Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 92: Chaos 2

The giant gave a furious roar that shook the very air, like a beast from a dark legend come to life. The sound was guttural, a primal declaration of bloodlust and dominance. His massive muscles tensed as he lifted the jagged bone axe high, and with a terrifying surge of speed that belied his hulking frame, he charged toward Liam.

The ground trembled beneath the giant’s thunderous steps, each one pounding like a war drum in Liam’s ears. Liam dug his heels into the dirt, blade raised, heart hammering so loudly it felt like it would burst from his chest. But at the last second, instinct screamed louder than fear—move.

He dove to the left just as the massive club swung down. The bone weapon struck the ground with a thud so violent it sent dust and shards of shattered stone flying into the air. Liam rolled across the dirt and came up on one knee, breathing hard, eyes locked on the giant as it roared again and turned toward him.

The damn thing was fast.

Too fast.

And it wasn’t just strong—it was relentless.

Liam shifted back, keeping his blade between them as the giant charged again, this time swinging from the side. Liam ducked low and felt the wind from the club brush the hair above his scalp. He stumbled but recovered, backing away toward the edge of the clearing.

The battle around them was chaos.

Von was fighting like a demon possessed, facing two giants at once on the other side of the clearing. He ducked and weaved, swinging his heavy club with expert precision. Blood flew from one of the giants’ thighs as Von landed a brutal strike, but he barely had time to follow up before the other swung at him. Von blocked with the shaft of his weapon, teeth gritted, knees nearly buckling under the force.

"Liam!" Von shouted hoarsely, eyes briefly darting toward his young companion. But he couldn’t help him—not now. Not with death snarling in his own face.

Liam heard him, but he couldn’t answer. The giant was coming again.

Another slash. Another dodge. Liam leapt back just in time, the blade of the bone axe grazing across his chest. It tore through the fabric of his shirt and sliced a shallow gash across his ribs. He winced and staggered but didn’t fall.

He couldn’t fall.

Behind him, the others were still fighting. Jason was using his staff to hold back a wave of natives charging toward Sophia and Mariel. Sophia loosed arrow after arrow, each one finding a target with deadly precision. Blood and fire danced in the clearing like old lovers.

Liam turned back to the giant. His breaths came hard now, his arms growing tired from constantly moving, dodging, keeping distance. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes.

The giant wasn’t slowing down.

In fact, the bastard looked like he was just getting started.

His painted chest heaved with each breath, but his eyes burned with a savage joy. He was enjoying this. Hunting. Playing.

Liam gritted his teeth, circling to the right.

He couldn’t keep running. Not forever. Sooner or later, the beast would catch him. He had to do something—change the pace, find a weakness.

He stepped back again, drawing the giant further away from the others, keeping the fight isolated. His feet felt heavy now, his arms aching. His sword didn’t feel light anymore. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

The giant raised his axe again and came at him—full charge.

Liam didn’t dodge this time. He sidestepped, barely clearing the swing, and brought his blade around to slice the giant’s side. But it barely did anything—the blade scraped off bone armor tied to his ribs.

Damn it.

The giant snarled, swinging again—this time with one hand, a backhand meant to decapitate. Liam dropped to the ground, rolled beneath it, and came up behind him. He slashed at the back of the giant’s leg—felt the blade bite flesh this time. Blood sprayed.

The giant roared in pain.

It was a start.

But Liam didn’t have time to celebrate. The giant spun, elbowing him hard in the side and sending him crashing against a stone pillar. Liam hit it with a grunt, his body screaming in protest.

He spat blood and got back up.

He had no choice.

He’d die standing.

And if he went down, he was taking this monster with him.

Luckily for Liam, fate decided to tip the scale just slightly in his favor. Amidst the dying clash of screams, a flicker of motion caught the edge of his vision—Eleanor. Bloodied, bruised, and barely upright, but there she was—gritting her teeth and sprinting forward.

She didn’t shout. She didn’t announce herself. She just moved.

The giant hadn’t seen her yet. His focus was entirely on Liam, his expression twisted in savage amusement as he raised his bone axe for what he clearly believed would be the final strike. But Eleanor, nimble and fast like a wild flame darting through dry leaves, was already on him.

Her twin daggers flashed in the dim jungle light—small blades, almost useless against something that size. But she didn’t aim to bring him down in one go.

She struck at joints, slashing at the back of his knees, stabbing into the side of his thigh, darting out before the massive arm could catch her. She was unpredictable and fast, like a wasp tormenting a bear. The giant roared in frustration, swinging wildly as he turned, blood now oozing in long thin lines down his leg and hip.

Liam took the opening.

He lunged, blade flashing, and slashed at the giant’s exposed side. He didn’t care about the armor now—he aimed low, beneath the bone plating, just above the waist. The steel sank deep, and this time the giant howled.

The fight had shifted. They had momentum now.

Eleanor kept moving, circling back with deadly precision. She ducked a backhanded swing, then leapt up and drove one of her daggers into the giant’s shoulder—barely piercing skin, but enough to draw another angry bellow.

"Keep him turning!" she shouted to Liam through heavy breaths, "He can’t hit what he can’t see!"

Liam obeyed without hesitation, moving to the left, forcing the giant to pivot, his massive frame now straining with effort. He was slowing. The cuts, the fatigue—it was catching up to him.

But it only took one mistake.

Eleanor made it.

She went for the ankle, too deep in, trying to hamstring him and end the fight in one final risky move. But the angle was wrong. She misjudged how far she could go without being seen.

The giant saw her. And struck.

The back of his arm moved like a battering ram, full weight and fury behind it. It hit Eleanor square in the midsection, and the sound of the impact was sickening. She let out a pained gasp—a sound that cut into Liam’s chest like a knife—and was lifted off her feet. Her body slammed into the side of a hut, wood and leaves cracking and collapsing under the force as she crashed through it, bringing the whole structure down with her.

"Eleanor!" Liam roared, but he couldn’t turn. He couldn’t go to her.

Not now.

The giant advanced, panting, bleeding, but still towering over him like a mountain of rage. Liam had no time to think—just react.

But someone did go to Eleanor.

Mariel.

From the side, ignoring the chaos still burning behind her. Her white-painted legs sprinted through the blood-soaked grass as she rushed into the ruins of the fallen hut. Her eyes were wide with fear, hands trembling as she dug through the broken wood and leaves, calling Eleanor’s name with panic in her voice.

But Liam didn’t see that. He couldn’t. His world was narrowed now—just him and the monster.

He clenched his sword tighter.

He wasn’t letting another one fall. Not today.

Not here.

He raised the blade again, and charged.