Lightning flashed between a swirl of angry clouds; long, sizzling shocks of light and heat. The roar of blowing winds lent texture. Yet the mountain was oddly quiet. Something was missing—there was no thunder.

The path wound back and forth across the slope as it angled ever upward to the peak. Ending in a large flat circle of colored cobblestones was a great eye, cut into the mountain in intricate detail.

And right in the center of the eye, kneeling on its pupil, was a cloaked figure.

The figure wore dark robes, varying in color from dark grey to black—his long white beard a stark contrast to his clothing, like a lightning streak down his chest. Above his head extended a massive spear, black as midnight, seeming to drink in the surrounding light, the point focused in the center of the spinning clouds overhead. That shining shard of shadow permeated an overwhelming pressure, similar to what Arron experienced with Tyrfing, only much stronger.

Inspection – Success!

– Gungnir –

Legendary Divine Weapon

Forged by the dwarves of Svartalfheim.

The cloaked figure turned his head toward Arron, and the hero’s breath caught.

The figure had one eye. Ancient and lined with millennia of battle and strife, love and joy, that single eye was filled with the wisdom and pain of a thousand lifetimes.

The socket where the other eye used to reside, glowed with an ethereal light and pulsed with madness.

Inspection – Allowed

– Odin –

– The All Father; One-Eye; The Wanderer; Leader of the Aesir; Namesake of Wednesday; Wielder of Gungnir –

Deity – Level ??

The God of Knowledge and War, The Smith of Battle, is displeased with your presence.

Displeased was an understatement of divine proportions.

Odin’s face was locked in a rictus of rage.

“How dare you come here, traitor. You think you can stop my search, but I will not be so fooled. I will find what is hidden, and you will experience my fury.” The deity shifted, as if he intended to stand, but paused, his focus returning to the sky. “After. After I find him. For now…”

An ear-piercing screech ripped out of the sky, nearly creating a biological reaction within Arron. The second, raspy kraa that blasted behind him was worse.

Inspection – Meager Success!

– Huginn & Muninn –

Thought & Memory

Divine Familiars of the All Father

He dove out of the way as a monstrous raven sped like a bullet through the space he just exited.

Following the beast with his gaze, he started charging his Timed Strike, preparing to knock the bird out the air.

Some deep-seated intuition made him duck, just as a second raven nearly took off his head. The very air rippled around its eighteen-inch-long talons as it passed in a blur.

Trying to split his attention, the birds circled. Arron waited patiently for the next attack. He didn’t have long to wait. A raven came down from directly above, claws extended to crush him into the ground. Sidestepping the attack, Arron turned, using the momentum of his dodge to bring Mule around into the head of the monstrous bird.

A screech of pain escaped the feathered foe as Mule connected, the force of his Timed Strike erupting into its clever skull.

Arron soaked in the surge of satisfaction, regaining his confidence.

The bird’s Health bar dipped slightly.

For a brief moment, he was able to get a good look at the massive beast.

Its obsidian black feathers had a dirty, mottled appearance. Patches of skin shone through, red and aggravated with sores and sickness. The edges of the feathers showed the telltale sign of rot.

He didn’t see the other bird behind him while he took in the condition of his foe. Not until its talons exited the front of his chest. Pure, blinding agony wracked Arron’s body, stealing the breath from his lungs and the scream from his lips.

Terror gripped him as the great bird rose into the air, higher and higher, lifting him until the mountain’s peak was far below.

And then it dropped him.

Of course. Literally in the clouds, and the birds were gonna take him even higher to drop him.

Damn heights.

***

Arron stared at the Bifrost, occasionally throwing a pebble off into the distance as he sat in contemplation.

After eight separate attempts, each ending critically fast, Arron was having to face the possibility he couldn’t defeat the birds alone. He could maybe defeat one, maybe. But not both.

The birds were simply too fast and seamlessly worked together.

In his most recent attempt, he’d cornered Huginn, managing by sheer luck to snap one of the bird’s legs before going Deadly Rage on the avian bastard. The battle finally landed in his element. With swings of rage and fury, ripping feathers and skin from the infection ridden body.

From nowhere, Muninn crashed into his side, ramming those deadly talons through Arron’s neck. It carried him over the mountain peaks and sent Arron plummeting.

His rage wore off with nobody to fight, and he went to respawn listening to the bird’s bestial cackle.

There had to be a path forward. Something he was overlooking.

An itch pestered at the back of his brain, telling him there was a way if he could figure it out.

He assumed a regular party would battle Huginn and Muninn, defeat the familiars and… somehow, that would… do something.

Arron blew out a breath in frustration, throwing another stone.

He wished his party was here. Torbin could figure this out. The dwarf would have some brilliant plan, then Arron could just hit things.

