Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 73: Sea Phantom Fury

Liam’s boots hit the deck with a wet slap, seawater dripping from his clothes, his hair plastered to his forehead. He was drenched, cold, and furious—but alive. His chest heaved as he took in the burning chaos around him. Flames from the Leviathan’s Howl cast a hellish glow across the sea, and the air was thick with smoke, ash, and the coppery scent of blood. The Sea Phantom groaned under the strain of battle, timbers cracked, and men screamed in pain or rage. But none of that mattered to Liam now.

His sword was already in his hand.

And it was thirsty.

The first pirate lunged at him with a curved saber, yelling something guttural—but Liam ducked under the swing, twisted his body like a dancer, and sliced clean through the man’s gut, his blade carving deep through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed out like a fountain, hot and sudden, staining Liam’s soaked clothes darker. He didn’t pause. The second attacker came from behind, but Liam spun and brought his blade upward in a brutal arc, splitting the pirate’s jaw in half. The body collapsed without a sound.

"Liam! You fuckin’ bastard," Marcus shouted across the deck, raising his axe with a wide grin. "You never disappoint!"

Liam turned his head toward Marcus, the blade in his hand gleaming with fresh blood. His grin was wicked, wild—feral even.

"There’s no way I’m forsaking my family, eh?" he called back, voice hoarse but burning with resolve.

Marcus barked a short laugh, one that cut through the madness. "Let’s send these bastards to the deep!"

Without hesitation, Marcus charged into the fray beside Liam, his mighty axe swinging in wide, vicious arcs. He cleaved through two pirates in one brutal motion, sending limbs and blood flying across the deck. The pirates, realizing their prey had become predators, began to backpedal—but it was far too late.

The tide had turned.

Sophia, meanwhile, had lost her bow and arrows earlier—confiscated and cast aside by the pirates. But that didn’t stop her. She scanned the deck and spotted a discarded scythe, a cruel-looking thing with a rusted, curved blade. Not ideal. Not even familiar. But it was a weapon.

She grabbed it with both hands.

As the first pirate approached, sword raised, Sophia dipped low and swept the scythe in a fast horizontal slash, catching the pirate across the thigh and dropping him to his knees. Before he could scream, she twisted the blade and yanked it upward, gutting him with shocking speed. Her movements weren’t smooth—but they were fast, savage, instinct-driven. She kept going, dodging and slashing, cutting down anyone who got too close.

Eleanor fought like a ghost beside her—calm, deadly, her daggers work precise and elegant. Jason, wild-eyed and bleeding from a cut on his brow, fought with the desperation of a man who had been bound too long. Together, they cut a path through the chaos, the crew of the Sea Phantom rising like demons from the ashes.

And behind them, the Leviathan’s Howl—the monstrous beast of a ship—was dying.

The explosion Liam had triggered had blown out over half the ship’s rear, ripping apart masts, shattering gun decks, and tearing into the lower hull where stores of gunpowder had turned the belly of the vessel into a fiery tomb. The flames had reached deep, and the gaping wound in the hull now gurgled as seawater rushed in to fill it. The once-mighty warship was sinking—slowly but inevitably. The fires raged on the surface while the ocean pulled the beast beneath.

The pirates who weren’t dead or already swimming for their lives began to scream in panic, leaping from the burning decks, abandoning their captain, abandoning their fight.

Droskyn stood at the edge of the chaos, watching his pride and power crumble before him.

"No... no... NO!" he howled, his voice raw with disbelief. "That was my ship! My ship!"

He spun in circles like a madman, clutching his shotgun in one hand, trying to make sense of the loss. The smoke stung his eyes. The flames danced in them. Everything he had built was falling apart.

Then—

CRACK.

A heavy blow struck the back of his head, and the world tilted.

Droskyn staggered forward, arms flailing for balance. A warm trickle of blood ran down the back of his neck, pooling at the collar of his tattered coat. He blinked, dazed, vision swimming.

Behind him stood Captain Ander, bruised and battered, one arm limp from the bullet wound to his shoulder, but still standing—his other hand clutching a large, jagged splinter of wood, thick as a club and sharpened by sheer desperation.

"You son of a bitch..." Ander growled, his voice like gravel soaked in hate. "That was for my daughter."

Droskyn swayed, blinking. "You... you bastard..."

