Disclaimer: I don't own Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, or any of the characters involved. All rights go to Rick Riordan, the king of everything (not really the king but one could hope).

I'm already dead. Why did this have to happen? Every time I think that nothing could be worse, I get proven wrong.

I know what you're thinking. Magnus, what are you even talking about?

I'll get to that in a minute. First let me make sure you're up to speed.

I'm sure you already know about how I found a crappy sword, made it awesome again, got killed, went to Valhalla, got humiliated in front of the other dead people, fought a huge bloody battle, and died again. And then, I left Valhalla and – You know what? If you don't know you should read the book. The point is, a lot happened.

If you already knew all of that, then you know of my fear of wolves. They killed my mom, and that itself would've been enough to make me fear – and hate – them forever. But then I had to do my big quest to stop Ragnarok by tying up the Fenris Wolf again.

That pretty much did it for me. I absolutely hate wolves now.

Now comes the part where you're saying, "So what does that have to do with anything?" Well, I'm getting to that.

A couple of weeks ago, on my way back to Valhalla from my talk with my cousin Annabeth, I had an incident with a wolf. It scared the crap out of me, too.

It came out of nowhere, while I was traversing the world tree, and lunged out of the darkness. It bit into my arm, and it held on tight. It started trying to drag me away.

Oh no you don't, I thought, changing Jack from his necklace form. I just unsheathed him and yelled, "Kill it kill it kill it!"

I threw him, and he curved back toward the wolf and sliced his head clean off.

I know, very anticlimactic, right?

Well, that wasn't the end.

By the time I got back to Valhalla, I was fully healed. I went to sleep thinking nothing of it, and why should I? The wolf was dead, and my arm was fine.

When I woke up the next morning, I had already forgotten about it. I guess I was too used to stuff like that happening.

I went to breakfast, just like I normally did, eating with the other uh… tenants, of my floor. In fact everything that day was normal. In single combat (to the death, of course), I won by beheading my opponent whose name I didn't catch. Floor Nineteen didn't do group combat, because we were waiting for full army combat, and we didn't want anyone to be dead when the time for it came.

At lunch, I got some chicken (completely by accident, as I don't know which part of the deer is which).

After lunch, it was time for full army combat (to the death). I followed everyone else to the combat arena, because I still didn't know where it was. When we got there, we got our little group together, and got ready to die.

I know, sounds crazy, doesn't it? But, that's life – and death – in Valhalla.

When the horns blasted, all Helheim broke loose. It was Tuesday, like it was the first day I came here, and so it was free-for-all again. At least by now people weren't making it a point to go after me. In fact, sometimes it seemed quite the opposite.

Sometimes after I killed someone, I would turn around to find my next target, and everyone would stumble backwards, like they were hoping I wouldn't go after them next.

Every once in a while, if the crowd got too thick, I just let Jack clear them out. That drained a lot of energy though, and pretty soon, I was too tired to carry on. I kept swinging Jack trying to force them back, even though I knew it was hopeless. Just keep swinging, just keep swinging, I thought, thinking of Finding Nemo.

I was surprised to have made it this far, but then all of a sudden everything went black.

Oh well, looks like I died again. It really was like a huge, never-ending game of Call of Duty. I knew I would "re-spawn" as they say, later. I hoped it would be before dinner. I was starving.

I woke up in my room again. I looked at my clock. Yep, I still had thirty minutes before dinner. I left anyway, because I knew I might get lost on the way there.

I ended up finding T.J. on my way there. Thank the gods for that. I walked with him and we arrived a little bit early. I sat next to Sam, and once again tried the mystery meat.

That time I got some steak. My dinner went like usual, and of course I had to tease Sam about Amir, her "future husband."

And now you're thinking, Magnus, what about the wolf? That is about to be answered.

So anyway, that night as I was about to lay down, my vision started to turn blurry. It went away and I thought nothing of it, but then it came back stronger than the first one. A couple seconds later, and my vision went black.

The next morning, I woke up feeling weird, with a metallic taste in my mouth. I felt a strong urge to let my stomach come out through my mouth. In other words, I threw up. That's not the worst part. When I threw up, blood came out. Well, that and some other things that I would rather not mention.

The point is, I knew that it was from an animal.

When did I eat an animal? I thought. Then I remembered my vision going fuzzy and blacking out the night before.

It kind of made me wonder what the Helheim was going on.

I skipped breakfast, for obvious reasons, but I still went to single combat. All it took was one cut, and I was reminded of what I had seen that morning. Let's just say that he won't be facing me again anytime soon. I'm surprised that I had anything left to throw up. Either way, he killed me. Of course.