As the last of them vanished into the shadows, the wasteland dissolved, and I was back in the lobby once more. Fenrir leaned against the reception desk, clapping slowly.
"You tricked undead warriors into thinking you were honoring them?" he asked, clearly amused.
I shrugged. "Even the undead have feelings."
Fenrir chuckled. "Not bad, Carl. Not bad at all."
As I collapsed into a nearby chair, exhausted but triumphant, Fenrir handed me a cup of coffee.
"Don't get too comfortable," he said, his grin returning. "The next trial is… let's just say it'll test more than just your wits."
The fifth trial loomed over me like an overachiever's school project—unreasonably complex and clearly designed to make me question all my life choices.
Fenrir, in his trademark smugness, had left me a vague but unsettling brief: Convince a Valkyrie to let you pass without combat. Simple, right?
Spoiler alert: It wasn't.
********