Offhandedly, Arron turned to the Valkyrie.

“I don’t suppose you have any helpful information? I could use a brilliant plan,” Arron said.

Hildr looked at him strangely for several moments before speaking. “Umm… I… uh…”

Arron nodded, turning back to the vista and picking up another small stone.

“Sorry,” Hildr said, her surprised tone causing Arron to turn back. “I don’t believe a player has ever asked me a question like that.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know a great deal about this place. About most things, actually. Umm… what do you want to know?”

Arron’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Hildr smiled. “I’m not going to explain the makeup of the universe or anything, but considering you are the first player to ever ask for my assistance, I will be as forthcoming as I can.”

“Where is my Bella?” Arron asked.

The Valkyrie’s face fell. “Unfortunately, Arron, my knowledge is limited to things that have happened within the instances. I don’t know of your Bella. Though I wish I did.”

Arron expected as much by this point, the sting of disappointment just a touch easier to bear.

“Ok then, how do I keep from making a fool of myself?” Arron asked, and quickly raised a hand at the delight on her face. “I mean, how do I fight Huginn and Muninn without dying like I’ve never swung my hammer?”

“Ahh. Yes. Huginn and Muninn are very powerful. They aren’t just Odin’s familiars, they are parts of the All Father himself. To battle them is to wage war with his thoughts and memories. Millenia of wisdom and experience…” She trailed off, giving Arron an expectant look.

“Wait, are you saying they are some kind of reflection of him? Of his state of mind?”

“No. They are his thoughts and memory. Quite literally.”

“And because he’s a paranoid rage monster right now, the birds are homicidal?”

“Well, that isn’t how I would speak of the Battle Smith, and the birds are dangerous even in the best of times, but your general idea is correct enough for a mortal’s understanding.”

Arron chewed on this new information.

“Fighting the beasts, I’ve gotten a closeup look at the birds. Hard to miss some things. I think Odin’s thoughts and memories may be sick.”

Hildr’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

Arron explained the appearance of the birds, the mottled feathers and open sores on their exposed skin. The Valkyrie’s expression became more and more concerned.

“If Huginn and Muninn are ill, then so is his mind.” Hildr contemplated this insight, her face growing dark. “There are many terrible things in the worlds I serve, hero, but a paranoid, mindless Odin gives me chills.”

“Maybe if we could somehow heal the birds, that could calm Odin? Like, the birds are sick, so Odin is losing his mind. And if Odin is losing his mind, the birds are getting more and more ill. Do I have that right?”

“Possibly,” the Valkyrie responded, chewing her lip. “If his thoughts were to calm, to break out of the spiral plaguing them, that could pacify Huginn and Muninn. If the great ravens were healed… yes, that would certainly help.”

Arron smiled wide, jumping up from his place on the floor.

“Ok, bear with me, but I think I have an idea.”

Hildr listened to Arron’s plan, her expression going from disbelief, to shock, to horror.

***

“Hello again, Arron!” Heimdall called, smiling at the human as he approached.

“Hello, Heimdall!” Arron called back.

“Returning for another try I see. I thought you had perhaps given up the attempt.”

“Not yet, Guardian.”

Heimdall nodded, setting his feet as he prepared himself. “Very well. I am ready.”

“A question, ever so quickly,” Arron said, lifting a hand. “You can see across the cosmos. Has the Wanderer left Asgard recently?”

Heimdall tilted his head, confused by the question. “An odd thing to ask, hero. Yes. He travelled to Midgard in search of his son.”

Arron nodded. “While he was on Midgard, did anyone feed his birds?”

Heimdall’s eyes turned questioning. “There was a small child at a strongman competition where he was searching…”

***

“Nice counter!” Bjørn called as Arron rammed Mule’s haft between his legs and pitched him over his shoulder.

“Thanks!” Arron ducked under the swing of a Dane axe from another warrior. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?”

A scream from a newcomer accented Arron’s question. He kicked in the man’s knee sideways, snapping bone through skin before ending his pain with a blow from Mule’s brand of mercy.

“Is there anyone who would want to preoccupy Odin? Especially someone who could appear as a small child?”

“Loki!”

The shout came from the throats of every Einherjar within hearing distance. It was so universal, so shocking, he almost took a dagger to the eye.

“Who the hell is Loki?”

***

“Persistence will gain you nothing here, deceiver,” the old god said, his gaze still locked on the darkened clouds. “If you think to wear down the fortitude of Huginn and Muninn, you will be sorely mistaken.”

“I’m not interested in the birds, old man! I’m here for you,” Arron called, pushing the uneasy feeling in his stomach down as he shouted such a blatant insult at a being that could end him with a thought.

