《New Midian》 Prologue 2040 Two fighter jets tore through the clear sky, and Gaberial, with a steely resolve, resisted the urge to flinch as they streaked past, flying perilously low. Their thunderous passage sent shockwaves through her, but she marched on, projecting an air of belonging. Few around her bothered to glance upwards. They were more used to this than her. All around her, the military was fortifying their established containment area. She knew that time was ticking, and soon, the perimeter would be impenetrable, cutting her off from the story of the century¡ªperhaps even altering history. Clad in the military fatigues she had acquired, she seamlessly blended in with the crowd. Her military pack concealed her non-military gear and the hat shielded her from unwanted attention. She fervently hoped that she was perceived as just another technician going about her business along the perimeter. She had a distance to walk to get here. She had gotten through the checkpoint at a run-down gas station a little further down the road. She could see the old stone walls with plants growing up them, with the infamous gate slightly open. Her mouth was dry and her nerves were on edge, fear gripping her heart, but she pressed on. A three-layer defence guarded the perimeter. First, razor wire surrounded the walls at about a three-meter distance. The local forest had been cut back in many areas to allow this. Next were the recently set-up flood lights, placed at regular intervals and, when lit, gave no point of unlit area. Finally, a whole company of heavily armed soldiers stood watching the site they were blockading. They were spread around the length of the perimeter at set intervals. She knew that further back, they were organising an entire armoured battalion. Rumour was that the US Government was planning a full assault on the site after the disastrous joint Federal Law Enforcement raid. This was turning into a whole military encampment that was looking to stay for a while. Tents were multiplying all around, and communication masts sprouted from the closet to the perimeter. She could hear the radio chatter around her from different sources. There was a running joke online that it was not who was trying to run this in the Government but who was not. Checking her watch, she noticed that she only had a few more minutes before the distraction she had placed triggered. She had to move faster. There would only be a brief window of opportunity. Walking more purposefully, she moved faster towards the gap in the razor wire before the gates. According to rumours, the government had been trying to communicate with the person or thing running the site but had failed so far. The guards were not paying attention to her facing the gates. Any minute now, she thought. It was make-or-break time. Behind her, the timer reached zero, and the combined firecrackers and smoke bombs went off near a tent where she had hidden them. This drew everyone''s attention, and cries of alarm were heard quickly. The three guards at the gap looked around, weapons ready, and looked towards the tents as she passed, seeming to walk to the right. The guards shifted away from their positions to understand better what was happening. She had to move now. Turning, she sprinted past the razor wire towards the gate. ¡°Hey, you. Halt!¡± ¡°Perimeter breach!¡± ¡°Someone running for the gates!¡± She heard these and others as she ran at her best forward. She prayed under her breath as her lungs burned from the abuse, she was putting them through. Fear and adrenaline pushed her legs to move faster¡ªher heartbeat soon, thunder in her ears. ¡°Halt, or we will open fire!¡± A loudspeaker behind her called out, but she kept going. No bullets came. She reached the gates and tripped as she passed through them. She skidded across the stone and stopped breathing hard, realising she had made it. She was briefly euphoric that she understood¡­ she had made it. Fear quickly returned and she sat up and looked around.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. She was in a courtyard-like area with a plinth at the end and two paths leading away north and south. The day was ending, and the shadows from the mountains were beginning to cover the area, so she stood and looked upon¡­. a city of graves. ¡°By the blessed Mary, what is this place?¡± She had expected something, but not this. She lapsed into a stunned silence. ¡°Impressive, is it not?¡± The voice to her immediate left made her jump. One moment, she was alone, and then a man stood there. ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± She exclaimed, startled as she stumbled back from him. ¡°Not quite.¡± There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Gaberial took a few seconds to collect herself, and she knew who or what stood before her. What she saw was a man around six feet five inches tall, broad, with short brown hair and a similarly cut beard. He was dressed in a jet-black tailored suit with a red shirt and black tie. He spoke with a deep voice and with a slight British accent. Oh yes, she knew him. ¡°Y-your him.¡± She stammered, still recovering from the shock and the sprint to get here. On the perimeter, she could hear a lot of movement. The flood light suddenly came on, pouring light through the gates. The intense, harsh light made her squint as equally dark shadows were formed by the light. ¡°Last time I checked, I was, me.¡± With his answer, he smiled slightly, totally unfazed by the chaos her arrival was causing or the light nearly blinding her. ¡°But to business first, my dear. What brings you to my humble abode?¡± Gaberial took a few seconds to collect herself and stood straighter. ¡°I am Gaberial Santez of the Independent Press Corp and I would like to interview you!¡± Her statement caused a reaction she did not expect; he laughed loud and heartily. She felt a bit deflated and hurt at his response. ¡°A reporter! Well, I have not had one of your ilk come through here in a few years.¡± He said, recovering himself. Amusement still in his voice and on his face. ¡°Why, pray tell, do you wish this, Miss Santez?¡± Gaberial was unsure if she was now being mocked; before her, it was the biggest story in the country and possibly the planet. ¡°I am a reporter and that is what I do. Find a story and tell it!¡± She answered, knowing it was true because she believed in what she did. The figure before her looked at her for a few seconds and nodded slightly to himself. ¡°An interview, no.¡± He said, making her sick at all she had to do to get this far. ¡°But my story, I will give you.¡± This caused her to perk up and fill her chest with hope. Maybe it had not all been in vain. ¡°I take it you have the means to record this conversation?¡± ¡°Yes, I have a satellite uplink kit in my bag, along with my smartphone and a battery pack that will last for ten hours.¡± She had come prepared. The man again nodded. ¡°Do you plan to livestream our conversation to the world?¡± ¡°Through the uplink, yes. If we are jammed, then my phone will record everything anyway.¡± ¡°I see you have planned this out. Very well. Set up your uplink just outside the gates. Will you need to stay attached to it for transmission?¡± ¡°No, I have a three-meter cable. Why may I ask?¡± This request confused her. Surely, they could transmit from here or further in. ¡°Take a moment and truly look at this place.¡± He motioned his arm further into the site. Gaberial did as she was asked, and a few minutes later, it dawned on her what he was telling her to see. ¡°Wait, that¡¯s not¡­¡± ¡°I assure you it is. Please follow my instructions.¡± She staggered a little as she unslung her pack and fumbled for the clasps while still looking at the sight before her. The man just waited. Gaberial pulled her attention away and began setting up her uplink. She unpacked it and started attaching the parts together. Testing the unit, it pinged her phone. It was operational, and she placed it just outside the gates. Several voices called on her to leave the site and return to the perimeter, but she ignored them. Attaching the cable to her phone, she returned to the figure who had just passively watched everything she was doing. The sound of a gong striking was her alert setting, which drew her attention to the phone that told her that the uplink had been established. Dozens of messages suddenly began appearing from friends, colleagues and family. She had been out of contact for a few days. She snapped a quick photograph of the figure and sent a message to her boss with the simple line, ¡°Made it.¡± She got a reply seconds later that the servers were ready. A tripod was set up, and her phone was attached to it. The floodlights were causing no end of problems, but the autofocus features were relined to get the best image possible. ¡°Before we start, can I ask you a question?¡± She asked hesitantly. ¡°You may, but be warned, I may not answer it, or then again I might.¡± The slight smile was back on his face. ¡°Are you a demon?¡± She knew it was a stupid question, but her catholic upbringing was playing its part. He paused before answering. ¡°To some, an angel to others.¡± The smile was still there, and she felt he was laughing at a private joke she did not understand. Her phone notified her that the transmission uplink was ready causing her to focus on it. She pressed record and moved into the frame with the man. She put on her professional face. This was going to make or break her. She took a few steady breaths before beginning. A beep told her to start. ¡°This is Gaberial Santez from the IPC reporting live from within the Idaho exclusion zone. I am here with the figure from the earlier federal raid, who is identified as the individual who runs this site. You identified yourself then as the Keeper. Is that your name?¡± ¡°Name and role, I am afraid.¡± ¡°I had asked to interview you, but you have instead decided to give me your story, so can you please begin? But I will interject with questions if I feel it is warranted.¡± The man''s smile was still there; he was partially facing her and the phone camera like her. ¡°Well, it all started while I thought I was dreaming¡­.¡± Chapter 1 Am I dreaming? The sky was blue, with little clouds and tall grass around me. In the distance, I could make out mountains and trees over the grass. It seemed like summertime wherever I was. The sun was low on the horizon, indicating it was morning, as it was still crossing the sky. I could hear bird songs in the distance. It was sometimes loud, indicating that it was closer by then. Insects buzzed around, ignoring me as I lay there. I was confused and disoriented. This was the first coherent thought I have had. Mentally, I felt like I had been beaten up and had the worst hangover ever. Foggy was best to describe it, but at the same time, hyper-aware. I had no idea where I was or how I got here. I studied my environment more. No, this was no dream. I tried to move but could not. This caused me to try to focus faster on my situation. Where was I? This was another question that came to me as I began to focus more. Was I lying down? My memories then were coming back but were still fragmented. They were flooding my mind, distracting me. I remembered people but not their faces. They were blurred or missing outright. Places and dates come and go strangely and are not relevant for some reason. My love for horror books and films, along with city-building computer games, these two subjects were clear, but all the others were confused. Should I not be freaking out? I think I should be. Yes, I should be. My emotions are fuzz and distant¡ªanother strange thing. Almost removed from my thinking processes. Knowing I should have been able to move but could not was another disturbing thing. Again, still not freaking out. I tried to put my hands up to my face. Nothing. No hands, no movement. Panic should be the emotion I should be feeling. Was I being restrained? I began to test wh¡­.
Initialising¡­¡­..
A screen appeared in front of my vision. I was startled but quickly confused again. It was a blue screen. Why was this strangely familiar? Then I thought. ¡°Initialising, what?¡± I asked this out loud but then realised I had not even spoken. Ok, I really should be freaking out now, or I should stop thinking I need to be, as it appears I have no control of anything right now. The message on the blue screen changed.
Welcome, Dungeon Keeper! As a new Keeper, you must select from the list that will be supplied to establish your new Dungeon. These choices are permanent and cannot be changed!
¡°Dungeon Keeper? Like the games?¡± Whatever was happening was ignoring me or was fully automated.
But first! Congratulations! You have been chosen as a new Dungeon Keeper. Upon your death, your soul was identified as being able to perform this complex and challenging job. Embark on a thrilling journey as your soul is encapsulated within a Dungeon Core and transported to a different era and Earth. Your mission: to construct a realm that will test the mettle of the mortals in this world. Due to the unique fact that most Earths have very little natural magic that creates monsters, you will need to recruit the only ones available: monsters with the faces of men! They will be the Hunters within your territory. But fear not! You will see their true faces under your influence along with a little time as they kill to make you stronger! You may even be lucky enough to acquire some unique Hunters along the way! So, choose wisely and create your future!
¡°What? Era? New Earth? ¡­. Hold on, I died!¡± I was just confused now and more than a little afraid. I think I should be breathing hard or hyperventilating. The screen changed again, presenting me with more information.
Wait! I hear you ask, but what is a Dungeon Keeper and this new shiny Core I inhabit? Well, young Keeper, both are excellent questions! We will go one further and give you another: what is a Dungeon? Well, get ready for the answers!
¡°Not what I was asking, but they are good quest¡­.¡± The pain hits me like a sledgehammer to the head. Too fast for me to scream. My vision goes white from it. As suddenly as it happens, it ends¡ªmy vision returns. I now know the answers to those questions. Dungeons are areas controlled by a Dungeon Keeper. As stated, they challenge all who enter into a deadly contest against my Hunters. If the challenger wins, they receive a ¡°reward¡±. The nature of the contest is different from Dungeon to Dungeon. The reward granted is unique to each challenger and scales with the Dungeon. As for being a Dungeon Keeper, I now know how to access my menu screen and move my point of focus around. I can offer contracts to potential Hunters and am required to manage them along with their needs. I can interact with my Dungeon physically, and this increases as I become more powerful. Finally, I can take a limited form through my avatar, but this has limits and restrictions on what I can do. As I do, this form levels allowing me to do more as my avatar improves. My Core is my body, the control point for the Dungeon and its power source. If it is removed, the Dungeon collapses, and I will suffer a ¡°fate worse than the hells¡± if it is destroyed. There is no further explanation for that. I think there should be. There was another warning that if I failed to perform the role of the Dungeon Keeper, I would suffer the fate of Core destruction. ¡°All makes sense, but¡­.¡± The screen changes again. It was definitely automated, whatever was happening.
Dungeon theme options: Ancient mansion and grounds. Abandon hamlet. Deserted farm. Graveyard. For more information, please say information(option). When you have made your final choice, please say: I chose(option).
I read over the options that appear, and something about the last one speaks to me. The others are interesting, and I will investigate them. ¡°Information graveyard.¡±
Graveyard. It¡¯s a classic for a reason. You start off with a square mile of a basic graveyard. From here it will be up to you what you do with it! What will you build? Great Keepers in the past have turned such humble beginnings into great necropolis that stood for ages!
Why did the Graveyard interest me so? Well, the last part drove it home for me. In 1988, Clive Barker published the novella Cabal, which was turned into the 1990 film Nightbreed. I remember watching the movie as a teenager years later and being entranced. The idea of a necropolis inhabited by ¡°monsters¡± inspired me to read other works by King, Poe and Lovecraft, just to name a few. This also fuelled my film-watching. I have seen almost all the horror films, from slasher to torture horror. I leaned toward the more psychological films over the standard slasher fare but respected the well-made ones of any type. Inadvertently, this was expressed through my computer game choices. I shied away from first-person shooters to city builders and horror.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Now, before me, the option to build such a city of my own seemed too good to be true! I want to select it straight away! But to contain my excitement, I checked out the other options. The mansion will allow me to create a sprawling building on extensive grounds. The hamlet could grow into a village and then a town. As to the farm, it was similar to the mansion. All options had exciting possibilities, but the graveyard was colouring my thoughts. ¡°I chose Graveyard.¡±
Congratulations! You have chosen the Graveyard option for your Dungeon. Next, you will need to select several perks for your Dungeon. These will allow you to personalise your Dungeon.
¡°Ok. I wonder what the¡­.¡±
Perk Choices! Every choice you make is crucial, as its permanent and will shape your Dungeons future. Keep in mind, not all perks listed will reappear in future as new ones will take their place. You, Keeper, can select four perks to add to the one that has been assigned to your Dungeon. The assigned perk is ¨C Beacon (Assigned). The list of perks is the following¡­.
The list was very extensive, with two hundred-eight options. They were rated on a rarity scale and listed alphabetically. I started reading down the list, looking for things that would work well with my vision for what I wanted to create. Near the bottom, I found something that piqued my interest.
Spatial Folding (Mythical) It is a genuinely unique ability for a Dungeon. The space occupied by the Dungeon is folded. This changes the shape of the area of your Dungeon to a sphere that will not change. From the outside, the Dungeon appears as it was when it was first established. Inside the ¡°bubble¡±, the Dungeon can be many times larger than the space it occupies. This perk scales with your Dungeon level.
¡°Bloody hell! That¡¯s amazing!¡± If I was reading this right, this means that my Dungeon will not grow beyond the first-mile size, but inside the bubble, the size is linked to my Dungeon¡¯s level. This means I could have a ten-mile-wide Dungeon hidden in the bubble if I reach a certain level! That would screw with the minds of most! In the end, it was a no-brainer. ¡°I chose Spatial Folding.¡± I returned to the list. Several options caught my eye, and I considered them.
Walls (Common) It says what it is with the name. You gain a fifteen-foot wall around the boundaries of your claimed area. One gate is automatically assigned, with others created as you need them.
¡°Not scalable then, just walls with a gate.¡± I had to think about this one. It gave me a limited defence and could trap those hunted within my Dungeon. The downside was that I would be easy to spot, most likely clearly showing my location. I was a defensive player in most strategy games, so¡­ ¡°I chose Walls.¡± Back to the list, I had my eye on the last two options, both in the M section. But first, I found Beacon. It''s time to find out what it did.
Beacon (Assigned) One of the most important things for a Dungeon! Here''s how the Beacon works: it''s your key to attracting Hunters and Challengers. Without it, you''ll be invisible in the world. They will feel a pull and see your Dungeon in their dreams. The Hunters will be shown how to seek a contract. The Challengers will be shown the conditions of completing your Dungeon. This perk scales with your Dungeon level.
Reading over it, I was less annoyed at losing a perk slot to it. Actually, I thought it was a good one for one of my last two possible choices.
Maze (Uncommon) The paths and layout of your Dungeon are designed to confuse and disorientate. This perk will heavily influence the layout of your Dungeon removing your ability to rearrange it to your wishes. This perk scales with your level.
Mausoleums (Common) Tombs, resting places for the dead or lairs for Hunters, call them what you wish; it¡¯s up to you how they are used. Hunters can use them as homes/lairs within your Dungeon. In time, they will personalise them to their tastes. This will make most happier to live within your Dungeon, improving loyalty. This perk has ten levels that will need to be bought when levelling.
Both options most attracted me. Sure, there were others, like crypts, but I was gambling that it and the others would still be present when I got my next perk. I did not like gambling, but I felt these were the best options to get started. I chose them, and a new screen message appeared.
Congratulations! You have chosen the Graveyard option for your Dungeon and your four Perks. Next, you will need to understand what your Hunters are and how to manage them!
¡°Shit, Dose this m¡­.¡± White blinding pain. When I recovered, I knew everything I needed about Hunters. Hunters were my means of growth, defence and limited scouting¡ªthe last part surprised me. When a Hunter is accepted into my service through the contract, we become bound by it. They must obey my commands, but I would need to be careful as some might take offence to what I had them do. Treating them too badly could void the contract. I also had to see to their basic needs, which would differ for each Hunter. In my service, the Hunter becomes semi-immortal. They are not affected by age and will ¡°hibernate¡± when not needed or performing tasks. They do not need food and drink, as my core sustains them, but they can still partake if they desire. They acquire a kill count that triggers their levelling when it reaches a set number, which, in turn, rests the count. The Hunter could die, and this could happen at any time they receive fatal wounds. The Hunter would be resurrected, but with a cost. The first is the loss of their recorded kills. If this is at zero, then they start losing levels and gained Perks. When level zero is reached, then they face permanent death. Another death penalty is that they would need to rebuild and levels they lose before progressing again. This is the same mechanic that I use to level without the resurrecting part. The longer a Hunter is in service the more it will be changed by me as it levels. All Hunters have Dark Traits that will grow and change through their actions. Their physical forms would also change to represent this. A Hunter will be able to leave the Dungeon to scout or perform tasks, but the time away will become shorter the higher their level. Hunters are assigned to territories in my Dungeon that they will engage any who enter. By their nature, Hunters do not get along; as they level, they become less tolerant of other Hunters but will work together when I need them to. ¡°That strangely all makes sense.¡± I thought back to all the horror films I had watched with the near or unkillable bad guy. The Hunter resurrection mechanic would account for a lot of this, so I will need to be careful and not throw them recklessly into every fight.
Nearly done! You have chosen the Graveyard option for your Dungeon and your four Perks. You know about Hunters and how to level yourself and them. The last two things are the creation of your Dungeon and naming it. To start creation, say: Begin. To go back and change anything, say: Options.
I looked at my choices in my mind. They looked good overall. Sure, I still had a few concerns, but I could not stay like this forever. The sun was high in the sky, indicating that the day was passing. ¡°Begin.¡± Everything went black. I felt a surge of panic, but the blue screen reappeared.
Name your Dungeon, Keeper. This is your last task!
I knew what it would be from the minute I selected the Graveyard option. I took the city''s name that inspired this Dungeon and added a minor twist. ¡°New Midian.¡± My vision went white again, and the box disappeared. Slowly, my vision returned, and the sight around me became very different. It was like looking through my eyes again, but I knew this was not true. I sensed my Core below me; I was on something. Looking down, I could see a rough stone slab. Turning my sight back up, I could make out the room I was in. The light was coming through several stained-glass windows, covering the room with different colours. From the position of the sunlight that was coming in, it appeared much later in the day. The blue box distracted me with its appearance.
Congratulations! The Dungeon of New Midian has been created! Your challenger requirement to succeed is the following: Due to your choices, the challengers to your Dungeon will need to place a sacrifice on the alter during the night hours. Then, when this is done, they must make it to the gates and leave after dawn. The following message will be placed at the entrance. ¡°To claim the reward. Travel to the Church of the Angel. In the hours of the moonlight, place your sacrifice upon the altar. As dawn light touches the gates, be free to leave this place. If you do, you will be more than you were. But beware the those who dwell here.¡± You are now finished. Show us what you are capable of!
