Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 75: A Toast to Liam

The deck had fallen silent, Captain Ander stood over Droskyn’s lifeless body. The infamous pirate’s blood had already soaked into the wood beneath him, pooling around his tangled hair and twisted sneer. There was no triumph in Ander’s eyes—only the cold, heavy weight of justice long delayed.

Without a word, he knelt beside the corpse and drew a short, curved blade from his belt — a ceremonial knife once gifted to him by a fallen comrade. He gripped Droskyn’s matted hair with one hand and set the blade to his neck. Each pull of the knife was steady, deliberate, the edge slicing through sinew and bone with grim resolve.

When the final ligament gave way, Ander stood and held the severed head high, the sea breeze catching strands of blood-damp hair.

"This," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "is for every soul you tormented."

And with that, he turned to his crew, the head of Droskyn dangling from his fist — no longer a symbol of fear, but a trophy of justice.

The air was still thick with smoke, the acrid scent of gunpowder lingering like a ghost over the charred remains of the Leviathan’s Howl. The defeated vessel groaned in protest as waves lapped against its damaged hull, slowly dragging the once-feared pirate ship into the depths of the ocean. But aboard the Sea Phantom, there was no mourning for the enemy — only a sense of justice and survival.

Captain Ander stood tall near the mast, his once bloodied shirt clinging to his chest, torn and weathered. In his hands, gripped with both triumph and vengeance, was the severed head of Droskyn — now embalmed and wrapped tightly in a thick cloth soaked in alchemical oils to preserve it. The head bore a permanent grimace, one last expression of the twisted soul it had housed.

Ander held the head high before the crew.

"Let it be known!" he roared, his voice carried by the sea breeze, "This is what becomes of tyrants! Of those who prey on the weak and threaten my family! This—" he lifted the head higher, "—is Droskyn the Butcher, who thought himself immortal. Let his rotting grin serve as a warning to any soul who dares challenge the Sea Phantom again!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the crew. Swords were raised, tankards slammed together, and boots pounded the deck in celebration.

Ander lowered the head carefully, handing it to one of the crew to be sealed in a glass case. Then, with blood still staining his brow, he turned toward Liam, who was leaning against the ship’s railing. Liam looked exhausted, his shirt damp, his hair matted to his forehead, but his eyes carried that same fire that had always been there.

Ander approached him slowly, his voice dropping from the roar of a captain to the warmth of a father figure. "Liam," he said, his tone steady, proud. "You could have run. Hell, I thought you did. But you swam through the black waters, climbed aboard a death ship, and blew it to pieces. You saved us all, boy."

Liam blinked at him, humbled. "I just did what I had to do. I couldn’t let him hurt any more of you."

"Nay," Ander shook his head. "You did more than that. You led when no one else could. You’re not just a fighter, Liam. You’re a leader. And leaders protect their people... no matter the cost."

There was a pause — then Ander raised his hand high, and shouted, "To Liam!"

The crew raised their mugs and weapons in the air, voices uniting in a roar.

"TO LIAM!"

Cheers, laughter, and a rush of emotion filled the deck like sunlight after a storm. Jason shoved Liam’s shoulder playfully, grinning from ear to ear.

"Next time just give us a little warning before you go blowing up half a ship, eh?" he chuckled.

Marcus stepped forward, holding a dented tankard full of ale. "Liam, you bloody madman. You blew up a whole warship... swam through the sea like some sea-spawned demon." He raised his tankard. "You never disappoint."

Liam laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, you know, can’t leave a dramatic rescue unfinished."

Before another word could be said, Mariel appeared — her auburn hair still messy from the chaos, eyes wide and burning with pride. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around Liam and pulled him into a kiss — deep, passionate, and raw with emotion. The crew howled and whistled in good-natured amusement, some banging mugs on the railings while others clapped their hands.

Even Ander, standing a few paces away, cracked a rare smile. He didn’t interfere — not this time.

But among the crowd, Sophia stood slightly behind, her arms crossed. She watched the kiss with a silent intensity, her lips tightening just a little. She didn’t say a word — instead, she smiled softly, masking the flicker of something she couldn’t quite name. Jealousy? Disappointment? Whatever it was, she buried it beneath the poise of a warrior. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Marcus leaned toward her with a sly grin and whispered, "Guess Liam’s got quite the charm. Another fine lady, eh?"

Sophia forced a chuckle. "Yeah... guess he does."

But her eyes didn’t leave Liam.

Elsewhere on the deck, Eleanor and Sera were working diligently to patch up the wounded. Jason’s arm had been grazed, Von had a deep cut on his shoulder, and Marcus was still cradling his side, but everyone was alive. And that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, below deck, the surviving pirates of the Leviathan’s Howl sat shackled in a cramped cell. Most of them bore cuts and bruises, heads hung low with defeat. They had witnessed their fearsome leader’s downfall, had seen his blood, his screams, and finally, his decapitation. Whatever spirit they had once possessed had long since fled them.

Back above, as the stars began to claim the sky and the waves calmed around them, the crew settled into celebration. They had survived hell, stared into the face of death — and spat back in defiance.

And Liam, standing with Mariel’s arms around his waist, felt it deep in his bones. They had earned this night. But more challenges lay ahead... and he would be ready.