Odin turned his penetrating stare on the meager human, effecting a glare that could literally stop hearts.

Arron forced himself to stay standing, refusing to wither under that gaze.

“It has been many millennia since a mortal spoke to me thus.”

“Well, when you stand around staring at the sky, pining like a little girl… someone needs to say something,” Arron shouted back.

An insane giggle tried to escape his lips at the confused look twisted onto the deity’s face.

“Kill him,” Odin whispered.

Huginn and Muninn dove for Arron, their claws extended.

Arron, ready for the attack, threw himself out of the way just before being impaled. Pulling a healing potion from his Inventory, he twisted mid-air, smashing the fragile vial across the face of the passing Huginn.

The great black raven let out a startled, clacking croak, landing and shaking the red liquid from its feathers.

Arron hit the ground flat, trusting his past experience to guide him. Tossing another healing potion into the air, the telltale mist of liquid coated his bare arms after Muninn impacted the bottle.

Immediately, Arron rolled sideways, buying himself as much space as he could gather while the birds were distracted. Getting to his feet, he grit his teeth and dashed for Odin.

This is crazy. This is absolutely insane.

Pressure rammed into him from all sides as he ran toward the god, growing with each step. A near physical force commanding him to kneel, to show respect and cower before the deity.

Stubborn – Residual Effect Triggered

The notification caught him off guard, nearly causing a misstep, but with it came an iron bound, absolute refusal to quit. The pressure did not lighten, but grew in intensity. Defiantly, the very idea of stopping before he reached his goal became ludicrous, impossible.

He dove forward, dodging another strike from Muninn, eyes set on his goal. Saliva ran down his chin where his jaw hung slack as he pressed on. His eyes red from the pressure as the delicate vessels broke in the proximity of the All Father.

Unmoved, Arron began to charge his Focused Strike, not in Mule, but in his hand.

He took in huge wracking breaths, stumbling the last few yards, his body beginning to shut down under the weight.

Now was the time for him to muster every ounce of his resolve and show his courage.

Hildr had been clear that as a mortal, Arron was not a danger to the head of the Aesir. He simply couldn’t hurt Odin. He didn’t have the power.

Because of that, the god would likely ignore Arron after he gave the command to Huginn and Muninn, confident in the familiar’s ability to deal with pests. Especially with the current state of his mind, his obsession would lock his attention back on his search.

By luck, or fate, or game design… she’d been right. Odin was exactly how Arron needed him.

Screaming his rage and defiance, Arron leapt at the god, planting his foot on top of the deity’s beach ball sized knee, jumping with all his strength.

Arron raised his arm, bringing every ounce of force he could conjure into his fully charged, open hand, upper body twisting to gather that last bit of spring for what was to come.

With a boom that caused a hiccup in the raven’s flights, Arron backhanded Odin, the All Father, Head of the Aesir and God of Battle, across the face.

“Snap out of it!” Arron screamed.

The world stopped.

The wind ceased, its sudden absence eerie and unnatural. Silence descended on the mountain top, the quiet deafening.

Arron landed heavily below the deity, collapsing to the ground. His stamina was completely spent just getting close enough to land the strike. His Stubbornness helped him ignore the force on his mind, but clearly hadn’t resolved the physical pressure that emanated from the god.

With deep, panting breaths, he lay on the cold earth, waiting for Odin’s reaction.

Odin, did not move. A full minute passed as the deity continued to stare into the sky, his expression unreadable.

Arron’s breath tremored and he closed his eyes, knocking his head once against the hard ground. His plan failed. Odin was still locked in his obsession.

“Did you just, bitch slap me?” a booming, though somehow gentler voice asked.

Arron’s head snapped up.

“Uh… Yea,” Arron managed, just barely succeeding in not letting his voice quaver.

Several more moments went by, and finally, the Wanderer looked toward Arron. His gaze briefly scanned over his massive ravens, his lips pressed together in a firm line of displeasure.

Odin locked eyes with Arron for a long moment, his empty eye socket no longer glowing. “Fair enough. Let’s chat.”

The change in demeanor was so abrupt, Arron had trouble following.

He watched in shock as Odin sat cross legged, sticking his spear into the earth at his side. The two great ravens who had taken Arron’s life so many times swooped in and roosted on the upright spear—their low, rapid croaks almost seemed happy as Odin fed them small treats from inside his robe.

“Come along then,” Odin said, gesturing to the ground in front of him.

Feeling awkward, Arron winced as he hoisted himself up from his sprawled position, limped over, and hesitantly sat down.

“It has been a very long time since a mortal has touched me,” the deity began. “Even longer since someone, anyone, has successfully struck me.”