¡°Eh?¡± The last part of the message through me a bit. ¡°Who is the ¡°us¡±?¡± I got no answer and felt alone now. The blue boxes strangely gave me the feeling that I was being watched, which I did not realise until they were gone. I continued to look around. I knew I was in sight mode, which allowed me to move freely around my Dungeon grounds. I could not be impeded by anything in this area. The building I was in was a roughly constructed church. The layout and the large statue of the classical Western depiction of the Grim Reaper with wings were behind the altar. The statue was remarkably well carved from a good-quality marble of some type. It stood above the altar with its hooded head angled down, facing the altar. It held an open book in its left hand and a scythe in its right. ¡°This must be the centre of the Dungeon, then.¡± I was talking to myself, as no one else could speak to me. I could sense my Core was inside the altar. I looked into it and found the black sphere that made up my Core in the altar. It was time to explore, starting with this building. It was rough, not baldly constructed and looked solid. It was a single, long room with large wooden doors facing the altar. There were a few pews made from wood along each side. Three large stained-glass windows on each side were built into each wall. With the light coming in, they must face west and east, making the doors on the north side and the altar on the south. Two large urns were on each side of the altar. Passing through them, I found them both empty and made of clay. On the wall to the right of the altar was a long wooden plaque covering more than two-thirds of it. It was blank apart from the word ¡°Invictus¡± engraved on the top. ¡°What is this for?¡± No answers came. The floor was made of stone slabs, and the roof was made of flint tile with exposed wooden beams. A small tower contained a bell. The strange thing about the bell was that it had no capper inside, meaning it made no sound. ¡°Outside then.¡± I had no physical form to restrict me, so I chose a different way to exit the building. I went up through the roof of the bell tower, stopping about a meter above it and looked around. I looked upon the beginnings of a planned necropolis and found¡­. Not a lot. I had a few mausoleums and a lot of gravestones, a few statues and trees. That was pretty much it. ¡°Well, I had hoped for more.¡± I had to remind myself that I was starting out at level 1, and so things would be crappy until I got things going. In the distance, I could see the wall surrounding my controlled area. Evenly spaced along the wall, a round pillar stood just taller than the wall with a gargle statue kneeling, looking out. ¡°Ok, that¡¯s cool.¡± I could see the gate to the east and went over to it. It was between two pillars and made of cast iron bars. In each was fashioned the image of the Angel of Death profile facing each other within the gates. The tops of the bars were spikes. In front of the gates within the Dungeon was a small, paved area with a path heading north and another heading south. A plinth with the message about claiming the reward offered here was also there. The paths'' stones were cobblestone but well-made and sturdy. I followed the paved paths and found that the Maze perk had arranged them into a¡­ well, a maze. It was not very impressive and simple to work out. You could cut through the gravestones to bypass large sections. Hopefully, this will change in time. The paths were organised into circles or rings but had turnings that led to dead ends. A handful of trees were scattered around, which was a bit of a surprise as I had envisioned a graveyard without them. The graveyard''s style was high Gothic Victorian. Some of the mausoleums, mainly those with pillars on the front, had Roman/Greek architectural elements. Overall, I was happy; I just needed to get some Hunters in here to get things rolling. The daylight was nearly gone as the sun was setting behind the mountains¡ªtime enough for one last thing. I moved my point of view to the top of the spatial bubble around the Dungeon and looked out at the world. Forests are all around the north and south, especially mountains to the distant west, and plains to the east. I could make out a track to the east at the edge of the forest, running parallel with a river that cut along the edge of the woods. To the northeast, I think I can make out several smoke trails from buildings? It was hard to tell as they were over a rise I could not see past. ¡°Well, it looks like I just wait now.¡± Chapter 2 Day seven had just dawned as I looked over my Dungeon. The sunlight is passing over the walls of my little domain, finally driving the last deep shadows away from most of the area. I had hoped things would have moved a bit faster, but I am not that lucky. In my free time, which was all of it, I experimented and ventured into different sections of the Dungeon, a place of unknown origin and strange phenomena. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding, and the walls seemed to whisper secrets. I had discovered a few things that worried and perplexed me; now I had to add how I was thinking about this place it seemed. Whispered secrets¡­ seriously? Was the lack of any interactions getting to me? I had been singing songs from artists I could remember to pass the time or at least help to. ¡°I do not remember my name.¡± This was the first thing that tied into another issue of my memories. I had tried to remember, but the more I sought it, the more it slipped away. This was the same for the rest of my memories. Unless they were linked or were focused on things relating to the entertainment I enjoyed, I encountered the same issue while trying to focus on them. Everything was disjoined and strangely blurred. Names, faces, and locations were all hard to pin down. I am sure that I was male and lived in Britain, but beyond this, it was too hard to understand. This was added to the emotional distance I felt strongly, indicating they were being suppressed or altered. I should be mad or afraid, but I am mostly calm as I have no control over it and cannot change it. I am aware of it and will continue testing ideas to get them all back. It was strange as I felt incomplete in some way without them. Next was a bit more mundane but just as strange to me. ¡°The graves are all blank.¡± Every tomb and grave marker did not indicate if anyone was buried there. No names or dates were ordained on a single stone surface. On the third day, I checked the ground and tombs and found they were all empty. There were no bodies or even hints that anyone had ever been buried in any of them. The statues and faces carved onto some tombs were also not what I expected. It was subtle, and I did not see it initially, but they were all disturbing somehow. The angels were looking away or had their eyes covered. The cherubs were not smiling but leering or sneering. There were also a large number of grinning devil faces and snarling gargoyles. This brought me to my next discovery. ¡°There are no insects or other animals.¡± I had not seen a single bug or animal. At first, I thought it was due to the sudden appearance of my Dungeon, which had rightly freaked out the local wildlife population. I had even left the gate open for a few nights to see if I could attract anything in. It was not until the fifth day that I understood why nothing was approaching. A bird flew in low and reached the wall and the spatial bubble edge, and well¡­... it was not pretty. The bird was caught in the bubble and visibly contorted violently as it was killed, explaining the lack of wildlife not flying in. The walls would keep most of the land-based ones out. While exploring, I discovered that the church doors have the word ¡°Sanctuary¡± carved into the stone above them. This brought me to my last realisation from these first few days. ¡°I am not on the side of the angels.¡± Thinking back over the blue screens, along with the options and language used, it was pretty clear now. This place was designed to kill people, and it was my job to make it as efficient as possible. Was I now just a low-level manager? Now, that was a disturbing thought. These and a few other things occupied my mind as I passed the time. My favourite was positioning my sight at the top of the spatial bubble. I got a good look around at my environment. The boxes said I had been moved to a different era and Earth. I had been thinking a lot about that. ¡°Does it mean I am in a parallel reality or a different time within my reality?¡± My view of the outside world showed me a healthy and vibrant environment. Is this the past or the distant future? The lack of signs of global collapse through war or other disasters was absent. Nor were the signs of advanced technology. The ¡°road¡± near me was a dirt track, which I had not seen any traffic along yet. Sure, I could not see it entirely, but it crossed the river and led up the rise to the community over on the other side. I was now sure there were people over there. I also tried out my avatar function. When activated, I gained a human body or the appearance of one. I could not feel anything I touched or smelled and even tried eating something, which failed. Looking down, I found I was dressed in a tailored black suit with a blood-red shirt and black tie. Black dress shoes finished off the outfit. My hands showed that the avatar was Caucasian, and I felt my face; I had a beard. I had no decent reflecting surface to get a good look at my features. The stained-glass windows showed a man in his mid-thirties. Why this appearance? Was it how I once looked? I had moved some things around, ranging from stones to a few grave markers, and I soon became mentally exhausted so severely that I had to stop. I dismissed the form to relieve the pressure on my mind. I knew this improved as I levelled, allowing me to do more. ¡°Questions with more questions how¡­¡± [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] ¡°What?¡± The message rolled across the bottom of my vision like a news channel feed, not in a blue box. I move my sight to the gates. A man was opening them, but he was not alone. He had a horse and two pack mules with him. What gave me the idea the message was right were the two gagged and hog-tied women on the back of the two mules. This warranted a closer examination as they were the first to come here! The man, who was around five feet five inches tall, led the animals in a single file and walked with purpose. He was dressed in a long coat, a hat and several layers underneath. He was slightly hunched and had a sturdy build. It was hard for me to guess his age due to the unkempt beard he was sporting with shoulder-length greasy hair. From what I could see, his face was pox-marked, and his skin was weather-beaten. His eyes were brown, and he chewed something as he walked. The whole look gave me a late 1800s Western Pioneer vibe. Turning my attention to the women, I saw that they were terrified of their situation. On closer examination, their appearances hinted at their being related. Mother and daughter was my first guess. They were dressed in women''s fashions of the same period as the clothing of their captor. They were whimpering and, from the tear tracks on their dirty faces, had been crying for some time. Given their situation, I would be surprised if they had not. I spotted a handgun, along with the rifle in the saddle I could see, added to my impression of the possible time period. The rifle was covered, but the pistol looked like an early Colt from the cowboy films I had seen. The man followed the pathways through the Dungeon without deviation to reach the Church. Standing before it, he paused for the first time and seemed surprised it was here. He smiled, and his teeth were yellow and stained by some brown substance. He turned and spat a glob of a brown substance onto the ground. He had been slow and methodical approaching the Church, but now he had exploded into excited action. The two women were violently pulled from the mules and hit the ground hard. The doors to the room were opened, and the women were dragged inside. This elicited a new bout of crying and muffled screaming. They tried to fight or move, but the restraints were too well attached in securing them. He dragged them to just before the altar and dropped them again. They were looking around, terrified, trying to find a source of help. Standing before it, he quickly removed his hat and held it to his chest with his left hand. He looked up at the statue behind it with awe and reverence, acting like this was a truly holy place to him.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. With a surprising hesitation after his last actions, he stepped forward and slowly placed his hand on the altar. [Potential Hunter: John Rigger. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers two sacrifices to you.] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] What choice did I have? It was not like I had Hunters lining up to join up. ¡°Yes.¡± Something then happened. My view of the world suddenly stretched and then snapped back. Something clicked into place in my mind, and I knew new things. John Rigger shimmered like a mirage and then became solid simultaneously. His smile increased in size, and he turned to the two women. With practised ease, he pulled aside his coat and drew a bowie knife from its sheath. Both women were screaming now. He pulled the older one up. She tried to fight, but he pulled the blade across her throat. The bright red blood surges from the wound, spattering across herself and the altar, staining both. The other let out a primal howl of fear and grief. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Letting the body drop, he turned and pulled the younger up. She fought even harder, but he did the same to her. [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡°Thank ya, Keeper, for taking me in.¡± His voice was rough and coarse. The accent was American and strongly indicated a limited education. ¡°You''re welcome,¡± I replied. He nodded at my words, and I knew he could hear me. ¡°Where can I store me wives and me possessions?¡± Wait what? Wives? ¡°One moment.¡± He was collecting the bodies together. I opened his status screen in my mind. Now, he was a Hunter in my Dungeon, and I had access to it and my own.
Hunter Name John Rigger
Level 1 Kills 2/5
Skills Horse Riding. II Loyalty Neutral
Blades. IV
Handguns. II
Rifles. III
Tracking. IV
Trap Making. II
Corpse Harvesting. II
Dark Traits
Necrophiliac
I quickly read through the screen. To the right was a headshot of Mr Rigger. Necrophiliac! What the honest FUCK! I panicked a little, as I never expected this. Nevertheless, I made a decision. ¡°Take the building to the west, closet to the church.¡± He nodded and bent over, slinging the bodies of the two dead women over his shoulders with a grunt. He turned and began walking, blood seeping into his coat, then onto the floor, leaving a trail. I started checking things. I selected his dark trait. [Necrophiliac: It¡¯s as bad as you think. They will be happy if the Hunter''s needs are met. Do you want to know more?] I chose ignorance on this, mainly for my own sanity. I need to clarify some things with my new Hunter. I travelled with him to his new home. He looked it over and spoke more to himself. ¡°Slept in worse. I¡¯m thinking we be happy here, Cecilia.¡± He opened the doors and placed the two bodies within. He then went back and collected the mules and horse. Who the hell was Cecilia? ¡°Rigger, we need to clarify some things.¡± I began to speak, and he tensed up. The contract stated I could add any additions I desired when I wanted. ¡°First of all, what happens in your lair is your business as long as it stays there. I will not violate your privacy while you remember this.¡± He nodded in understanding; he seemed relieved and happier. ¡°Next, your possessions are yours.¡± As the Keeper, I had the right to claim anything he owned. ¡°But in future, all kills possessions will be divided as I see fit. Understood?¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Again, he seemed relieved. ¡°Any additional kills you make unless claimed as ¡°wives¡± will be buried in the graveyard next to a gravestone unless instructed.¡± This made him pause. ¡°I get more wives?¡± He had pulled his hat off again when he asked this. ¡°If the opportunity arises, yes, you can. You can have as many as you like as long as it remains in your lair.¡± I wanted to scream hell no, you sick fuck! But the practical side of me was running the show. He broke out into an even bigger smile at my words. ¡°Oh, thank ya, Keeper, for such kindness!¡± I realise he is facing the chapel when he is speaking to me. [Hunter: John Rigger''s loyalty changed from Neutral > Good.] ¡°Last thing, let the animal go outside the bounds of the walls. You will not need them anymore.¡± He nods again as he places his hat back on. ¡°Right, with that sorted out, I will leave you to get settled in. Tomorrow, I have a few tasks for you.¡± I disconnected from him but continued to watch. ¡°Oh, Cecilia, nice fella, that Keeper!¡± He was speaking to both corpses. Is he calling them both Cecilia? I watch him unpack, taking his things and ¡°wives¡± into the building and closing the door behind him. I have removed my awareness of this place from my mind during this time. Some things are best left unknown. Would his actions in gaining the two women to come here bring trouble to me? They had not come willingly. The answer was simple: I had no idea, so I would deal with the consequences if they arrived. The day wore on, and I had a few more things to do. Sure, they were unnecessary, but I was working through a mental checklist I had created and updated. The gates were my first destination. Looking out from them, I could see trees and a few animals. I would need John to make a track to the road. It was only two miles, so it would not take long, hopefully, a few days or weeks. He had left both gates open, and I closed them partially. ¡°Well, there''s no time like the present.¡± I brought up my own status screen.
Dungeon Name New Midian
Level 1 Hunters 1/1
Infamy (Local) Unknown Infamy (State) Unknown
Infamy (National) Unknown Infamy (Global) Unknown
Kills 2/5 Victors 0
Perks
Beacon (Assigned)
Spatial Folding. (Mythical)
Walls. (Common)
Maze. (Uncommon)
Mausoleums. I (Common)
The numbers in the Hunter and Kills section were changed. I realised that I needed five kills to progress to level 2. The infamy ratings were more interesting. They would change as my Dungeons notoriety changed. I knew gaining too much too fast would be bad for me. To the right was a picture of the altar. Why? I had not a single idea. ¡°Looking good overall.¡± Looking around, I would need Rigger to clear up after the animals, as well as they had crapped all over the place. Back to the chapel, I had blood stains to think about. ¡°They could be an issue.¡± There was a blood trail leading to Rigger¡¯s lair. Looking back over Rigger''s sheet, I remembered something I needed to find out about in his Skills list. Corpse Harvesting. I asked for more information. The blue box was a bit of a surprise.
Corpse Harvesting. Hunters skin and collect meat from their kills. A Harvester will seek to use every part of the kill to its fullest. No matter what part, they will try to put it to use. The greater this skill, the more a harvester can recover and reuse from a body. New uses can also be discovered as the skill develops. Up to ten levels can be gained in this skill.
¡°That sounds useful.¡± If this was the American western frontier of the late 1800s, then this was an excellent skill to have. What Rigger would make of it was anyone''s guess. ¡°I need to find out the year and my location.¡± I was eager to know these things, but now was not the time to ask. I travelled the length of the wall, and once I had confirmed that there were no problems, I returned to the top of the bubble. Things were going well, so I would wait to find out what I needed to know. The day passed into night and day again. I did some more singing, working through AC/DC¡¯s catalogue. Rigger emerged dressed from his lair shortly after dawn. As soon as I became aware of him, I went down to him. He was taking the last things from the animals who had spent the night grazing and sleeping. ¡°Rigger, I have a few questions for you.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± He seemed unsurprised when I spoke to him. ¡°I have only recently arrived. I must confirm the date and location to ensure it is right.¡± ¡°Its... er ¡­ August the¡­¡± He starts counting on his fingers. ¡°August the 9th, 1870. This is the Idaho territories near the Rock Mountains.¡± ¡°Excellent. Next question. Did your dreams lead you here?¡± This makes him stop for a few seconds as he thinks about the question. ¡°Ya and no. Dreams told me what deeds to perform when here. But the tug brought me.¡± That was interesting. I told him what I needed him to do, and he got to work without complaint. He started by spending most of the day hacking a rough trail to the road. He had to stop and spend time in the Dungeon as he started to feel ill outside after a time. I told him that was normal and to work at a speed he felt comfortable with. He used the pack animals to aid him. I had realised he might need them and not to let them loose just yet. During this time, I moved around the Dungeon and discovered a change. The mausoleum Rigger had set up in now sported two names: Abigail and Mary Johnson, mother and daughter, who died on August 8th, 1870. ¡°Seems it is 1870, after all.¡± It was getting late when I called him back in and told him to continue the next day. As I had told him, he released the horse and mules, and I watched them wander off. He had told me he did not need them for the rest of the work. It was still an hour or two before sunset, and John was back in his lair. I was thinking about going up to my viewing spot when I saw two riders coming up the partly finished path to the Dungeon. ¡°Now, who are these two?¡± Chapter 3 The men were now close enough for me to get a good look at them and to start to hear their conversation. Both men were dressed for the outdoors and were covered in dust, indicating they had been travelling hard and far. ¡°What is this place, Albert?¡± The first said. ¡°I do not know Samuel. It was not here when I passed through these woods three years ago.¡± Albert and Samuel, their horses tethered to a nearby tree, stood at the gates of my Dungeon. Their rifles, a clear sign of their preparedness, were held firmly in their hands. On their hips were Colt pistols, fully loaded, I would wager. Both men looked like they had used both types of weapons often. ¡°Are you sure he came this way and has not gone another?¡± Samuel asked. ¡°Yes, the trail was clear even after we found the horse wandering. The trail we followed to get here is freshly cut with the tracks matching his footprints from the Johnson farm.¡± Johnson! I knew it; they were tracking Rigger! ¡°It''s getting dark. Do we go in? He might be waiting for us, lurking in the shadows, ready to ambush. His vile character would lean to have him do such things.¡± Samuel was now standing at the gates, peering in, his voice barely a whisper, but Albert heard him. ¡°In decency''s name, we need to. We cannot let him get away and avoid us again, especially now he has those poor women.¡± Alberts''s tone was firm, and his face set. ¡°Can you look at another aftermath of his vile deeds?¡± Samuel paled and looked like he was going to throw up. ¡°No, God forgive me, but I cannot see another.¡± ¡°Then we must enter and seek a reckoning.¡± The gates were opened, and both men entered with their weapons raised. I reached out and connected to my Hunter. ¡°Rigger! We have company two men tracking you from the Johnson farm. Heavily armed, it looks like they know how to use them.¡± I sensed his panic and rushed to get prepared. I had stopped calling him John both out of frustration and as a means to separate myself from him if he died. ¡°What do you make of this, Albert?¡± They had reached the plinth with the inscription. Both read it and looked confused. ¡°I know not, Samuel. Let us not linger as there is something not natural or Godly about this place. Let us find him and be done with him and this place.¡± They chose not to follow the path but continued to walk straight in. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] This means I can help John defend the Dungeon. Firearms are a big no-no. Not discarding them before entering lists you as an intruder, not a Challenger and the gloves come off. My Hunters could use firearms, but they and I did not receive a kill for it. ¡°Look, a chapel in the distance; he will most likely be there.¡± Albert points to my Core resting place. They begin heading that way. That was logical as the mausoleums were too small for habitation to their way of thinking. ¡°Rigger, they are heading to the church. Use guns as a last resort.¡± I sensed he was now out of his lair and finding an ambush point. The growing darkness would help him with this. The sun setting behind the mountains and walls spread darkness across the graveyard even faster. Samuel and Albert were moving together, side by side. Each pointed their weapons in different directions. Their rifles were braced against their shoulders, fingers on the triggers ready to fire. ¡°We will be there soon. Be ready. He might know we are here. For all of his vileness, he is cunning.¡± Albert was older and had the experience. Samuel was younger but was listening to his words. ¡°I need to separate these two if Rigger has a chance of winning without shooting them.¡± They had now come close to the church and his hiding spot. They had not seen him in the growing darkness as he had hidden himself well. If I could distract them, he might have a chance. ¡°I am going to try to distract them. Use it if it works. The older one is the more dangerous.¡± I looked around for an option, but he made no reply. There, a stone! Inspiration struck. Concentrating, I summoned my avatar, crouching to avoid being seen; I lifted a stone and threw it. The clatter caused both to turn and face north. I felt extreme mental exhaustion, and my vision blurred momentarily. That was all I could do. I had been using my avatar earlier and had not fully recovered. I dismissed it. They walked several steps in the direction I threw the stone, getting separated by gravestones. Rigger took the opening. He got up from the ground where he was lying and moved up behind them with his bowie knife drawn. He moves with surprising silence. He is behind Albert. Something warns the man of the danger behind him, and he turns; Rigger gets into range as he does. The blade slices into his side and goes deep, ignoring the layers he is wearing. It is angled into his chest and slices at least one lung and may have even reached his heart. Albert coughs up blood instead of whatever he is about to say. This still alerts Samuel. Samuel turns to see his companion standing with Rigger just behind him. The look of horror on his face tells me all I need to know as he sees the other man dying. Lifting the rifle, he is shaking too badly to aim properly but fires anyway. Rigger twists the body on his knife to act as a shield, but not fast enough. The bullet clips Alberts''s body and grazes Rigger¡¯s left arm. He grunts with pain from the wound. Not wasting time, Riger pulls the blade free and lets the body drop. [A Hunter has made a Kill] He charges the short distance, throwing off any chance to reload the rifle and closing with Samuel. I am impressed he got one off. He jumped and brought down the younger man. The fast and numerous strikes with the blade brought about his end. He tried to scream but coughed up blood instead. [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡°Well, that ended faster than I expected.¡± Rigger rose from the second messier kill, breathing hard. He was covered in blood and took a few more rapid breaths before inspecting his arm. The bullet had ripped through the clothing, and a nasty scar had been carved through his flesh, but I did not see bone. ¡°You will not die from that and will be healed soon.¡± ¡°Reckon ya right.¡± He was still looking at the injury. ¡°Recognise these two?¡± He looked down at them both. He walked back over to Alberts''s body, leaned over, and ripped open his jacket. On his chest was a silver star with the word Marshall imprinted on it. He began searching his pockets. ¡°Well, that is not welcome.¡± Dead lawmen were never a thing you wanted when you were just starting out as a murder/death Dungeon. Rigger stood up, holding a piece of paper. Opening the single sheet, the word reward was printed in bold letters. There was an artist''s impression of Rigger, his name and a long list of crimes. The picture does not do him justice.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°Three hundred dollars reward. Is that a bit low for what this claims you have done?¡± ¡°They don¡¯t know most of me fun.¡± He was smiling, remembering his past misdeeds. ¡°Let us move on. Collect the gear from the horses and let them go. Bring it all and their personal possessions to the church. You can bury the bodies tomorrow.¡± Rigger nods and gets to work. I return to the church and await him. This gives me time to think about the first four kills in my Dungeon. The violent deaths should have affected me, and I could make out the disgust and horror at them, but it was so far away and distant that I was more like an observer on the far side of a ravine trying to listen to them calling over in high winds. I knew they were there but could not understand what they were saying. I knew I had been changed or restricted in many ways. This was just another sign of it. I suspect that it was to make sure that I could perform the role of a Dungeon Keeper without having a complete mental breakdown. I was still mulling this over when Rigger brought all the loot to the chapel and placed it in front of the altar. ¡°Needed a horse to bring it all.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. Go release it, and I will look over everything.¡± He left and returned about thirty minutes later. This gave me a good idea of what was here. ¡°Place the money, watches and jewellery in the urn to the right. The badges go to the left. Guns and ammunition will go into the tomb to the north. Take what you desire and place what¡¯s left with the guns.¡± It did not take long, and the loot was separated. Rigger took no food but alcohol and tobacco, along with a few shirts. He placed the identified items in each urn and moved the rest. By the time he had finished, night had indeed fallen. The night sky was brilliant, and I enjoyed looking at it without the light pollution I was used to when I was alive¡ªwell, alive as a human, that is. Shifting position to the bubble''s top, I looked across the land around me. In the distance, I could see the soft glow of the community there. Rigger was placing the last of the loot away. ¡°Rigger, what is the name of the community over the rise to the northeast?¡± ¡°That will be Crossway.¡± ¡°Crossway? What sort of a name is that for a town?¡± ¡°It''s where the trails and river crossing meet. So, named it Crossway.¡± ¡°What a lousy name.¡± He made no reply, but I sensed him closing the door to the loot pile and heading back to his lair. I asked him no more questions. He opened the door and left my senses as I disconnected from him. [Hunter: John Rigger will be healed in 06:00:00.] ¡°Well, that''s good to know. Six hours is pretty quick.¡± I looked around, and when I looked at his lair, a countdown ticked away above it. That was a handy feature. I floated about there for the rest of the night and watched the world wake up again with the dawn. Nightlife slipped away, replaced by those who moved in the light of the sun. Over the night, I wondered if living in America now makes me American. It was a long night, and not much else happened. There was some singing, but only a little. The countdown had long vanished, and Rigger was up and about. He buried the bodies as instructed. He spent a few hours on the path leading to the main road, but I allowed him to retire early. I checked and found the dead men''s names listed on the gravestones above their graves. ¡°Interesting feature that.¡± At least I now had a way to keep track of time if I lost track of it. The next few days went as follows: Rigger worked on the trail and then retired. There were primarily sunny days but a few rainy ones. Today, we had a nasty storm blowing through the area. Thunder, lightning, and heavy rain, which had been no stop for most of the day. It had come down from the mountains. I had given Rigger the day off, but he had not emerged from his lair. He had cleared enough foliage to allow me a partial view of the road or, should I say, track, which was all mud now. It was two miles from my gates to the road. The path had a kink in it that blocked a direct view up the path to the Dungeon. This was due to a much larger tree holding that patch of ground. ¡°Hello, what is that.¡± I perked up at seeing a team of horses pulling a canvas-covered wagon through the mud. The wagon was one of the classic ones used by settlers going west in all the films and series I had watched. It turned and began heading up the trail to my Dungeon. Behind it came a second. Each was heavily loaded and had two figures bundled up on the driver seat and riding shotgun. ¡°Not what I was expecting? Are they lost?¡± The wagons covering were patched, and additional containers were strapped to the sides. They looked worn and heavily used. They rode up to the gates. I had Rigger clear space to the left of the gates and the wagons parked up. Due to the storm, I could not hear what was being said, but their body language indicated that they were lost. Two figures of men walked up to the gates and looked inside. I noticed the faces of women and children glancing out of the backs of the wagons. ¡°Pioneers from out east probably.¡± They did not expect me to be here; they hoped I would be in a cabin or a small collection of houses, maybe even Crossway. ¡°If I were them, I would wait out the storm, go back to the main track, and keep on going.¡± Looking around the sky, I could see the storm breaking soon, maybe an hour or two. The night would be close behind. They would never reach the town over the rise. For the wagons, it was nearly a day away in the muddy conditions. As predicted, the rain continued for nearly two hours and then suddenly disappeared. The setting sun cut through the clouds, and the two families set up a basic camp as far from the gates as the clearing allowed. I could not blame them. There are two adult men and women, four teenagers, three males and one female, and four more children, three females and one male. The youngest boy was about eight, while the youngest girl was about four. ¡°Please don''t come in. Just camp out tonight and leave in the morning.¡± The kills would put me over the threshold for my next level, but the idea was revolting enough to get me through to even my logical side. My rational side had already calculated that they could overwhelm Rigger with numbers anyway. The men and teenagers had all now produced rifles and were eyeing my gates. I was happy to leave them be as long as they stayed outside. The night rolled in, and they retired to the wagons to sleep. Just past midnight, I spotted movement. The oldest teenage male emerged from the closet wagon and walked around, stretching his legs. Shortly after the eldest teenage female emerged, she smiled at the young man waiting for her. ¡°Lover¡¯s tryst? Just do not come in.¡± I watched them meet up a reasonable distance from the wagons. They had leaned in close and were whispering. The male was glancing at the gates. The cloud mainly had blown through, and the half-moon was high in the sky. It provided a respectable amount of silvery light to illuminate the area. I did not need it, as I still could see everything clearly in the Dungeon, but outside, the dark restricted me as a normal person. The problem was that I could see with terrible clarity what was going to happen. ¡°Don¡¯t, boy, keep her safe and stay out!¡± After a few minutes, he convinced her and they walked through the partially open gates. ¡°Shit!¡± They stopped at the plinth, and the girl read the words aloud. ¡°What do you think this strange verse means, Henry?¡± Her confusion is apparent in her features and tone. ¡°I do not know, Susan. Let us walk a little further before we need to go back. I have things we need to speak on.¡± ¡°I do not think we should. Something is queer about this place, and it unsettles me.¡± She pulls her shawl tighter around her as she looks across the graveyard. ¡°Frett, not Susan, I wish to speak of tomorrow.¡± He took her hand, and she allowed herself to be led. They took the southern path as they continued talking. [Two Challengers have entered your Dungeon.] ¡°Well, we are committed now.¡± I could sense Rigger becoming aware of the two interlopers. I turned my attention back to the couple. Passing the plinth and stepping onto one of the paths was the last thing needed to trigger the Dungeon. ¡°It is true I plan to ask your father for the privilege of courting you tomorrow.¡± ¡°Oh, Henry, that is splendid news. I think our parents will approve of such a match.¡± No, you will not, I thought to myself. As recognised Challengers, my options had become very limited, and I was now regulated to observe. This was not going to go well; Henry was not armed but had a small knife in his belt. Against Rigger, he would not last long. I did not even count the girl, as she had no visible weapons. She might surprise me, but I doubted it. Rigger was moving and would find them soon. They strolled along the southern pathway, following the curve of the wall. They chatted about the future and were blissfully unaware of death stalking them. Rigger was now closing in on them, having just spotted the figures walking. They were consciously or unconsciously following the path to the church. He was letting them get deeper into the Dungeon before striking. It would be as soon as he was slowly closing in with them. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice. He positioned himself behind a tree. He became still blending with the darkness. They walked past him. He waited for them to go a little further and then moved. He quickly covered the distance between them, making some sound. This altered Henry, who turned to see what was coming. Rigger''s knife sliced across his throat in an upward cut. He grabbed for his neck, choking on his blood. Susan was stunned at first but then realised what had happened and tried to scream. Rigger¡¯s hand clamped on her opening mouth, smothering the scream. His blade slid into her chest and dreams as her life ended there. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] It was done. [New Midian, Level up! Hunter: John Rigger, Level up!] There was a golden + symbol at the bottom right of my vision. We had to accept them, but it was not the time. There was work to do. ¡°Do not level up yet! Hide the boy in the church. Do you want the girl?¡± ¡°Ya, never have enuff wives.¡± ¡°As soon as you have, head back to your lair and then level up. I will be as well. Expect trouble as soon as they understand they are missing. There could be up to five males with guns.¡± He made no reply but got to work. He was close to the church and moved the body quickly. He returned, collected the girl, and returned as fast as possible to his lair. After he closed his door, I cleared my mind. More rain was coming in again as the sky clouded over. The first drops were starting to fall. ¡°Let ''s do this.¡± Chapter 4 A blue box appeared in my vision. I strangely missed them, but they still nagged at me that I was missing something. I got to reading.
