Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 122: I flayed him

Liam’s burning sword hissed as it pressed deep into the aged wooden door, the heat of the enchanted flame searing through the layers like butter under a red-hot knife. He gritted his teeth and moved his arm slowly but firmly, carving a clear line down the vertical middle of the door. Sparks danced wildly as embers trailed behind the blade’s path. Then he pulled the sword sideways to his right, slicing a straight line to form the top of a square. The smell of scorched wood was thick now, biting at his nose. He didn’t stop—sweat beading on his forehead—then dragged the sword downward to complete the right edge of the square, finally finishing the bottom edge in one clean sweep.

Once the square was fully cut, Liam stepped back, raised his leg, and slammed his boot against the center of it with a sharp grunt. The thick, blackened wood groaned and then gave way, crashing inward and falling like a slab onto the floor on the other side with a heavy thud.

Liam bent down slightly and peeked through the smoking square. His eyes widened.

"Marcus?"

Marcus was standing just on the other side of the door, his axe rested on his shoulders, but when he saw Liam’s face, his tense expression broke into utter relief. "Holy hell—Liam!"

Liam didn’t waste time. He grabbed the edges of the opening and hoisted himself through. As soon as his boots hit the stone floor, Marcus rushed at him and pulled him into a hard hug. "I knew you couldn’t be dead," Marcus muttered, voice strained.

Liam clapped his back. "Not yet, brother. You okay?"

"Yeah," Marcus said, stepping back and eyeing Liam quickly. "You?" 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"I’m fine. Sword took the worst of it."

They both glanced around for a moment—still pitch black, save for the blazing sword’s flickering light, shadows dancing across the cracked walls and the ground littered with dust and small stones.

Marcus lowered his voice, tense. "Liam... I heard that spirit thing. The screeching—it was close. Really close. Someone’s in trouble."

Liam’s eyes sharpened. "You sure?"

Marcus nodded. "I’d bet my life. That door at the other end"—he pointed down the passageway where another wooden door loomed—"that’s where it was coming from."

Without waiting, Liam turned toward it, gripping his sword tighter.

"We’ve got to cut through that one too," Marcus said, already stepping in beside him. "If someone’s in there with that thing, we may not have much time."

They moved fast, the heat from Liam’s sword lighting their determined faces as they raced down the stone passageway, ready to cut through whatever stood between them and their friends.

_________

Jason and Gorr had now been wandering for what felt like hours, though time moved strangely in the pitch darkness. Their hands were raw from trailing the rough stone walls, and the silence between them was broken only by the distant, chilling echo of a shriek—high, inhuman, and unmistakably belonging to the possessed Sera. Jason froze at the sound.

"You heard that too, right?" he asked, his voice low, strained.

Gorr nodded, his voice a grim whisper. "Aye... she’s close. Or that thing in her is."

They pressed on, hearts pounding. The air was damp and foul, thick with something unnatural. Jason finally muttered, "We’re not safe in here... not even a little."

Suddenly, as they turned a corner, Gorr stumbled and nearly fell. "There’s a step," he said, steadying himself.

Jason knelt and felt around—it wasn’t just a step. It was a stairway leading downward.

"Should we?" Jason asked hesitantly.

"We’re not staying up here," Gorr replied. "Whatever’s down there... can’t be worse than being hunted in the dark."

Without another word, they descended slowly, their boots echoing on the stone stairs. The deeper they went, the colder it became, and the air started to feel heavier—like something unseen was watching.

Then they reached a dead end.

Jason cursed under his breath, his fingers running across the stone wall in front of them. "No way. This can’t be it."

"There’s gotta be something," Gorr muttered.

As they were searching, a sudden gust of cold air burst through the wall—not from around them, but through it—like something had just passed.

Both of them stepped back instinctively.

Jason gripped his staff. "Did you feel that?"

"Yeah," Gorr whispered. "We’re not alone anymore."

Jason moved cautiously, his boots scraping against the cold stone floor, his senses heightened. Gorr kept a few paces behind him. They had just retraced their steps, leaving the narrow, claustrophobic stairs behind, both preferring the uncertainty of the dark room they’d originally escaped from to the thick, suffocating silence of the twisted stairs.

"I don’t like it," Jason muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his crossbow, its cold metal pressing into his palm.

Gorr’s low grunt was the only response, his expression unreadable in the flickering torchlight. He wasn’t one for words, but Jason could feel the weight of the tension building between them. Possessed Sera’s presence still lingered, thick as the air in that damned palace.

As they entered the dark room again, Jason’s eyes darted around, scanning for any sign of movement. Nothing. The shadows seemed to stretch and bend, mocking their unease. He tightened his grip on the crossbow, his nerves buzzing like the strings of a taut bow.

"At least here we’ve got room to move," he said quietly, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. "If she’s going to come at us—"

"She will," Gorr interjected in his gravelly voice, his tone grim. The large warrior stepped into the room fully, scanning the corners like a hunter. "But not how you think."

The torches flared, casting brief, jagged shadows across the stone walls. A low, mocking laugh echoed from somewhere deeper in the room. Sera’s voice, sinister, slithered through the air.

Jason stepped in front of Gorr without thinking, loading a bolt into his crossbow as fast as his trembling hands would allow. His eyes locked on the floating, grinning horror that had taken Sera’s form but twisted her into something out of a nightmare. The way it floated there, its claws glistening wet, that wicked smile stretching unnaturally wide—it was almost too much to bear.

Then it’s soft, eerie voice echoed out. "Borik is dead," it said with a cold finality.

The voice came again, clearer now — and unmistakably Sera’s, but warped... layered with something else, something inhuman. "He begged," she said. "Screamed. But I took my time."

"No..." Gorr’s deep voice cracked with disbelief. "No, that’s not possible. Borik’s tough as hell. You’re lying!"

Jason stumbled back, breath caught in his throat. "Where’s his body?" he demanded. "Show us!"

She tilted her head and gave a soft, cruel laugh. "There’s nothing left to show. I flayed him... and I’ll do worse to you."

Gorr clenched his fists, his voice shaking with fury. "I’ll tear you apart if you’re lying!"

Possessed Sera only smirked. "You can try."

"You’re lying," Jason growled, though fear cracked at his voice. "Borik isn’t that easy to kill."

The spirit tilted its head slowly, blood still dripping from its claw, then licked it again in a slow, deliberate motion, staring at them with eyes full of hate and hunger.

"I skinned him while he screamed," it said in that terrible voice, layered with echoes of Sera’s cries and the deeper rasp of the demon inside her.

Gorr’s fist clenched beside Jason, his breath shaking. "You talk too much, demon," he said. "Prove it."