The sun’s glare, from below as well as above, forced Arron to squint. Snow fell from that blindingly clear sky, adding a white, icy layer to his whole body. Arron had suffered two days of this kind of travel. Cold, blinding misery accented with avalanches and the unending sun.

Thankfully, the Pain Tolerance feature helped with extreme cold, including the kind he was enduring on this mountain top. Otherwise, he would have frozen solid by now. What it didn’t help with was the blisters forming on his exposed skin.

Sun Blistered – You have spent too long under the rays of the sun, your skin has begun to cook. Your max Health is decreased by 10%.

Frostbite – Your extremities have reached an ambient temperature cold enough to freeze within your body.

He ignored the conditions. The grinding in his knees from partially frozen ligaments and stabbing pain in his chest from the shock of breathing sub-thermal air were enough to indicate what the environment was doing to him. The icons weren’t necessary to know he was running out of time.

His legs sank into the snow up to his hips and he ground his teeth. This was going to be worth it. He’d gained six Levels with his party. Six! He nearly drooled at how much experience he was going to get soloing a dungeon. A little inconvenience wasn’t going to stop him.

Moments later, he smiled, his chapped lips splitting open. He ignored the sting.

Slowly turning in the air in front of him was the telltale spiral of an instance. Beyond the translucent portal was a faint rippling rainbow. He didn’t hesitate to walk through.

A dark, cloudy sky replaced the stark brightness of the mountains. The promise of a massive storm swirled in those clouds, flashes of lightning shining from the darkness as the roiling mass steadily rotated around a point far in the distance.

The scene reminded Arron of the hurricanes that still ravaged where Florida used to be before the floods.

Relief filled him as the temperature became bearable, pleasant even, under the tumultuous sky.

And in front of him spanned a sprawling bridge of rainbow light.

Thirty feet across, the end of the bridge nearest to him erupted from the rock face, the stone around it sticking up at rough angles. The bridge itself stretched at a gentle angle high above the neighboring mountain peaks.

New Region Discovered!

– Asgard –

Home of the Aesir.

Somewhere over the rainbow.

Legendary Landmark Discovered!

– Bifrost –

The Bifrost is the great rainbow bridge providing entrance to Asgard.

The rainbow.

New Dungeon Discovered!

– Thunder Rolls –

Quest Granted!

– Trouble in Asgard –

There is trouble among the Aesir. Find the cause of the disturbance.

Wise men do not get involved in the affairs of the gods.

Finally!

Arron clenched a fist in celebration and stepped onto the rainbow bridge of the gods.

He definitely didn’t stop to kick snow on the disturbingly translucent structure. Nor try a toe at first to be sure the bridge was solid. Nope. Arron walked right out onto the Bifrost without fear or care for the dizzying heights and terrifying potential fall onto jagged rocks.

His path ahead clear, his resolve set, he hiked into that distance.

Dizzying views of granite chasms far below hid green valleys and crystal-clear lakes from the outside world. Icebergs sat stoic at the crux of cliff faces cut into the stone.

Arron gradually became more at ease with the incredible heights, the tight clenching in his chest fading as the terror subsided. Passing a particularly massive mountain peak capped in snow, his attention was dragged down by the ringing of swords clashing and the wrenching cries of the dying and victorious.

He picked up his pace until he crossed the peak blocking the visual of what was sure to be a horrific scene of battle. Protected on all sides by a sheer cliff face was a lush green valley. Smoke wafted from chimneys, miniature in the distance, grouped together into villages that speckled the land. Babbling brooks, green tree canopies and flower coated fields in a million colors created a beautiful landscape at home on any postcard.

Well… almost.

Huge armies of armor-clad warriors were locked in battle across the green land. A brutality Arron could hardly believe unfolded beneath him. Blood, violence and death in perfect contrast to the selfie-worthy landscape.

A bearded man with chest-length facial braids, thick as a rope and glistening with beads, leapt off the roof of a small hut with a blood chilling scream. Flying headfirst through the air, he produced twin axes from nowhere, hardly pausing as he hit the ground before cleaving through neck, spine and torso of a nearby warrior.

Blood fountained from the severed torso, the axes having bit deep enough into the shoulder to rupture the man’s still beating heart.

Effortlessly the bearded man rolled, spinning on a knee to cut seamlessly through his opponent’s knees.

Laughing, the bearded man spoke to the fallen warrior.