Congratulations! You have reached level 2! Your kill count to reach level three has increased to 10. You have gained a new Hunter slot. Your Dungeon has increased to 1.25 miles. A new perk slot is available to select. You are doing better than we expected. Keep up the good work!
"Who the hell is the "we" part!" No answer. No surprise. I think I would be more shocked if I got an answer. I looked at the list of perks and read it down. Most were the same as the first time, and I was going to take crypts until I spotted something more needed and newly added to the list.
Hide the Crime! (Uncommon) Your Hunters make such a mess. This perk allows you every 24 hours to hide evidence of these crimes. As it is levelled, this perk will hide more evidence and physical signs of combat. This skill scales with your Dungeon level!
"Damn it! I need this more than crypts right now." I selected this perk, and suddenly, everything went dark. ¡­.. With a flash, my sight returned and I was in the church again, but it was different. The walls were better constructed, not as simple, and used better-quality materials. The wooden benches were smoother and more polished. The altar was more ornate, and I spotted two doors parallel to it on either side of the church. I wanted to investigate them, but I had more pressing concerns, like not ignoring the body at the altar''s base for the moment. He was still there, and what little blood left in his body had pooled around him. I moved outside and up to the top of the bubble. The Dungeon had doubled in size, along with everything in it. The pathways were longer and more elaborate, with more mausoleums, gravestones, and trees. The rain stopped and the cloud cover broke, showing me that dawn had just arrived. The wagons were still outside, meaning things were about to get hectic, and several hours had passed. I pulled up Rigger''s sheet.
Hunter Name John Rigger
Level 2 Kills 0/8
Skills Horse Riding II Loyalty Good
Blades. IV
Handguns. II
Rifles. III
Tracking. IV
Trap Making. II
Corpse Harvesting. II
Stealth. I
Dark Traits
Necrophiliac
Two things were different. The first was the stealth skill, which was coloured gold in the skills section, but the second was his picture. It had changed, and not for the better. His weather-beaten skin was now an unhealthy pale greyish colour. I wondered wh¡­ Sounds of name-calling and dismay could be heard from the wagons as the adults now knew the teenagers were missing. "Shit! Things are about to start to happen!" I moved down to the gates and watched the group. The men quickly found the trail of the two teenagers entering the gates from the muddy footprints that had not been washed away in the rain. It had not been that hard. Their conversations told me they feared the worst. The two men and the two older boys armed themselves. They walked to the gates and opened them and the four of them walked in. This left the women and girls, who were being guarded by the youngest boy, who was around eight. The women were also armed now. Fear and concern were on all the faces of the ones left behind. "How many bloody guns do they have?" Even being America during this time, I felt this was excessive. The four entered and ignored the plinth. The father of the boys sent one with the other man. Two went north and two went south. I knew what was about to happen. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Here we go." I reached out and connected to Rigger. "Two males heading north and two south. Armed with shotguns, no pistols or knives that I can see."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I sensed he was out of his lair and moving. The day was still young, and the walls kept most of the Dungeon in darkness. He would need to move quickly before the sun got too high, and he would lose that advantage. The numbers game was firmly against him. I looked closer at their weapons and noted that they were all double-barrel shotguns, not repeating or single-shot rifles. This was a mixed blessing, as I did not know the ammunition type, but they were slower on the reload. If they were buckshot, then Rigger would have a bigger problem than if they were solid rounds. Hold on, if he were hit with any of it, there would be problems. Rigger had angled south, aiming to take out the pair there first. I watched him move with ease through the expanded Dungeon terrain. He was using it to his advantage to obscure his advance on them. His blade was out and he had his gun belt on with his Colt holstered. I did not speak and let him do his work. Distractions right now could be the death of him. The pair was ahead of him now and he slowed down, moving much more quietly. The two ahead were calling out the names of the missing teenagers. His angle told me he was going to take the man first as he was the more dangerous in his eyes. I had to agree with this strategy. They were too focused on looking ahead and calling out that they did not sense the danger until it was too late. Rigger grabbed the man from behind, covering his mouth and pulling back to expose his throat. His knife opened it up with a jet of blood. The boy screamed in terror, discharging his gun into the air and pissing himself as he watched his father die before him. Rigger went at him, causing the teenager to trip and fall backwards, trying to escape the monster in front of him. He can''t be any older than thirteen. Rigger grabbed his hair and thrust his blade into his neck upwards into his brain. [A Hunter has made a Kill] The father was forced to watch the death of his son as he tried to hold his throat together. An animalist cry came from him, but his wound was too deep and he was losing too much blood. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Looking north, I picked out the other pair. The sound of the shotgun going off had alerted the other two, who were moving southward and calling out to the first two. "The other two are coming south, fast. They are cutting through the graves. They will be at the church soon." Rigger did not answer with words but actions. He turned and began moving in the gloom, using the terrain again to hide his movements. He was heading more westward to avoid running straight into them. Shit! Henry''s body is being stored in the church! I shift to the church. I noticed the two side annexes that it now had. That must be where the doors lead. Focus! The pair was soon to arrive, and Rigger was making good progress toward them. Would they investigate the church or move on? It would give Rigger time to find a good ambush spot if they did. How could I influence this? I opened one of the doors, which gave a good view of the room and the body in front of the altar. The sun would soon be high enough to shine past the wall and illuminate the room better. They reached the church. They were moving fast and breathing harder because of it. They were trying to figure out where the shot had come from. They stopped at the church and the last son, a teenager of about fifteen, was looking around. The man, who was Susan''s father, looked into the church. The room was still mostly dark, but light shone through the windows. It was enough to see the body but not make much more out. He called out and advanced into the room, followed by the teenager. The youth rushed forward past him to check on his brother, whom he had recognised. This took both into the room, giving Rigger the opportunity I hoped for. He was aware of where they were and was getting into position. He had crouched down and was hugging the wall of the church as he moved to the doors. This prevented the two inside from seeing him or his shadow through the glass. Inside, the boy was breaking down over his brother''s death and Susan''s father was beginning to panic, calling out for his daughter. The teenager was trying to lift the body and the man was heading back to the door. He told him he could not help him as he needed to find his daughter. What he found was Rigger waiting next to the door. His knife was buried into his gut as he walked out, as Rigger hit him with a reverse grip side strike. He cried in pain and fell forward, with Rigger expecting it, guiding the body to the ground while pulling the knife free. The teenager was panicking and dropped his brother''s body. Rigger moved to finish him as the boy scrambled back for his shotgun that he had left behind. Rigger crossed the distance fast, but to my surprise, the boy was faster. He twisted and fired the gun off. The shot was wild, but he struck my Hunter. Rigger was caught on his left side just below his ribs. It was not a full-body strike but a nasty wound regardless. He howled in pain and was spun by the impact, blood spraying from the impact point. He hit the ground hard, dropping his knife, which scattered away. The boy''s face was covered in tears and shock from what was happening. He was very pale and shaking from his emotions and adrenaline. The wound he inflicted was dangerous for any man, but as Rigger was my Hunter and at Level 2, I discovered he was a bit tougher than a normal man. His anger and pain brought him back to his feet and he leapt onto the boy. His hand wrapped around the boy''s neck and squeezed. The boy was panicking and hit out at Rigger with all he had, but to no avail. I watched dispassionately as he choked the life from the youth. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Rigger stood and, with great pain, recovered his blade and went to the door to finish the last one. I noted he was losing a lot of blood and was less steady on his feet. This was bad. [A Hunter has made a Kill] He finished off the last man and began heading to his lair. He was now staggering more with every step. He was not going to make it. The distance was just too great. I had to do something. But what? I almost kicked myself and triggered my avatar form. I caught him, took his weight and helped him towards his lair. "Thank ya." He muttered. "All part of the service." I quipped. He just grunted in response. The first few steps were easy, but each one after got worse. The stress of taking form and nearly carrying Rigger to his lair was taxing me like nothing I had done yet. By the fifteenth step, it was becoming pure agony. I was losing focus. That was bad. I focused more on holding my form and walking. I got five more before my form vanished, causing Rigger to fall forward on the steps of his lair. In his rush, he had left a door open and he pulled himself inside with great effort. I am thankful I cannot see inside and see whatever he has been getting up to in there. He closed the door with his booted foot and¡­ [Hunter: John Rigger will be healed in 30:00:00.] I was too exhausted to move. According to the countdown, it took me ten minutes to slowly shift to the gates. It may take another ten before I get there. The women were fearful, and the other children were crying. They had heard the two shots and knew trouble was abroad. The fact that no one of the four had returned told them what they needed to know. There was one thing that stood out to me when looking them over. The last boy, about eight, was calm and focused, staring at the gates. He was not acting like I expected, and I found him to be interesting and a curiosity. "What are you thinking, boy?" I wondered aloud. I knew he could not hear me, and it was for my own benefit. As I watched him, the mothers had come to a decision and gathered up the remaining children. They attached the horses to the wagon and began manoeuvring them back out of the clearing to the track that would lead them to Crossway. The boy protested but ultimately submitted to them. As they left, I saw him glaring from the back of the second wagon. I could not tell if he was just defiant or brave. I felt this needed something to make it a more memorable ending. I smiled to myself, knowing what I needed to do. I had enough strength to do it. The boy''s glare turned to shock and fear as I closed the gates with not a soul present. I laughed at his reaction even as it exhausted me again. I was in no condition to do anything for some time, and neither was Rigger. At a snail''s pace, I moved to the top of the bubble and looked out across the local area. I could make out the wagons travelling towards Crossway. I spent the rest of the day watching them. The muddy conditions slowed them, and fording the waterway swollen with rainwater slowed them more. However, in the end, they crossed the rise and left my sight. The sun was almost gone, and night was soon upon the world. I settled in and waited. Light rain began soon after, and I watched the flash of lightning in the distance. [Alert! Infamy (Local) changed from Unknown > Whispers.] "I should have expected that." The fact that the last survivors of the two families had reached civilisation meant that they would start telling the local population of my existence. But would they be believed? I looked down at Rigger''s countdown. "Nothing to be done right now." The night passed, and the day dragged on. I saw some traffic along the track and noted a group of horsemen come over the rise from Crossway. Rigger''s countdown hit zero, and he emerged shortly after. He was not wearing his jacket, his shirt was missing a section, and he was drenched in blood. He was carrying his shovel. I watched him get to work burying the bodies of the four he killed. I had this opportunity to look into the new two-side buildings attached to the Church. They were just empty rooms, and I was a bit disappointed. I did get Rigger to move all the guns and ammunition into one and what wealth I had gathered into the other. The mausoleum to the north still stored everything else. "Activate [Hide the Crime!]" I watched as the blood stains around the church faded away, not completely, but they were significantly reduced. "Another few activations of the perk, and they will be gone." The night was soon to be here again, and Rigger was finishing his tasks. He had taken a shirt from one of the dead and was heading back to his lair. I looked over the graves. They all sported names and dates now, and I knew which name I was interested in learning. "Rochester." That was the name of Susan and her father. It was also the surname of the boy who glared at my gates until I scared the living shit out of him. Something about that boy stuck with me for an unknown reason. I moved back to the top of the bubble. "I wonder what it was?" It was something I could not name, and I had plenty of time to ponder it. I looked out across the world and¡­ what''s that? The group of horse riders was coming up the track towards the Dungeon. There were six in total, all men, and all appeared armed. "Shit! They must have been believed." This was getting ridiculous. Another group so quickly! I connected to Rigger. "Six men are approaching on horseback, and all are armed." I felt weary and frustrated, and I could not blame him. I did not expect things to move this quickly. I looked them over as they approached, and I saw them better. "Right, six armed men. Three outdoors types, two rugged types and¡­ one who looks like an office clerk?" The last was not one I expected, but the others were. He was dressed in several layers like the others, but he was wearing a hat similar to a bowler''s and had glasses on. His clothes were tweed and not leather or hide like the others. The men rode up the track and reached the gates, but they stopped and were clearly confused. They did not expect the gates or what they could see beyond it. "Let''s see what they are going to do." Chapter 5 "This was not here last year," the lead man said. He dismounted his horse and opened his jacket slightly; on it was a silver star that read "Sheriff." The man just behind him had another that read "Deputy." The three outdoor types were hanging back, and the office clerk was scribbling on a notepad with a short pencil. He stood out amongst this group. "Does anyone remember ever seeing this place when hunting in this area?" He turned to the outdoor types. Two shook their heads that they had not. The third did not move, indicating he was not a local. "It is like the two wives said from their story of what happened," The Sheriff mused, his gaze fixed on the gates. The wives'' story was crucial to the investigation he was mounting. Their report of this graveyard was the most unbelievable part of their story. "Do you think John Rigger is hiding here?" the clerk asked. I thought he might be a reporter, and after a closer look at him and the question, it appeared that he might be. "The Marshals came through looking for him, as he was found to be in the area." "Maybe." He paused for a few moments. "Fred, take Smith and Rodriguez. Hebert and Grant with me, we will search in two groups. Make sure your guns are ready if you are attacked. Fire with the intent to kill. John Rigger is a dangerous man, so take no chances." The men are getting organised. They tie up their horses and pull out the rifles from their holsters on the saddles. They also have pistols and blades. Apart from the reporter, they all look like they know how to use them. "Take any lanterns you have. We might be in there for a few hours. It''s getting dark, but we cannot wait for the day if he is." They walked in by opening both gates. I noted the hesitance of the first to enter. The existence of my Dungeon unsettled them. The apparent age of the place was at odds with what they knew of the area they were in. "Sheriff Gray, where do you think this place came from?" The reporter, Herbert, asked. "Such a construction could not have gone unnoticed." "I do not know the answer to that." He was looking around for threats. "From here on, there will be no questions until we are sure it is safe." Herbert looked unhappy but complied. They were now all in the courtyard with the plinth. Herbert read it but did not comment as instructed; he noted it on his pad and looked confused. [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] "Whoa, I did not expect that!" This changed things, as Rigger might not be as outnumbered as I had thought. But who? Looking over them again, I found myself drawn to Rodriguez. I was initially unsure, but the more I watched, the more I got a feel for him. The others were always standing slightly apart from him. I could be wrong, as they were all white, and he seemed Mexican. This changed as I realised they subconsciously saw him as a danger. Was he the one? He was about five feet eight inches tall, with long, greasy hair sporting no beard but two large sideburns running straight down his jaw. His face was pox-marked, and his skin was weather-beaten. He was dressed for outdoor living and heavily armed. The weapon that stood out to me was the tomahawk in his belt. Not the weapon I would have expected. "Look, a chapel. Maybe we should have a look." He said, and he pointed to the building in the distance. His accent confirmed his heritage, but he spoke English rather well. The others all looked to the sheriff. "Fred, take a look. Then, if it is empty, head south and search the buildings you find." Gray addressed the deputy. Here, they split, with Gray going north and his deputy cutting across the graves towards the church. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "And so, it begins," I said to myself. I reached out and connected to Rigger. "They have split into two groups of three. One is heading north. The other is cutting straight through to the church; shadow that group, but wait, something might be happening that will help you." "Understood." He replied. I watched the group, led by Deputy Fred, walk to the church with the group. They had a good hour of light, but the shadows were lengthening across the area. They were moving at a steady pace, keeping alert to their surroundings. Rodriguez was playing his part, but his focus was on the church. It took time to cross the half mile to the church. Once he reached it, he turned north to the doors. Fred and Smith followed his lead. The doors were opened, and he walked in. Behind him, the others followed. With his back to them, they did not see the look of joy that passed his features at the sight of the altar. "Yeah, I know you were the one." The men crossed the room, still tense, looking for dangers apart from Rodriguez. "Dear God, look at the blood stains," Fred saw them for the first time. This attracted Smith''s attention from the altar, and he paled at the sight. Rodriguez''s eyes never left the statue or altar, but he heard what the deputy said. "Amigo, you might need the Sheriff to see this." "Good idea. Smith, head out, find the Sheriff, and bring him back here." Smith seemed unhappy with the task as he turned and left. Fred was focused on the stains and did not see that Rodriguez had turned slightly to watch Smith leave. "Rigger got someone leaving to head north. Intercept him if you can." "From this blood, how many died here?" Fred asked. He had removed his hat and was wiping his brow. He did not see as his back was turned; he did not see the hand reaching out and touching the altar. [Potential Hunter: Hector Rodriguez. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers one sacrifice to you.] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] "Yes." My view of the world warped, and he shimmered. Fred was still too engrossed to notice any of this. Once done, Rodriguez pulled the tomahawk from his belt, turning, he rammed it into the back of Fred''s skull. The man was too shocked to do anything but collapse to his knees. The tomahawk was pulled out, and several more strikes collapsed the skull and scattered brain matter and blood around the church and altar. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Outside, Smith was moving north but had been intercepted by Rigger. Ambushed from behind, he was unable to do anything as he was stabbed multiple times, bringing his life to an end. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Good work, Rigger, hide the body the best you can." I turned my attention to my newest Hunter. I opened his status sheet.
