Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 134: Pain

Von gritted his teeth and forced himself upright, ignoring the searing pain tearing through his side. Blood trickled down his torso in a thin, hot line, but he didn’t care — not now. Not when something more urgent was standing right across from him, hissing and convulsing like a snake set ablaze.

The torch in his hand crackled as he lifted it higher, its flames flickering with new life as if recognizing the fear it instilled in the thing inside Sophia.

She — or rather, the spirit — still twisted and writhed, her limbs jerking at strange angles. Her head snapped side to side as her back arched unnaturally again, her fingers clawing at her own chest like she was trying to rip something out from under her skin. Smoke curled from the part of her cloak where the fire had touched. The small contact had only scorched the edge, but it had done far more damage to the thing within.

Von stared hard, trying to breathe through the agony in his side. His big hand tightened around the wooden handle of the torch. The flames danced near his knuckles. His grip didn’t loosen.

He took one step forward.

The spirit recoiled instantly, snarling now, her teeth bared in a vicious grimace. It wasn’t Sophia anymore — not in her eyes, not in her voice, not in the way she held herself. Whatever soul had once lived behind those eyes was now buried deep... or perhaps being smothered alive.

Von’s heart twisted at that thought.

His eyes never left her.

"She’s in there," he muttered. "I know she is..."

Borik, now halfway upright and leaning heavily against the wall, looked on, pale and wide-eyed. "Von... be careful. You know what this means."

Von nodded slowly. "Yeah. I do."

The flicker of the torch reflected in his pupils as he glanced at the flame.

That little flicker had made it scream. That tiny flame — no bigger than a clenched fist — had made it teleport away and wail like it had been gutted.

What would happen if it were engulfed?

If they surrounded it with fire?

If they trapped it?

He could kill it.

Burn it out of her like smoke from a chimney.

But then...

Von looked again at the face — twisted as it was. It was still Sophia’s face. Still the same skin. The same body. The same girl who had fought beside them not too long ago. Who had laughed, who had feared, who had bled with them.

Burning the spirit meant burning her. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Killing the demon meant risking her life.

He clenched his jaw and took another step forward, torch raised slightly. The spirit took a cautious step back, eyes darting to the flame and then back to him. No laughter now. No smug taunts. Just anger — and something worse.

Doubt.

Von swallowed hard. "If only I had more fire... if I could trap it..." he muttered under his breath.

He was thinking quickly now, running through ideas in his head. The room was stone. If he had oil, or cloth, or pitch — he could drive it to a corner, force it to leave her. Maybe smoke it out. Maybe—

But the reality sank in fast.

He didn’t have oil.

He didn’t have cloth.

He didn’t have anything but one small torch and an injured friend.

And no matter how much he thought about it, there was one truth he couldn’t ignore:

The more fire he used, the more likely Sophia would burn with it.

He lowered the torch a little, just slightly, and the spirit’s body relaxed — but just a little. Its lips curled into a silent snarl, like it had caught on to his hesitation.

Von didn’t speak again. He just stared.

His whole body ached. His blood ran down one leg now. But his grip on the torch never weakened. And as the two stared at each other — the man and the thing wearing his friend’s face — the silence stretched long and hard between them.

He wouldn’t let his fear drive him.

But he wouldn’t let fire take her either.

Not yet.

Not until he was sure there was no other way.

And so he stood there, unwavering, torch in hand, trying to keep one truth burning in his heart stronger than the fire in his fist:

Sophia was still in there.

And they would find a way to save her.

The silence hadn’t lasted long. Something in the air had shifted. Von felt it before he saw it — a prickling along the back of his neck, the taste of metal on his tongue, the low hum that seemed to grow within the stone walls themselves.

The spirit... it was angry now.

Possessed Sophia began to rise slowly into the air, her feet lifting off the ground with a strange smoothness that made Von’s skin crawl. Her head tilted back. Her hair floated upward as if submerged in water, writhing unnaturally. The air thickened.

Then came the wind.

It began as a low gust, swirling the dust at Von’s feet. Then it grew into something stronger, something that howled as it picked up speed, tossing debris across the room, flaring cloaks and hair in every direction. The torch in Von’s hand flickered violently.

Von’s grip tightened. He knew something was coming.

He didn’t wait for it.

With a roar, he pushed forward through the wind, his boots scraping against the rough stone floor as he swung the torch with all the might he had left. The flames carved an arc through the air — but too late.

The spirit twisted sideways, graceful and fluid, avoiding the strike by mere inches. Its face was calm, mocking — like it had been waiting for that.

And then... it flicked its hand.

A simple movement.

A mere snap of fingers.

And the torch — the one damn thing that had hurt it — died in an instant.

The flame sputtered, hissed, and was gone, as if swallowed whole by the swirling wind.

The sudden darkness was crushing.

Von froze, his arm still half-lifted, fingers clenched tight around the now useless stick of blackened wood. He stared at it in disbelief, the heat from the fire still fresh on his skin — now replaced by cold, empty air.

"No..." he breathed.

Behind him, Borik’s rasping breath caught.

The room was black.

And in that darkness, the only sound now was laughter.

That laugh.

Low at first... then rising like a wave, climbing in pitch and madness until it filled every crevice of the chamber. A laughter that wasn’t human, that scraped against the inside of Von’s ears and dug its claws down the back of his mind. A laughter that came from Sophia’s mouth — but carried no part of her soul in it.

"Game’s over," the spirit whispered.

But it echoed. It echoed everywhere. In the walls. In the ceiling. In his chest.

Von turned sharply toward the voice — but there was nothing to see. Only the void of the dark.

Then it lunged.

A sudden, violent shift of air.

He heard it, not saw it — the rush of movement, the air splitting around a form too fast to trace.

And then pain.

Blinding, stabbing pain.

The spirit’s claws dug into his chest — sharp, cruel things that tore through his clothes and bit deep into his muscle like knives. Von roared in agony and staggered back, trying to brace himself, but the weight was too much. His back hit the wall hard, knocking the wind out of him.

Sophia’s face was right in front of him now — or what remained of it. Her eyes glowed faintly red in the dark, her mouth twisted in a grin so wide it seemed to split her cheeks. Her breath reeked of rot and something older, something fouler. It spoke of grave dirt and cursed altars.

"I warned you," it hissed. "You brought fire to my door... now I’ll bring ruin to yours."

Von grunted, blood pooling at the corner of his lips, but his fists clenched — not around a weapon, not anymore — but in defiance.

"I’m not done yet," he spat.

"You’re already dead," the spirit growled, and with that, it yanked its claws free, tearing across Von’s chest with a sickening sound.

Von collapsed to one knee, gasping, hands clutched to the wound. Blood soaked through his fingers.

Borik tried to move, to crawl toward him, but he was too weak. His limbs barely worked. His eyes wide, helpless.

The spirit turned toward him next.

It smiled.

The wind still howled.

And the room — now choked in shadow — trembled under the weight of the thing that hunted them inside Sophia’s skin.