Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 42: New Skill Unlocked

The guards rushed in with aggressive swings of their weapons, but the group was already moving like a well-oiled machine. They had no intention of killing, but they wouldn’t let themselves be taken down easily either.

Sophia reacted first. A guard lunged at her with his sword, aiming for her midsection. She sidestepped with ease, twisting her body and lifting her knee sharply into his abdomen. The impact forced the air from his lungs, making him double over in pain. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bow and struck him across the face with the wooden curve, knocking him out cold before he could recover.

Another guard came at her immediately, swinging his blade with reckless aggression. Sophia’s eyes flickered with determination. She swiftly ducked under his swing, pivoted behind him, and slung her bow over his head. With a quick motion, she pulled the string back, snapping it against his face. The sharp sting made the guard howl in pain as he stumbled back, covering his eyes.

Meanwhile, Liam found himself facing two guards at once. They attacked in sync, but he barely moved his feet. With precise movements, he parried their strikes effortlessly, his sword clashing against theirs in rapid succession. Each time they tried to gain an advantage, Liam countered smoothly, blocking their attacks and redirecting their force.

He waited for an opening, then suddenly struck back. Using the hilt of his sword, he slammed one guard in the stomach, causing him to stagger backward with a grunt. Before the second guard could react, Liam spun around and kicked him in the chest, sending him crashing onto the ground. They struggled to rise, but Liam kept knocking them back down with quick blows—one to the ribs, another to the legs. Eventually, they were too weak to continue attacking.

Marcus, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He laughed as he swung the flat side of his axe at the guards, sending them tumbling to the ground like ragdolls. "Come on, you weaklings! Is this all you’ve got?" he bellowed.

One guard tried to strike him from the side, but Marcus simply lifted his arm, letting the blade scrape against his armor harmlessly. He turned to the attacker with a wicked grin and smacked him across the head with the blunt side of his weapon, knocking the poor man onto his back.

Eleanor moved with lethal grace, her daggers spinning in her hands. She was precise, weaving through the guards like a shadow. One stepped forward, attempting to grab her, but she spun effortlessly, slamming the pommel of her dagger into his jaw. Another charged at her, but she ducked low, swept his legs from under him, and struck him across the chest with the handle of her blade. Each movement was calculated, swift, and efficient.

Jason, however, was the most ruthless. He twirled his golden staff with expert control, striking at the guards repeatedly. Unlike the others, he didn’t waste time playing around. Each hit was deliberate and relentless—first to the legs, then to the ribs, then to the arms. He delivered a sharp jab to one guard’s stomach, making him double over in pain, then spun around and smacked another across the head, sending him to the ground in a daze.

Lord Davos, who had been watching the fight unfold, felt a chill run down his spine. His confident smirk had vanished, replaced by a look of disbelief. These weren’t just some common mercenaries or travelers—they were skilled fighters, and they were toying with his men.

His guards, the ones he trusted to keep order and enforce his will, were being humiliated. One by one, they dropped, clutching their bruises and groaning in pain. Not a single one of them had landed a proper hit.

For the first time in a long while, Lord Davos felt something unexpected.

Fear.

Lord Davos stood tall, but the once-confident posture now seemed brittle, shaken by the display of skill and power that had just unfolded before him. His guards—strong, seasoned men—lay sprawled on the ground, groaning and barely able to move. His eyes darted from one member of the group to the next, unable to comprehend how they had dispatched his guards so effortlessly. Anger boiled within him, but beneath that anger, a seed of fear began to sprout, growing deeper as Liam’s piercing gaze locked onto his own.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You think you can just come here and act like this? I’ll make sure you’re all thrown into the dungeons for your insolence," Lord Davos threatened, his voice unsteady but defiant.

Liam didn’t flinch. His expression remained stoic, his eyes cold as ice. He took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between him and the rich man. With every step, the air seemed to grow heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. The weight of his presence alone felt suffocating to Lord Davos.

As Liam closed the gap between them, the world around him seemed to quiet, as though the very air itself was holding its breath. His eyes, dark and unwavering, were locked onto Lord Davos. There was no hint of emotion, no anger or pity—just a chilling calm that made the space between them feel unnaturally vast.