Hunter Name Hector Rodriguez
Level 1 Kills 1/5
Skills Loyalty Neutral
Stealth. II
Horse Riding. III
Camouflage. I
Blades. III This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Handguns. IV
Rifles. III
Tracking. II
Dark Traits
Sadistic Rapist
"Sadistic Rapist? Why can''t I just get a plain and simple mass murder!" I focused and then connected with him. "Welcome, Hunter Rodriguez. We have much to discuss, but first, we must deal with the Sheriff and two with him." "Thank you, amigo." He replied. "There is another Hunter outside. Even with him, you are outnumbered, so surprise is your best option here." "That''s Good to know. I will bring them this way. I have a plan. I will lure them in, and we will kill them," he said. "Very well." I watched him leave the church. He was covered in the brain matter of Deputy Fred. The direct approach was out. He pointed his rifle into the sky and fired it off. He quickly walked inside and lay down on the floor to the other side of his kill and played dead. I told Rigger to be ready as the others were on their way to the building. The shot will have attracted their attention. I looked north and picked them out as they were heading south. "Right, let''s see what they are going to do." I was worried about the lack of coordination between the two. They had no interactions, and they were not in the sink. I told Rigger what I thought Rodriguez was planning and what he needed to prepare for. When it started, things would happen fast if they were going to win this one. The group arrived at the church several minutes later. Rigger was hiding, and Rodriguez was ready for his ambush. Rigger had moved closer to the door, prepared to join in with the killing. He started shadowing them as they passed him outside. Sheriff Gray entered the church first with his rifle braced against his shoulder, looking for a target. Herbert and Grant were close on his heels, guns ready. He spotted the two bodies in the church and moved further in. Concern warring with alertness for the attacker. Rigger moved up behind them while they were distracted. Gray moved over to the body of his deputy. Kneeling, he looked over the dead man. Herbert saw the remains turned and threw up. Grant was focused on what was happening within the room. Rigger was closing in. Herbert''s retching helped distract the other man from what was behind him. Gray stood away from the body and approached Herbert, who was still retching. Grant was standing in the doorway with his back to the outside. Rigger took the opportunity that was presented. He got up close and grabbed Grant by wrapping him around the neck, pulling him back out of the building. He stabbed into his flank as he did. This pulled Gray''s attention to the doorway as Rodriguez rose from the floor. Gray moved to the doorway but was attacked from behind by Rodriguez. The tomahawk swung up between his legs, catching him in his genitals. I never knew that a man could scream like that as the blade went deep and was then violently pulled back. Gray collapsed from the injury and pain, still crying as he clutched his ruined manhood. Herbert was looking around at the fighting like a deer in headlights. His face was pale, and his eyes were large, puke-covered his lower face and front of his clothes. He pissed himself, letting his emotions control him. He turned tail and ran. Fear was driving him, as flight was the controlling factor in his mind at that moment. He ran past the pair fighting outside and headed for the gates. The fighting, no, the ambush, was going very well. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Grant was the first to go. Rigger got up and went up after the runner. Gray took longer as Rodriguez toyed with him. He lived up to the sadistic part of his dark trait. I could step in and have it end, but I chose not to. He lasted several more minutes before blood loss did him in. Another large puddle was spreading out across the floor. [A Hunter has made a Kill] I shifted my view to the runner Rigger was chasing, but Herbert was far faster, as fear drove him to heights of surprising speed. He got to the gates and ran through them to his horse. He untied it, jumped into the saddle, and rode for his life. "You lost him, Rigger; he was too fast. Collect the saddles and packs, and then release the horses. Apart from that horse, second from the left. Bring it in to carry the load." I pointed out Rodriguez''s horse. He walked out and got to work. Returning to the church, I needed to speak with Rodriguez. Some things needed to be explained. "Rodriguez, I have several rules that you need to know¡­." By the time Rigger arrived with the loot, I had explained my rules and assigned the closet building to the south. I took my due and let the others split the rest. Everything left was put into the northern storeroom, the guns and valuables were put into the other rooms. I separated the Dungeon into two zones and assigned a Hunter to each. Rodriguez started burying the kills he made. Rigger did his next, as I had only one shovel. This took them into the night. When they had finished, they retired. I went to the top of the bubble and looked over the dark land. I watched the trail to Crossway. If there was going to be trouble, that was the direction it would come from. The day came, and my Hunters did not emerge from their lairs until later in the day. I could see them from above but did not interact with them. I noted that they avoided each other. That was expected, so I did not try to have them spend time interacting. The day wore on, and the weather was¡­ [Alert! Infamy (Local) changed from Whispers > Stories.] "Well, Herbert made it back to town. What will this mean for me." Rodriguez had released his horse into the wild. I settled into waiting for the next visitor or visitors. The days and nights passed; things were quiet. I watched the limited traffic along the road. Wagons and riders were moving both ways, but no one was turning up my track. Some were taking longer than they should to pass by, which got me thinking about why. "Rodriguez, go for a walk and have a look around. Tell me if you find anything." He went willingly, as he was a bit bored. He had set up his lair and dug through the storeroom for additional items. He was gone for a few hours and returned a few hours later. "Keeper, I found signs warning people not to go up the trail. I have taken them down." "Thanks for that. I will need you to check on that once a week. Let''s hope that''s the worst of it." Days turned to weeks. The weather turned to get wetter, and the leaves changed colour, falling off most of the trees so after. Then the snow started. More signs appeared and were removed. The snows got heavier, and my Hunters stopped emerging from their lairs. They were effectively hibernating. The winter was soon in full force; snowstorms rolled off the mountains across the forest and plains. Traffic stopped along the road, and my days had become of staring out at a white sea; the nights had the light reflecting the snow lighting the area. I had exhausted my mental music catalogue, so I started again for the fourth time. The winter eventually passed, and spring arrived. The snow slowly receded, and the green returned to the land. People started travelling the road again. Spring continued, and the traffic got heavier. More wagons were traversing the track, heading to Crossway. Few people were heading in the other direction, but much fewer in number. Rodriguez went back to checking the road for signs. A few were found and removed. One day, I spotted a figure moving up the trail to the gates of the Dungeon. "Finally, who are you?" The rider came into view of the gates and continued to ride forward. Dressed in rugged clothing, he was dust-covered and appeared to have been travelling for some time. He got off the horse and tied it up. He was a man in his mid-twenties and clean-shaven. He walked to the gates and walked in. He read the plinth and turned and left. He set up a camp and settled in. He waited until most of the day passed. Closer to dusk, he put out the fire he was sitting next to. He returned to the gates. He paused, took a breath and gathered himself. He had no guns but a cavalry sword. "A cavalry sword?" He stepped into the Dungeon through the gates. He turned to the south and began walking the path. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] Right, I get to sit back and watch this. My Hunters knew the Challenger was in play, who was in Rodriguez''s zone. He was up and moving, stalking the intruder in his territory. The Challenger drew his sword and followed the path seeking the church at the Dungeon''s centre. He was walking with a lit lantern held in his other hand. It was getting darker, and the lantern light was getting stronger as the natural light faded. The light drew Rodriguez to the Challenger like a moth to the flame. He was on the right path and was making good progress. Rodriguez was watching him, studying him for an opening or weakness. I could not interfere with this, so I just relaxed and watched. The Challenger walked on, aware of his surroundings, looking for danger. Rodriguez was good at stalking, using the terrain to his advantage. He was moving closer minute by minute. He had his tomahawk out and ready for use. The church was in sight; the Challenger had crossed into Rigger''s territory, but as Rodriguez was hunting him, he would stay out of it. If he fails, then Rigger will get his chance. He moved. He was coming in fast, trying to rush him. The Challenger was more aware than I thought. He spun around and raised his sword in a blocking motion; he caught the tomahawk as it swung down. Sidestepping, he took Rodriguez off balance. He was soon on the defensive as the Challenger began striking out at him. The sword gave him the length advantage in the fight. Rodriguez was in trouble but was still in the fight he was not backing down. The tomahawk was not designed to be used in a fight like he was. The sword got through his defences, cutting his upper arm. It was shallow, but it was the first hit that was scored. Rigger was watching from the side, enjoying the show. Rodriguez snarled at being wounded and attacked the challenger with renewed ferocity. His strikes were fast and brutal. The Challenger was now on the defensive. The sword was being held sideways to block the strikes, and the sounds of metal striking echoed around the area. The fight would turn again if Rodriguez did not do something to take dominance. He made to strike again, which his opponent braced to meet, but stepped in, closing the distance between them. It was risky with the sword blade between them, but he appeared to take the Challenger by surprise. His leg kicked out and up, catching his opponent in the groin. The whoosh of air from his lungs was audible as he doubled over. The tomahawk ended the fight by connecting with the back of the Challenger''s head. Repeatedly. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "He has a definite thing about men''s groins." I connected with him. "Well done. There is a horse outside." Rodriguez collected the horse''s packs and moved the saddle. He sent it on its way with a slap to its hindquarters. He walked back and drooped everything off in the church. He picked up the shovel from the building, and I had Rigger leave it in the room with all the guns. He picked out a grave and started digging. When he finished the grave, he dragged the body over and looted it before dumping it in. Then, he refilled the hole, taking him several hours into the night. Everything was laid out and accounted for in the church. I looked over it all. The weapons and valuables went into their corresponding rooms. Rodriguez claimed the food, bottle of alcohol and tobacco. The rest went into storage. "Congratulations on your kill one more, and you move to the next level." I was in a talkative mood. "Kind words, Keeper." He was not very talkative often. Well, so was Rigger, come to think of it. "I will be seeking a new storeroom soon as the first is filling. Mainly with saddles and travel packs." "Burning them or not gathering them would deal with the problem." "Yes, both options could work. For the moment, we continue." "Why collect them at all?" He asked. "It is harder to identify a horse that is running free that it was once owned if it has no saddle." He nodded in understanding of my logic. "Pardon me; I seek to rest. It is late." "Sleep well." I disconnected from him and went back to my spot. I watched him walk back to his layer with his booty and close the door behind him. Rigger had gone back to him as soon as the fight ended. I check my sheet. "One more kill for me as well." Chapter 6 The days wore on. It had gone quiet again, with few travellers along the road. Autumn was now here once again, changing the colour of everything around. The weather was turned, with few clear days. Storms were coming from the mountains and crossing to the plains. The leaves fell off the trees, but a few evergreens held firm. I anticipated the quiet period, a time to reflect and prepare for what was to come. I had a bird''s-eye view of the Dungeon and an expansive view of the area. Thanks to the loss of the leaves, I could see a little more again. The few travellers along the road were bundled up more to protect themselves from the weather. Their numbers were dropping as the weather got worse. As the days passed, I found myself eagerly anticipating what the future might bring. I did not expect any more visitors this year, but who knew what the next year might hold? As the days passed, I grew weary, awaiting the next change in weather. The rain transformed into sleet and then snow, gradually covering the land. With the arrival of the snow, my Hunters ceased emerging from their lairs, and I found myself spending most of my time observing the world as time slipped by. A serene white blanket enveloped everything and little else occurred. Due to my spatial folding, rain and snow had strange interactions with my bubble. Their normal fall was disrupted and scattered. Snow was the best example, as when it fell, it appeared that my Dungeon was in a giant snow globe being shaken. This made looking out at such times difficult, to say the least. I had spent little time in the church as I had things to account for. I now knew the number of guns and pistols I had in storage. I had quite a collection of Colt pistols, both the 1860 and newer Model 3 versions. I had them lined up in the room to the right of the altar. I had learned to clean them and remove all the ammunition. It is all stored in several boxes in the same room. I was less interested in the rifles and muskets. I had an assortment of knives and blades piled up. The other room was dedicated to my wealth, which I meticulously organised. I had six types of watches, nine rings, and a sum of $173.45. While it may not sound like a substantial amount, I had to remind myself that it was the 1870s. There were a few other items, but I chose not to count them at that moment. After a few weeks of intense effort, I finally finished everything. It was a relief, as working with my avatar''s limitations was time-consuming. It at least kept me distracted for some time. Time continued to pass. I eagerly awaited the winter''s end, watching and waiting. As the weeks passed, the weather slowly started to change. The snow melted slowly and turned to mud. Travellers began to be seen more often along the road, and green could be seen more often than snow. It was spring by now, I thought. I was watching the people using the road when I spotted an anomaly. A rider was coming from Crossway over the rise. The figure was on a horse and was moving with purpose, slowed by the mud but pressing on. The rider crossed the swollen ford and travelled along the road, now covered by the trees. The rider turned up the track and was approaching. "Well, here we go." I moved my view to the gates. The day was coming to an end. The sunset was two or three hours away. The rider came into sight from the trees and was not who or what I expected. It was a Native American man dressed in rugged clothing. He was covered in mud and looked like he had been travelling for some time. He dismounted and walked to the gates. He passed through the partially open gates into the small courtyard and the plinth. He stood in front of it and seemed to read it. After a few moments, he turned and walked back to his horse. "Are you leaving or getting ready?" I had to ask myself, but his actions answered my question without a doubt. He opened his saddlebags, pulled out some clothing, and hung it over the saddle. He pulled his hat off, letting the two hair braids hang across his chest. There was silver in the black, and he looked to be in his forties, but it was hard to say. He then started stripping to his underwear and putting on the new clothes. Several more accessories were pulled from the bags and put on. Before me was now a full-fledged Native American warrior of a great plain''s tribe. The last two things were taken and put on. The first was a belt with three knives attached to it. The second was a beaded bag slung over his shoulder. He looked himself over and then began to dance and chant or sing in his language. I did not know if he was praying or psyching himself up. I had nothing else to do, so I watched and waited. The sun was now dipping behind the mountains when he finished. He walked around the horse, which was grazing nearby and was partly blocked by it. When he came back into my sight, he held a lantern. Again, he walked through the gates and turned to follow the southern path. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] I felt the Hunters stirring. Rodriguez would have the first crack at him. I was now just an observer. Rules were rules. Both Hunters were awake and out of their lairs. They sensed the Challenger and which territory he was in. Rodriguez was moving in his direction. The warrior had not lit his lantern and was moving along the path. The stone walkway was mainly clear, and he was moving with a cautious ease. He knew trouble was coming and was ready for it. Rodreguez found him and did not wait long to attack. He moved in fast to make a quick kill with his tomahawk. The warrior was no slouch and reacted quickly. Instead of retreating or standing his ground, he countered the attack. As he did, he drew a blade. This surprised Rodrigeuz, but he pressed on. He swung his tomahawk down, but a forearm blocked it. The warrior had gotten close enough to avoid the blade and blocked the handle. His own blade stabbed at Rodriguez''s guts. He tried to divert the blade and was able to, but his hand got sliced in the process. He lept back, snarling in pain from the wound, but the warrior did not let up following him. Blood was oozing from the wound, but the two men continued to strike out at each other. Dodging and weaving, they avoided impacts from the other''s weapons. Whoever he was, the warrior was good. Rodrigeuz was back on the defensive as the warrior pushed forward. With a quick swipe, he scored a wound on the warrior''s arm, but it was shallow, as the leather clothing he was wearing protected him. Rodreguez received another cut, this time along the abdomen. It was bleeding but shallow. The fight''s momentum was against Rodriguez, and he tried to get it back. Pushing forward, he swung wildly at the Native American. He was probably hoping to knock his opponent off balance, but this was not to be the case. The warrior stepped in and used his arm to block a swing, stabbing his knife in low. The blade sliced through his clothing, scoring a deep wound below his ribs. Snarling in pain and rage, Rodriguez headbutted his opponent. The collision of the impact separated the two. The warrior''s nose was bleeding; it looked broken, but he was still in the fight. Rodriguez was in a bad way. The side wound was hampering him, and he was bleeding badly. He was no fool and knew he was in a losing position. He quickly began backing away and sought safety. The warrior did not follow but watched him until he disappeared from his sight. Rodriguez retreated to his lair, and as soon as the door closed, the timer appeared but frozen. [Hunter: Hector Rodriguez will be healed in 18:00:00.] "Well, it''s up to Rigger now." The warrior reached the church and entered the building. For Challengers, this was the only safe place outside the courtyard at the gates. The warrior''s lantern was lit, and he walked across the room to the altar. Here, he stopped looking at the statue and altar. Then, he reached into his satchel. A necklace of Native American design and construction, made from leather with beads and feathers, was laid on the altar. [Challenger''s offering has been accepted.] I felt a series of strange images flash through my mind, and I felt mixed emotions. Pride, love, and family came from the necklaces his wife once wore. I knew she was dead now. After this, the warrior treated his wounds. The cut on his arm was bandaged with a wrap from the satchel. He reached out, grabbed his nose, and snapped it back into place. I got the impression he had done this before.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. He picked up his lantern and walked back to leave the building. He could stay longer but seemed unwilling to. Rigger was hiding, watching for the moment. The warrior was weary as he retraced his route. I knew he was sure this was not over. I wondered what his dreams had told him to bring him here. Rigger was moving. He stayed out of the circle of light from the lantern. The night was cloudy, and the moonlight barely reached the Dungeon. The warrior was alert, scanning the darkness around him. He knew he was being stalked. Rigger threw a knife ahead of him as he attacked. This surprised the warrior as he did not see it in time. The blade buried into his leg, causing him to cry out in pain. He fell to his knee and dropped the lantern. It was sturdy and did not break when it hit the floor. Moving in, Rigger had his bowie knife out and ready to use. The warrior pulled the blade out of his leg, blood staining the leg. He turned to block Rigger''s attack but was not fast enough due to his wound. Rigger''s attacks were quick and aimed to be deadly as he closed. The warrior blocks the first two, using his forearm to stop the blade. He sacrifices his arm but to no avail. Rigger knocks his opponent''s blade aside and plunges his blade into the warrior''s chest. He grunts in pain, and several more stabs have him coughing up blood as Rigger holds his body in position. I think he tries to say something. Here, he dies. [A Hunter has made a Kill] I felt a slight sense of unhappiness at his death. This was the first Challenger actually to make it to the church and lay his offering on the altar. Part of me wanted to see what happens when the Dungeon is beaten. This brought me to level three. I decided to wait and take care of things before levelling. I reached out and connected to my Hunter. "Rigger, you know what needs to be done." "I know. The place getin'' filled with greasy Mexicans and stinkin'' Injins." I thought about what he said. I could have made a few comments about pots and kettles, but I remained silent. He set about work digging the warrior''s grave. I watched him, and an idea in my head grew stronger the deeper the grave got. I went back to the church, leaving the doors open. The offering was still on the altar. I summoned my avatar and picked up the offering. I walked back to the gravesite, and when I got there, Rigger kicked the body into the grave. I thought about talking to him about respecting the dead more but then remembered the bodies in his lair. Looking in the grave, the warrior had fallen onto his back and was looking up at me. I got into the grave and laid the offering on his chest. I felt that this was where it belonged. It was then that I knew I would only keep the offerings of those you succeeded against the Dungeon. I dismissed the avatar, and Rigger filled the grave. The warrior''s possessions were reclaimed from his horse, which was set free. The loot was divided, and Rigger retired for the remainder of the night. Time to level.
Congratulations! You have reached level 3! Your kill count to reach level three has increased to 20. You have gained a new Hunter slot. Your Dungeon has increased to 1.5 miles. A new perk slot is available to select. You are a bit of an overachiever, aren''t you? Keep up the excellent work!
"Are these boxes getting a bit sarcastic these days?" The perk I selected from the list was Crypts. It scaled and gave each mausoleum a single room below it. I had other options, but I did not want to be sidetracked any longer. I had a plan, and I had to stick to it. The church came back into focus. Looking around, the quality of the building and its contents had improved slightly. The roof was now higher, the windows larger, and the stained glass more detailed. There was a crypt below the building with several alcoves in the walls for bodies. The entrance was located in my weapons room and took the form of stairs going down. I went up and looked over the whole Dungeon. It was larger again, with more graves, statues and mausoleums. The path to the centre was more complicated, with more dead ends now present. It was getting closer to an actual maze with each time I levelled. But there was one thing I needed to check on. It was easy to find the grave. "Sorrowful Dreamer of the Shoshoni Tribe." Now, that was not the name I expected of the warrior. What did it mean? What was his story? Was that even his actual name? I knew I would most likely never know, and I would never know any of their stories. I might discover some if I was lucky, but most would be beyond me. My hunters were neither very chatty nor open to sharing their life stories. "I would like to know a few." Why did they come? What did they hope to gain or even lose? What drove them? I had many questions but was forced to accept that I would never know the answers. "To things I can control."
Dungeon Name New Midian
Level 3 Hunters 2/3
Infamy (Local) Stories Infamy (State) Unknown
Infamy (National) Unknown Infamy (Global) Unknown
Kills 0/20 Victors 0
Perks
Beacon (Assigned)
Spatial Folding (Mythical)
Walls (Common)
Maze. I (Uncommon)
Mausoleums. I (Common)
Hide the Crime! (Uncommon)
Crypts. I (Common)
Another step toward my dream of a Necropolis. A 1.5-mile-wide domain was nothing to sneeze at. Now, I was expanding down, adding more to it. I triggered [Hide the Crime!] and went to work. Two hours after dawn, I roused my Hunters and got them to tasks I needed to do. Rodriguez was sent to the road to clear the path and check for signs, and Rigger was sent westward to a depression I had spotted. Rodriguez reported it was clear of signs, and the path was free of obstructions. Rigger found it was a ravine that was quite deep. Now, I found that interesting. I had the two take turns clearing a route to the ravine. I could use it to hide things like wagons if need be and later cars if they are created in this world. This took us into late spring. There was more traffic, and more people were heading for Crossway. I still thought it was a stupid name for a town, but what could I do? The weather was clearer most days, and the land was vibrant green. My Hunters were back to spending time in their lairs, and as there was nothing to do, I let them be. I settled into the usual routine. Watching the world pass by. After a few days, I noticed a wagon turning up the track to the gates. It was getting late, and the sun was starting to descend behind the mountains to the west. "Right, then, who are you?" I shifted to the gates. They are partially open as usual, allowing entry to anyone who wishes. The wagon rolls up to the clearing, and a man gets out of the front seat. It is the same type as the others I have seen. Maybe a bit more banged up. He looks at the gates and smiles. Walking to the back of the wagon, he opens it and gets inside. After several minutes, he comes back around with a back slung over one shoulder and a woman tied up and slung over the other. She is only dressed in what would be called her underwear in this time. From what I can make out, she is gagged and not in a good condition. He walks into the Dungeon through the gates and leaves the courtyard. [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] This stirs the other two, but they remain within their lairs. I follow him as he walks through the Dungeon. Its increased size seems to confuse him, and he is forced to rest by dropping the woman. He is not expecting the long walk. This allows me my first good look at her. White, mid-twenties, with straw-coloured hair and green eyes. She was gagged, but from her expression and muffled tone, she was not saying kind things. There was fear, but it was fuelling her anger, and she fought every time she could, but being bound limited her. She had the signs of being hit a few times, and her face had a few bruises. After resting, he picked her up and continued on reaching the church. She cursed him the whole way. I had to respect that; she still resisted in her way. Entering it, he walked up to the altar and dropped both his pack and hostage. This was his first mistake as she landed next to the pack and one of the strapped blades. The man was focused on the statue and altar. He pulled off his hat and coat. He placed them on the floor. His back was to the woman, and he did not know that she had released the blade and held it in her hands. She had been bound by rope with her hands in front of her. That was a classic mistake; she should have been bound behind her back. "Well, this is going to be interesting." She cut her legs free and stood. The man had pulled another larger blade from his belt, stepped forward and placed his hand on the altar. [Potential Hunter: Jack Smith. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers a sacrifice to you.] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] "Yes." The woman was on her feet and coming up on him from behind. "Let''s see what happens here." He turns, and she leaps at him. His surprise is total as she collides with him. Both have the blades they are holding buried in the other. Each is a fatal wound unless treated. Jack collapses back onto the altar and slides down. The knife sticking out of his chest and has gotten a lung, maybe even his heart. He is coughing up blood. The woman had his blade in her stomach and was now leaning on the altar and bleeding out fast. Which would die first? The woman fell forward onto the altar and began to die as her body shut down. The hate in her eyes was keeping her going, but it would not stop the biological facts of what was happening. [Potential Hunter: Jack Smith. Has been killed by his offered sacrifice to you.] [Do you wish to offer her the role of Hunter? Yes or No.] Now, that was something I did not expect to happen. "Yes." What would she do? "Yes." She died as she spoke the word, as it was expelled with her last breath. [A Hunter has made a Kill]
Alert! Potential Hunter has accepted the contract but has died from her wounds! Unique Hunter forming!
"Eh? Ok?" What did this mean? Chapter 7 The blue box appeared only after a few seconds, and things went crazy. The woman''s body began to glow a soft white light, and an apparition version of her stood up. It was her as in life but healed and in health. She was dressed in the same clothing as her corpse. I noticed her feet were not there, and nothing was touching the floor, and she was floating a few millimetres of it. She seemed serine for a few seconds but then suddenly turned. The soft white light around her turned ugly red, and her features twisted into rage and hate for all. Her hair now swirled like a nest of snakes, and she let out a deafening scream of hate and pain.
Alert! Potential Hunter has been reborn as a Hateful Spirt! ¡­. Good luck with this one!
"What?" My Hunters was aware something was happening but was awaiting my instructions. I need to find out more. "Status sheet. Hateful Spirit."
Hunter Name Hateful Spirt (Mary Johnstone)
Level 1 Kills 0/5
Perks Spirt Form (Rare) Loyalty Hateful
Claws (Common)
Seduction (Common)
Dark Traits
Hateful Spirt!
"What the hell! She is more like me!" Perks replaced her skills, and I had no idea what they did. Focus! Start with her Dark Trait.
Hateful Spirit. Not all those who die and leave this plane are at peace. Some are angry and so angry that they decide to hang around. As the name implies, the spirit hates the living and will attack them on sight. Your newest Hunter falls within this category. Hateful Spirits are immune to most physical damage as they do not have a body. Only blessed items, such as silver and iron, will harm it. This near invulnerability comes with a cost. If the original body is destroyed or blessed, the spirit is banished forever from this plane. Additionally, the spirit cannot travel far from its body. Its assigned hunting area will be small and cannot be changed. Finally, sunlight weakens the spirit, and it will appear at night, in heavily shaded areas, or within buildings.
