Erland cursed as his vision cleared. The transport from the trial area to his living quarters still blinded him with white light. Still, even as he waited for his vision to clear, he didn’t allow the pain to dampen his satisfaction.

he thought, a savage smile painting his blind face. five whole levels! I’m stronger than that idiot Bjarke’s sister was when she killed me!>

His exult in his glory was almost cut short by scathing words from across the circle.

“Why are you celebrating like you’ve won the whole competition?” said a feminine voice he now recognized. Amelia. “You’re second to last in your Tier. You should be bowing your head in shame and defeat.”

Erland didn’t acknowledge her at all. Instead, he followed his nose and located the Top Tier directly across from him in the circle. Leonel Fleur.

His eyes snapped open and locked onto the man. Somehow, he was unsurprised to see a curious smirk on his face. His ever-present grin widened even further.

“I’ll get there eventually,” Erland told the man, before turning and striding from the room.

“Oh, I do hope so,” whispered Leonel from what seemed like right next to his ear. Erland, riding the high of his rapid advancement, barely managed not to flinch. “Come to my room an hour after the meal is over. Let us celebrate your newfound Tier. I’ll teach you something as a reward.”

Erland nodded with the smallest motion he possibly could.

Something about the man agreed with Erland. Despite his nose’s insistence that they fight at once. Surprisingly, that desire had decreased with his advance in Tier. Erland found it significantly easier to control himself now, even without having spent any of his points yet.

The experience for the trial had been awarded all at once after it had ended. Erland had shot up five levels in one go. He smiled at the thought. He quickly distributed his points on his way back to his room, reveling in his newfound power. He hit the dining area and transferred his enjoyment to the excellent cooking.

All too quickly, the meal was over and he was back in his room.

The quartet of nobles had shot him glares and muttered about his points placement throughout the meal. He’d grinned widely at them with food in his mouth until they finally looked away.

Now that he was back in his room he felt restless. The upcoming meeting occupied his mind, leaving no room for other thoughts or concerns. He idly picked up the weight equipment in the corner of his room, trying to figure out what it was for. With ten minutes left before Leonel had told him to meet him, Erland tossed the weights down and left his room.

A wisp of dangerous intent grabbed his heart when he reached up to knock on the man’s door. Erland had the same response he always did. He grinned, and knocked anyways.

He heard a chuckle from inside before being told to enter.

The interior was surprisingly similar to Erland’s own room. The largest differences lay in the coloring and decorations. Erland’s room was rustic browns and grays, Leonel’s was floral and pastel. Even the layout was identical, down to the weight set and exercise gear in the alcove.

Which is exactly where Leonel was, shirtless and already working up a sweat.

“You know, they say there’s something missing in men like us,” Leonel said as he pierced Erland with his gaze. Like all Top Tiers, the magic of the Nine Realms showed its touch upon him in his eyes. They were a flat pink, surrounded by a solid black corona of script. They glowed faintly, even in this well lit room.

“Men like us?” Erland responded, not out of any particular desire, but more because it seemed to be what Leonel was expecting. Erland held little doubt that the similarities between the two of them were few and far between.

“Men who killed before their interface was ever awoken,” Leonel expounded. “Men who seek the thrill of battle and the death of their enemies above all else.

Men who know that the fastest path means traveling through a torrent of blood.”

Erland felt his smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Erland asked.

Leonel stared at him for a second, a curious look on his face. He never stopped exercising as he stared at Erland. Just when the moment had grown awkward enough that Erland had decided to leave the strange man alone, he spoke.

“Baldr told me he had found someone special,” Leonel said. “He asked me to mentor them during the competition. Show them the truth behind the Player system.”

“That shitty excuse for an Aesir did all that for me, eh?” Erland said, an edge forming on his smile. “Is that why he went to such effort to ensure I couldn’t refuse him? Are you to be my captor in his place, now that he’s unable to interfere himself?!”

Erland was yelling by the end of it, foam flying from his mouth in his rage. All the joy of the battles from earlier in the day forgotten in his resentment at being forced into this. Leonel looked at him calmly, before slowly nodding.

“You turned down an Aesir,” he said. “You refused an offer to compete in an event unheard of in the history of the Nine Realms. An event sure to draw the strongest warriors from all the fruit of the Great Tree herself.

I see now who you are, Erland Grim.”

“You see nothing!” Erland spat in his rage.

Before he could continue his tirade, Leonel held up a hand and uttered a single word.

“Stop,” he said.

Erland suddenly felt pressure like the entire world was crushing him in place. All around him, it felt like he was being squeezed in a vice. The air in his lungs froze. The blood in his veins ceased to flow. Like a crystallized moment in time, he was held fast.

