Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 85: We’re Fucked

The jungle swallowed them.

Bound at the wrists, herded like livestock, the group stumbled forward beneath the watchful glare of the jungle natives. The path was narrow and tangled with roots and vines, and the only light came from a few burning torches carried by the natives, their flames flickering wildly with each step. Darkness loomed on every side, thick and heavy, and even the moon was nowhere to be seen, hidden behind a curtain of thick jungle canopy.

No one spoke, not loudly at least. Marcus grumbled under his breath, stumbling as a native shoved him forward with the butt of a spear. "Damn this... damn jungle, damn you, Borik. You damned bastard. This is all your fault."

Borik, trudging beside him, puffed with exhaustion. "Oh aye? Was it me who brought the cannibals then? Did I draw them with me bloody beard, did I?"

Jason walked behind them, wrists raw from the vines binding him. "Enough, both of you," he said, trying to keep his voice even, though it trembled slightly. "We’ve been in worse. Remember Droskyn? We got through that."

"That was pirates!" Marcus hissed. "Humans! We could reason with them. These—these jungle freaks don’t even speak our tongue!"

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but Von cut in from the front, his voice low and grim. "He’s right. This is worse. A lot worse. Pirates may take you for ransom... these ones?" He looked over his shoulder, his expression hard. "These ones don’t trade. They take."

The group continued in silence after that, feet dragging through mud, sweat dripping down their backs, and the occasional hoot of night creatures echoing through the trees. Liam’s heart pounded, but not from fear for himself. He kept looking over his shoulder—Mariel and Sophia weren’t with them. Taken somewhere else. Separated. Every moment without them added weight to his chest.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight. Where are they taking them? Why just them?

Eventually, after what felt like hours of trudging, the trees opened up to a small clearing surrounded by thick jungle walls. At the center was a large pit—circular and deep, dug into the earth with rough edges and sharpened stakes along the bottom to deter climbing. The natives shoved the group toward it, and without ceremony, began pushing them in one by one.

Jason hit the ground with a grunt. Then Marcus and Eleanor. Sera was lowered down slightly more gently but still hit the floor hard enough to cry out. Von leapt down himself before they could shove him. Gorr and Threk followed without resistance. Borik cursed all the way down.

They landed in a tangled heap at the bottom of the pit—damp, cold, and pitch black.

Above them, the sound of a heavy wooden grate being pulled over the hole echoed like thunder in the silence. With a slam, it shut tight. And then... darkness. Complete and suffocating.

Guards shuffled around the edge above, speaking in their strange, sharp tongue. And just like that, they were trapped. No way out. No light. No weapons. No hope.

"Sophia..." Liam murmured in the dark. "Mariel..."

"They didn’t throw them in here," Von muttered. "They’re somewhere else. Probably being kept for... other reasons."

"What does that mean?" Marcus growled.

Von didn’t answer.

Sera began to cry softly, her sobs muffled against the damp dirt.

"Hey... hey," Jason whispered gently, moving closer. "We’re gonna be okay. We’ll get out of this. We’ve done it before."

"No, Jason," Von said flatly. "This isn’t a game anymore. You feel that?" He pressed a hand to the dirt wall. "That’s real. That smell. That sweat. That blood in the air. We’re in their world now. And we just got caught."

The night dragged on endlessly in the pit, each second stretching like an eternity. The damp soil beneath them clung to their clothes and skin, the air stale and heavy. No one spoke much. Sleep had come in short, broken waves, interrupted by nerves, fear, and the occasional growl of a jungle predator in the distance. The guards above them were restless too—shifting, pacing, whispering in that strange, guttural tongue.

And then came the morning.

It began with the distant beat of drums—low and deep, thudding like the heartbeat of some great, unseen beast in the jungle. A rhythm ancient and deliberate. Then came the chanting. Dozens of voices, maybe more. Wild, fierce, and rising with every second. There was no mistaking it. A festival.

Von sat up first. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just listened. His brows knit, face grim and pale beneath the crust of dirt on his skin. Then he muttered under his breath, low and hard.

"Shit... We’re fucked."

That one word broke the quiet like a hammer. Jason turned to him sharply. "What? What are you talking about?"

Von didn’t answer right away. He stood slowly, wiping a hand across his face as if trying to ground himself. The drumming got louder. More voices joined the chant. It was close now, maybe just beyond the trees.

"I’ve heard this before," Von finally said. "Years ago. In another part of this cursed jungle." He looked up toward the slatted wooden grate above them, the flickering shadows of guards moving past in the torchlight. "It’s the Rainblood Festival."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Marcus snapped.

Von’s jaw tightened. "Every few seasons, when their harvest is bad, they hold a ritual to appease their god. A blood god. They believe feeding him fresh souls and meat will bring blessings."

Jason’s face went pale. "You mean... they’re going to kill us?"

"i can’t say," Von said darkly. "They have a... process."

Liam leaned forward, fists clenched. "What kind of process?"

Von hesitated, clearly reluctant to go on—but they needed to know. "They use a stone draw. It’s part of their ritual. They pass around a sack, and each prisoner must draw one stone. If it’s white, you’re spared. At least for that day. But if it’s black..." He paused. "You’re dragged out. Sacrificed. Cooked. And then they... share you."

Sera gasped, covering her mouth in horror. Borik sat frozen, eyes wide in the dark. Even Marcus, who was never short on anger, was speechless for a moment.

"You’ve got to be joking," Jason said, though his voice was barely more than a whisper. "That... that can’t be real."

"I’ve seen it," Von replied. "Years ago. The smell... the sounds..." He trailed off, jaw clenched tight. "I escaped once. Barely. This time—there’s too many of them."

Liam closed his eyes for a second, breathing hard. His thoughts went instantly to Mariel and Sophia. Were they being forced to participate? Were they watching this from afar? Or... would they be made to draw stones too?

"We have to do something," Marcus growled. "We’re not just going to sit here and wait to be eaten like damn goats."

"I agree," Von said. "But unless we get a way out of this pit or find weapons, we’re at their mercy. For now... we play along. Wait for a crack."

Jason slumped back against the dirt wall. "Great plan. Wait and pray we don’t draw a black rock."

The drumming outside grew louder now. Closer. The chants turned into frenzied cries. Laughter. Celebration.

And above them, the wooden grate creaked as it began to slide open.