Deep inside the Tree of Life, a squeaky, one-sided conversation could be heard.
“They’ve finally all submitted their lists, Yggy,” Ratatoskr, Messenger of Yggdrasil told her. The green light of the tree pulsed around him. “I know, I know. I swear the Vanir and the Elves made it a competition to see who could cut it closest to the deadline. You really give them too much leeway.”
“Now, now, dear,” Lagatoskr chided her husband. “You know she loves them all like children. It doesn’t do to harp on them like that.”
“Yes, dear,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
The room pulsed with the light of the tree once more. It was a strange place. All the furniture was grown, not carved. Off in a corner, their children slept in small beds with leaves for bedding and blankets. The only light came from the tree itself.
“Yes, I made sure not to give away your little surprise,” Ratatoskr chuckled in response to words that only he and his wife could understand. “Most of them are still scheming and trying to eke out as many levels as possible even now.”
If one was truly listening as closely as possible, a murmur like a crowd of hundreds all speaking at once could be heard. If one were to follow that sound, they would find themselves in a massive surveillance room. The walls were lined with one massive crystal viewer, currently split into hundreds of small windows. Each window was currently focused on a prospective champion of the Wild Hunt.
Each window except for one.
Directly in the center of the wall opposite the entrance was a sole black window with green text.
A timer, counting down just over twenty-four hours.
A word floated above it: Hildarleikrheim.
“I don’t think they’re ready, Yggy. Not by a long shot.”
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Baldr’s Training Grounds, Asgard
Erland lounged back against the walls of the arena that Baldr had dumped him in. A listless and bored expression was writ large on his features. He stared sightlessly off into the distance.
He’d quickly hit level nine after fighting the beasts they’d trotted out in front of him. Everyone here was at least D-Tier, even the servant Einherjar. His nose seemed more cautious, or maybe it was the bitter memory of defeat.
Originally he’d put off his loss on just the difference between their Tiers. Indeed, the logic of the Nine Realms dictated a very rigid power structure between the higher and lower Tiers. One enforced by very real power gaps.
Yet still, a quiet worming voice in his mind said that these were the excuses of the weak. If he had been more aware of his opponent's skills and build, he could have won.
Shaking his head in bored frustration, Erland slowly stood. He was forbidden from pushing past level nine and hitting the next Tier. Baldr had even gone so far as to order his Einherjar to lock Erland in after his brief leveling session.
He’d tried sleeping, but couldn’t get comfortable on the sand.
He’d exercised a bit too, more as an excuse to move around than anything. Leveling wasn’t the only way to increase stats after all. It simple gave an immediate and quantified reward. Increasing your stats manually didn’t really have much appeal for the lowest level inhabitants of the Nine Realms. It only increased in popularity and usefulness when the gaps between levels became truly staggering.
Five minutes before midnight arrived, and Erland’s Player interface shot to life.
‘Champions of the Wild Hunt!
Congratulations on being selected by the rulers of your Realms. Truly, you are the most talented members of the Nine Realms. Yggdrasil looks favorably upon all of you.
Now that the time of the competition has arrived, the full list of rules will be released. Please be advised:
1. Death will not result in a trip to Helvegr. Instead, a level deduction penalty will be applied, along with a respawn timer. The penalty and timer will increase with your Tier of power.
2. All competitors will be transported to a separate world grown just for the Wild Hunt. Until the final champions are selected for each realm, travel to and from this world is denied.
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3. Challenges will start automatically at dawn each day. All competitors of their prospective Tier will be transported to the challenge grounds. Challenges will be segregated by current Tier.
4. Potential champions are still able to level up and progress as normal during the competition. Bonus experience will be awarded based on challenge placement.
5. Each challenge will be unique, testing different capabilities and potentials. The objectives and rules of each trial will not be presented to you in advance.
You will be transported directly at midnight.
Go forth and join the hunt, champions!’
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Frost Giant’s Throne Dungeon, Dhahabu, Midgard
A harried and frazzled Kifeda stared uncomprehendingly at the words his Player interface presented him for a long moment. Eventually, his tired and stress addled mind deciphered the rules he was presented. A grin grew on his face as he read the second rule.
