Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 129: Death

Jason was still kneeling beside Gorr, hands pressed firm against the wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, his breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum inside his chest. Gorr’s blood soaked through his fingers, hot and sticky, and Jason’s lips moved without sound, mumbling half-broken prayers to gods he didn’t believe in.

Then came a sound—sharp, unnatural.

A hiss.

Like something burning.

He froze.

It came from the far wall—the door. The old wooden one sealed shut for what felt like hours. But now it was crackling, and a faint red glow had started to pulse through its seams. Then came the smell. The sharp, acrid scent of charred wood and hot metal.

Jason’s heart thudded faster. His hand gripped the small bolt launcher on his belt. He stared at the door like it might come alive.

Then—whhhmm—a streak of flame cut across it.

Another. The burning hiss grew louder.

Jason backed away from Gorr just a little, his knees shaking. The lines of fire across the wood widened, the glow deepening until the entire door looked like it had been kissed by a forge.

Then—CRACK—a final burst of heat split the door apart. The lock snapped, and with a solid THUD, the door was kicked inward, crashing to the ground with a spray of ash and cinders.

Jason’s eyes shot to the entrance.

And there—silhouetted against the glow—was Liam.

The blazing sword still sizzled in his hand, the flame rippling along the blade like it had a mind of its own. Behind him stood Marcus, bruised and bloodied, but still standing. And slumped across Marcus’s back was someone—Mariel.

Unconscious.

Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Relief washed over him like a flood. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like the nightmare paused.

"Liam..." Jason breathed, the name falling from his lips like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Liam’s eyes swept the room, quickly registering everything—the blood, the body, Jason crouched on the floor, the trail of dark red smeared across the stone.

He was beside Jason in seconds.

"Shit," Liam muttered, dropping to one knee beside Gorr. "What happened?"

Jason’s voice was raw. "Sophia. It’s not her anymore... it’s the spirit. It clawed him. So fast... I couldn’t stop it—"

Marcus climbed in behind them, gently lowering Mariel against the wall with the utmost care. She hadn’t stirred. Her breathing was shallow. Her blonde hair was matted with blood. Marcus looked at her face, jaw tight, then back at Gorr and the pool of blood around him.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Liam pressed his hand to Gorr’s chest, shaking him lightly, but there was no reaction. Just a flicker in his eyes, a faint gasp on his lips—he was barely hanging on.

Jason looked to Liam, desperation in his face. "He’s dying, Liam. I don’t know what to do—he’s losing too much—"

Liam didn’t answer at first. His face was drawn. Focused. Then, after a long moment, he glanced back at Marcus.

"We need to move," Liam said. "We’re not safe here. And if the spirit’s playing games... it’ll be back."

Marcus gave a grim nod.

Jason sat back on his heels, still stunned that they were here—finally here. He wiped Gorr’s blood from his hands on the inside of his shirt, breath shuddering as he looked at Liam again.

"Thank god you came."

Liam didn’t reply.

He just looked down at Gorr—eyes heavy—and silently prayed they weren’t already too late.

Jason crouched lower and hooked his arms under Gorr’s shoulders, his face twisted in determination and dread. "Come on, big guy... I got you," he muttered, straining as he tried to lift him.

But before he could even get Gorr to his feet, a hand—shaky, trembling—reached out and grabbed Jason weakly by the wrist.

Jason froze.

"Stop," Gorr whispered, barely audible.

Jason looked down, eyes wide. "What? No. We’re getting out of here—Liam and Marcus are here, we’ll find something to stop the bleeding—"

Gorr shook his head slowly, and a faint smile curved across his cracked lips. "It’s no use... lad. I’m not going to make it."

Jason’s heart dropped into his stomach. "Don’t say that. Just—just stay awake. We’ll figure it out. You’re stronger than this—"

Liam stepped forward and knelt beside them. He didn’t say anything right away. His eyes scanned the wound again—the deep, open gash across the thick neck. Blood still flowed, slower now, but darker. Thicker. Artery blood. Death blood.

Marcus stayed silent too, leaning heavily on his axe. His jaw clenched. Then he finally spoke, voice hollow.

"He’s right," Marcus said, eyes glued to the floor. "It’s... it’s too deep. Artery’s gone."

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. He looked down at Gorr, and for the first time, he saw it. The paleness in his lips. The dull flicker in his eyes. The way he struggled just to breathe.

Gorr knew it too.

And he wasn’t afraid.

With a grunt of effort, the old warrior shifted slightly so he could look at them—one by one. He looked at Jason first. Then Marcus. Then Liam.

"You boys..." Gorr rasped, his voice barely more than air. "You fought like kings. Bled like warriors. And I’d bleed again... for all of you."

Liam’s throat bobbed. He couldn’t speak.

Jason leaned closer, his face pale and streaked with sweat.

Gorr exhaled slow. "I want all of you to swear... you’ll finish this. Stop that spirit. Save the girl. Burn this cursed place to the ground if you have to."

"We will," Liam said, his voice a growl. "You have my word."

Gorr smiled faintly. Then, as the pain seemed to fade from his face, he looked upward toward the dark ceiling above them.

"I’ll be seeing my Friend soon," he said softly. "Threk’s probably waiting. Smiling like an idiot. Might even have a drink ready."

Liam’s eyes burned. Jason turned away, unable to watch.

Gorr let out one final breath, long and peaceful.

Then he went still.

Liam closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Marcus knelt down and placed a hand on Gorr’s chest. "Rest easy, you stubborn bastard," he murmured.

Jason just sat there, still and silent, staring at the warrior who had fought beside them, bled for them, and now... died for them.

The silence in the room was heavy. Thicker than the smoke, heavier than the blood on their hands.

Gorr was gone.