Then he collapsed like a felled tree, face-first into the blood-soaked wood, his shotgun clattering out of his hand. The deck trembled as his weight hit the boards.

Silence hovered—just for a breath.

Then the battle continued in full force. But now, the Sea Phantom had its fury restored. And the pirate king was down.

While the chaos continued to swirl across the deck of the Sea Phantom like a living storm—blood, fire, screams, and steel—Von and his two companions emerged from the smoke like towering beasts of war. The giant’s massive frame stood nearly a head taller than every man on board, and now his companions had joined him again, there was no holding back.

Von’s club was back in his hands—a monstrous length of ironwood, reinforced with dark metal bands and thick iron studs embedded across its brutal head. It had been taken from him earlier and stashed behind the mast by one of the pirates, but Von had retrieved it, and now it moved as if it were part of him—an extension of his fury.

He bellowed, deep and guttural, voice echoing over the din of battle.

The first pirate who dared approach met a swift and terrible fate. Von swung his club low and wide, smashing through the pirate’s legs with a sickening crunch, both femurs breaking at once. The man didn’t even scream—his body went limp midair as he was lifted clean off the deck, then landed in a broken heap several feet away.

The next pirate lunged from the side, yelling, blade raised high—but Von caught the man’s arm mid-swing, crushing it in his grip like dried twigs. The pirate wailed in agony, but only for a second before Von grabbed him by the collar and flung him overhead, sending the man spiraling overboard with a splash so loud it silenced part of the nearby fighting for half a heartbeat.

His companions weren’t idle either.

The hulking bald brute wielded a chain he had wrapped around both fists. He spun it like a viper, letting it fly into the crowd. It struck two pirates at once—one across the face, splitting open his cheek and knocking teeth from his jaw, the other across the chest, leaving deep, bloody welts. He yanked the chain back, wrapped it around one man’s throat, and pulled. The gurgling, gasping pirate clawed at the chain, but he only twisted harder until the body went limp and dropped. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Breathe now, if ye can," he snarled, already turning toward his next kill.

The second companion, was the smallest of the trio—but no less terrifying. he moved with uncanny speed, darting between pirates with two short, curved daggers in his hands. His braids whipped behind him as he ducked low under a swinging sword and plunged both blades into the pirate’s gut, twisting them before ripping sideways. Blood sprayed across hks leathers, but he was already moving, already carving through another opponent.

"You picked the wrong crew to board," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Von stomped across the deck like a war machine, swinging his club in massive arcs. Every hit he made seemed to crack bone or send someone flying. He wasn’t fighting for style or finesse—he fought like a storm, overwhelming and raw. He crushed a pirate’s ribs into his chest with a downward slam. He broke a man’s spine with a backhand swing. One unlucky soul was caught mid-run and swatted off the deck entirely, flying over the railing and disappearing into the black waters below.

"Come on, you bastards!" Von roared. "Come and get your punishment!"

Three pirates rushed him at once. Von didn’t dodge. He didn’t retreat. He planted his feet and roared into their faces. The first stabbed at him—his blade barely nicked Von’s shoulder. The second swung wide, but the bald brute’s chain snapped around the sword and yanked it from his hands. The second companion appeared from the side and slit the throat of the third before he even reached Von.

Then Von took two steps forward, his club raised, and slammed it down like a hammer on a coffin lid, smashing one pirate flat onto the deck. The remaining two screamed and turned to flee, but Von grabbed them both by the back of their shirts and smashed their heads together, skulls cracking like melons before he hurled their limp bodies aside.

The pirates had lost whatever courage they had left. They began to break—some tried to run, others to jump into the sea. Many didn’t even get the chance.

The bald brute stepped over bodies, still twirling his chain, face smeared with blood not his own. "We ain’t done yet, Von."

"No," Von growled, eyes flashing. "Not ’til every last one of ’em is crushed or begging."

"I’ll find the ones who took my blades," O

The second companion hissed. "I want their fingers."

Together, the three of them kept pushing forward—unstoppable, terrifying, merciless—cutting through the last of Droskyn’s desperate men like wolves through a flock of sheep. Every pirate that still held a weapon hesitated before facing them. Some threw down their swords. Others tried to run. Few succeeded.

The deck was becoming littered with bodies. Blood ran in rivulets between the wooden planks. The sea itself looked red in the fading light.

And Von kept moving forward, that giant club in hand, carving a path through the end of Droskyn’s reign.