Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 153: Older Liam

"Come," the older Liam said with a slight smile, resting a hand on Liam’s shoulder. "Let me show you around."

Liam hesitated. The older version of himself was calm, confident—carrying an ease that felt foreign compared to the chaos in his own heart. But there was something in the tone, a strange familiarity, that made him follow without argument.

They stepped through the chamber’s doorway, and suddenly everything was different.

The cold gloom of the palace was gone, replaced with warmth and life. Sunlight streamed in through tall, colored glass windows. The walls gleamed with polish and gold. There was laughter in the air—real laughter—and music, soft and distant, drifting from the great hall.

Liam stared in disbelief as servants bustled past, carrying trays of fruits and scrolls. Elders with thick robes and glowing staffs wandered through the corridors, nodding respectfully at one another. The air was vibrant. Alive. Nothing like the cursed halls they had fought through.

"What is this place?" Liam asked, barely recognizing it as the palace.

"This," the older Liam said, gesturing broadly, "is what it becomes. Or could become. You’ll rule here one day... depending on your choice."

Liam froze. Rule? The idea sounded ridiculous. And yet... as he looked around, as he saw the unity of races walking together—Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, Orcs and more—he saw a future. A real one.

"Follow me," his older self said, guiding him down the corridor.

They passed murals that hadn’t existed before, paintings of battles Liam hadn’t yet fought, images of a golden tree restored in a lush valley. He didn’t ask questions anymore. His mind was swimming.

Then they reached a quiet room at the end of the hallway.

The door creaked open as the older Liam stepped aside. "Go on," he said.

Liam walked in—and stopped dead in his tracks.

Sophia was there.

She sat on a velvet cushion near a wide window, her blonde hair catching the golden sunlight. Her eyes were soft, her lips curved in a small smile. She was cradling a baby—tiny, wrapped in silk—and humming a song under her breath.

Liam’s chest tightened.

"Sophia..." he whispered.

She didn’t respond.

He stepped forward, trembling slightly. "Sophia!"

Still nothing.

His older self stepped beside him. "They can’t see you. None of them can."

Liam turned, his heart aching. "What is this?"

"That’s your queen, Liam," the older version of himself said softly, his voice low with emotion. "And that... is your heir."

Liam stood frozen, staring at the scene before him like a man watching a dream unfold in slow motion. Sophia, dressed in a soft gown of pale blue, looked more radiant than he had ever seen her. Her face held a quiet joy, the kind that could only come from a life lived in peace. The baby in her arms stirred gently, a tiny fist poking out from the bundle of cloth. She brushed her thumb across its cheek and leaned in to kiss its forehead.

Liam’s lips parted slightly, his breath shallow. "So... I would really rule this place? This palace... this city?"

The older Liam turned to face him. There was pride in his eyes, and a strange, almost wistful calm. "Yes. If you pass the trials... if you survive what’s ahead. This future is yours. Not promised—but possible."

Liam didn’t speak right away. He took a step closer to Sophia, close enough to see the faint freckles beneath her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the baby’s tiny breaths. He had seen her fight with blood on her hands and fury in her eyes... but never like this. Never so still. So serene. And it wasn’t just her. The entire palace—the people, the air, the very stones—seemed at peace.

A deep ache rose in his chest.

He’d never let himself think this far ahead. He was always pushing forward, surviving the next step, the next trial, the next fight. But now, seeing this...

He wanted it.

He wanted peace.

He wanted her.

He wanted the laughter of a child that shared both their faces. He wanted days that didn’t begin with violence or dread. And if this place could offer that... if his choices could lead to that...

"I want this," Liam said finally, his voice barely a whisper, but firm. He turned to face his older self, meeting his gaze. "I want this life. I know the life of a king isn’t easy. I know what it costs. But I want it. Even with the weight... even with the battles... if it leads here—" He glanced back toward Sophia and the child, his eyes misty. "—then it’s worth it."

The older Liam didn’t reply right away. He just studied him with that same steady gaze... and nodded once, slowly.

"Nothing comes without sacrifice, Liam," his older self said, folding his hands behind his back as he looked once more at the vision of Sophia cradling the child. "Not peace. Not love. Not this kingdom. You’ll pay for all of it, one way or another."

Liam clenched his fists slightly at his sides. "I figured," he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from Sophia. Her smile, even though faint and meant for the baby, struck something deep within him. It wasn’t the kind of smile one wears for war or duty—it was something that could only be born from safety, from fulfillment. He didn’t know when, or how, but somewhere along the line, he had begun to crave that kind of quiet.

"This may be an illusion," the older Liam continued, his voice firm now, "but the power of that treasure—what you touched—has the ability to show possible futures. Real possibilities. And this... this is one of them. It’s showing you what can be. If you pass this test."

Liam’s brows furrowed, and he turned slowly to face his older self. "What’s the test?"

There was a pause. Not the kind that came from hesitation—but the kind that warned you what came next wasn’t going to be easy to hear.

"There are three tests, Liam," the older version said finally. "Not one. Three. This... is only the first."

Liam stared at him, stunned. He took a step back, the words sinking into him like cold rain.

"Three?" His voice rose, the disbelief plain. "Three tests?"

He felt heat creeping up his neck, not from anger, but frustration. Exhaustion. Mental fatigue that had long since blurred into emotional weight. "You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered.

His thoughts raced. He had barely made it this far. They had lost Gorr. Sophia had nearly died. Eleanor had almost been sacrificed. He had already risked his sanity, his soul, to come this far... and now he was being told this was just the beginning?

His hands moved to his hips, then dropped, restless. "How the hell am I supposed to handle three of these?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

But the older Liam just stood there in silence... watching him. Offering neither comfort nor explanation—only presence. And the unspoken truth that nothing of worth ever came without struggle.