Arron couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was, it was cut short by an arrow erupting out of his eye.

Not far off, another man lowered a bow, his full belly laughs rising above the combat. He threw insults at the bearded man whose blood was pooling under a striking Norse helm.

“What in the fu—” Arron started.

The bodies of the dead men began to glow. A faint blue light flowed along the ground to one of the long wooden buildings where the light reformed into the fallen men.

Much to Arron’s shock, rather than fight on, they were overjoyed, smiling and slapping each other on the back as they entered the long hall.

All across the field, glowing lights made their way either toward the long houses or to another building where the… spirits?… would disappear momentarily before appearing again, weapons in hand, running back into the fray.

Arron had never witnessed a more confusing, exhilarating sight. Something about the continuous exchange called to him. Deep within where he kept the dangerous part of himself leashed. He couldn’t pull his gaze away as a warrior was beheaded, only to rejoin the fight, get beheaded a second time, and try again. He received a spear through the chest as he buried his sword in the belly of another.

Madness. Chaos. Purity.

“The Einherjar,” a deep, booming voice said, startling Arron.

Before him stood a man, fifteen feet tall at the shoulder, swathed head to toe in intricately engraved armor. He held a monstrous sword as long as he was tall. Behind the stranger, floating in mid-air, two cliff faces rose to the swirling clouds, the Bifrost continuing through a narrow gap between them.

The tall man smiled at Arron.

“Gatekeeper, I assume?” Arron asked cautiously.

“Indeed, Arron. I am Heimdall, keeper of the Bifrost and guardian of the entrance to Asgard.”

“You know my name?” Arron asked, instantly suspicious.

Heimdall chuckled in response. “Indeed. Beyond these gates I bear silent witness to creatures great and small across the planes of existence. I am, as we speak, watching a butterfly one hundred million miles away spread its wings for the first time. It is beautiful, and tragic, as a lurking iguana is likely to make it its next meal. Yes, Arron. I know your name.”

“Uh-huh… And those guys?”

“As I said, the Einherjar. Great warriors from time eternal. Each having fought valiantly, falling in battle. Those courageous fallen are led here by the Valkyrie, handmaidens of Odin One Eye. They are rewarded for their fearless courage with an eternity of battle and feast.”

“An eternity of battle? That’s a reward?”

“Is it not?” Heimdall asked with a pointed gleam in his eye.

Arron shifted uncomfortably under that gaze. Trying to ignore how deeply he understood the huge man.

Arron coughed, changing the subject. “I need to enter Asgard, Heimdall.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. By command of the All Father, the entrance to Asgard is closed,” Heimdall replied, his voice friendly but unyielding.

Arron flashed his best smile. “Don’t suppose he mentioned why it’s closed?”

Heimdall did not respond.

“And if I attack you to get in?” Arron continued.

He was surprised when Heimdall legitimately laughed. The echoing boom caused the Bifrost itself to shudder under its might.

Arron didn’t need more of an answer than that.

Jumping left, he executed a classic football spin around Heimdall’s right leg and slipped through the space between his feet. Smiling with victory, he ran full tilt for the gap in the rock face.

Glancing over his shoulder, Arron noticed Heimdall was no longer behind him. Which was when he ran face first into the god’s armored leg, bouncing off and landing on his ass.

Heimdall smiled, calmly blocking the entrance to Asgard. With an almost apologetic shrug, the guardian lifted his massive sword and tapped the sharp tip on the Bifrost.

An explosion of force hit Arron like a truck, sending him sliding sidelong across the rainbow bridge and over the side.

Terror gripped Arron as he found himself in free fall. The ground below approached unbelievably fast, and even though he was actively plummeting, he was still somehow… scared he might fall.

He thrashed at the air, twisting and turning to right himself.

He slammed into the ground flat on his side, the bones in his left arm, leg and hip shattering into tiny pieces. Groaning as he looked down, the unnatural, almost gelatin-like shape of his left side made him thankful, yet again, for the system’s Pain Tolerance.

“New contender!” a man with a shaven head and waist length goatee shouted, jumping through the air with a long-handled axe stretched overhead.

Arron reacted without thinking, throwing himself aside, crying out in pain. By reflexes or luck, he barely rolled out of the way before the crazed man slammed the head of the axe into the space Arron’s skull had just occupied.

“Nice dodge!” the man yelled, swinging the axe around his body, fluidly bringing it over his shoulder for another strike.