"Well, this is a thing." I had no idea what to do here. I will need to move her body, but to where? I reached out and connected to both hunters. I needed to get them moving as I thought about the newest Hunter. "There is a wagon to be looted at the gates. Do not bring anything to the church just yet. I have an issue with my new Hunter. When it is resolved, we will split it as usual. Dump the wagon into the ravine to the west and release the horses." They were then on the move. I turned my attention back to the spirit. She was standing looking around, furious as hell, with no target in sight. She seemed oblivious to the fact that her body was at the base of the altar with her captor/killer. I think she would only target the living. Leaving the church through the roof, I looked around. She could not be placed to the west or south. She would attack the other Hunters, forcing me to intervene. The easy was too close to the gate and may be another issue in the long run. That left the North. The nearest building was my storeroom, which I wanted to maintain right now. Further north was another mausoleum that could be used. It was near the wall and was the best option I had right now. The distance was further than my avatar could handle carrying the body. Travelling to the building, I summoned my avatar and opened the doors. Inside was a single sarcophagus-like grave, which I pushed open enough to get the body into. This was taxing, but using my avatar was slightly less so than doing it with just my will. Dismissing my avatar to save the time I could use it; I returned to the church. The spirit floated around the main room, avoiding the light coming through the windows. I opened the church doors with my will. The sun was setting in the distance, so I had to wait. Of course, time dragged slowly along in response. In the last two years, I have learned to be patient, but still. I connected to the hunters when the Dungeon was covered in the shadow of the mountains. "Back to your lairs, I am moving something. When I am done, I will contact you." I sensed some grumbling from Rodriguez, but Rigger was happy to spend more time with his "wives". When they were safely tucked away, I summoned my avatar again. The spirit screamed at me, but I couldn''t ignore it. She seemed confused by my avatar and did not attack me. I lifted her body and began moving as fast as I could to where I planned to put it. She would be light even in death if I had a natural human body, but my avatar was not real. Her weight quickly began taxing me more and more every step. The spirit moved with me, screaming in anger and frustration. The wall was 0.75 miles from the church, with the building I had chosen 0.6 miles. It was the longest 0.6 miles of my life to this point. It took nearly eight hours of walking, then stopping and dismissing my avatar before resummoning it and starting all over again. I could hold the form longer than I could at the start, but it still taxed me terribly. I was sorely tempted to call on a Hunter to finish the journey, but that might end badly, given the spirit''s temperament. Near dawn, I placed her body into the open casket. Honestly, it was more like dumping it as I was losing my avatar form. The body dissolved into black mist a few seconds later, and I was too exhausted to summon another. It was so bad that it was dawn before I had the strength to close the doors. I slowly drifted back to the church and sensed that the other hunters were out of their lairs. "Keeper, is it safe to head to the church, amigo?" Rodriguez asked. "Yes, you find a body there to search and bury." It took another hour to get there. In that time, Rigger was finishing burying the body, and Rodriguez had piled up the loot on the altar. I shifted my perception to the altar and did nothing else until Rigger joined us. When he arrived, we started. I wanted to make this fast as there was always a certain tension between them when they came too close together. "Right then, let''s see what we have¡­." It was the largest haul we had ever gained. Jack Smith came well-provisioned for his journey to the Dungeon. There were several travel cases and two boxes best described as chests and bags of travel rations. Both hunters gained much in tobacco, alcohol and a few other luxury items. I got two more guns, a few pieces of jewellery, a watch and some money. The rest was going into storage, and thanks to the crypts now located around the Dungeon, I had more space.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "Leave my items on the altar, I will deal with them when I am ready." "Not going to the side rooms?" Rigger asked. "Not yet. With the addition of crypts to the Dungeon, I will make some changes to how I store things here in the church." "I noticed the new addition to my lair," Rodriguez spoke up as he started chewing some tobacco. "Both your lairs got one then?" Both hunters nodded and seemed happy for the extra space it gave them. "Anyone want the travel rations?" Both turned their noses up at them, and I asked no more. I was building a bit of a pile of them. "Remove this to the storage building and avoid the mausoleum to the north, past it. The new Hunter will not take your presence well at best." They were curious but heeded my instructions. As they removed the remaining items, I altered the hunting zones in the Dungeon to account for the spirit. She had a small area, but I knew that anybody wandering to it was in for a world of hurt. Looking over the loot on the altar, I noticed something new¡ªa silver dollar coin. It was minted in 1870 and stood out from the other notes and coins. I found myself strangely attracted to the coin. "I wonder if I will see anymore?" I first went to work by looking at the crypt under the church. It was made of stone of similar quality to the building above. Along the walls on the east and west sides were six alcoves designed to hold bodies. The rest of the room was empty, with no other structures or tombs. I spent the rest of the day moving my wealth down to the crypt. The alcoves were basically oversized shelves on which I could store things. The guns and other weapons remained above the crypt and were still safely stored. The day passed as all others, and nothing else of note happened. The Dungeon fell into its usual routine of waiting for travellers to come up the road and turn up the side path. I watched from the top of the bubble. There was much more traffic on the road, but none turned towards the Dungeon. It seemed Crossway was becoming a more popular destination as more were heading towards it than away. This went on for a few weeks. As summer wore on, the weather rotated between rain and long periods of sun. The land was alive and covered in wildlife and plant life. In time, we got our next visitors to New Midian. Four riders left the road late one day and came up the track to the Dungeon. I had been sending both hunters out to make sure that the path was clear and that no more warning signs appeared. I shifted to the gates to watch their approach. Four men, four horses, all dressed in rugged travelling clothes. I picked out saddlebags, a few rifles and¡­ shovels? I was not expecting them all to have them. They were an unkempt group. They looked like they lacked personal hygiene or had been travelling for some time. I''m leaning towards the former. The group had an air of skulduggery around them. They rode right up to the gates and dismounted. Their conversation was sparse, but it proved enlightening. One walked forward and looked through the gates. "The stories were right. It''s a large graveyard." The man said from the gates. "So, let''s get to robbing the place." The most surely looking one said. "And we shall. Get your lanterns out. It''s getting dark. We will camp at the chapel over there." He pointed to the church that was still visible. One held back as the gates opened, allowing the men to walk in leading their horses. "Where did this place come from?" One asked. He was fearful, and rightly so. I was working out how best to deal with them. "Someone built it. Did not appear one night. Who cares." The surliest snapped. Well, that was not true in this instance. It appears I have a group of wannabe graverobbers to deal with. This was surprising, as, from my limited knowledge, most grave robbers were singles or pairs, rarely groups. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] This appeared when the last entered, and they crossed the courtyard into the Dungeon. They ignored the paths and went straight to the church. This stirred my hunters, and I reached out and connected with them. "Four men mixed weapons heading for the church. Looks like they are grave robbers." I gave them the basic facts, knowing they would deal with them. What I did not expect was the question from Rigger. "Robbers? They led by a fella tall, with long black hair and scar cross his nose?" I double-checked, and his description matched the lead man. "He does indeed. Is he a friend of yours?" "Bastard! I am going to kill that yellow-bellied cur! He sold me out to lawmen...." Rigger continued ranting for a few minutes, and I discovered the following. James McTaggart was a wanted man and former partner to one John Rigger. The pair committed numerous crimes until Mr McTaggart framed Rigger for most of them and tried to collect the bounty on him. This led Rigger to go on the run with the Marshals chasing him, which ultimately led him here. Rigger had some unresolved issues with the man. Well, it looks like he will resolve them today. McTaggart and his motley group reached the church as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains, guided by the light from their lanterns. As they are not challengers, the church would offer them no protection from my hunters. I would take no further action unless demanded. It was interesting to see what Rigger was going to do here. The horses were tied up outside, and the men sought to camp in the main room. They went right up to the altar but were not paying attention to it or the statue, which I found odd. It was not the thing you saw in churches and should at least be commented on. They seemed more interested in the pews they planned to use as makeshift beds. "Dawn, we search. Sleep here as the place looks abandoned." McTaggart instructed the others. There was some grumbling, but they were soon at work. The fearful man complained the loudest. He was stealing glances at the statue now. My hunters were nearly there. Rigger was walking with purpose, with Rodreguez trailing but close enough to join in with any violence. Rigger''s body language made clear that there would be violence and a lot of it. The church doors were open, and lantern lights came from within one another before the horses, and this one was unlit. As Rigger stormed in, the four men were inside and laid out, trying to sleep blankets on the pews. This caused cries of alarm as the men reacted to the intruder. Rigger spotted his prey and went straight at him with a murderous, single-minded focus. McTaggart turned and looked on in horror as Rigger bore down on him. He tried to pull his gun, but Rigger''s knife was in his guts before he could free it. The others were grave robbers and were not of the violent type of criminal. They tried to flee, faces contorted with terror. Rodreguez ended one with his tomahawk smashing into his skull. The other two fled into the deepening night, heading north, not east, to the gates and escape, forgetting their horses in the mad dash. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Rigger was taking his time with his kill. I stop Rodreguez from following the two runners, sending him to the gates. My newest hunter was about to be tested, and I was interested in what she would do. Both men ran like the hounds of hell were chasing them. The boundary wall halted them, and they realised they had gone the wrong way in their haste. They were the surly and fearful one. The latter had urinated all over himself, maybe more, but I was not looking any closer. Ignorance is indeed bliss at times. They turned east and began following the wall, but a faint white glow to the side stopped them. Turning, they saw the figure of a woman approaching them. It was the hateful spirit using its [Seduction] perk. She looked like she was alive but more vibrant and innocent. Her walk was slow and suggestive, entrancing both men. Their fear was gone as they were now focused on the woman before them. When she was close enough, she changed. Her true form was revealed. The men started screaming as her hands changed to claws, and she attacked them. Her claws were razor-sharp and tore into them. Clothing, flesh and bone were shredded with terrifying ease. Blood splattered around as the men were ripped to pieces, and their organs were ripped from their bodies. "Bloody hell!" The speed and brutality were shocking even to me! [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Rodreguez, head back to the church." The bodies in the church were dealt with, and the horses were freed outside the gates. The loot was split up, and the hunters retired for the night. The bodies in the north would be dealt with in the daylight. Rigger levelled up.
Hunter Name John Rigger
Level 3 Kills 0/12
Skills Horse Riding II Loyalty Good
Blades. V
Handguns. II
Rifles. III
Tracking. IV
Trap Making. II
Corpse Harvesting. II
Stealth. I
Dark Traits
Necrophiliac
His picture changed again. The whites of his eyes were now yellow, and his teeth seemed¡­ sharper? Rodreguez was one kill away from levelling, and the spirit had started towards its or was it, her first level up. I did not know what to call the spirit. The remains of the last two were collected and buried the next day, and both hunters were shocked at the level of violence the bodies had endured. What could be looted was, but it was not much. I was forced to use [Hide the Crime!] over several days to remove the evidence of the deaths. There was a lot of it scattered around. Things settled down again after that, and I went into the usual routine. After a few days, a large thunderstorm rolled off the mountains. Lightning arced through the sky while I enjoyed watching it all happen. The spatial folding caused the driving rain to be twisted and sent in different directions. The storm lasted for several hours but eventually blew through. A rainbow covered the sky close by. I watched it as the clouds cleared and the blue sky came to dominate. The road below had travellers once again moving along it. A convoy of four wagons came into view, travelling towards Crossway. The mud on the road slowed them, and I could tell the horse teams were struggling through the trees. "Another group of settlers for Crossway, me thinks." They were making slow progress, but they were progressing. I expected them to continue along the road, but they turned towards the Dungeon. The convoy consisted of six wagons, all showing signs of travel wear. Figures sat on the front of the wagons, all wrapped up in many layers to protect them from the weather. The trees hide the last two from my sight at first. "1873 is turning into quite the year." I watched the group park the wagons in a rough circle before the gates. As they finished positioning them, more men, women, and children emerged from the wagons. How many were there? I counted twenty-two in total. The largest group yet to come here. "Damn, if they come in, it will be a massacre!" A man was walking between the wagons, talking to different people and organising them. After a few minutes, he walked to the gates and looked across my domain. He seemed focused on the church. He turned and addressed the group in a loud voice. "Bother and sisters! The Lord has led us across the great plains, and we are close to the promised land. We have endured and suffered as the children of the Israelites had in ancient times. Come, let us praise his name in his house yonder." From his voice and words, he seemed to be a priest. Twenty were gathered up, while two teenagers stayed with the wagons. Half the group consisted of children as they walked into the Dungeon. They were unarmed as they walked forward. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Why? They are not armed?" I looked across the group again for weapons. The men were wearing heavy coats and jackets that could be hiding pistols. I could not see any openly carried weapons. My hunters were stirring. I reached out. "Twenty people are in the Dungeon. Half are children. No weapons can be seen. Two are remaining with the six wagons outside the gates." The day was coming to an end, and the sky was turning bloody red. I felt this was an omen for what was about to happen. Chapter 8 The group was moving with purpose, and the hunters were stalking them. I watched it all unfold. After some soul-searching, I gave the hunters the basic facts about the group and decided to leave them to it. My emotions and what little left of my humanity expressed their unhappiness. It was the children who were causing the issue. I had never expected any to come here. I did not care about the adults and teenagers. Killing these children did not sit well with me. Not to the point that I could not perform my task, but this was the loudest they had been in the few years I had been here. I decided not to watch the fight unfold when it started. It was a purely selfish choice. The preacher leading the group held his Bible aloft, leading his flock to the church. As he went, he preached Bible quotes to the glory of God and the paradise they would make here on earth in his name. They were so focused on him that they did not look around and really see where they were. I had hoped that one would at least wonder why this place was so large. After a bit of a trek, they reached the church, and the preacher opened the doors dramatically as his flock continued to follow. He led them deep into the room. This is where things started to change, as they got a good look at the room and the altar. This was no church to their God. Confusion settled over them as they tried to understand what they were looking at. The preacher had fallen silent, finally at a loss to explain what he was looking at. My hunters were approaching the group from behind. Things were soon to start to get bloody. Some were now questioning the preacher, and those in the back spotted the hunters. A cry of alarm drew the preacher and men forward to the doors. The women and children huddle further back nearer the altar. They were still keeping a distance from it. "I greet you, children of God. Pray tell, are you from around here? I ask for this is no place of worship I have seen before." The preacher began speaking to the men approaching him. I could tell that the others were getting more concerned. Something was telling them these two were dangerous. I would watch only a little longer. I did not want to see what was going to happen. "S¨ª, se?or, we are, and we welcome you," Rodriguez said to him as they both stepped into the church. With this, the preacher understood that they were in danger as both men before him had the smiles of predators. He pulled open his coat, revealing a holstered gun. That''s why they were seen as Intruders. Rigger had his blade in his guts before he could pull the gun, and the screaming began. I pulled away as the men sought to fight their assailants with their fists and numbers. My hunters were moving with almost animalistic grace. Blood and screams flowed freely. My viewpoint changed to the roof of the church¡­ [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡­ I wondered how long this was going to take¡­.. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡­.. and if it would alert the two young men guarding the wagons¡­. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡­. as they were both left with rifles to do their duty. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] The screaming was becoming more intense as the slaughter went on. It was going to be hellish to clean up¡­. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡­.. such a blood bath. I was going to have to¡­. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡­.. send them out to kill the last two when this is done¡­ [A Hunter has made a Kill] Suddenly, a woman ran from the building carrying two young children. In her fear, she ran blindly to escape, heading north instead of east to salvation. The church faced that way and not to the east as churches normally do. "Well, now we see how our resident hateful spirit will react to them." I tallied the kill count and found a discrepancy: there were only fifteen kills when there should have been seventeen. I gathered myself and went down into the church. It was a blood bath. There was no other way to describe it. The human body holds a large quantity of blood and fifteen bodies worth was now scatted across most surfaces or still oozing from the cooling bodies of the dead. It was pooling across the floor. Both hunters were covered in it, and I noticed why I was two kills short. Rodriguez was securing two young teenage girls with restraints while both were unconscious. Now I understood a strange conversation I had with him last year when we were separating the loot from a kill. Later, he had asked if he could have the manacles that the various lawmen who had died in my Dungeon had brought with them. As they were something I had no use for, I had agreed. Now I understood why. Sadistic Rapist. Rigger was eyeing up a few of the less damaged female bodies, and I shuddered internally. I needed them to finish this before they could have their fun. "The three that escaped are heading north and will soon run into the spirit. Once that happens, we will see¡­" A loud, hateful scream filled the air from the north. It carried across the Dungeon. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] "¡­. That the spirit as no issues with types of prey. Rodriguez, secure those two in your lair, then kill the last two with the wagons. They are armed, so take them out quickly and outside the Dungeon if needed. We will deal with the wagons and bodies tomorrow." We will all be levelling after this. I shifted my point of view to the gates. The two young men were alert and trying to decide what to do. The spirit''s scream had most likely alerted them to things going badly for the rest of the group. My hunters dropped their trophies off at their lairs and were soon moving again; both carried rifles as they had sated their blood lust. The two young men, by that time, had built up the courage to start towards the gates. Two shots rang out, causing both to jerk back as the rounds impacted them. My hunters walked up and finished off the one who was still alive. "Right, we are done. Head back and level. Tomorrow, we have much to do." Both obeyed without question and were soon back in their lairs. They were both quiet on the walk back, and I could not help but notice the distance between them as they walked. "Let''s do this." [New Midian, Level up! Hunter: John Rigger, Level up! Hunter: Hector Rodriguez, Level up! Hunter: Hateful Spirit, Level up!] The Blue box came.
Congratulations! You have reached level 4! Your kill count to reach level three has increased to 40. You have gained a new Hunter slot. Your Dungeon has increased to 1.75 miles. A new perk slot is available to select. Now, that was a slaughter!
I opened the list and worked down it. Several new entries caught my attention, but I knew what was needed and selected [Mausoleums. II]. When the level-up procedure is finished, a number of larger buildings around the Dungeon will be created. Once I confirmed, everything went dark. ¡­¡­.. With a flash, my sight returned and I was in the church again, but it was different once again. The main room and annexe are larger and now composed of better-cut and quality stone. The windows are larger and more ornate, and the furniture is of better quality. The room was still filled with corpses, but the blood had disappeared from all the surfaces. The altar and statue are now both made from a marble-like white stone with black veins running through it. I shift my view to the top of the bubble and look down; dawn is still a few hours away. The central mausoleums have increased in size, with wings now attached to them. There are more outer ones now, the same size as the first ones before their upgrade. All the hunter lairs have been upgraded. The maze of pathways had become more complex.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. I opened my status screen.
Dungeon Name New Midian
Level 4 Hunters 3/4
Infamy (Local) Stories Infamy (State) Unknown
Infamy (National) Unknown Infamy (Global) Unknown
Kills 0/40 Victors 0
Perks
Beacon (Assigned)
Spatial Folding (Mythical)
Walls (Common)
Maze. I (Uncommon)
Mausoleums. II (Common)
Hide the Crime! I (Uncommon)
Crypts. I (Common)
"Forty kills will be hard to get. I am not expecting large settler groups to show up often." I spent a few minutes thinking about the next level, but I realised that I was drifting from what needed to be done. The main room of the church was still filled with bodies that needed to be buried. Flys were now buzzing around the rotting corpses. "Looking good. Now to the hunters."
Hunter Name John Rigger
Level 4 Kills 0/18
Skills Horse Riding II Loyalty Good
Blades. V
Handguns. II
Rifles. III
Tracking. IV
Trap Making. II
Corpse Harvesting. II
Stealth. II
Dark Traits
Necrophiliac
Rigger has increased his stealth, and I thought it was a good move. His picture now showed him to be a bit more hunched, and his hair was even more matted, to the point that it looked more like dreadlocks. [Hunter: Hector Rodriguez''s loyalty changed from Neutral > Good.]
Hunter Name Hector Rodriguez
Level 2 Kills 0/8
Skills Stealth. II Loyalty Good
Horse Riding. III
Camouflage. I
Blades. IV
Handguns. IV
Rifles. III
Tracking. II
Dark Traits
Sadistic Rapist
Rodriguez opted to improve his blade-handling ability, which was another good choice as this was how all but one of his kills had been made. His appearance had to change like Riggers'' when he levelled. Rodriguez was now more¡­. Feral-looking? His face was longer, and his hair was thicker. This was noticeable due to his sideburns. As for the loyalty change¡­ I was purposely not looking into his lair. Finally, the Hateful Spirit.
