Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 96: A god 2

The shadows were starting to stretch now—long, winding fingers trailing across the clearing as the sun began its slow descent behind the thick canopy of the jungle. The air had changed. The burning rage and frenzy of battle had faded, leaving a strange stillness behind, heavy and uncertain. The altar, still wet with blood, cast a chilling silhouette against the fading light. Liam stood there, his sword resting at his side, his brows furrowed deep in thought.

His chest rose and fell steadily, the tension still clinging to his body, but his mind... his mind was elsewhere.

He turned to Von, who stood silently by, watching him carefully, eyes wise and cautious beneath the smudged war-paint streaked across his face.

"Ask them," Liam said quietly but firmly, nodding toward the kneeling natives. "Ask them what they want."

Von blinked slowly, then gave a small nod and stepped forward. The tribe—still bowed, heads low and hands trembling—perked slightly at his voice as he spoke in their strange, guttural tongue. It was like a rhythm of grunts and chants, humming with an ancient weight. The words passed from his mouth like smoke curling through the air, catching the attention of every soul present.

For a moment, no one replied. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Then one of them stepped forward—a younger man, though his hair was woven with bones and beads, and scars laced across his torso like a canvas of pain and pride. He knelt still, but raised his head slightly to meet Liam’s gaze, though even then his eyes didn’t quite dare to meet Liam’s fully. His voice, though steady, trembled at the edges with awe.

He spoke, his words foreign but firm, rising in cadence as others behind him began to hum in agreement.

Von listened carefully, lips pressed into a line, nodding at intervals. When the man finished, Von turned back to Liam.

"He says... they want you to be their god," Von translated. "He says the tribe has never seen power like yours. You ended what none dared to question. You killed the priest—the mouthpiece of their old god. That... that alone makes you more than a man to them."

Liam said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the young native.

"The others... they agree," Von added, nodding behind him. "They’ve accepted it. As far as they’re concerned, you’re not just someone who saved us—you destroyed their whole system. Their world has shifted now."

Liam exhaled slowly, still digesting the weight of what he was hearing.

The native man spoke again, softer this time. Von turned to listen.

"He says... do with them as you please," Von translated. "They belong to you now. He says... their old god is dead, and their only guide left is the one who proved stronger. You. He’s offering their loyalty... their lives, if you ask for it."

The words lingered in the air, twisting with the last rays of sun, casting a gold-orange hue on the stunned expressions of the crew behind him.

Liam nodded slowly. "Ask him..." he said, voice steady. "If they have a king. A leader."

Von relayed the question in their tongue. The man frowned slightly, as though confused by the question, then shook his head.

"No king," Von translated. "The priest spoke for their god. The priest gave commands, made laws. They obeyed only what the god wanted... or what the priest claimed the god wanted."

"So the priest was their ruler," Liam muttered, eyes narrowing.

Von nodded. "Essentially. No council. No royalty. Just blind obedience."

Liam stepped forward now, closer to the man who had spoken. The tribe instinctively shrank back a little, fearful again of his closeness, as if his presence alone burned. Liam didn’t say a word, only looked at them—at the war paint, at the scars, at the years of madness etched in their skin. And yet, now... now they were meek. Now they knelt. Not because they wanted to rebel—but because their world had collapsed and something stronger had taken its place.

Behind him, the rest of the crew stood silently, watching.

Sophia leaned slightly on her bow, arms folded. Mariel still crouched beside Eleanor, dabbing gently at the wound on her abdomen. Jason looked tired, slumped against his staff. Marcus’s axe still dripped faintly with blood, but even he, brash as always, stood quiet now, watching the scene unfold like a coronation he didn’t fully understand.

The jungle wind shifted. Leaves rustled. A few crows cawed in the distance as dusk began to lay its blanket across the treetops.

Liam looked at Von once more.

"Tell them," he said softly, "I’m not a god. I’m not what they think I am."

Von raised a brow. "You sure you want to tell them that?"

Liam looked back at the tribe, at their beaten faces, their bruised bodies, the fear still clinging to them like shadows.

"...Tell them," Liam continued, "that if they really believe I’m their god... then they’ll start living by how I want them to. No more blood. No more sacrifices. No more killing."

Von studied Liam for a second, then nodded.

"I’ll tell them."

And as Von turned to speak again in the language of the jungle, the sun finally dipped behind the trees. And in that soft, golden twilight, where gods and monsters blurred into the same silhouette, a man stood tall... not as a deity... but as something far more dangerous.