“What the hell!” Arron screamed, clumsily crawling backward as the man swung for his knees, inhibited by his one good hand and unresponsive left leg.

Frantically moving to create some space, he threw his legs over his head in an awkward backward roll, grunting as the axe found purchase along his spine.

“Too bad. Thought ya had that one!” the man shouted, his bloodshot eyes staring at Arron as he ripped his axe free, dislodging ligaments and pieces of bone. Without pause, the man brought it down one last time, directly onto Arron’s face.

You Have Died!

Respawning at last selected respawn point.

When it’s your time, well, now you know.

XP Lost! Level Down – You are now Level 28!

You have died, and in death, lost some of the vital experience which made you more dangerous.

Sometimes it is better to leave the road untaken alone…

“What the hell?” Arron yelled as he sat up in the Valkyrie’s cave.

“Hello, Adventurer!” Hildr replied. “Let me know if I can assist you on your quest.”

Arron shot up in a huff, kicking stones out of frustration at the loss of experience. “What kind of janky-ass quest, ridiculous friggin’ dungeon, stupid damn… things! won’t let you into where you need to go to complete the frickin’ dungeon?”

Arron’s swearing deteriorated further from there, becoming almost unintelligible yelling, eventually transitioning into just, “Pain! Lots of pain!” as he pointed out of the cave at the Bifrost. He stood there for several moments, scowling and breathing heavily.

He glanced sideways at the Valkyrie, his scowl deepening at the mirth in her eyes from his little outburst.

That’s right. She said she was the Valkyrie for all the instances.

Which meant he would be running into her a lot.

Great.

With a grumble and last kick at a nearby stone, Arron started back toward Heimdall.

***

“Hello again, Arron!” Heimdall greeted. “It is lovely to see you back so soon.”

Arron, still fuming, just waved, not even bothering to slow before lowering his head and charging full steam at the guardian.

Heimdall remained impassive, smile unwavering as Arron ran toward him. At the last moment, Arron juked left, then switched directions, moving right in an attempt to throw off the guardian’s position.

Heimdall didn’t bother following Arron’s route, the much smaller man running past him unobstructed. Instead, the protector sighed, and tapped the tip of his sword on the ground.

Just as before, a wave of force slammed into Arron, sending him careening across the Bifrost, where he rammed into the cliff face left of Asgard’s entrance and plummeted down.

Though dazed, Arron managed to right himself mid-fall, pulling his feet underneath him just in time to somewhat stick the bone jarring landing.

“He’s back, lads!” a man’s voice shouted with glee.

Looking up, Arron recognized the warrior coming toward him… wielding the same gory axe. Pieces of Arron’s face still clung to the weapon as the man swung it overhead.

Oh, hell no. Arron refused to get killed by a weapon that still had pieces of his face on it.

Flashes of red teased the edges of his vision. He tightened his grip on Mule, readying himself.

The man smiled ear to ear. With a scream that mixed bloodlust and joy, he leapt through the air, twisting his body, releasing his axe in a devastating throw toward Arron. The large weapon hardly left his grip, when a pair of short-swords appeared in his hands.

The axe soared in near slow motion.

With a nudge from Mule, Arron lifted the haft, knocking aside the deadly projectile and stepping in to slam the head of his weapon into the crazed man’s abdomen. Mule’s large head shattered through the bottom of the man’s rib cage.

Blood spit across Arron’s face as the hammer’s head sank through organs to connect with the man’s spine. Smiling a ruined smile, the man lifted his swords in one last attempt.

Arron easily dodged backward, and with a grunt, swung Mule, turning the man’s head into mist.

Einherjar Killed!

You have successfully defeated a member of the Einherjar! Your name has been recorded in the Sagas.

Few can say they have defeated a member of the undying horde.

Distracted by the sudden notification, Arron missed the arrow flying straight for his head.

You Have Died!

Respawning at last selected respawn point.

When it’s your time, well, now you know.

XP Lost! Level Down – You are now Level 27!

You have died, and in death, lost some of the vital experience which made you more dangerous.

Sometimes it is better to leave the road untaken alone…

With a scream of rage, Arron sat up. He thrashed wildly as his temper played itself out. Two Levels. He’d lost two Levels so far trying to defeat this damn dungeon. And he hadn’t even gotten past the entrance!