Lord Davos could feel his heartbeat quicken, the blood in his veins seeming to freeze. His hands clenched, but even that felt like a futile attempt to regain some semblance of control. His words, once sharp and commanding, now felt hollow, barely a whisper against the growing tension. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but his body refused to obey him.

Every step Liam took was deliberate, precise, like the quiet approach of a predator. The rich man tried to stand his ground, but the weight of Liam’s gaze was like a pressing force against his chest, suffocating him. His breath grew shallow, the coldness creeping under his skin, sinking deeper with every second. The temperature seemed to drop in the space between them, the warm sun of the afternoon no longer touching his face, replaced by an eerie chill.

Liam’s expression never wavered, his stance unwavering as he continued to advance. Each step Liam took was like the tick of a clock, each one tightening the noose around Lord Davos’s throat. He wanted to move, to step back, to run, but he couldn’t. His legs were frozen in place, his body betraying him. The rich man’s mouth went dry, his voice faltering as he tried to bark another command, but no words came. It was as if the very sound of his voice had been stolen from him.

"Buy the goods for the agreed price..." Liam’s words cut through the air, each syllable sharp and deliberate, like the stroke of a blade. His tone was cold, flat—a stark contrast to the tension that had built between them. The threat in his voice was unmistakable, but there was no malice in it. No need for it. The cold, calculated certainty of his demand was enough.

Lord Davos opened his mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. It was as if the very sound of Liam’s presence had extinguished all defiance within him. He shuddered, a cold sweat beading on his forehead, his entire body trembling—not from the chill in the air, but from the overwhelming force of Liam’s presence. It was a sensation he had never experienced, and one he could not shake.

For the first time, Lord Davos understood what true power looked like. It wasn’t the wealth he’d accumulated, or the soldiers at his command, or the castles he’d built. No, power was this—an unyielding, bone-deep certainty that left no room for hesitation, no room for doubt. And in that moment, he realized that he was staring into the eyes of someone who would take what they wanted, regardless of what stood in their way.

The fear clawed at him, crawling under his skin, and before he knew it, he found himself nodding, his body no longer under his control. His lips parted as he spoke, but it was less a command and more a concession. "F-Fine," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "The goods... the goods will be bought at the agreed price."

Liam didn’t smile. There was no need. He simply nodded once, his eyes never leaving Lord Davos’s pale face. Without a word, he turned on his heel, signaling to the group that the matter was settled. The merchant, seeing the tension finally lift, let out a sigh of relief, though he was still visibly shaken by the exchange.

The tension of the encounter with Lord Davos still hanging in the air like a thick fog. The merchant, looking both relieved and eager to leave, hastily collected his payment from the trembling Lord Davos, who now seemed far more docile than before. He shoved the bag of coins into his cart and made sure to count them twice, ensuring that he wasn’t being swindled after the confrontation. With a nervous glance at Liam, the merchant urged the group to move on, his voice almost shaking with anxiety.

"Let’s not waste any more time," he said hastily, looking over his shoulder as if expecting Lord Davos to suddenly spring into action. "He’ll retaliate, mark my words. We don’t need to be around here when that happens."

Liam, however, wasn’t paying attention to the merchant’s warning. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind racing as he processed the events that had just unfolded. The praise from Marcus, Sophia, Jason, and Eleanor washed over him like distant echoes, faint and fading, their voices drowned out by the whirlwind of his internal thoughts. They were all speaking at once, their words laced with admiration for his actions, but none of it felt real to him right now. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate their support—it was just that something else had caught his attention.

A notification screen had appeared before him. His focus sharpened, cutting through the noise of his friends’ voices as his eyes locked onto the words displayed in front of him. He felt a strange sense of detachment as he read through the message, his heart rate quickening just a bit, though his outward appearance remained calm.

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New Skill Unlocked:

Death Stare

Effect: Causes intense fear and paralysis in the target. The target is immobilized and overcome with a deep sense of dread, temporarily losing their ability to fight or respond. The effect can last up to 30 seconds, depending on the target’s willpower and mental fortitude.