A small part of Erland’s mind woke for the first time in years and began screaming.

“I can see now that Baldr didn’t demonstrate to you the true depths of the Top Tier,” Leonel said. “I could crush you with a thought. Someone like Baldr could erase you from the Nine Realms like you had never existed. But fear doesn’t motivate you.”

Leonel finally dropped the weight. It crashed into the ground with such force that the entire living quarters shook. The floor was remarkably undamaged, but startled exclamations rang through the halls. They felt Leonel’s presence soon after and fell silent in terror.

“Unless you grow from the ant you are into a living avatar of power,” Leonel told him, “This will never change. You will struggle and die, over and over again, until Hel decides she wants you for herself.”

The world unfroze. Erland collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing and retching in pain as his body sluggishly went back to work. Leonel stood over him for a moment, and then offered him a hand. Erland slapped it away and a small smirk finally showed on Leonel’s face.

“If you allow me to teach you,” he said when Erland had gotten back to his feet, “You can grow powerful enough that even the Aesir must treat you with respect.”

Erland glared at him for a moment longer. The screaming in his mind had quieted, but now whimpered incessantly. Erland hated it. He hated the Aesir. He hated this man lording his power over him.

And then, a thought sparked in his mind.

he thought.

The resentment was replaced from behind his eyes gradually as he warmed to the idea. His characteristic grin found its way back to his features. He reached out and accepted the hand that Leonel still held in front of him.

“Teach me how to reach Top Tier,” he said as they shook on it. “Then I’ll give you a battle to rock the whole of the Realms.”

Leonel’s eyes flickered with an excitement of their own. “Then let’s get started. I’ll have you in Top Tier before the end of the Wild Hunt.”

Living Area of Frigga’s Chosen, Hildarleikrheim

A similar offer was being made to Halina in Frigga’s quarters.

A tall black man stood at the head of the table in the common room. His long black cloak was swept back from his shoulders, revealing the intricately decorated black runestal armor he wore. Every in of it was decorated in skulls that almost seemed to writhe from inside the armor itself. His glowing Top Tier eyes stood out like lamps in the darkness from above the skull ornamented armor covering the bottom half of his face. His deep, gravely voice carried clearly despite the obstruction.

“Some of you may already know me,” he said. “For those that don’t, I am Gazini the Bloodless. Frigga has promised me a great deal if I ensure that all of you perform well in the Wild Hunt.”

A few of the others muttered to each other in excitement at the prospect of being trained by a Top Tier. Halina sensed something foreboding from the man’s pronouncement and kept quiet.

“To that end, I will work you harder than you’ve ever worked in your lives,” he continued. “I will work you until you think you cannot help but die. For those that do, I will raise your corpses and work you even harder. Any questions?”

The only one of them not gathered around the table let out a laugh. Gazini’s gaze swept to the woman, who raised her hands and tried to muffle herself. Mirth filled her eyes as chortles still escaped from her clenched lips. Gazini’s gaze swept back to the rest of them before he continued.

“Good,” he said in response to the silence from the rest of the group. “Let’s begin.”

Living Area of Hodr’s Chosen, Hildarleikrheim

In Hodr’s common area, it was a bit more lively.

Splinters of tables and chairs were strewn across the room. The Einherjar and the lower Tier chosen cowered behind the partition that separated the cooking area from the rest of the room. Kifeda was slumped behind it, muttering imprecations and curses directed at Hodr. Beside him, a young boy peered over the edge of the counter.

The boy crooned and awed at the destruction that continued to wreck the commons.

“Ooh, you almost landed a hit that time, Fox!” shouted a blur that bounced all about the room. “You must’ve really been pushing to get your agility so high!”

Fox, his form also blurring from the speed at which he was chasing his target, growled angrily.

After a few more minutes, in which even the remaining splinters of furniture were reduced to dust and ash, a halt to the chase was finally called.

Despite the fabled endurance of the A-Tier, Fox folded nearly in half and panted heavily.

“Well done!” Sergei the Vagabond, Top Tier chosen of Frigga, boomed as he clapped Fox on the back. “You’ll make Top Tier yet. So!” He turned to address the rest of them, his enthusiasm undiminished to find them hiding behind the counter. “Show of hands, who wants to begin training first?”

“Me! Me me me me ME!” shouted the boy next to Kifeda.

Sergei laughed and called the boy over. Kifeda rubbed his temples and groaned. The Wild Hunt was turning into exactly what Kifeda had spend his whole life avoiding. Hard work.