With a grunt, Arron grabbed a large stone and threw it at the wall of the cave, feeling only slightly better when the stone shattered.

Fury warred with doubt tickling the back of his mind after this. He was losing a lot of XP. Maybe he should walk away, wait for his group to log back in. Except it could be over a week before he saw them. And that was assuming they logged right back in after work and school. Like they didn’t have actual lives to live.

He couldn’t wait that long.

Time was marching forward, unstoppable. And Bella needed him.

There was one other thing he could do.

One thing he’d been warned about.

Shudders danced over his skin.

Losing experience at this rate… even if he could defeat the dungeon… he would lose far more than he would receive.

He sat looking out at the scenery, taking in its beauty. Embracing the peace of the vista as he came to grips with what he was going to do. Memories flashed through his mind, repressed experiences of being torn in half by zombies or crippled by a giant rat.

It no longer mattered. He was running out of time.

Opening his menu, he stared at a benefit of his Class he hadn’t considered in a long time.

Learn Through Pain: Upon your death, the % XP lost is equal to your Pain Threshold.

The ability could lessen or remove his experience penalty for dying. But he would feel the pain. Every cut, bruise and sunburn. The mad laughter of the Einherjar and the sounds of their endless, gory battle made him hesitate. If he wasn’t careful, pain of that magnitude could drive him mad.

Several long moments went by as Arron looked out on the landscape, the Valkyrie silent company.

“Fuck it,” he growled.

Arron turned off his Pain Tolerance.

***

“Hello again, Arron!” Heimdall called good naturedly.

“Hello, Heimdall,” Arron said, waving timidly as he cautiously approached. Glancing over the side of the bridge, his old fear played through his chest as he pictured that horrific fall. “Any chance I can ask you not to knock me off the bridge this time?”

“I will not grant you entrance to Asgard, young hero. But I do not mind your company,” the god replied, easing his posture.

That’s what I thought.

“So, I came in a little headstrong last time. Didn’t really give you a chance to explain why Odin has the entrance closed,” Arron said, trying to be nonchalant.

“You must know I will not answer that question, Arron,” Heimdall replied firmly.

Arron raised his hands in mock surrender, smiling as disarming a smile as his low Charisma could muster. “Fair enough, Heim. Fair enough. Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

Time for Plan B.

Taking a deep breath, Arron started pulling various items—a rope, large spikes, his trusty hammer that had seen its fair share of rats—from his Inventory and lined them up on the bridge.

“I suppose there is no harm in the attempt,” the guardian said, watching Arron intently.

Arron hammered a piton into the rainbow bridge near one side. There was something surreal about hammering, basically a tent stake, into a structure made of light. But Arron had long since ceased questioning every aspect of the weirdness.

Picking up his rope, his really, really long rope, Arron moved to the edge of the Bifrost, tossing half its length over the side.

Rope of Need Woven by magic, this rope is always the length it needs to be for its user’s current task. It’s like it knows…

With a grunt under the ropes considerable weight, Arron secured the rope to his piton.

“I suppose if you can’t tell me why Asgard is closed, can you tell me if it’s been closed before?” Arron asked, walking the other half of the rope across the bridge.

“There have been a few times over the millennia when the All Father has declared Asgard closed,” Heimdall responded, confusion touching his voice as Arron threw the other end of the long rope over the other side of the Bifrost.

“Oh yea?” Arron asked innocently, hammering another piton into the bridge of rainbow light. “When was the last time?”

“His wife, Freya, had been kidnapped by giants and taken to Jotunheim. He closed the entrance while he prepared to retrieve her—Can I ask, what exactly you are doing?” Heimdall said, unable to restrain his curiosity.

“I cannot grant you this knowledge, Heimdall. But I don’t mind your company,” Arron responded jovially.

Heimdall grunted and returned his gaze ahead of him, ignoring Arron’s strange antics.

Arron on the other hand was feeling rather proud of himself. He had a plan here. A real plan. One he himself came up with. And, granted, it was in an attempt to keep from getting hurt—Torbin could probably come up with something better—nonetheless, it was his plan. Strategy was his bitch.

Arron crawled along the edge of the Bifrost, double checking the rope as he steeled his nerves.

God, I hate heights.

