Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 121: BOOM!

She floated forward, her form twisted and unnatural, long blackened claws dragging along the stone wall as she closed in on the bloodied and nailed Borik. His body trembled from pain, muscles twitching under the strain of his limbs being held fast to the wall by the spirit’s claws. Blood dripped down from his shoulders, his mouth hanging half-open, gasping, teeth clenched as he tried not to scream.

But then... a sound.

Crack.

The spirit’s head twitched, almost unnoticeably at first. Her blackened eyes flared brighter, her clawed hand momentarily stalling mid-air as another sound came through.

Thud.

A heavier one. Then another.

THUD.

Borik’s eyes flicked towards the direction of the door—he couldn’t move his neck, but he could feel it. Something—or someone—was hammering at the door. The spirit hesitated again, her lips curling into a sneer, a guttering growl rumbling out from her throat. But instead of turning toward the noise, she chose to ignore it, her attention wholly focused on the man pinned like a grotesque trophy.

"You’ll bleed until you forget who you are," she hissed in that layered, distorted voice. "Until your flesh falls off your bones."

Borik groaned and spat out blood, glaring at her through blurry vision. "Get it over with, witch."

The spirit stepped closer, dragging a claw across his cheek, slow and cruel, savoring his helplessness.

But then—BOOM!

This time the sound was louder, heavier. The spirit’s head whipped around, her entire body twitching unnaturally as something splintered in the distance.

The wooden door. It was cracking.

Something... or someone was coming through. And the spirit was no longer alone in the dark with her prey.

_______

Von’s breath was ragged, sweat poured down his face, mixing with the grime and blood on his shoulder. Every slam against the door felt like fire crawling down his arm, but he didn’t stop. The pain was nothing now—just a dull scream in his bones. The heavy wooden door was starting to split. Not much, but enough to make him roar in defiance.

He bared his teeth, grabbed his massive club, and raised it high with his good arm. With a thunderous slam, he brought it down against the door, again and again, each crack growing louder, sharper, like bones breaking.

The final blow left the door hanging by splinters.

He stepped back, breathing hard, chest heaving with effort.

And then he let out a guttural roar—rage, fear, pain—all packed into one sound. He charged the door like a beast, shoulder first.

Wood exploded inwards.

Von stumbled in, almost falling—but what he saw froze him mid-step.

His breath caught in his throat.

Borik...pinned to the wall.

Upside down.

Blood dripping down from his torn limbs. The spirit had nailed him with dark claws, holding him there like some grotesque ornament.

And the spirit, it was floating near him, hands raised, already dragging sharp nails across Borik’s flesh, starting to peel.

Borik was barely conscious now, his mouth hanging open, bloodied, eyes rolled back.

Von’s face twisted in horror and rage. His knuckles hurt as he gripped his club tighter.

The spirit slowly turned its head.

It had noticed him.

But Von didn’t care.

Borik was still alive.

And no one—no one—was going to die while he’s watching.

Von stormed towards the spirit like a battering ram, roaring in rage. He was panting, his shoulder already bloodied and bruised from repeatedly slamming into the wood, but his eyes burned with fury the moment they locked onto the grotesque sight before him.

Borik—nailed to the wall, upside down, twitching and bleeding, flesh starting to peel where the spirit had begun to work its claws. The air reeked of blood and something fouler—dark magic and torment.

Von didn’t wait.

With a furious roar, he lifted his massive club high and swung it with all the rage and strength he could summon, straight at the dark creature.

But it moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

The spirit twisted in mid-air like smoke turning into wind. It dodged the club effortlessly, gliding to the side with unnatural grace. Von staggered slightly from the momentum of his swing, then turned sharply, baring his teeth.

The spirit floated back, now facing them both—one half-dead and pinned, the other furious and defiant. It hovered just above the floor, its presence still as chilling as death itself. Then it hissed, not like a snake but like a fire boiling over bone, a sound that twisted in the ear and unsettled the soul.

And then it spoke.

Not in any language they knew. Its voice was layered, fractured—like many tongues speaking at once, broken and ancient. It sounded angry... no, mocking. Von stepped in front of Borik protectively, tightening his grip on the club.

The spirit’s eyes flickered once, a brief pulse of black fire—then it vanished.

Not in a blink. Not like a shadow. It simply wasn’t there anymore, as if it had never existed.

Von lowered the club slowly, his chest rising and falling from adrenaline.

"Borik," he breathed and rushed to him.

Borik’s eyes were still open, groaning through the agony.

"You made it," he coughed weakly.

Von, panting heavily from exertion, kept his club raised, eyes scanning the room. His heart pounded, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but there was no sign of the spirit. It was gone, but the air felt heavier, colder, as if the very walls were suffocating them.

He turned to Borik, who was still hanging limply from the wall, his legs and arms pinned by the spirit’s claws. Blood dripped from his limbs, staining the stone beneath him. His face was pale, a grimace of pain twisted on his features.

"Borik!" Von said, his voice rough. He dropped his club and rushed toward him, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. "Hold on, I’m gonna get you down."

With one swift movement, Von grabbed the nearest sharp object—a jagged piece of rock from the floor—and used it to pry open the claws that were impaling Borik. The tension in the room was unbearable as Borik let out a strained groan of pain with each pull. Finally, the last claw was removed, and Borik collapsed into Von’s arms, his body trembling violently from the pain and shock.

"We need to get you out of here," Von muttered, panic rising in his chest as he supported Borik. He could feel the weight of his friend’s limp body leaning against him, and the urgency of the situation slammed into him like a tidal wave. The spirit could return at any moment.

Von looked at the door—the only exit in the room. It was still cracked from his earlier assault. There was no time to waste. He began dragging Borik towards the exit, his mind racing.

"Come on, Borik," Von urged, his voice gruff. "Stay with me."

As they neared the door, Von caught sight of something. The walls were starting to shake slightly, as if some force was drawing closer. The ground beneath their feet vibrated ominously. Von knew this was far from over. The spirit could come back.

With all his remaining strength, Von managed to push Borik through the door, into the narrow hallway beyond. He followed closely, knowing they had to get as far from that cursed room as possible.

"Stay awake, Borik. Just a little longer," Von said, gritting his teeth.

The two of them stumbled through the hallway, desperate to escape whatever horrors still awaited them. The shadows ahead seemed to lengthen, growing darker as the air grew colder. Von didn’t know how much longer they had before the spirit returned, but one thing was certain: they couldn’t afford to waste any more time.