Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 104: Back to the ruin route

As Liam rejoined the group, his boots crunching lightly on the dirt. His face was set, unreadable, the weight of the new responsibility he’d just placed on Dama lingering like dust on his shoulders. The others looked up as he approached—Jason paused in adjusting the strap on his staff, Sophia glanced from her arrow pouch, and Marcus leaned back against a tree, arms crossed.

"We moving?" Marcus asked, voice rough, eyes still burning.

Liam gave a small nod. "Yeah," he said. "We’ve wasted enough time here."

The group stood one by one, gathering their gear. There was no excitement in the air—just quiet resolve, maybe even tension. The kind that came after too many days of blood and too little clarity.

Mariel glanced at Liam without saying a word. Sera and Borik stood a little apart from everyone. Even Eleanor looked tired, her usually sharp demeanor softened by the gravity of all they’d been through.

The sound of drums began to rise behind them—low, rhythmic, haunting.

Liam turned.

The natives had gathered again, but this time, there were no weapons, no torches, no bones hung from spears. Instead, there were petals scattered on the path and thick, curling smoke rising from bowls of burning herbs. Dama stood at the center, watching Liam with reverent eyes.

It was a send-off.

A send-off for a god.

Liam felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t want it. He hadn’t asked for it. But it was there, and walking away from it wouldn’t change what he’d become to them.

"Look at these maniacs," Marcus muttered beside him, his voice harsh and bitter. "They’re throwing flowers like they didn’t just gut Threk and dance around his corpse." He spat on the ground. "Bastards."

Jason didn’t say anything. Neither did the rest of them.

The drums continued, until Liam stepped forward. The path was lined with kneeling natives, heads bowed low to the earth. The two scouts they had selected—broad-shouldered, wild-eyed, but respectful—stood at the edge of the jungle, waiting for the group.

Liam turned to the others. "We’ve got guides," he said. "They’ll take us through the fastest route. No detours."

Everyone nodded.

Liam took one last look back. The villagers didn’t raise their eyes. They didn’t chant or cheer. They just bowed in complete silence as their ’god’ left them behind.

The forest swallowed the group quickly, vines and trees closing in as they passed through the wall of green. The drums faded behind them like echoes from another life.

They had left something behind in that village. Something terrifying. Something sacred. And now they walked toward something darker still.

The ruins waited.

The group moved steadily beneath the thick jungle canopy, every step accompanied by the crunch of fallen leaves and the occasional distant cry of a bird or some creature unseen. Sunlight filtered through the tangled layers of green above, casting shadows that twisted and danced along the narrow trail they followed. The two native guides, bare-chested and sharp-eyed, led the way with quiet focus, hacking at overgrowth and muttering instructions to one another in their tongue.

After some time, Liam slowed his pace and gestured for Von to walk beside him.

"Ask them," Liam muttered, not taking his eyes off the backs of the guides, "how long until we reach the ruins."

Von glanced at him, then quickened his step until he was close enough to speak to the older of the two scouts. Their words passed in low, rapid tones. Liam kept watching, noting the sudden slight stiffness in the guide’s posture. After a few seconds, the man replied, his voice firm but cautious.

Von turned back to Liam. "He says... four days. If we don’t stop too often. Maybe less if we keep up a fast pace. But the way isn’t easy."

"Four days," Liam repeated quietly, more to himself than to Von. He nodded slowly, though his stomach twisted a little tighter.

The idea of walking four more days through that suffocating jungle... toward something even the cannibalistic natives had feared... it didn’t sit right. It wasn’t the distance. It was what waited at the end of the path. The silence of the natives when the ruin was mentioned. The way the guide had paled when Von asked. The way Borik and Sera had stayed silent, still clinging to whatever the hell they were hiding.

Liam’s eyes shifted, catching Borik in his peripheral vision. The man was walking near the rear of the group, silent, one hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. Sera was close behind him, quiet as ever, her pale eyes unreadable. Marcus trudged nearby with a steady limp, axe over his shoulder, muttering curses under his breath every time a low-hanging branch smacked him in the face.

Liam exhaled, long and slow. His body was stronger now—he could feel it in his legs, his arms, even his reflexes. But that strength did nothing for the weight in his chest.

He turned his gaze to Mariel.

She walked a few paces ahead of him, sword on her back, her movements precise and calm, but distant. She hadn’t said a word to him all morning. Not one glance. Not one breath wasted. Her silence wrapped around her like armor.

He picked up his pace until he was beside her. For a moment, he thought to say something—to explain, to defend, to apologize again—but the look on her face stopped him. Not one of anger. But hurt. Something deeper. Something raw.

So he stayed silent.

The leaves rustled above. A bird took off from a branch with a loud shriek. The group kept walking.

Mariel didn’t look at him.

And Liam felt, for the first time since all this had started, that maybe the pain he was carrying now wasn’t from battle or blood or betrayal—but from the space between him and someone he never wanted to hurt in the first place.

He didn’t speak.

And she didn’t ask him to.

In that moment, everyone of them was lost in thoughts.