Hunter Name Hateful Spirt (Mary Johnstone)
Level 2 Kills 0/8
Perks Spirt Form (Rare) Loyalty Hateful
Claws (Common)
Seduction (Common)
Death Shriek (Common)
Dark Traits
Hateful Spirt! I
Her picture had not changed as far as I could tell. The Spirit had gained a new Perk [Death Shriek], which had a chance to cause her prey to become paralysed with fear at best and disorientated at worst. "Not a bad choice, actually." I spent the next few hours leading to dawn taking a closer look around the Dungeon. I found the place the Spirit had found the woman and two kids. It took me longer than I thought to find where they all were. The Spirit had ripped them apart, and their remains were scattered over a wide area. Blood and body parts were hanging from graves and statues. Flies were congregating around the rotting flesh. "Well, I now have insects at least." A few rodents had moved into the Dungeon, but nothing larger. I watch them move around the flesh, eating and scavenging the remains. Dawn came, and I reached out to stir my hunters. Rigger appeared and was sent to work investigating the wagons. Rodriguez was not out yet. "Rodriguez, get your backside out. You have work to do!" He appeared shortly after. He made his way to the wagons where Rigger was working. "Ok, this is what we are going to do." This drew the attention of the two hunters. "Rigger, keep on sorting. We will divide the loot as usual, except for the food. Dump the general stuff along with the wagons. That includes the food rotting in the storeroom." Neither man ate now but indulged in any luxury items we acquired from the dead. This meant even the well-stored and persevered food was spoiling and rotting. It was taking up space, so it was best to get rid of it. "Rodriguez, grab that wooden wheelbarrow over there on that wagon and a shovel. There should be one around. Since you were late, you can collect the bodies from the north of the Dungeon." He grimaced, knowing where the bodies were and what was around there. "Do not worry. I will be with you, and she will not bother us as it is light now." "S¨ª, Keeper." I led him as he pushed the wheelbarrow through the Dungeon to the bodies. He paled as he saw the damage the Spirit inflicted on them. I found it odd that he could be shocked by any level of violence. ¡°Querido dios, ?qu¨¦ ha hecho este esp¨ªritu maligno?¡± He muttered in Spanish. Since his arrival at my Dungeon, he had been using the language more. I recalled a little of the language from my life as a human. I got the just of what he had said. "Yes, she is quite violent. Best not waste time and collect the remains. Do not worry about keeping the bodies together. Just collect them and bury them in a mausoleum." This got him moving to collect the bodies, and I directed him to the parts he missed. He pulled up a bandana mask to stop the flies and some of the growing smell. I decided to use this time to engage him in conversation. He was always reluctant before, but I was willing to try again. "Where are you from, Rodriguez?" He paused in his work and looked thoughtful, as far as I could tell with the mask. "Why do you ask, se?or Keeper?" He asked me as he returned to work. I had already thought about this and answered him. "We are all stories and would like to know yours." This surprised him, causing him to stop work again. "I was born in San Antonia, Texas. If you don''t mind, se?or Keeper, I came here to forget my past." This seemed to be getting to him, so I left the issue alone. "Very well. I will respect your privacy." He went back to work, and I pondered his response. What made it odd to me was that it was very similar to the one Rigger had given me when I asked him about his past. Was the contract affecting them like my memoirs, and were they, too, being suppressed? It took the rest of the day, but the hunters buried the bodies and piled the loot in the church. There was still much to be done, but I noticed something I had to find out about. "Rigger, are you feeling alright?" He had been wearing a heavy coat and hat all day and seemed uncomfortable in the sun''s light, which seemed to get worse as the sun got brighter. "Not, feeling right in sunlight now. Makes me all itchy." He confirmed my suspicion. "Alright. We split the loot and will finish the work tomorrow night. Rodriguez, do you have any issues with this?" "No, se?or Keeper." I knew why but said no more. The loot for such a large group was, well¡­ disappointing. Religious settlers did not carry much beyond what was needed to establish farms. They had a few books¡ªfourteen Bibles, to be precise¡ªno use to me. They had a few items of jewellery, mainly wedding rings and watches. A large stack of money was found and added to my collection. It was mostly bills and a few silver dollars. There was tobacco and little alcohol, which was found in the preacher''s wagon. "Everything not claimed goes into storage. The watches, jewellery and money stay with me. The rest is yours." They split the tobacco and alcohol. The rest was of no interest. They retired, and I summoned my avatar. The weapon and loot were placed in the appropriate storage locations. Mony-wise, I was getting to be rather wealthy. I now hold $1456.45 and 20 silver dollar coins. I feel the strange need to separate the silver coins in location and amount. "What can I do with such money anyway." I am wealthy for this time period but can do nothing with it. As I return to work, I laugh at the irony. I start with [Hide the Crime!] and begin to remove the evidence. The night passes, and the day follows. I use [Hide the Crime!] again as soon as it becomes available during the day. This reduces the bloodstains outside more, but they will need another or two triggers of the perk to be entirely removed. Inside, the church was going to take a lot longer to remove. The sun sets, and the hunters emerge from their lairs. I note that Rodriguez was tardy, and I had been purposefully avoiding his lair since he acquired his present guests. Rigger seemed happier and over the night, the wagons were removed and what needed to be stored was put away. You never know when you will need some of this stuff and it seemed I was a bit of a natural horder. The horses were freed after all was finished to wander when my hunters were finished. This took most of the night and I could see the sun starting to rise in the east. The sky was beginning to change colour and the stars were disappearing. The next few days went by without anything interesting as I finished hiding the evidence. At night, I spotted my local Hateful Spirit wandering her assigned hunting location. Another day rolled in, and I was watching the¡­ [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Well, it seems he is finished with his guests." I shift to his lair and find him starting to dig two new graves. The two bodies show that they died slowly and painfully. Their clothes were almost ripped off, and they were nearly naked. Almost all of their bodies had some form of injury, from bruises to deep cuts. I noted burns and bite marks as well. I wanted to know no more and left him to his work. Time rolled on, and the seasons changed once again. We had no other visitors, and I was surprised that no one had arrived to claim the fourth hunter position yet. Winter came again, and things went silent as the snow fell. The only interruptions were the blizzards that came down from the mountains. "I am not enjoying being a giant snow globe." Chapter 9 "Well, this is 1874." Spring was now here, and from the top of the bubble, I could see that the snow had almost gone, and green had taken its place. I knew it was well into the year, but with no means of tracking the date, I had to rely on the seasons to get an idea of what part of the year we were in. It was not ideal, but it was all I had to work with right now. Traffic coming and going to Crossway was steadily increasing. From single riders to groups of wagons, people were moving about along the road. Not one turned up towards my gates. "Still no new hunter." I was getting a little worried now as many months had passed since levelling and gaining the new slot for a hunter. With the others, they had appeared quite quickly after, but this time, nothing. As I had no control over this, I tried to keep it from taking up too much of my mind, but with long periods of inactivity, this proved almost impossible. I had grown tired of singing and replaying songs in my mind, but I had yet to find anything to replace this activity. The hunters had retreated into their lairs. The Spirit was the only one who remained active. During the dark hours, she moved around her hunter grounds as a passive ghostly figure, and the short winter days kept her moving for longer. I watched her often but did not try to engage her. The days passed, and the snow retreated completely. They were longer, with more sunny days broken by intense showers. As usual, the trees blocked my view of most of the road. The path leading to my Dungeon has a curve in it that stops me from having a straight view of the road. One day, several cowboys guided a large herd of cows across the ridge, which was the highlight of the year so far. I watched them wrangle and cajole the cows in the direction they wanted. I found it all very interesting and entirely similar to the later Westerns I had watched. Talking about the ridge, the smoke during the day increased along with the light pollution from the town at night. These were clear signs the community was growing, but from what I had gleaned from my conversations with my hunters, it would not be more than several hundred people in number at most. I was in my daily routine when I spotted a large group of riders moving faster than most up the road. Eight men and ten horses, I could see the lather on the horses even from a distance, meaning they had been pushing them hard. "Well, that''s odd." Riders did not ride their horses that hard as a rule, as it increased the chances of a misstep and injury to the horse from a fall. The riders were lost in my sight due to the trees, and they came back into view as they came up the trail to the gates. They had slowed to a walking pace to rest the horses. I got a better look now at the group. They were all men and bundled up heavily like most. The condition of the horses was worse than I noticed at first. Many were exhausted and might collapse if pushed further. The other was the number of firearms each carried. I was used to well-armed groups, but this was a whole different level. Each had at least one rifle, pistol and bandoliers with extra ammunition. "Bloody hell! Are they here to fight a war?" That was my first thought, but as they got closer, their mannerisms told me maybe something different. Several were constantly looking over their shoulders back the way they came. "No, not here to fight¡­. They''re running from someone or thing." The more I watched, the more confident I became. The riders dismounted near the gates, and I shifted to where they were to listen to their conversations. This was going to be interesting. "It seems you''re right, Benard." A man said loud enough for the group to hear. He was looking over the gates and walls. From the deference the others showed him, he was the leader. His beard and the hair I could see under his hat were grey. I placed him in his late forties, but I could be wrong; life was harder for people of this time. "We can sequester here for a few days as long we can secure an appropriate location." The southern accent was not prominent but distinctive to my hearing. It spoke of education and refinement. It was of the old South that had fought for the "cause". "As I told you, Mr Montague, few come out this way," the man to his left said. This must be Benard. He was nondescript and could easily blend in with a crowd on the frontier. "Let us see what is before us," Montague said, turning and speaking to the rest. John and Peter stay with horses. We will take the lockboxes with us. Claud, you will carry them." The men set about their tasks when the rest secured their mounts. I watched the men go about their tasks and noticed one with odd body language. "Hmmmm, me thinks Bernard is setting something up." Only locals knew I was out here, and they avoided these woods like the plague. If he was from around here, then this was a setup, or my new hunter had arrived. Claud hauled a set of heavy saddlebags from a horse and slung them over a shoulder. He was a large and well-built man but grunted from the effort. "Let us proceed, gentlemen." Montague led the way into the courtyard. As soon as Bernard stepped in, I got the answer to my question. [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] "Well, that answers that." Montague stopped at the plinth and read the inscription. He frowned and looked back up and around, spotting the church in the distance. "Most peculiar indeed." He said more to himself. "What would that be, Mr Montague?" Asked one of the men. Bernard was standing in the group, loitering around. "This place of the resting dead is quite strange, but let us proceed." He pointed to the church. "Gentlemen, our destination, let us go posthaste." He leads them straight ahead, ignoring the pathways. They still had to cover some distance. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] My hunters were now stirring as intruders had arrived. I reached out to the two who I could communicate with. "Eight men have arrived. All are heavily armed. Six are approaching the church, with two remaining with their horses. One of the six is a potential hunter." It was past midday but still far from sunset. The hunters would lack most of the advantages that night brought. Rigger would be the worst of them right now. "Firearms are permitted if you see no other option." It was a no-brainer. This group was more heavily armed than nearly all the others. I did not want to risk my hunters by trying to take them out with blades, which would have put them at a too-pronounced disadvantage. The hateful Spirit would be perfect for breaking the group, but I could not see a way to shift them northward, and it was too early. I watched them move at a steady pace to the church. It was just over 0.8 miles from the gate to the church. They were all looking around, guns ready to be used; Montague was paying more attention to the graves and statues. Something was interesting to him as he walked, and he regularly checked them.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "Bernard, illuminate me with the history of this place." He suddenly said this after checking another grave. As he did, it dawned on me that he had noticed the graves were blank. "Folks around these parts have been burying people here since they first arrived. Hence, the size of the place." Bernard was nervous but put up a good front. It would have been a good story if Montague was not as sharp as he was. "Fascinating, that would indeed explain this graveyard''s size for such a remote location. Are your people interned with these walls?" Montague was smooth, and I knew that he knew Bernard was full of shit. "Yes, on the far side of the graveyard, there are a few." "Well, you may have time to stop by and pay your respects." Bernard had started sweating more to that statement. I think he knew he was made or suspected it. They continued to walk, and both hunters were out of their lairs and getting a feel for the group. They used their knowledge of the area to remain hidden but had not been spotted so far. The Dungeon was denser, with more places to hide now due to the greater number of graves, buildings and trees. They reached the church, and Montague looked over the building. "Benard with me; the rest of you wait here; rest but stay alert." Montague motioned to the doors. Bernard opened one enough to get inside as they had increased in size along with the building. The two men entered and looked around the room before walking towards the altar. The inside differed from what one was expecting, and the other was more excited. They stood before the altar, and Montague turned to look at one of the stained-glass windows. He opened his jacket as it was warmer inside. "Quite the odd place of worship." He said, studying the window design. Bernard reached out and placed his hand on the altar. [Potential Hunter: Justin Bernard. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers one sacrifice to you.] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] "Yes." Now things got interesting. He shimmered, and my vision stretched. Bernard pulled a long blade from his side as soon as it was over. He moved up silently behind Montague. As he moved¡­ ¡­. Montague spun, shooting him in the head with a pistol. He dropped to the floor dead with a surprised expression on his face. Blood and brains covered the altar. [Potential Hunter: Justin Bernard. Has received his permanent death!] "What just happened?" As the others rushed in, I studied the chain of events. Montague had opened his jacket not for the warmth in the room but to allow him to pull his pistol from a holster. He was standing at the widow not to study the artwork but to use its reflection to observe Bernard. "Damn, this guy is good." I could not be impressed with him. "Fear not, gentlemen. It seems that Bernard sought to take my place, but I am unwilling to relinquish it." The others laughed at his words and relaxed. "Please return to outside. I need a few moments with my thoughts." The men did not find the order odd and quickly filtered out, closing the doors behind them. Montague turned to the altar and statue. "Now, what ungodly place is this?" As Bernard had done, he stepped up and placed his hand on the altar. [Potential Hunter: Alexander Montague. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers four sacrifices to you.] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] "Yes." We approved the contract, and he stood thoughtfully before the altar. He looked around as if he were genuinely seeing this place for the first time, and he turned and walked towards the doors. He opened them with a flourish and walked out of the church. "Gentlemen, please remove Mr Bernard''s remains and let us settle here for a few days." The men filled in, and he closed the doors when they were across the threshold. The men had not noticed, so he turned to look down the room at the altar. With practice easy, he pulled out his pistol and began firing. Bullets quickly hit the men in rapid succession, causing them to collapse in pain as they were not fatal shots. Cries of alarm and panic filled the air as they fell. Each had their legs targeted, wounding them. Montague quickly followed up with a knife. His men tried to stop him, but he gained new firearms and used them to wound further those trying to resist him from each he killed. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] With the final death, things went quiet as he looked around at his handy work. "Welcome to New Midian, Montague. I am the Keeper of this place." My voice surprised him, and he looked around for its source. "Ah, so you are the individual in charge around here." He asked. "Yes, I run this place." "Why not come out and let me see you?" He was still looking around. I summoned my avatar before the altar when his back was turned. I wanted to see his reaction and what he was planning. "As you can see, I am¡­" He turned and shot the avatar through the head, which was not a pleasant experience. I felt the bullet pass through the avatar form and hit the statue behind me. The body did not collapse, but I staggered back against the altar. I looked at him and found his shock amusing. "Well, that was a first." "Y-you should be dead!" He seemed to think he could kill me and take over or some other foolish idea. His expression turned wild. "Before I punish you. I am interested to know why you did that." "Punish me!" Then he understood what he had done. "In the name of the Lord, I cast you out, foul demon!" I look at him, confused for a few moments. Again, I did not expect that reaction. I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. Two more bullets then struck me, causing the avatar''s body to dissolve. "Begone, foul demon!" He cried out. "Well, you have made a very foolish mistake for such an intelligent man." He spun around, trying to find my location. In the contract''s fine print was the section on punishing hunters who are misbehaving. Until now, I had not needed to use it, but now was the time. I reached out and triggered the ability. Red/black energy coursed through him and arced around his body. He stood straight up, facing the wooden beams above him. His face was contorted in a silent scream as agony he had never known introduced itself to him. I waited for ten seconds before releasing him. When I did, he collapsed to the door, weeping from the pain. Well, that was going to be something I would need to use on the Spirit in future, I reasoned. I still might use it again on him in the meantime. "Now, are you going to behave?" Again, he did something I did not expect: leaping up and running for the door. He got a few steps before stopping, trapped in unspeakable pain. This time, I waited thirty seconds. "Are we going to continue?" He stood, his face covered with snot and tears, twisted in grief. Had I broken him? "Free me, demon. I have no wish for this hell!" He cried out. "Alexander Montague, no one forced you to say yes to the deal and kill these men who followed you here. You choose to do it." This then broke something inside of him as he collapsed down to the floor, weeping as he curled up into a ball. He was praying for forgiveness and redemption. "This is disappointing." I looked at his status sheet and found the issue. He had no Dark Trait, which seemed to allow a Hunter to function and accept its new existence. For all his crimes, he did not have one. He was an evil man, not a monster, it seemed. I watched him for about ten minutes as he wept and prayed. He was broken, and I had a choice to make. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "What was that about?" I shifted my view and found where things were happening. One of the men left with the horses was running through the gate. Rigger had killed the other and terrified the one running. Rodreguez was just outside the church waiting for instructions. I returned to the broken Montague. There was a way out of this situation. I had Rodriguez get ready. "Montague, there is a way to be free." I spoke as soothingly and calmly as possible, like he was a child. He perked up. "You have the ability to end the contract, and you will be free to leave." It took a few minutes, but I got a new message. [Hunter: Alexander Montague. He has broken his Dungeon contract!] "It is done. You are free to go." He got up and ran to the doors. Throwing them open, he ran out¡­ and straight into Rodriguez, who was waiting. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "That was a waste." "Why so, se?or Keeper?" Rodriguez asked. "He killed the potential hunter and tried to take his place. He killed the other four inside but as a sacrifice. Then came to understand just what he had agreed to." "Necio gringo." He said as he spat on the ground. The last survivor was riding away. Rigger was watching from a deep shadow of a building. I reached out and spoke to both of them. "Gather the loot, and we will split it among ourselves. The bodies can be buried tonight." It turned into an impressive haul. The guns and blades went into the armoury, as I called it, and the watches, money, and jewellery went downstairs. The large amounts of coffee, tobacco and alcohol were split between the hunters. This left the heavy saddle bags. Inside were two lock boxes. A crowbar opened them, revealing their content. "Wow, now that is a haul!" The first was packed full of dollar notes of all denominations, and the second had two large bags of silver dollars and gold coins. My hunters were not interested; they were more focused on their spoils. I did have a question for them as I had a suspicion. "Have any of you heard of Alexander Montague?" They both stopped at the question. ¡°S¨ª, he is a nasty hombre. He runs a gang of former Confederate soldiers. Wanted for robbery and murder." Rodriguez said. "Well, you killed him." "I did!" This seemed to surprise Rodriguez, who turned and looked at the body just outside. The hunters left, leaving me with some knowledge and a fortune. It seemed the American Civil War had happened here as in my world, but to what effect? As he was a former Confederate soldier, it seemed they lost the conflict here, as in mine. I moved the wealth downstairs over the night as the bodies were buried and started counting. Chapter 10 It took a few days to count all the money. I had several things to do, like cleaning up the blood in the church. The altar and statue were damaged by gunfire. The bullet impacts scarred the marble, and I pulled a few bullets that were in the stone. The ample supply of tools I had accumulated helped with this. I hoped they would be repaired when I reached the next level. I had separated the money into several piles. The non-precious metal coins totalled $35.56. The greenbacks, as the locals called them, now numbered $4647, making me a wealth Core. The silver dollars totalled 120 coins, with 100 gold of twenty-dollar denominations. I had nothing to do with this wealth, so I could just look at it now and again¡ªespecially the silver and gold. The weapons had been unloaded and were now stored in the room where the stairs connected to the crypt below. I now had an arsenal of guns and a lot of ammunition. If I ever had to fight a war, I could make a decent go of it. It''s a shame I did not have the numbers. [Alert! Infamy (State) changed from Unknown > Whispers.] "Eh?" What caused that? Was it due to the gang member who fled the killing? Why was it a state-level change? I had partly expected a local area change. I was more alert for the next few days, but nothing happened. The changes took a week to take effect. I watched the world go by from the top of the bubble when I noticed three men riding over the ridge. I ignored them at first as they rode, as they were no different to many others travelling the road. It was just past midday, and the weather was cloudy, but I did not expect rain. The clouds were too high and not the right shade of grey. Over the last few years, I have gotten good at reading weather patterns. The riders came up the path to the gates and drew my attention. The three were dressed for the environment and leaned towards the frontiersman over the settler with their clothing. All were armed and focused on my gates as they approached. Their arms were out and ready to be used. "Interesting, why are they here? I would bet good money if I could that they are not challengers." The three dismounted and tied up their horses. They each carried several weapons and walked into the gates with purpose. They ignored the courtyard and plinth, walking towards the church in the distance. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Wow, I am shocked at that news." My hunters were stirring, and I informed them that the three men were walking into the Dungeon. I allowed the use of firearms if needed. The men were nervous and scanning the area as they walked, weapons in hand and ready to be used. What was surprising was the lack of talking. They were heading towards the church with a grim determination. The three were walking abreast in a line. From their body language, it seemed the middle one was in charge. They were alert and tense. "What have you three all motivated?" I thought about it and almost kicked myself mentally when I realised it was the money. The escaped rider had blabbed about the money and they were here to find it. "Well, this will make life more interesting." My hunters were up and out of their lairs again and were at a disadvantage from the daylight. I had to try to remedy this somehow. It''s a project for later, but I had to concentrate on my visitors. It then occurred to me how easy it was to get into the side room with all the weapons and then into the crypt. "Damn it! Another thing I need to investigate fixing." The men were closing in on the church, but my hunters were near them. Rigger to the north and Rodriguez to the south. Both were armed with blades and guns. The three marched on, not seeing them. I needed to do something and slow their arrival at the church. The maze was helping. Thankfully, I have an avatar with decent longevity before it dissolves. I reach out to my hunters. "I am going to cause a distraction. Be ready." I start with the good old rock throw behind them. They were walking towards the church, and I was going to summon my avatar in front of them. The clattering of the stone caused the three to spin around. One on my right fired off his rifle, accidentally startling the other two. "Damn it! Nathan, what the hell are you thinking?" The middle one yelled. "Sorry, Jack, but you heard the stories about this place." He apologised meekly. The three looked around as the really nervous one reloaded. They were quickly satisfied that there was no one behind them. "Let''s get going. I want out of here before dark," Jack said. The three turned and found my avatar facing them. Their reactions were priceless. The three jumped in fright. "Aarrgghh!" Nathan screamed and fired his rifle off again. The bullet came not even close, and I wondered internally if this man had a nervous condition. I manage not to flinch or react. "Good afternoon, gentlemen! How may I assist you?" The three looked at me dumbfounded for a few moments. Behind them, my hunters were moving away from their hiding spots. I need to keep them distracted for a bit longer. Jack rallied first and took action, which the other two mirrored. They all pointed their rifles at me, even as one was empty. They were all single-shot weapons of which I had no fear of. "Now, now there is no need for hostilities." "Who are you?" Jack yelled at me. He had his rifle up braced against his shoulder and was the steadiest in his aim of the three. It was an exciting feeling facing down three rifle barrels. I knew they could not hurt me, but a small part of my mind was unsure. Echoes of the old human fear of mortality were still around. I was committed and pressed on. "I am the Keeper of these grounds, and I am simply enquiring why you are here?" This confuses them as it is not the answer they expected. To be honest, I had no idea what they were expecting me to answer with. "Keeper of this place? You a demon?" Jack asked. From their look and limited conversation, I was leaning toward the fact they were not very educated. Could I use this? "To some, angel to others." I smiled at this, as it was a twist on the classic line from Hellraiser: One character demanded to know who the hell priest¡ªwhich everyone called Pinhead¡ªwas when he first appeared with the other Cenobites. Their confusion and fear grow as I show them no fear or attempt to bargain for my safety.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Where''s the money? Where''s the gold?" The silent one suddenly demanded. "Micheal! Shut up!" Jack hissed at the man, not taking his eyes from me. So, I was right about the reason for their visit. Behind him, the hunters were nearly ready to strike, just a little longer. "Ah, so theft is your game is¡­." Micheal shot me in the chest, which caused me to stagger back. The bullet passed through the form I had, which I felt ripping away a chunk of it. I would not be holding it much longer. The bullet damage would see to that. I wondered what they saw. "Well, that was uncalled ¡­¡­" Jack now shot me. I believe seeing a man being shot and not falling was something he had probably never encountered before. His shot did more damage, and I allowed my form to dissolve. The three cried out in shock and surprise. They were so focused on my form disappearing that they were unaware of my hunters until it was too late. Jack started turning as some instinct was warning him, but a tomahawk buried itself in the back of his skull, cutting through his hat. He collapsed forward as the other two turned, but my hunters were on them. Neither remaining man had any skills in hand-to-hand combat and were armed incorrectly anyway. Nathan got a bowie knife in the neck. Micheal was kicked in the groin and doubled over; this was followed up by multiple stabbing in the chest and gut. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] Jack still lived, it seemed, but was twitching face first in the grass, making strange gurgling sounds. Rodriguez walked over to him and pulled the tomahawk out of his head. It made a peculiar cracking and squelching sound. He stood there watching Jack slowly dying, resting the axe head on his shoulder. Blood and brain matter ran down the handle and onto his shoulder from the blade. He had a thoughtful expression on his face. Rigger was already searching for his kill, ignoring the other hunter. It took a few minutes for Jack to die, and Rodriguez watched the whole ordeal. