Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 97: They’re not NPCs

The fire crackled gently as night fell completely over the jungle clearing, swallowing the trees and shadows in a shroud of darkness only pierced by their modest flames. The funeral pyre had long since turned to ash, the scent of burnt wood and something more sinister still lingering in the air. Smoke curled upward like a serpent into the night sky, where stars slowly bled into view.

After the priest’s body had been reduced to nothing but smoldering bones and ember, Liam had turned to the silent, wide-eyed natives and raised his voice for one final command.

"Return to your homes," he had said, calm but firm. "I will speak to you again at first light."

Von translated, and though confusion stirred among them, none dared to challenge him. One by one, they bowed again and slipped away into the jungle paths, vanishing into their crude wooden huts and canopied shelters. Their whispers faded with them. The clearing, at last, belonged to Liam and his people once more.

They set up camp not far from the altar ruins, near a dry patch of earth where a smaller fire was lit. They didn’t have the strength to build shelters or set traps—they just needed a moment to breathe. Eleanor, with a fresh bandage around her stomach and a faint limp in her step, sat gently on a pile of cloth and vines Mariel had arranged for her. Her face was pale, but her jaw was clenched tight, stubborn as always.

Everyone found their place.

Liam sat with his back to a half-fallen tree, arms resting on his knees. Mariel sat close beside him, her expression calm and soft, though exhaustion traced the edges of her features. She leaned her head gently against his shoulder without asking, and when her hand wrapped around his arm, he didn’t move away. If anything, he let out a long breath, one he didn’t know he’d been holding. In that small moment, with the fire warming his skin and Mariel close, the horror of the day dulled slightly.

Jason sat on the far side, staff laid across his knees as he cleaned dried blood from the golden edges with a scrap of cloth. His mouth was shut tight, eyes focused, but every once in a while his fingers would twitch with a nervous energy he couldn’t shake.

Marcus was leaning back, legs stretched out, polishing the edge of his axe with steady, rhythmic swipes. He whistled low, a lazy, off-key tune that didn’t seem to match the atmosphere—but no one told him to stop.

Sophia was crouched beside her quiver, sorting her arrows. She moved with a focused grace, fingers quick as she checked each shaft and refitted the ones that had come loose during the fight. Her braid hung over one shoulder, swaying as she worked.

Sera sat just beside Borik, hugging her knees to her chest, face blank. The firelight danced across her eyes but they didn’t blink much. Whatever was going on in her head, it was far away from here. Borik was beside her, silently dragging a whetstone across the edge of his chipped axe. His brows were furrowed, not from pain, but thought—deep, complicated thought.

Liam looked around at all of them. His people. His companions. His survivors.

"Before we say anything else," he said suddenly, the fire crackling at his back, "let’s bless the memory of Threk."

Everyone stopped what they were doing.

A beat of silence fell.

Sophia was the first to nod. "To Threk," she said softly, voice almost cracking.

Jason raised his staff. "A loyal bastard if there ever was one."

Marcus grunted. "Died on his feet, like a real one."

Even Sera’s lips moved, barely audible. "May his path be bright."

Borik whispered, "He didn’t deserve to go like that."

They sat there for a moment, letting the fire burn and the silence honor the fallen warrior.

Then Von stood. "Gorr and I will find you food," he said, his voice low. "Don’t eat their meat. Don’t drink their wine. I don’t trust it."

"I second that," Gorr muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "One of them offered me a stew earlier. Still had teeth in it."

Jason made a face.

Liam nodded. "Go. Be safe."

The two men slipped into the darkness, their silhouettes swallowed by the vines and trees almost instantly. The fire crackled louder in their absence, the jungle making space for quiet again.

Mariel shifted slightly beside Liam, holding his arm tighter now. "You did good today," she whispered, eyes fixed on the fire.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was still distant, like he was staring beyond the flames, into the space where the priest had burned.

Jason broke the silence next, not looking up. "Still think we’re in some elaborate simulation?"

Marcus gave a tired snort. "After today? Hell no."

Sophia nodded. "Too much blood for a game."

Liam blinked once, his thoughts pushing forward like a wave. Then he said it—sudden and sharp.

"This is no game."

Everyone looked at him.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t sound angry. But there was something final in his tone. The kind of certainty that left no room for argument.

"This is all real," he said, eyes locked on the fire now. "It’s not a simulation, it’s not a test, it’s not some immersive illusion or whatever Nexus wants us to believe. It’s real. Everything we feel, every wound we take—this is it. We die here, we’re gone. That’s it."

Sophia met his gaze and nodded slowly. Jason gave a grim sigh. Marcus muttered something under his breath and looked away, his lips tight.

But Mariel, Sera, and Borik looked confused. Mariel lifted her head slightly from Liam’s shoulder.

"Wait... what are you saying?" she asked softly.

Sera frowned. "You mean what?"

Liam looked over at them, his expression steady, calm, but hard.

"I don’t know what this place is," he said. "But I know what it’s not. This isn’t some digital illusion. The pain is real. The danger is real. We’ve bled. We’ve watched people die. I’ve looked those giants in the eyes... I saw fear. That’s not code. That’s real."

Borik looked down at the dirt, brows pulled together as he tried to make sense of it.

Jason leaned forward, voice low. "We started suspecting back in Arthalon. When the rules started breaking. When the pain didn’t fade. When time started feeling... normal."

Sophia added, "And when the NPCs started reacting in ways that didn’t match the system."

"They’re not NPCs," Liam said flatly. "They’re people."

Silence again.

The fire continued to burn. A warm, flickering beacon in the night, surrounded by shadows, but unyielding. Much like them.

The weight of Liam’s words hung over the group. Mariel leaned back against him again, quieter now, confused. Sera’s expression had shifted into something unreadable, maybe disbelief, maybe confusion. Borik had stopped sharpening his axe.