“Ah, you see Bogdan!” Andrey’s heavily accented voice called out. Kifeda shuddered involuntarily. “He smiles! He can take more. Surely we have few more minutes, da?”
Andrey, in Kifeda’s opinion, was the most sadistic asshole he’d ever met.
They had been dragging him kicking and screaming through one dungeon after another all day.
Sometimes literally.
“He’s smiling?” Bogdan said in surprise. “Did we break you kid?”
“Looks like the competition is gonna kick off a little differently than the Aesir planned,” Kifeda said, grin only growing wider. “In just a few short minutes I’ll be free of that blind asshole and his threats.”
Andrey and Bogdan shared a look before asking him to clarify.
“A message just went out to the selected entrants of the Wild Hunt. At midnight, I’ll be transported to a world that the Tree of Life grew just for this competition.”
“Ahh, I see,” Bogdan said. “Well, we couldn’t quite get you to the top of D-Tier in a day, but you’re close enough to stand a fighting chance. Good luck in the competition, young Kifeda.”
“Da!” Andrey shouted excitedly. “You have trained for whole day with great Andrey! That is worth many lifetimes of training for anyone else.”
“One word of advice before you get whisked away though,” Bogdan said. Andrey cut off, shooting his partner a mild glare. He’d had an entire speech planned. “Don’t forget that you still have to come back to Midgard after the competition is over. Don’t forget that the ‘blind asshole’ will still rule here.”
His warning delivered, he turned away and began heading toward the massive glacial throne at the end of the dungeon. They had been discussing whether they had time to finish the run before the message had interrupted them.
Andrey glanced at Kifeda with something like sympathy in his eyes. Without a word, he turned and followed Bogdan.
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Frigga’s Residential Quarters, Asgard
Halina woke her parents as quickly and gently as she could when the message came through. Neither of them were pleased with this development.
Halina felt only resolute determination. She wanted to see how far she could go now.
Their leveling run had been harrowing, but successful. It had taken all day, and her father’s entire stock of healing potions, but they had gotten her to the cap.
“Did we give her all our potions?” Aschild was asking Swein. “Warm and cold weather uniforms? Backup—”
“Yes, mother,” Halina said. “My inventory is nearly full. I don’t need anything else.”
Aschild fell silent as she wrung her hands in nervous worry. Swein’s real eye was occupying some middle distance, gazing at memories from the past. He shook it off as he turned to look at his daughter. His prosthetic eye flashed with light.
“What was that?” Halina asked curiously.
“Taking a picture,” Swein said. “’The day my daughter went off to save Midgard.’ I’ll call it. Should bring a pretty penny when you’re known throughout the Nine Realms as a champion of the team who won the Wild Hunt.”
Aschild smiled at that, stepping up beside her husband. Together they gazed down at Halina with pride.
Halina snorted, but a bright ribbon of nerves entered her gut.
She did her best not to show her nerves. Her parents did their best to pretend they didn’t see it.
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Yggdrasil’s Trunk, Ginnungagap
The trunk pulsed with a message that only Ratatoskr could understand. He scurried out of his living quarters down the hall. His wife and children remained. They weren’t needed for this, nor did it particularly affect them. The greatest impact of the Wild Hunt would be Ratatoskr’s increased workload.
Already, messages for the Great Tree were pouring into his command console. As he arrived he shifted a stretch of windows to show him the irate faces of the rulers of the Nine Realms. He chuckled as the ‘powerful’ rulers were given an abject lesson in where the true power of the universe resided.
“Initiating transport sequence… now,” he said aloud.
Yggy always liked it when he gave moments like this some gravitas.
His paws flew across his crystal console, each gesture locking onto a life source. Within seconds, he had each of the competitors keyed in.
“Teleporting in 3… 2… 1…” he said, his paw hovering over the surface. When his countdown expired, he slammed it down forcefully. “Teleporting!”
Light flashed across the windows showing the selected members of the Nine Realms. Blue for Midgard, green for Alfheim, purple for Vanaheim, a nine colored rainbow shot through the control room. Moments later, the contestants arrived at their destination.
Hildarleikrheim. The home of battle.