A man with a choice.

Liam took in the sight before him—dozens of them, battered and bruised, kneeling in solemn reverence or fear... maybe both. Some of them had blood smeared across their foreheads from the ritual, others had weapons still clenched in their hands, though none dared lift them anymore. The smell of death clung to the air—flesh, fire, blood, sweat. It was everywhere. Liam exhaled slowly, then looked to Von who stood just off to the side, waiting quietly.

"Tell them to mourn their dead," Liam said, his voice low but steady. "Tell them to bury them with respect... even the ones who fought us."

Von blinked, then nodded, turning to speak to the tribespeople in their strange tongue—his voice rising clearly, sharp and commanding. As the translation reached their ears, something shifted among the natives. Heads rose slightly. Some exchanged glances with one another, their dark, paint-streaked eyes squinting under the dying sunlight. There were murmurs—soft at first, then growing into quiet affirmations as the tribe slowly, almost reverently, began to stand.

A few of them, the older ones, moved toward the bodies lying across the battlefield. The scene was grim. Corpses, both of their kin and Liam’s foes, lay scattered around the clearing—some missing limbs, others twisted in ways no body should be. The blood had soaked into the dirt, turning the earth a deep, rust-colored brown.

One native, a middle-aged man with gray in his beard and a missing eye, knelt by the body of a fallen warrior. He muttered something under his breath, brushing dirt from the dead man’s cheek before wrapping his arm around the corpse’s shoulders and lifting him carefully. Others followed suit. There were no tears, only silence, only reverence. They mourned without sound, a discipline bred by years of hard, brutal living. One by one, the bodies were gathered—laid gently in rows beneath the trees where the light was softest.

The group watched in silence. Mariel sat beside Eleanor still, gently wrapping fresh cloth over her abdomen. Jason leaned on his staff, sweat-streaked and tired. Borik had fallen to his knees at some point, perhaps out of exhaustion, or maybe guilt. Marcus, arms crossed, didn’t say a word for once. Sera stood beside Sophia, the two women keeping close, both of them watching Liam more than anything else.

Then Liam spoke again.

"As for the priest," he said, quieter now, though his tone was sharp, resolute. "He doesn’t deserve burial."

Von raised his brow and waited for the rest.

"I want them to burn him," Liam said. "Tell them... he’s the symbol of everything they need to leave behind. Let the fire take him, let it mark the end of their old ways."

Von looked at him for a long beat. There was something in Liam’s eyes—not anger anymore, not vengeance—but a quiet fury, colder than fire, heavier than stone. The kind that settles in the bones.

He nodded and turned again to speak.

The translation rolled out over the field like thunder in the distance. It struck the tribe with a different kind of weight. This time, there was hesitation. The priest had been their leader... their guide for decades, perhaps for their whole lives. Even in death, there was something sacred about his presence. But then their eyes flicked back to Liam... and they remembered the sight of him beheading the giant. The priest hadn’t saved them from him. Their old god hadn’t protected them. But this man... he had lived, and everyone else had bowed.

One of the men walked over to the priest’s corpse—its throat still gaping open, mouth frozen in an eternal gasp—and spat on it. The tension cracked. More followed. They dragged his body by the legs, pulling him down from the altar, past the bloodstains and shattered offerings. Some cursed as they passed. Others stared with wide, conflicted eyes.

They piled sticks and branches in the center of the clearing, stacking them high, dousing them with the oil that had once been reserved for sacred torches. His body was dropped atop the pile without ceremony. They stood back.

Liam didn’t move. He simply nodded toward one of the tribe’s fire-bearers. A torch was lit. The flames danced bright against the dusk. The bearer hesitated for a split second... then stepped forward and touched the fire to the edge of the wood.

It caught quickly.

The flames roared up in seconds, licking across the dried branches and devouring the priest’s robes in an instant. His body twisted, cracked, blackened. The scent was unbearable—burning flesh and fabric filling the air in a nauseating wave—but no one looked away.

They watched.

They all watched.

Even Liam.

The old ways burned with the body. Every scream the priest had uttered, every blood sacrifice made in his name, every ritual and fear—they all rose into the smoke that spiraled up into the heavens now. The jungle had no sky that night—only firelight and smoke and the scent of transformation.

Liam turned away first, his face unreadable.

Von followed him silently, the others behind.

Night was coming fast. The jungle would be dark soon.