The road to Hel isn’t paved with bad intentions. It isn’t paved at all.

Erland found himself standing in a desolate, wind-swept wasteland. And it was crowded. Hundreds of other mortals surrounded him, stretching off into the endless void of Ginnungagap that surrounded them. He saw the pointy ears and pale skin of elves, the shaggy beards of dwarves, the dark gray skin of orcs.

The wounds that had resulted in their souls being transported to Helvegr, the road to Hel, were gone. Most of the souls around him looked as apprehensive as he felt, but a few began marching with determination almost as soon as they appeared.

Everyone in the Nine Realms knew of Helvegr. Most hoped, fruitlessly, to never see it. When a mortal died, their soul was tested by a trek down its long and windy pathway. At the end, when they encountered Nagrindr, they would respawn back at the nearest Valkyrie crystal to where they had died.

Unless one of the rulers of the Nine Realms interceded.

Shaking off his apprehension, Erland began walking the path. He chuckled to himself, drawing surprised and confused glances from some of the souls surrounding him. Laughter was a foreign noise to Helvegr.

Erland thought to himself as he walked, replaying the fight in his head.

As much as Erland loved a good fight, being hopelessly outclassed was frustrating.

He walked for hours, never growing tired, but noticing a steady drop in temperature as he progressed. Helvegr was not bound by the same rules as the rest of the Nine Realms, as it was a place of souls rather than bodies. It was intended as a trial, or perhaps a punishment, and the cold wind was the main obstacle on the road.

It wasn’t the only obstacle, however.

Screams echoed across the expanse of the road, and the crowd in front of him began to bunch up further. Erland couldn’t see what was causing the blockage or the commotion, so he pushed through the crowd. It was a strange sensation, as he more passed through the other souls than anything, and distinctly unpleasant. Several of the people he passed through shot him dirty looks as he passed, but he ignored them.

He pushed up to the front a minute or two later, finding the source of the traffic jam. An extremely large bone-white lizard had an orc in its jaws, gnawing on his soul. Seeing that it had already grabbed a meal, Erland simply finished pushing through the crowd. The lizard made no move towards him as it enjoyed its meal.

Beasts lived on Helvegr, and they feasted on the experience of the souls that passed through their domain. They couldn’t eat the souls themselves, so there was no danger of a more permanent death here. Instead, they drained the energy that had fueled each soul’s Player system.

Once the beast had eaten its fill, they would release the soul and go back to sleep.

“You’re a brave one, for one so young,” a gruff voice called from behind him, causing Erland to turn. A large orcish man was striding towards him, also paying no mind to the lizard. “Or perhaps you’ve simply been here enough to know how this works already?”

He delivered the last with a teasing smile that robbed the sting from the words, his lips drawing tight against the tusks protruding from his lower jaw.

“First time,” Erland responded easily, grinning back. “There’s not much major difference between beasts of any kind. It’s already got a meal, it won’t go looking for another until it gets hungry again.”

“Name’s Iligan,” the orc said as he nodded in agreement, proffering a hand.

“Erland,” he replied as they shook hands.

“Most of the ones here are so scared they’ll be chosen by Hel herself that they don’t even look around, leading them straight into beasts like that,” Iligan said, sneering at the cowed crowd that surrounded them. “The beasts on this portion of the road are too slow to grab any but the most inattentive. It’s the monsters that gather near the gates themselves that should worry you.”

“Do they grow stronger as the road goes on?” Erland asked, curiosity piqued and bloodlust stirring. “Can you fight them?”

“Haha! Fight them!” Iligan howled, his face turning upwards with his mirth. “You remind me of myself decades ago, young Erland. Alas, there is no way for a soul to stand against beasts of flesh and blood.

“For your other question, oh yes. They grow much stronger near Nagrindr, and the chill bites harder than any of them. Even if you manage to sneak past them all, the cold will claim its due all the same.”

Erland stroked his chin in thought as they made their way down the road. He was fairly certain a full day had passed already, and still he was not tired. It made sense when he thought about it, after all, he wasn’t walking on flesh and bone. The chill winds continued to increase during their trek, but they were still tolerable for now.

“This must be why there’s such a variance in both time and experience loss,” Erland said, turning to Iligan for confirmation. “Those caught by the beasts lose the most, and the winds take from everyone.”

“Just so,” the orc replied with a nod. “Luckily there is a limit to how much they can chew off your soul, though that limit increases with your tier, so don’t feel too bad if they catch you. You’re barely a morsel, so they’ll let you go after a day or two.”

“Especially if I keep bait like you around,” Erland replied with a grin. “They won’t even give me a second glance once they spot you. Just make sure to run in the opposite direction of me when they chase you.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Iligan said, throwing a shoulder over Erland’s shoulder. “I’m riding you like a boar until they bring you down, then I’ll make my escape.”

The two of them continued concocting more and more elaborate schemes for how they would use each other to escape from the beasts on the journey. A fast friendship formed between the two of them, and the companionship made the trip pass quickly. After what Erland judged to be a couple more days of travel, in which the beasts grew in appetite and strength, the two of them approached a strange confluence.

The road ahead had been growing hazier and hazier as they traveled, the cold slicing through him like blades of pure ice. They approached the source of the haze now, and a pressure sunk into Erland’s skull behind his eyes.

“Here we must part ways, my young human friend,” Iligan said, slapping Erland lightly on the back. He gestured at the road, and suddenly nine separate paths sprouted before the two of them. “It seems that neither of us will be traveling the Nagrindr any longer. Our rulers have requested our presence.”

“I always knew I was incredible, but I’m surprised your rulers have such bad taste,” Erland teased, turning and shaking hands with the orc one last time. “I hope we meet in the flesh some day, Iligan.”

“I do as well, Erland,” Iligan stated with an uncharacteristic solemnity. “One last word of advice before we part. The roads of the rulers do not operate under the same constraints as Helvegr. This is a trial. You will be tested by the rulers of your realm here. Keep your wits about you, and good luck.”

He stepped back from Erland then, giving him a nod before turning and striding away. A short few steps later, the roads surrounding Helvegr collapsed back into the haze that Erland had seen originally. The road now in front of him was clearly different, with a stark line of demarcation that started just a few steps away.

Frost had been steadily building on the road to Hel, with snowbanks occasionally forming more and more frequently as the temperature dropped. There was a noticeable drop in height from Helvegr to the new road, which appeared to be paved with solid gold.

Erland shrugged to himself, striding forward with a smile on his face. When he crossed the threshold between the two roads, the temperature instantly rose to a much more comfortable level. For a moment, he had to fight the urge to begin stripping off clothes like a man coming in from the cold. The weight that had settled behind his eyes disappeared as well, leaving Erland better than he’d felt since before his untimely death.

Sensation returned to his body, and he knelt down to rub a hand across the gold bricks that paved the road here. Something was clearly different, but Erland couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly. Putting that from his mind, he stretched mightily, reveling as his body felt real and whole once more.

His mood further soared a few minutes of walking later when a large brown wolf appeared in front of him, letting out a muted growl at his approach. He knew somehow, that this was a trial laid out for him by the Aesir. Unlike the beasts of Helvegr, this wolf existed on the same level he did right now.

The familiar itch descended between his shoulder blades. His nose twitched as it measured the wolf’s presence, bringing a delightful scent of spilled blood.

The wolf’s eyes demonstrated a clear intelligence not normally present in beasts. It watched his every move with a weight and judgment that few could equal, clearly planning out Erland’s defeat in its head.

Erland thought to himself, with no mind for how he might be expected to face this trial. The Aesir never even factored into his thoughts as he charged forward, roaring a challenge at his furry opponent.