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Deal with the horses outside and the bodies later tonight; drop what had been collected on the altar." My hunters moved to obey my instructions. The day passed, and when sunset came, the horses and bodies were dealt with. The loot was split, and the hunters retired to their lairs before sunrise. I greeted the new day from the top of the bubble. It was a fiery one. The sun was a bloody red coming up, lighting the sky and reflecting yesterday''s events. I just thought it was times like these when there was nothing to do. Well, that was not true. I had a few things to attend to, but I felt like procrastinating a bit today. I was in charge, after all. My thoughts today were on my little remaining humanity. Over the last four years, I have noticed things that have been strange or would not have sat well with me before. My attitude had changed. I had become desensitised to violence and killing apart when children were involved. This was unsurprising to me as I knew the more you were exposed to such things, the less it affected you. Over the last four years, I have seen a growing tally of violent deaths. I had to remember not to be callous or jaded to them as that could lead to mistakes that would be disastrous for me. The strangest thing was that I was not going stark-raving mad after all the time here with little conversation or interaction. You would think that this would be the least start. It was the clearest sign to me of my mental change, apart from the emotional distance I still experienced. Humans are fundamentally social creatures. I got glimpses of this in my memories. When I was human, I was a bit of a loner, but I had a few with whom I interacted. As far as I could tell, I was mostly the same as when I awoke here. Looking out at the land around me was relaxing, which is why I did it. I enjoyed the view and seeing the world change around me. Spotting trouble was another advantage I could not ignore either. I knew this was another holdover from my human life as I enjoyed hiking as my only outdoor activity. I wondered how much would remain as more years passed. Would I, in time, devolve into being a monster myself? Or am I already one? These and other questions come to me during these times. I do little this day but think. The day passes into night and then day again. "Right! Stop being a lazy Keeper and get back to work." I give myself a little pep talk and get back to dealing with some of my issues. I start cleaning up the location of the three most recent deaths. Heading over to the church, I found that both bullets that struck me were buried in a wall. They were close to the windows, and I was surprised that neither of them had passed through one. I dug them out and cast them away. "Will my next level up fix this damage and the altar?" This a question for later, but it is not the first time I have asked it. I unloaded the new guns in my armoury and placed them with the others. Now, I turned my attention to the stairs leading down to the crypt where my wealth was stored. I thought about this problem. Several hours later, I concluded this. "I have no idea what to do." My best idea was to cover the stairwell with a board and place items on top to disguise it, but I found two faults. The weight could collapse the board and it would stick out as it was the only wood on the floor anywhere in the church. "Also, moving it all the time would be a pain." I thought about hiding the money in another location and moving the weapons down into the crypt. "Now that was a possibility." I would do this, but something told me to keep the wealth close. Why? I had no idea, but it was a constant itch in my mind when I thought about moving it from the crypt. "Well, this is annoying." I returned to the top of the bubble and thought some more. "Build a hiding place? ¡­. Maybe. Expand the crypts on the next level up? ......I cannot commit to that, but it''s a possibility." The day passed, as I thought, and a storm rolled over the Dungeon from the north. Heavy rain clouds moved across the sky, and lightning flashed in the distance. "Damn, this a big one." When the rain came, it fell into what people refer to as sheet rain. It was almost a solid wall of rain. The Spatial Folding warped the fall, creating a dome effect over the Dungeon. Inside, the rain was falling at several different angles as it passed through, and the effect was always weird to watch. The light and sound of the lightning and thunder were intense, as they were now nearly above me. I watched the light show. Several more streaks of lightning fell from the sky and connected with the ground. The following rumbles were right after them, as they were happening close. Then it happened. FLASH. BOOM. I was momentarily blinded as lightning hit the spatial folding bubble. An electricity arc across the dome formed from the rain as my sight was restored. I felt the bubble shake from the strike. "Holy Shit!" FLASH. BOOM. Another hit the dome. Electricity arced across the surface conducted by the water. Some of it arced into the Dungeon while the rest was diverted to the walls. "Do I need lightning rods now?" The storm continued and passed over the Dungeon. There were no more lightning strikes on the Dungeon, but several were close by. By the time the storm passed, the sun had set, and the night was here. "Let''s hope that''s the height of my excitement for a while." It turned out that it was, and the days passed, turning into weeks. The world continued to revolve around the Dungeon. The traffic on the road continued, but no one turned up the path to the Dungeon. Autumn was soon here, and the weather warned that winter was returning. One night, I noticed Rodriguez was out of his lair and sitting on a chair he had stored in it. He had a small fire going and was brewing a pot of coffee over it. Now and again, they emerged like this to do something they wanted or perform some tasks they thought were important, like gathering firewood. The fire pit was dug soon after he claimed his liar, but he used it sparingly and hid it when not in use. Rodriguez was the most active of the two in this regard. Now and again, he emerged and would sit back, watching the night pass with his fire and coffee. I did not count our local spirit, as she haunted her hunting area nightly. He was dressed in more clothing than summer, but not much. He had his hat on. I think it was chilly but not cold when the fire was added to the mix. I usually leave him alone, but tonight, I had a question. "Rodriguez, I have a question, if I may." "S¨ª, se?or Keeper." I got the impression he did not but was humouring me. "Alexander Montague, what can you tell me of him?" He blinked, as my question was not the one he was expecting. He leant forward, pouring the boiling coffee into a tin mug. Once he leaned back again, he spoke. "The gringo rode during the war between states. Got a reputation as a raider. When the war ended, he went his own way and soon started raiding and being a bandida again." Rodriguez looked into the fire as he spoke, his eyes distant. "When he robbed, did he kill indiscriminately, or was he more restrained?" "Only killed those who fought. Left women and kids alone. Punished any who crossed his rules." The light of the fire was causing the shadows around to dance across the walls of his lair as he took a big gulp of coffee. "Thank you, Rodriguez, that''s all." I left him to enjoy the rest of his coffee in peace. My assumption about the late Mr Montague was correct: he was an evil man, not a monster. He appeared to have some morals but not very high ones. In time, he might have continued down the path that made him one, but when he reached my altar, he was not one and could not handle what he had agreed to. Like Rodriguez, I spent the rest of the night looking at the stars. Chapter 11 Autumn turned to winter, then to spring and then to summer. It has been a quiet year so far. The only things that had died in my Dungeon were several birds that flew into the spatial bubble. Things were in their normal routine both within and without the Dungeon. It was late summer when I got my first visitors of the year. Two riders came up the pathway from the road. My hunters had recently cleared it, as the forest around us was trying to reclaim it. The two miles of track take longer without pack animals'' help. I shifted to my gates and watched them. They were the standard fare of travellers but were more settler than frontiersmen with their look. More thick wool clothing under animal hides and leather. Both were armed. They dismounted and tied up their horses just away from the gates. "Should I get a tying post made next to the gates?" Something for the future, but for now, focus. "I believe this is the place, Robert." The first said. A tall man for the time, around 5''9. He built and was in his early thirties. Clean-shaven with dirt blonde air under a bowler hat of all things with bright, clear blue eyes. He looked through the gates into my domain. "Reckon it is, Charles." The other was a far rougher type with a scrappy beard and brown hair. His clothes were rougher and dirtier, even from the ride to get here. He was chewing something. From the stains, I think it''s chewing tobacco. "Shall we get to it?" Charles asked. He seemed eager and "peppy" was the best way to describe him. He sounded like he was from the East Coast and educated. His personality would quickly wear on most people. "First, get ready, then go in." Robert spat on the ground and confirmed that he was chewing tobacco. He went over to a tree, undid his trousers and began urinating. Charles ignored him and pulled his rifle from the saddle holster. Once finished, Robert armed himself. Both men had a rifle, sidearm and knife. "I say, Robert, this is all awfully exciting. The chance to find Montagues lost gold. What a story it will make." Charles rabbited on as they approached the gates. He held his rifle badly which looked new and expensive. Was he just a dandy pretending to be going on an adventure? His clothes were of far better quality than his companion''s. Everything about him spoke of money. "Reckon it would, but heard other stories about this place," Robert said, looking through the gates for danger. His body language was tense. "Oh, do tell!" Charles said as they both entered the courtyard. "Not a place for the god-fearing folk it is." Robert looked at the plinth and then around the area that the Dungeon made up. "Best bet is the church. Odd, this place looks bigger than I heard." The church was visible from the gates as no building blocked the view. They left the courtyard and I got two messages. [Alert! Intruder is not recognised as Challenger.] [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] "Ok, which is which?" I reached out to my hunters, who were stirring in their lairs. "Stay out of the church. I want to see how this plays out." The two men made their way through the graves and tombs. Charles continued talking about different things that bordered on prattling. Robert was quiet and was studying the area for dangers. "Aunt Margaret was not keen on this little excursion, but I was travelling through this state when I heard the story of the Montague''s lost gold. Well, I thought¡­." And so, on he went. And on. It was nearly a mile now from the gates to the church. When I first created the Dungeon, I thought about how cool it would be, but now I can see issues that can arise from it. The walk takes so long to get to the church! My hunters were moving to stalk them but remained hidden. When they reached the church, the day was approaching its end. The sun would set in less than two hours. "We search quickly; we don''t want to be here after dark." Roberts''s words cut through Charles''s prattle. "Yes, that might be bad; let''s look inside then." Charles''s attitude became more focused. The shift was subtle, and I almost missed it. Throughout the journey, I watched, trying to figure out who the potential hunter was. I was leaning toward Robert, but there was something about Charles. He seemed¡­. too peppy. The two men entered the church. Sunlight was flooding through the west-facing stained-glass windows, covering most of the room in different shades of colours. A rainbow effect filled the air where the light came through. They checked the room before walking to the altar. Both stood before it and took it in. "My, what an odd statue for a church. Are those bullet holes?" Charles spoke first. He went closer, squinting at the damage to the altar and statue. "Aye, this is no place of God." Robert was looking around again. He went over to the door to the left of the altar. Charles watched his back for a few seconds. While Robert was distracted, Charles stood forward and placed his hand on the surface. [Potential Hunter: Charles McGregor. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers one sacrifice to you.] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] "Yes." The contract was formed within seconds and he placed his rifle on the altar. Drawing his knife, he walked up behind Robert and got close, ready to strike. Robert turned to say something but found a blade in his guts. Charles did not hesitate, pushing the older man against the wall, stabbing again and again. Speed and surprise swept through Roberts''s attempt to defend himself. He tried to say something or cry out, but only blood came from his mouth. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Stepping back, the now-dead Robert slides to the floor. An evil smile of joy changes the features of my newest hunter from a dandy to an experienced killer. Blood covered the front of both men and was spreading out across the floor¡ªanother stain to clear up later. "Greetings, Charles McGregor." The smile vanishes and he looks around. "I believe you are the individual identified in my contract as the Keeper." His voice had changed to a slightly deeper and less refined accent. It was still from the East Coast. "Correct. I oversee this Dungeon, and I welcome you to it. There are some ground rules you should be aware of¡­." I go on to explain my rules and how things are done. He nods now and again, seeming to understand what is required of him. I bring the others in. They all eye each other up, recognising the others as fellow predators. "The hunter to the left is Rigger, and the right is Rodiguez. This is McGregor, our fourth hunter." I introduced them. There are a few tense nods of¡­. Acceptance?This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "Fourth?" McGregor asked, confused, looking at the two Hunters present. "Yes, the fourth is a bit.. er¡­. Different." The older hunters snorted. McGregor was smart, understood something was off and was being evasive. "In what way?" He asked, his eyes narrowing, wondering if he was being mocked. Was he a bit sensitive? "Well¡­ she is a hateful spirit and haunts the north end of the Dungeon at night. Best avoid her hunting grounds as she will attack you on sight." I explained to him. His expression changed to one of surprise at my words. "Wait, ghosts are real!" He exclaimed. "Around here, they can be. So where am I going to put you?" I ignored some of the more extreme questions, well, all the questions that came after this revelation. I assigned him to the church''s east so that anyone cutting through would find him first before reaching the church. He helped with the horses and buried the body of his sacrifice. What little loot was split and the hunters were leaving and returning to their lairs. "McGregor, wait one moment." When everything was finished, we were well into the night. It was dark, but McGregor did not seem bothered by it. "Can you tell me what is being said about Montague and the money?" "What its actually here?" He exclaimed. "I thought it was just a story. I used it to get Robert to bring me here." "No, it''s here." "Well, colour me a fool!" He laughed at the fact what he thought was a story was true. "Well, old Alexander Montague robbed a large train full of money from the Federal Government, which he liberated last year. The stories go that he hides it in a graveyard, killing the rest of his gang to protect its location. The story is that it was a few thousand gold coins." "No, it was only a hundred." He laughed more at this. The fact the story was mostly true entertained him greatly. "Thank you, go settle in." Still chuckling, he walked out of the church to his lair and settled into his new home. I had things to think about. The beacon seems not to be the only thing drawing people to my Dungeon. I hoped the story would turn into an urban myth that would be forgotten over time. I could use the extra kills, but treasure hunters would bring more interest that could expose me. I had to devise a plan to get people to forget about the money. Precisely what and how I had no idea. I turned my attention back to my new Hunter. "Let''s see what you can do."
Hunter Name Charles McGregor
Level 1 Kills 1/5
Skills Acting. IIV Loyalty Neutral
Blades. V
Handguns. II
Rifles. II
Stealth. IV
Dark Traits
Sadistic Predator
"Well, that explains a few things." I read over his skills and Dark Trait. He specialised in fooling his victims and ambushing them up close and personal. The Sadistic Predator trait did not need explaining. He had fewer skills, but they were at a higher level than my other Hunters when they first arrived in some areas. He was also a bit younger, in his late twenties, while Rigger was in his early forties and Rodriguez was in his late thirties. The summer days went on, and McGregor settled into the routine that happened when things were quiet. As the long summer days passed, I thought about his acting skills. What could I use it for? "Maybe a trip into town for some intelligence gathering?" As a new hunter without a level under his belt, he could stay away from the Dungeon the longest. He might be able to reach Crossway and get back. The lack of a horse was an issue that would prevent this. He could ambush a traveller, but that could lead to unforeseen consequences. "Hhmmmm. I will think some more on this." Summer passed, and autumn was here again. The forest trees were turning in colour, and the weather was wetter. Wildlife was getting ready for winter or migrating south. I watched flocks of birds flying south, knowing they would be back in a few months. The cycle of life went on. I had spoken to McGregor, but he had gradually become withdrawn, as the other hunters had in time. Why? I had no idea, but I resolved to try to have a more extended conversation with my next hunter when they joined. What little I did learn had fascinated me. The town of Crossway was the main town for crossing the Canadian border from the Idaho Territories. My memory was not the best, but my Dungeon is in the south of the territories. So, where the hell is the border? The War between States ended in 1866, not 1865, as in mine. McGregor killed his first person during the celebrations, marking the day it ended. These facts made me think about the world around me and the differences from my own. I could do nothing about it right now, but I am looking for any sources of information to find out what is happening or had. 1875 continued as autumn went on and winter was closing in. In the distance, the snow line on the mountains was moving down towards the Dungeon. The numbers along the road were slowing as the locals were getting ready to hunker down to endure the winter. I was surprised to see four riders arrive at my gates. I looked them over, noting their clothes and weapons. They were treasure hunters, I thought. It was getting later in the day and darkness was soon to come. The winter days were far shorter. I listened to their conversation, and my first impression was correct: they were looking for the money. I watched them cross the threshold and the courtyard. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] Each carried an assortment of weapons and even a few mining tools. They were crossing directly through the gravestones and mausoleums. I watched as they walked, knowing the hunters were aware of their entry and were moving. McGregor was the closet and was already watching them. The sun was low and the shadows in the Dungeon were greater, with many patches of darkness. He was using them to his advantage and had not been spotted yet. The men were discussing where the money could be located, and the church was their first stop in the search. One decided to stop to urinate, with the others telling him to catch up. He made his way over to a tree and undid his trousers. The others continued, not looking back but to where they were going. McGregor moved in. He got right up behind the distracted intruder. He was shaking off and refastening his trousers when McGregor grabbed him. One hand seized his prey''s jaw, pushing it up and forcing his head back, exposing his neck. Then the blade in the other cut across it, opening it, causing blood to flow out. The man fought as best he could while choking to death on his blood. McGregor held him to minimise the noise of his death. He had his evil smile plastered across his face as he held the dying man. He was successful, as the others did not look back. He watched them as they walked away as he held the dying man. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Well, that''s one." The three walked on, nearing the empty space around the church. My other two hunters were waiting, hiding as best they could; McGregor was moving up behind them. Surprised, one of the men called out as he spotted Rigger and tried to aim his weapon at him. Rodriguez took advantage and attacked. He emerged from hiding and crossed the short distance to the nearest intruder. His target heard something moving behind him and began turning to see Rodriguez, but he was not fast enough. A tomahawk buried itself in his face as Rodreguez swung in as he ran. The scream of pain emitted was loud. This threw off the man''s aim as he tried to shoot Rigger. The shot went wide as he lept in surprise, allowing Rigger to attack. It was not far, and he crossed the distance fast, seeing he was going for his pistol. McGregor had arrived, tackling the third. The fight quickly degenerated into three brutal murders. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] All three hunters were covered in the blood of their victims and stood over the cooling corpses. Steam rose from the blood that was covering the grass and earth. A few gravestones also had blood spatter across them. "They brought four horses and a pack mule with them all tied up at the gates. It''s best to get the bodies in the ground. It might start snowing tonight." The hunters looked around at the darkening skies and agreed with my assessment, getting to work. I triggered my perk [Hide the Crime!] to remove most of the blood from the area. After a few hours of work, the four bodies were in the ground. By then, the sun was long gone, and the first flakes of winter snow were blowing in the wind. They began moving faster with this, collecting the saddles and using the pack mule to bring it all to the church. Rigger took the mule back to the gates, sending it on its way with a slap on its hindquarters. The horses were long gone by then. He turned and almost ran back to the church as the snow started to fall, and the night was deathly silent. He came through the doors as the others finished separating everything that was taken from the dead, including their saddle bags and the pack mule. "Anyone want the travel rations?" I got the answer from all of them I expected¡ªthat of a hard no. "Why am I not surprised? Next, we have¡­." The "luxury" items were divided among them. I had to arbitrate a few items, but they all left with something. The saddles and other items would be moved to the storage room as soon as the weather settled. After they left the church, I moved the valuables and money below. The guns and knives were next. I unloaded them and placed them with the rest. "I still have no idea what to do with these stairs." I said to myself as I looked down at them from my avatar''s eyes. I had been thinking about it but still had no idea what to do. The falling snow turned into a blizzard as the wind increased speed. "I wonder how long this one will last." The wind soon howled around the Dungeon, causing the windows to rattle. I rarely left the Dungeon during this type of weather for two reasons. The most obvious was that I could not see anything, and the second was that I still faintly remembered staying out of them when I was alive as a human. "Looks like we will not see anyone else this year¡­. But I could be wrong." Chapter 12 Summer was in full force, and no visitors had come since the four treasure hunters. "Well, the remains of 1876, what will you have in store for us, I wonder?" The land was lush and green again. Wildflowers were growing across the ridge leading to Crossway. The number of travellers was busy again on the road, and I watched them travel. Some days, I got a bit of excitement when the local cattle herds were driven along the ridge line. Then, late one day, a rider rode up to the gates. "Who are you now?" I shifted to the gates to get a better look at the rider. He was young, mid-teens, not close to eighteen. He was clean-shaven, with longish brown hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in settler garb, but it was not good-quality clothing. He wore a heavy, patched coat and a classic cowboy hat. His trousers were patched at the knee, and his boots looked worn. He had a pistol and rifle. The rifle was on his saddle in a holster, and the gun hung at his hip. I knew this because his coat was open and I could see it when he dismounted. Something else was attached to the saddle, but it was wrapped up, and I could not determine what it was. "Why did I think I have seen you before?" The teenager was familiar, but I could not place him or understand why. This was strangely irritating as I wracked my memory for the why. I should have seen him as a teenager, but he seemed like a boy to me. He was getting there but was not a man yet. I was at a loss at that moment. The boy started doing things that brought my attention back to him. He had tied up the horse he rode in on. The gun was removed from his hip and placed in the saddle bag on the horse. He had removed his coat, which was slung over the saddle. He was carrying two additional knives attached to his belt, each of a different size. But what he pulled from his saddle was truly interesting. It was a cavalry sword. He attached the sword to his belt and then put on his coat again. He slung a water canteen over his shoulder and a strap crossed his chest. The last thing he picked off the saddle was a mining lantern, which he carried. He checked himself over and then walked to the gate. He was prepared for this. His face was set and determined. "Here we go!" He crossed the gates into the courtyard and walked up to the plinth. He read it and looked at the church in the distance. A look of hatred crossed his features, and I wondered what its source was. He turned and walked down the southern path from the courtyard. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] I could not interfere now that he was listed as a Challenger. The rules were clear, and I had to leave him to the hunters. He was in McGregor''s hunting ground, and he would get first crack at him. I settled in to watch, following him as he walked. The sun was retreating behind the mountains, making the Dungeon darker. The skies were mostly clear, but the sun turned them fiery red. In the distance, to the east, the first stars were making their appearance. The boy stopped and lit his miner''s lantern. It took a few moments, but the flame light soon pushed back the encroaching darkness. He clipped it to his belt so that he could still access his weapons. He drew his sword and went on. He walked the paths of my Dungeon, making a wrong turn. He quickly backtracked when he found the dead end and continued along the correct path, which would lead him to the church. McGregor made his move near a mausoleum the boy just passed. He moved out from behind the boy and almost glided up behind him with his blade drawn to take his life. Something warned the boy, who turned around, looking behind him. He cried out, startled to see McGregor almost on top of him. He turns, stumbling back, raising the sword to protect himself. McGregor slashed at him with his knife, but the boy was back peddling to give himself more room. He used his sword to block a few strikes, gaining confidence. He stopped retreating and held his ground. It was this new confidence that nearly killed him. Knocking the sword to the side, charging to close the distance for the kill, it looked like it was over. The boy, acting impulsively, punched with the hand holding the sword. The sword had a large and elaborate hand guard that covered his fist. The blow caught McGregor on the side of the head, knocking him off target at the last moment. The boy backed away again. McGregor stopped and lifted his hand to his head. His hand came away with blood and he snarled at the sight of it. His opponent had not come away cleanly, as there was blood on McGregor''s blade. The front of the teenager''s shirt was cut, and he had a small amount of blood staining the white linen. "You will pay for that!" McGregor snarled. The two circled each other. The boy was no killer, as he had the advantage with the sword but was not pressing it. His look of fear mixed with determination was another sign. This did not look good for him, and he should have been pressing his advantage. McGregor was angry and now attacked again. He wanted to hurt the boy and was probably going to take his time killing him now. Sadism was his thing, after all. "That could be a mistake." I spoke to myself as I watched the fight but expected my hunter to win. The boy was brave but lacked my Hunter''s experience. He was backing up again from McGregor''s attacks. Behind him was a large gravestone that would be used to pin him in place. It was a few short steps until he collided with it. With his evil smile, McGregor pressed the advantage. "You''re going to die slowly, boy! I can''t wait to see you piss yourself!" He mocked his opponent. This seemed to energise the boy, who pushed off the gravestone and started to attack. It was clear he had some training with the sword¡ªnot much, but more than I expected. Swords were a rarity in the Western world outside of duelling on the continent of Europe in my world here, I did not know. This forced McGregor to backtrack, as the sword held the advantage over his knife with length. The boy thrust forward, trying to impale McGregor, but the hunter avoided him as he was faster. This led to another bout of circling as each sought an opening. The boy reached in and pulled a knife from his belt, giving him a second weapon. Now, that was the smart thing to do. Things had gotten interesting. I would have bet the boy would have been dead by now. He was either lucky or more competent than I thought. The jury was still out on which. McGregor was getting angrier the longer the boy was resisting. His smile was gone and the snarl was back. Blood trickled down the side of his face from the scalp wound. He attacked.