Prologue

Darkness... it's all I see, just pure, undisturbed darkness. I've been stuck here for what feels like an eternity, wondering to myself, "Where the heck am I?" I can't even budge a muscle; the air is damp, and the scent is... well, not great. It makes me ponder – am I in some sort of hell? But if this is hell, why isn't it sizzling hot? Or maybe this is what folks call "limbo." What in the world happened? And why am I stuck here anyway? The last thing I remember was being in the matrix. My soul took off from Midgard and got whisked away across those cosmic realms by the cosmic Yggdrasil Tree in a flash... and then everything just turned pitch dark again. So here I am, spending what feels like an eternity, all alone in this void, contemplating countless thoughts. But then, out of nowhere, a glimmer of light appeared in front of me. Suddenly, I started regaining the sensation in my limbs, like they were waking up from a deep slumber. I struggled to get up, and I actually managed it. I followed that faint glimmer, like I was walking through a tunnel, trying to reach whatever was at the end. I ran and ran, and finally, I reached...

And then, I woke up, right there on the floor with my back against a column. What I saw was nothing short of mesmerizing. A gorgeous shield maiden with golden locks and a warm, snow-like complexion. She kind of stumbled back a couple of steps when I woke up, as if she'd been watching over me while I was still half-asleep. I turned my head left and right, hoping to get some clue about where I was. "You're up, good," she said.

"Where am I? And who are you?"

"You're in one of the Halls of Valhalla. I'm Nike, one of Odin's Shield Maidens."

"A Valkyrie, huh? So what gives? Did I bite the dust in some grand heroic manner? I never really expected to end up here... in these halls, I mean. Not sure if I'm as heroic as I should be."

"Rasleigh Chasewalker, Aristocratic Death Dealer, heir to the Throne of Sand. Once a Rogue making waves in the world of spies loyal to Avalon's Imperial Intelligence Agency, also known as the Murder of Crows. But then you decided to switch lanes, becoming a mercenary, taking on contracts that might not always be squeaky clean. Your moral compass, let's just say it swings in interesting directions. But you've still managed to save plenty of souls, and that's why you're here. Though, there are others eyeing your soul too, and they're putting a bet on your fate. Regardless, Odin's got a different plan for you. He wants to send you back to the land of the living."

"Hold up, what's the deal? And who are these other players in the mix?"

"First off, it's a gig – like a cosmic check and balance thing. You've got a job tied to cleaning up the abominations messing with your world. You do it, live out a full life, then come back here when your time's up. Or, if you're not game for that, you can take a one-way trip back to Niflheim – where you ended up after offing Spukblob. Let's just say the Lady of the Dead isn't thrilled with you. Anyway, back on track. I'm sending you back now. Oh, and congrats on your second shot at life. You've leveled up and earned the title 'Tracker.' As a bonus, Odin's throwing in Seven-League Boots and Magingiorde. The boots? Think Odin's trusty steed, Sleipnir. They'll give you a speed boost, making you a bit of a whiz at walking. As for Magingiorde, it's a replica of Thor's strength-enhancing girdle. Use these gifts wisely, mortal. Off you go, back to Midgard."

"Oh, snap, it's all coming back to me now! But hold the phone, whoa, slow down!"