“It was all I could think of,” Arron mumbled.

“Combined with healing Huginn and Muninn, my thoughts are once again my own. It seems your course of action was so unexpected, the traitor hadn’t planned for it. ” Odin’s tone turned dark as he continued. “It doesn’t solve my problem of course. My son is still missing. I will find who has betrayed us and crush them under my heel.”

Arron gulped at the fury in the god’s voice. “Do you know who it was?”

Odin’s single eye bore into Arron. “I have my suspicions.”

“I uh, may have a little information I can provide, to assist,” Arron offered hesitantly.

“Speak, Arron. We are past the point of violence today,” Odin replied, waving a hand for him to continue.

With that, Arron laid out all the clues he’d gathered.

The All Father listened patiently while Arron explained his theory, nodding briefly before responding. “Unfortunately, my suspicions lie in concert with your own. Loki has many times been a source of disturbance in Asgard. I thank you for the diligence you’ve shown.”

Quest Complete!

– Trouble in Asgard –

You have helped calm Odin One-Eye.

Peace can often be the greatest gift.

Bonus Objective Complete!

– Trouble in Asgard –

You have given the Aesir information on how to find the missing Thor.

Information can often be the greatest gift.

Arron smiled as the notifications came in for the quest, excitedly moving to check his earned experience.

Before he was able to look, Odin clapped his hands, surprising Arron. “Now, on to business. You are an interesting hero, Arron. I look at you and see much. Striking me must have taken near suicidal courage and a strength of mind that is nearly unseen in mortals. I can tell you have trained with the Einherjar, your bloodlust and desire to measure yourself against those around you calls to the instincts in me and the foundations of Valhalla. And then, there is this.”

Arron was shocked when Odin suddenly held Mule Near in front of his face, almost like a toothpick.

“Mule Near,” Odin harrumphed. “That’s cute. I can feel a matching rage within this weapon, the drive for battle.” Odin looked between Arron and his weapon. “I am going to give you a gift and a choice, Arron. First, the gift.”

Light began to swirl around Mule, making Arron a little nervous. That was practically mowed over by what emanated from Mule. The Living Weapon didn’t feel upset. In fact, his friend seemed… giddy? Focusing on it, Mule was acting like a frickin’ groupie in Odin’s grip. It brought a smile to his face and he forced himself to relax as the god imparted his gift.

The lights slowed, entering his hammer and causing it to softly glow blue from within.

Smiling, Odin handed the weapon back to Arron.

Living Weapon Upgraded!

– End Is Near –

Through divine intervention, this Living Weapon has been upgraded.

As inevitable as time itself.

Arron marveled at Mule—uh… End’s, shimmering form. Where there had been simple engraving, were now areas inlaid with silver. Beautiful runes adorned the sides, glowing with their own light. A raw sensation of pride pulsated from the once Mule, now End, with nearly tangible force.

“Take care of that weapon,” Odin’s deep voice advised. “It is a kindred spirit. You are lucky to have found a Living Weapon that matches your intention so closely. And now, the choice.”

Odin’s expression turned serious. “I offer you the opportunity to join my Einherjar. You have trained with them, you have slain and been slain. You have the passion, the bravery and inherit bloodlust. Will you join the armies that prepare for Ragnarök?”

Arron’s jaw dropped. Many things he expected, but being offered a place in this guy’s immortal army certainly wasn’t on the list.

“I’m afraid, I—I have a mission and other business,” Arron said carefully, not wanting to insult Odin. “I cannot stay.”

Odin laughed. “Of course not! You have your fate to complete. You are not expected to stay in Valhalla. You are however expected to come should I, or any of mine, call.” Odin’s face grew serious again. “Do not take this requirement lightly. With my son missing, a call is likely. The giants will sense the weakness and Fenris has once again began to gnaw at his chains. A call from the Aesir is not something you can deny. But you will have the backing of Asgard in your travels. You will have the support of my handmaidens. And, you will have my thanks. What say you?”

A flurry of emotions rushed through Arron. He had logged into this game nearly two months ago real-world time. During that period, he’d fought and bled. Pushing ever onward toward his one, unmovable goal. To save his Bella.

But with the unexpected laid before him, Odin’s eye peering straight to his soul, and End’s featherlight exuberance humming through his grip—a strange emotion burned in his heart.

Through every trial and setback—real-life and constantly bewildering game alike—he’d never felt a kinship like what he experienced on the fields of Valhalla.

A place where he could release the beast within his chest and push himself to his true limits. He would not abandon his quest. He would find Bella. But deep inside, an undeniable truth rang loud and clear—these, were his people.

Ultimately, it took only moments to make the choice. Smiling, he looked back into the god’s eye.

“I’m in.”