow, wicked grin curved his lips.

He stepped into the shadows, wiping the blood from his sword.

A plan was forming.

A dangerous one.