And then, I found myself waking up once more, plopped down and getting the chills against the bark of a tree. My last memory was of taking down that abomination, the infamous Spukblob. I'd been hiking through the rugged Gungnir Mountain Range, having journeyed for days from Tandaya. The primary goal? Scoring some grub. But out of the blue, this ghostly horror made its entrance, accompanied by a whole posse of spooks. Quick as a whip, I let an arrow loose from my Artemis Bow and let those silver-tipped beauties fly. Despite my efforts, though, I ended up taking a beating – wounded and bleeding, all while being doused in Spukblob's gooey ectoplasm. And, get this, somehow that ectoplasm formed a mystical bond with my very soul. Result? Yours truly now has the power to go ethereal, you know, phase through stuff. It's like becoming all ghostly-like, though I've got some training to do before I'm a true pro. Still, it's one heck of a skill. Perfect for my undercover operations and those odd jobs I pick up. As I got up, I realized my once-fatal injuries were gone, leaving behind some wicked scars. It's a badge of honor I can flaunt in taverns, spinning tales after a tough day's work – you know how it is, ladies love guys with a dash of ruggedness. Flexing my arms and doing a gear check, surprise surprise, I've got on Magingiorde and Seven-League Boots. Talk about a package deal. I took a leisurely stroll down the path, not a clue where it might lead. And in my head, it hit me – I've been missing out on so much. If I hadn't kicked the bucket and made a comeback as a Tracker, I'd be clueless about all these things I've been missing. Okay, that's sounding kind of complicated, but you catch my drift. Anyway, as I trudged through this dense part of Gungnir's forested expanse, I managed to pull a classic move. You know, step on a patch of wet grass and promptly slip and slide. The result? I plunged through a concealed hole, tucked away under some shrubs and, well, who knows what else. I groaned as I got to my feet, thinking about the idiocy of it all. The pit was dark and damp, giving off this eerie sense of nostalgia. Swift as a fox, I grabbed a torch from my bag and struck my Jagdkommando Dagger against some flint. I scanned my surroundings, and what met my eyes sent a shiver down my spine. Skeletons. An absolute heap of them. Human skeletons, Zandyagow Steed skeletons, and some other godforsaken skeletal beings. My fingers sifted through the bone pile, searching for anything that could help me climb out of this literal pit of despair. And guess what? Jackpot!

So, in one of those bags, I stumbled upon three moth dustballs, those nifty magical items that could zap me out of this miserable pit in the blink of an eye. I did some snooping around the possessions of the other unlucky souls who found themselves in the same predicament. Lo and behold, I came across a Shield of Naga. You could tell it belonged to a Praetorian Guard, given its impressive appearance. Though the skeleton holding it wasn't exactly in tip-top shape. Then there was this Lord Paladin's satchel, and inside, a crystal mirror and an unwithered rose. Weird combo, right? I mean, what's the deal with that? But hey, these things would fetch a pretty penny in the Aigleterre town square, so it's not a complete loss. Another skeleton, dressed in what screamed 'Biochemist,' caught my eye. And guess what? He had something intriguing in his bony grasp – a pair of Alchemist Gloves. I swiped them and gave them a snap, and voila, flames danced to my command. Yup, still in working order. Last but not least, there was a skeleton decked out in a Valkyrian Manteau. Quick as a flash, I snatched it from his chilly remains. These garments are like unicorns – super rare and typically found only way up north beyond Nordenbergwald. However, I'd have to give them a good scrub before slipping them on, courtesy of the bone-chilling ambiance. As I was on the cusp of chowing down on the moth dustball, something caught my eye that wasn't just a Valkyrian Manteau-wearing skeleton. Nah, it was something far more impressive – a sword. But this wasn't your average sword. I practically grinned ear to ear, thinking, "Well, ain't I the lucky one?" Turns out, it was none other than Gramr, the famed sword wielded by the legendary Warrior-Queen Kriemhild. This bad boy was a holy relic, and the scene before me suggested that these bones belonged to Emperor Schwarzhers and his troops, who'd vanished into thin air years back while chasing down a demon horde that had laid siege to the Capital. Score one for finders keepers, I guess. Plus, I had the big guy upstairs, the all-knowing father, giving me a thumbs-up, so this had to be some pretty significant stuff. Taking a step back, I paid my respects to the fallen, then crushed that moth dustball, all the while fixating my thoughts on Aigleterre. Suddenly, a realization hit me – I couldn't forget about my trusty Zandyagow Steed Mount and that cart of goods waiting for me at the mountain's base. Time to high-tail it back to Aigleterre, here we go!