With a deep breath and absolutely no whimper whatsoever, he swung himself over the lip of the bridge and clung to his dangling rope. He forced himself not to look down at the battle field so far below. Gritting his teeth, he slid down the rope a little ways and started kicking. It didn’t take long before he was swinging back and forth like a meat pendulum. Several minutes of effort later and the swings were enough to reach the other side of the bridge, thirty feet away, where he could grab the other end of the rope.

A giddy smile overcame him. He secured the ropes to each other, creating a massive lasso around the Bifrost itself.

“I can still see the rope, Arron,” Heimdall’s booming voice called from above.

“I know, big guy,” Arron said, pulling himself back over the edge. He rolled onto his back to catch his breath, his heart slowing now that he was no longer suspended.

Arron stretched his arms overhead, working out the kinks and massaging his shoulders. He wasn’t used to the soreness of strained muscles anymore, having been without for so long.

It felt good.

For a moment, he enjoyed the dull ache. It made him feel alive. There was a chill bite to the wind as it gently blew. A crisp, clear feeling, no longer dulled to his senses.

He hadn’t even realized how numb the Pain Tolerance made him; how much he’d been missing.

With a sigh, Arron grabbed the piton he tied the massive rope to, and pulled it free of the bridge. The rope went taught as it pulled under its own weight. Repeating the process on the other side, Arron almost cheered as the weight of the rope pulled the lasso around the Bifrost tight, the rope running along the bridge until it nearly hummed when it jerked to a stop. Arron looked over the side and smiled. The end of the rope stretched down farther than he could make out.

He couldn’t be sure from this height, but he was confident the rope nearly touched the ground where the Einherjar were locked in battle.

Perfect.

Heimdall remained impassive, his massive sword locked between his hands.

Stretching his neck to amp himself up, Arron looked sheepishly at the god. “Sorry, Heim, but gotta keep trying. You understand.”

Heimdall’s smile faltered some as he nodded, shifting his feet in preparation.

“Blue 42!” Arron yelled, drawing a confused look from the god. “Blue 42!” Arron repeated, holding his hand out and taking a step back.

Heimdall’s brow furrowed further.

“Hike!” Arron screamed, and exploded into a full sprint directly at Heimdall.

Heimdall’s eyes grew wide as Arron extended his arms to the side, pitching himself forward with all the force he could muster.

The tackle never connected. Heimdall tapped his sword just before Arron slammed headfirst into his immovable form, throwing Arron bodily through the air and off the bridge.

This time, Arron was ready.

Immediately, Arron pulled Mule from his Inventory, bringing the weapon high overhead as he fell at terrifying speeds toward the meat grinder below.

Activating Seismic Slam, Arron crashed to the ground like a meteor. A wave of dust, stone and force erupted from his landing, shredding his shirt and sending Einherjar flying in all directions.

Bare-chested, Arron stepped out of a crater of his own making. Dust floated in the air, accompanied by an odd quiet.

Arron didn’t move.

Only the most observant bystander would have noticed the small gasps escaping his lips, the huge whites around his eyes as he tried to reason away the level of pain wracking his body.

His entire form, from head to toe, HURT. Every bone and joint in his legs felt bruised, his fingers were numb, almost unable to respond thanks to the vibrations of slamming his hammer into the ground with that level of force. The world around him had flashing motes of light floating in the dust. It took everything he had not to fall over, coughing from the screaming in his lungs.

“Ho-Holy cr… crap,” Arron choked out.

Clenching his fist, he took several deep breaths, forcing himself to ignore the throbbing and ringing in his ears.

With hardly a groan, Arron started walking toward the rope hanging innocently from the Bifrost far above.

It had reached!

Around him, the Einherjar were also recovering. Several who had been outside the blast radius shouted as they ran toward him, caution nonexistent, a battle cry on their lips. Checking the distance to the rope, he shook his head.

“Crap. Too slow,” he muttered, sliding his feet into position, getting ready for the fight.

He lasted against three of the warriors, until a spear through the base of his skull, accompanied by a criticism of his footwork, took him back to the Valkyrie’s cave.

You Have Died!

Respawning at last selected respawn point.

When it’s your time, well, now you know.

Arron smiled at the familiar notification lacking the dreaded XP loss component.

“YES!” he exclaimed, thrusting his hands into the air, briefly sighing in relief at the absence of pain.

“Well, that isn’t something I’ve seen before,” the Valkyrie retorted, raising an eyebrow at Arron’s unexplained exuberance.

Arron didn’t bother responding. He turned and ran back to the Bifrost.