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The sword was knocked aside as he moved in, but the boy stepped in to meet him. He used his arm to change the direction of McGregor''s knife and stabbed him with his. He struck true, catching McGregor on the side, cutting deeply. McGregor snarled loudly in pain and, in response, head-butted the teenager, knocking both their hats off. This separated them. The boy held the sword but left the knife on McGregor''s side. I focused on the wound. It was not fatal, but it wasn''t good. McGregor pulled the blade clear and it was as deep as four inches and covered in blood. He dropped the blade as the boy recovered from the head butt. His nose was broken and blood was coming from it. He was wincing in pain but seemed ready to continue the fight. McGregor now had a choice: continue the fight or retreat. He chose to retreat. He quickly backed away, favouring his side and retreated into the darkness outside the lantern''s circle of light. The boy did not follow but did move and pick up his knife and hat. He stood looking around, trying to see if the assailant was coming back. McGregor was close to his lair and retreated to it to rest. Once he was inside, a countdown appeared above it but did not start. [Hunter: Charles McGregor will be healed in 18:00:00.] "Well, that was a surprise." The boy was still standing with blades in both hands. He eventually started walking again, looking over his shoulder regularly to see if McGregor was coming back. With McGregor bowing out, it was now Rodreguez''s turn. After a few dead ends, the boy was still going in the right direction, but he was moving slower and jumping at a few shadows. His encounter with McGregor rattled him and he was on edge now. Rodriguez had found him close to the church and seemed was going to attack him before he entered. He was moving parallel to him. He walked into the space around the church and was walking from the south side to the north, where the doors were located. He was halfway along the east side of the church when Rodriguez moved. He charged out of the darkness, catching the boy by surprise. He collided with him, knocking him into the side of the church. Rodriguez was using a knife, which he carried in his hand, not his usual tomahawk. The tomahawk was in his other. He slashed forward to cut across the boy''s stomach, but he moved to the side. He was not fast enough and was cut. Blood was quickly staining his shirt more. He cried out in pain. He punched with the handle of the sword. Rodriguez used his forward to block his counter. He twisted to stab this time as the boy was dragging himself with his back along the wall away from his attacker. Rodriguez missed his chest but cut across the top of his arm, but not deeply, as the heavy coat deflected much of the cut. In fear, the body stabbed back, catching Rodriguez with a light hit that was stopped by his coat. This did stop Rodriguez from pressing long enough for the boy to get a little space and bring his sword up in front of him. Rodriguez laughed as he swapped weapons in his hands and then dropped the knife. Then he started attacking again. "Now, that was stupid. I am going to have to talk with him about that." The boy was backpedalling, blocking, or avoiding the furious assault. They were nearing the north side of the church and the doors. Rodriguez was getting a feel for his opponent and was getting ready for the kill. I was not going to think it was guaranteed until the boy was dead. His lantern was swaying and getting knocked around, causing the area to light up strangely. This caused twisting shadows to move across the side of the church. Suddenly, the body stopped and lunged forward with his sword, forcing Rodriguez back. He knocked the blade aside with his tomahawk and then another, then another after that. "Damn, this boy is lucky as hell or has more natural skill than he is letting on." The counterattack lasted no longer, and the boy was backpedalling again to stay alive. Rodriguez was not laughing anymore; he was focused on the kill. Swinging his tomahawk down hard at the boy''s head, it was blocked by the flat of the sword as Rodriguez used his superior strength and mass to push the blade down. In desperation, the boy stabbed with his knife as his knees were bending. He thrust up into Rodriguez''s arm, not the centre torso. The knife went straight through his forearm and came out the other side. Rodriguez howled in pain and let go of his tomahawk as he jumped back and then staggered a few more steps. The sudden release of the pressure on him caused the boy to stumble forward to his knees. Rodriguez was holding his arm but did not pull the blade free. He flexed and tested his hand, noting the reduced movement, but he could still use it. The boy was now back on his feet and was looking wide-eyed at him. Blood was leaking from Rodriguez''s sleeve, but he paid it no mind. Another knife was drawn from his belt with his offhand. The fight started again, and the boy was again on the defensive. Rodriguez knelt quickly to receive his tomahawk, giving his opponent an opening. The boy thrust with his sword, but Rodriguez''s knife diverted it. Rodriguez was stronger, and his knife was a large survival blade; otherwise, he would not have been able to block it. He now had his tomahawk in his injured arm hand. His attacks were off as it was his primary had that was being limited. This allowed the boy a measure of control in the fight as he was not desperately defending himself. His limited sword skill came into play again as he tried to stab my hunter again. He moved forward, forcing Rodriguez to step back. The tomahawk was blocking the sword strikes. I could see that the blows were aggravating the wounded arm. More blood was flowing from the wound, but I do not think it was a problem yet. The boy stabbed again, and this time, Rodriguez misjudged the action as he was stepping in to stab him as well. The sword blade sliced into his shoulder, but he caught the boy in his leg with his knife. Both cried in pain and separated. The boy was limping slightly, but Rodriguez was in trouble. The shoulder wound was on his other arm, meaning that both arms were sporting wounds. Like McGregor, he now had a choice. He chose to retreat. The boy could not follow as his leg wound was causing him to limp. He watched as Rodriguez disengaged and vanished into the night. I watched as he almost collapsed in relief. He forced himself to move, walking to the church doors. He looked around before entering and securing the doors the best he could. With him standing in the church, I felt a strange sense of peace wash over me. No, peace was not correct. It was a feeling of a suspension of violence for the moment. He could breathe easily here. How odd. He was trailing blood as he walked but went straight to the altar. The look of hatred was back through the pain of moving. He reached into his coat and slapped an object down on the altar with a bloody hand. [Challenger''s offering has been accepted.] The object was a silver necklace with a locket on it. Images and emotions flooded my mind. In the flashes, I saw a girl and then a teenager going around living her life as far as I could make out. But I knew her. "Susan Rochester." My memoirs filled in the blanks. The boy was the same one who was in the back of the wagons when they left. Glaring at my Dungeon, I closed my gates and scared the shit out of him. Now, he was back and was in my church as a challenger. As I sorted through my memories, the boy had been busy. He had stripped down and was treating his wounds. He had a three-inch cut along his ribs and a deep cut in his leg. From the blood that was flowing, the artery had not been nicked. If it had, the wound would have been pumping far more blood. He had a pack under the coat and a bottle attached to the back of his belt. He produced bandages and got to work bandaging the wounds. He tied the bandage around his leg, stemming the bleeding. The chest cut was shallow and had stopped bleeding badly, but he did what he could to bandage himself anyway. The lantern was his source of light. Moonlight was coming through the windows, but the moon''s angle meant it was not as strong as it could have been. He had treated his wounds to the best of his ability and was redressing. This was a slow and painful time as he winced and groaned on several occasions. He finished in the end and drank from the canteen he had bought. I did not think it was alcohol. His lantern started flickering, indicating that the oil or kerosene was running low. He extinguished it and, using the other bottle, refilled the lantern in the moonlight. He returned to the front of the wooden benches, where the rest of his things were piled. He put his coat back on and looked around again. He settled to rest on the bench in the first row. He was safe here and would not be attacked. He seemed to know this, so he was in no rush and was less tense. "Well, Susy, I hope you found peace, and I hope that I kill the ones who killed you. I need to finish whatever this trail ends and is for you and the rest of the family." He spoke to the altar and the ghost of his dead sister. I wished I could have replied, but then again, maybe it was for the best. I could address a Challenger when they reached the courtyard and the gates. I was even allowed to give my own bonus reward if I thought they warranted it from what I had gathered or knew. Looking at the boy, he might be the first to finish the trial. That is if he got past Rigger. Chapter 13 He stayed there for a few hours before groaning as he rose. Dawn was coming, and he knew he needed to be at the gates when the sun touched them so he could leave with the trial complete. He was limping worse as he favoured the wounded leg. He closed the coat and buttoned it up to protect himself from the cold that was coming in the predawn hours, even in summer. He had stopped bleeding, at least. He relit the lantern and attached it to his belt. Then he picked up his sword and drew his second knife from his belt. He walked to the doors and opened them. It was a struggle, but he managed it. As he walked into the predawn night, he looked back briefly at the necklace on the altar before walking on. His limp got slightly less pronounced as he got used to walking on it. He slowly walked away and headed back the way he came. I took a chance and collected the saddle bag with the paper money from the crypt below the church. I moved it quickly to the gates and left it next to them inside the courtyard. Rigger saw me do this but did not comment. In my avatar form, I could carry the bags over the gravestones, making the trip much faster. The boy was making his way to the gates. Rigger had been patient and was waiting for him. I had set the three hunters'' grounds to merge when one or more of them withdrew wounded to their lairs. The exception was the spirit in the north. For the sake of everyone else, including me, I restricted her to that one location. Rigger was positioned to see the boy if he crossed the graveyard to the gates or retraced his steps along the path. The boy walked the path, alert for dangers. He walked the path past where he had fought Rodriguez, not looking too closely at the blood. He checked often behind him as he walked. Slowly, he returned to the gates but found his next opponent. Rigger did something new. My hunters were good at ambushing people, but he stood in the pathway before the boy this time. As he walked, the lantern light illuminated Rigger, standing calmly in the path. The boy knew that another fight was ahead of him; he paused briefly before sighing and walking towards the last hunter after putting the lantern on the ground. I think he hoped that it was over. Alas, it was not. "Well, I hope you''re the last, for I am mighty tired." The boy spoke and even gave attitude or sass, as the Americans called it. Rigger grunted and replied, which was surprising. "Reckon I am. Get to the gates and ye might meet the Keeper." He produced the bowie knife from his coat. The last thing he said confused the boy. "Who are yo¡­" He never got to finish as Rigger attacked. His wounded leg was limiting him, and Rigger took full advantage of it. Rigger''s bowie knife was turned aside by the boy''s arm as, in his panic, he managed to get it into position to collide with Rigger''s arm and change the direction of the blade. This did not slow his attack as the boy was pushed back by his weight and was punched in the face repeatedly. The blows were offhand from Riggers but still powerful, as each consecutive impact snapped the boy''s head back. The meaty impacts of his fist were loud and sounded painful. His nose was crushed under the attack and blood was flowing freely down his face. The energy of the attacks pushed him back into another gravestone that pinned him in place. Rigger pulled back his fist for another blow. The boy was stunned but had enough sense to understand the pain was going to start again, and this was a brief reprieve. He lashed at his attacker with the knife he still had managed to hold onto. Rigger jumped back, but his arm was cut through his coat, but it was shallow. He looked at the cut, which gave the boy an opening to recover briefly, but it was not enough. He attacked again, knocking aside the sword, trying to prevent him. The bowie knife sank deep into the boy''s shoulder. He screamed in pain, but Rigger pushed deeper. Through the pain, either by design or accident, the boy stabbed with his knife into Rigger''s side. This caused Rigger to grunt loudly in pain this time. My hunter knocked his arm away and stepped back, taking the bowie knife back with him and the boy''s blade in his side. The boy slides down the gravestone to the earth, breathing hard through his mouth as his nose has been pulverised. Rigger twisted his torso slightly and looked down at the blade protruding from his side. He probed it to see if he would pull the blade free. As he examined the wound, the boy used his uninjured shoulder to brace against the stone and pushed himself back up. His features were twisted in pain as he did this slowly, his lower face covered in blood. By the time Rigger decided to leave it, the boy was standing, but the wounded shoulder slumped, and he was forced to hold the sword in the other. He is breathing hard; his beaten face is pale, and his coat is stained with blood. Rigger is wounded but in much better condition in comparison. Would the boy fail at the last hurdle? The blade in his side made moving harder for Rigger. He charges forward to finish this. The boy jumps forward to meet him. The handle guard of the sword punches forward. Surprising both of us. The boy''s fist collides with Rigger''s face, and my hunter''s body collides with him, knocking both back. The boy then collides with the gravestone again, but Rigger falls. He hits the ground, not on the blade in his side, but it aggravates the wound. He is getting back to his feet, but the boy has the advantage this time. Rigger cannot avoid the sword blade as it thrusts forward. Rigger grunts loudly again in pain as the blade slices into his shoulder of the arm, holding his bowie knife. He holds on to his, but the arm is twitching. The boy is not finished pressing his weight on the blade, driving it deeper into my hunter to the point that it comes out through Rigger''s back. "Shit! That''s not good!" Rigger punches out with his other arm, aggravating the wound on that side to hit the boy in the groin. The boy collapses with another cry of pain and curls up, letting go of his sword. Rigger collapses as well. Both are badly wounded and in a lot of pain. Like the other hunters, Rigger needs to make a choice. He could kill the boy, but with these wounds, he might not make it back to his lair. The boy might still have some fight left in him. Looking at him all curled up, he might not. Rigger started to rise, but the boy was too. Both were within arm''s reach of each other but were in so much pain that getting up was all they could concentrate on. Around them, dawn light was starting to illuminate the area. The warm light somehow made the scene before me more horrific. Rigger was kneeling when the boy looked over and knew the hunter would be up first. To this, the boy lashed out with a foot, falling back by kicking the blade handle protruding from Rigger''s side, driving it deeper. Rigger cried in pain, collapsing again. I winced at that and thought he might not get up from that one.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The boy forces himself back up, crying in pain several times, and once back up, staggers for the gates. Rigger had fought him only a few meters from them, and the sun shone on and through them. "Ooohh. Classic horror movie mistake not making sure the monster is dead." I looked back at Rigger, assessing his condition. I would be amazed if he could get up right now. Dying was a real possibility here, so maybe it was not such an issue at this moment in time. The boy reached the gates after several painful minutes. Rigger had gotten up and was staggering away, the fight over. The boy looked like he was going to do it! He had not looked back to see Rigger retreating. He was too focused on the gates. I watched him stagger through the courtyard and then lean against the gates before throwing himself forward through them and collapsing on the ground outside. His breathing became steadier as he lay on the floor. I turned as a sound I had never heard before sounded across the area. From the church came the sound of the bell ringing in the tower. "Well, then that explains the bell." I had a prepared speech, but I would have to help Rigger, so I would have to make this fast. He was bleeding badly and would not reach his lair at this rate. I summoned my avatar and picked up the saddlebag with the money. I stepped up to the boundary of the Dungeon and threw them. They landed next to the boy, startling him. He lifted his head and looked back. "Well done on completing the trial of this place called New Midian. Know you are the first, and for this, you gain this additional reward as well as the one for making it here. Now, if you ever feel like trying again, you know where to find us." I gave him an evil smile as I disintegrated the avatar and closed the gates simultaneously. The look of shock and horror on the boy''s face was priceless. Now to Rigger! I find him not far away, and he is in worse shape than I thought. My avatar is called back, and I support him to the point of carrying him. "Thank ya. Keeper." He muttered. "All part of the service, as you know." He grunts, and I am not sure if it''s from pain or if he is laughing. I carry him as far as I can. At first, I made good time, but the pressure built within my mind, and I knew I would not be going much further. Each step was getting more challenging as we went on. I pushed the avatar as far as I could. "Rigger, you will need to go the last part." I had gotten him a good chunk of the way, and he was back on his feet. As my body dissolved, he staggered on. I could not hold my avatar longer, and it was enough to get him back to his lair. He dragged himself over the threshold but made it. [Hunter: John Rigger will be healed in 75:00:00.] I was exhausted. It took a good half an hour to get back to the church. I had plenty of time to think, but even that was hard. I did go over a few things. The first thing that came to me was Rigger''s blood in my avatar form. He had bled over me, and I noticed it was different. It was a more profound and darker red with a thicker texture¡ªanother sign, along with his changing appearance. What was he and the others becoming? When I reached the church, I rested. The blood-stained necklace and locket were on the altar. I did notice a change in the room under the plaque with the word Invictus, which was something new. Augustus Rochester. August 12th, 1876, A.D. He came in memory of his sister and walked the dark path to the light. "Augustus Rochester, so that was his name. What is this whole dark path stuff?" Well, I now know two new things: the boy''s name and what that plaque was all about. Well, that was something. When I was able, I moved the necklace downstairs and placed it with the gold coins. I cleaned it up as I did not want the blood drying and staining it more. Eventually, I returned to the top of the bubble and looked out across the small section of the world I could see. In the distance, I could see Augustus riding towards Crossway. He was slumped in the saddle and I wondered if he would make it, as he was wounded badly. I watched him until he crossed the ridge and left my sight. "$4659. Was that too much to give him?" I thought as he vanished. It was all the paper money I had acquired, and as I had no use for it, I gave it to him. "If he makes it, how will that affect his life going forward?" Another question I would likely never get the answer to. Then something occurred to me. "What was his reward for finishing the trial?" I should have asked! But then I had to deal with a dying Rigger, so there was that. I settled in and watched the days pass. I repeatedly activate [Hide the Crime!] to clean up the mess. My hunters were healed, and I watched the world go by. There was a brief amount of activity as they repaired or sought replacements for damaged clothes. I had no more visitors as summer gave way to autumn. The weather was wetter, and the trees were turning once again. The birds were flying south, and winter would soon arrive. In the distance, the snow line on the mountains would start moving down. In time, the snow came and blanketed the countryside, bringing nearly everything to a stop. On a heavily clouded, snow-threatening day, I noticed a group of riders moving down from the ridge. There were three riders, and they were riding slowly, not stressing their mounts. I did see travellers on the road during winter, but not that many. The snow covered the road, but you still made it out. "Where are you three off to?" I paid them no more mind until I saw them riding towards the gates. "Alright, this is new." I shifted down to the gates to see if they were chatty enough to tell me who they were and why they were here. I quickly gleaned that they were another group of treasure seekers. It turned out Augustus''s windfall had spread more rumours locally. It seemed that it was not enough to change my local fame. The three were bundled heavily against the cold and snow. They tied up their horses and walked through the gates. Due to the snowfall and how it fell within the Dungeon, only the northern path was not blocked. The southern and direct route had heavy snow drifts that would be difficult to cross. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "I could gather that from the firearms." They had brought several tools. While they were here, it seemed they might have planned to do some grave robbing. The Dungeon was darker than usual. The skies were heavily overcast, and they blocked the weak winter sun. The buildings and walls were creating patches of dark shadow that were so dark that the three men had ignited lanterns to help them navigate. I sensed the hunters stirring. I reached out to three of them. "We have three intruders. All armed but are heading into our local hateful spirits hunting area." They relaxed again, and I got the impression that they were happy not to go out in this weather. The sun''s position meant that this area was darker overall, and I had spotted the spirit moving around. I sat back and followed them from above. This should be interesting. The three men spotted her. She appeared to be a woman walking through the snow, not wearing appropriate clothing for such weather. That should have been a red flag warning, but they went closer as she beckoned. This was either curiosity or lust, but they went to her. They asked questions as they approached, but she smiled suggestively. When they were close enough, things changed. Her aura turned red, and her hair flew up. Her hand turned to talons, and her face became a twisting snarl of rage. Her eyes became jet black, and her teeth were like shark teeth. If I were someone just seeing her, I would shit myself like the three men just did. One fell over while another shot his rifle in a panic, the shot going wide. All three screamed in terror. She crossed the distance in the blink of an eye, and her talons started to render the men apart. The first one standing in shock died as she ripped his throat out with a single swipe. Hot blood gushed from the wound as his heart pumped it as fast as it could in reaction to his terror. [A Hunter has made a Kill] The second was the man who had shot his rifle. He was backing up, trying to use his rifle to protect himself. The spirit slashed his arms, ripping through flesh and material alike. More blood flowed as he dropped the rifle, screaming in pain. His throat was then to sliced open. [A Hunter has made a Kill] The third got back up and ran while praying like the hounds of hell were after him. In some ways, they were. She caught up to him and sliced the back of his thighs. Screaming in pain as he fell forward. As he did, he failed to catch himself, and his forehead collided with a gravestone, and there was a sickly crack as he went silent. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Then she started to rip the bodies apart. Organs and limbs went flying about as more blood was added to the macabre scene. "Bloody Hell! There is such a thing as overkill!" I had established an order for who had to come and clean up this mess. McGregor was next, and he showed up with the wheelbarrow. Getting it through the snow was not fun. He came to the massacre sight, and he paled; it seemed even a sadistic killer had his limits. I had him collect the remains. Burying them would be hard with the frozen ground, so I approved placing them in a mausoleum. The spirit tried to attack him several times, and I was forced to discipline her each time. After the fifth attempt, it finally got through to her. That marked the end of the year. Chapter 14 Blizzards rocked the Dungeon almost back-to-back over the next few weeks. The snow globe effect of my spatial folding was entertaining to watch to a point. The snow was being blown in all different directions by the winds and the effects of passing through the bubble. I watched the strange weather patterns with some interest. Over time, the weather calms, and the seasons roll on. The spring eventually arrives, and the snow retreats, revealing new green growths dominating the landscape. Travellers are back on the road, coming and going. It became apparent that the numbers heading to Crossway were increasing again. Many more wagons carrying settlers were heading to the town while traders and other travellers were heading in the other direction. The vegetation was growing over the path again; I would have my hunters go and cut it back again. I told them of this, and they went out a few nights later. I was looking over some statues added to the Dungeon with the last level-up expansion. They were all hooded and a mixture of angels and people. Like the others, they were slightly disturbing to look at and not the source of solace they were meant to be. I was near the gates and noticed my hunters returning. They were earlier than expected and had several horses with them. They were dismounting and carrying¡­ bound figures and dropping them in the courtyard. "What is this?" I shifted over to the gates as the hunters were arguing. "I should have her." McGregor was arguing with the others. ¡°No, gringo the se?orita is mine.¡± "Ya both foolin, my wife''s coming with me." They were all tense, with an air of danger between them. I looked over the three hog-tied and gaged figures on the floor. Two men and a girl around fifteen were in my courtyard, and I looked out to see three horses. They showed signs of being ridden hard. The three figures were all scared and looked at my hunters with fear. As the argument started to escalate, the hunters became more aggressive. They wanted the girl, and I quickly devised a way to deal with the situation. "Having a party and not inviting me. I am hurt." I summoned my avatar and spoke as soon as I could. The three hunters suddenly went silent and stood rigid. They usually knew of my presence but were too focused on the girl to realise I was there. The looks of fear turned to terror as I suddenly appeared from a light black smoke. I had learned of the summon effect after asking Rodriguez one day what he saw when I appeared. I was learning to use it for dramatic entrances and exits. Young Augustus was one of my best attempts. I am still proud of that one. The hunters looked at each other. They were all thinking the same thing. Would I be angry? They had all seen what my punishments looked like with the spirit and they had become more formal and respectful of me after it. They had discovered that I, too, had a nasty side and could hurt them without the danger of being injured in return. I never told them I hated having to use my punishment ability; it gave me the threat I needed from time to time, like now. I walked through the group they had formed and over the bound individuals. I walked up the threshold and looked at the horses. It was all theatre, but I needed time to think. "I seemed to recall saying, clear the vegetation, not to go on a shopping trip." My tone was light as I quipped. Turning back to them, I looked at them with the unasked question. The three hunters looked at each other and tried to get each other to speak. I waited for a few seconds, but it was Rigger who spoke. "Ya see, Keeper, we were clearing like ya wanted. When we worked, we saw these two riding down from Crossway." He pointed at the two men. "They not seen us as it was dark. We noticed the girl all bound and tied up when they got closer. Well, we thought, why not grab them and bring them here!" I looked down at the three. It sounded like a kidnapping. Examining the two men, I picked out the mentally weaker one. It was the larger of the two, as the other still glinted with anger and intelligence in his eyes, the other with terror. He was trying to figure out how he could get out of this. "Lift that one." I pointed at the one I was going to interrogate. Did I know how? No. What experience did I have? None. But I had a few ideas. Rodriguez was on the other side, so the other two lifted him to his feet and held him in place. "Rigger, please collect a deck of cards from storage." He was confused but did as I bid. He left quickly, wanting to be back as soon as he could. They all enjoyed watching prey squirm before the kill. "Please remove the gag." The gag was pulled out of his mouth. The babbling started as soon as it was clear. "Please, God, don''t kill me; I don''t want to die. I¡­.¡± The words poured from his mouth. The slap was loud. I had hit him across the face with my open palm. Silencing him. "No babbling, please. I would like concise answers to the questions I am about to ask. Do you understand?" The strike had left a red mark on the side of his pale face. The hunters were all grinning. For them, this was entertainment. He nodded that he understood. "Excellent. Now, from the situation described to me, you and your colleague were kidnapping this young lady." "Yes. Please, we meant no¡­." The second strike was to the other side of his face. "Where is she from?" "T-the northside of Crossway. The Gilbert farm." He stammered. It seemed he had learned his lesson. "What was the purpose of the deed?" "She turned down Alberts trying to court her. He wanted to elope and have her marry him." The man was trying to hold it together, thinking answering my questions would get him out of the situation. "And how did he plan to do that?" This made the man stop and think for a moment, and it dawned on him that he did not know how. I did; social conventions of this time meant a "shotgun wedding" would be preferable to the stigma of being a rape victim.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. "I don''t rightly know." The man finally admitted. "How long before her family realises that she is gone?" He looked to the sky, and I had my answer. "Not long after dawn, then. Replace the gag and drop him." I turned and looked back out through the gates. I was thinking about this. Did this affect my plan? Not really, but it will likely create additional complications. Dawn was two hours at best away. The impact of his body was more brutal than it should have been, meaning my hunters were having some more fun. I knew they were enjoying his whimpering. I stood with my hands behind my back, looking at the trees and pathway leading to the road. This was mainly for effect. I knew what had to happen. I turned when I heard a noise. Rigger reappeared, breathing hard from running to the storage mausoleum and back. He was carrying a deck of playing cards. I held out my hand, and he placed them on it. I fanned the cards out face down. "Pick one. The highest gets the girl. Aces are low." The three hunters understood straight away, and each pulled a card. The girl was now screaming in fear through her gag. She was struggling again but was too well bound to escape. Rigger pulled a two of clubs. Rodriguez, a ten of diamonds. McGregor, a queen of hearts. He smiled, knowing he had won. "My lucky card!" He exclaimed. "Kill these two, then do the normal to get rid of the bodies and loot the horse''s saddle bags." The other hunter grumbled but went to work. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] The men''s throats were sliced open, and I left them to their work. McGregor carried the weeping girl away. Did I feel bad? Yes, but I was the one running this place and was not eager to have my Core destroyed for not doing my job. Keeping the hunters in line was part of it, and having them compliant through their free will over me and dominating them made my life easier. It was a clear sign of my changing attitude to all of this. I returned to the top of the bubble and looked around. In the distance, the sun rose, and the day went on. It was cloudy and was getting denser as the day wore on. To the east, much darker and heavier clouds were coming this way. "Look like a storm. A big one at that." The sky over that way was dark due to the clouds blocking the sun and ready to pour rain down. I suspected that I was in for another lightning show. Over the ridge came a large group of riders moving fast. "Now, that is odd on a normal day. Today, they are expected." I counted a dozen riders moving down the road and started crossing the river at the ford. I knew what I was looking at almost straight away. I reached out and connected with the hunters. " We have a dozen-strong search posse on the road. If they are tracking the girl, they will be here soon. Be ready." I watched them until I lost them through the trees¡­ I should have seen them pass by now. Looking at the path from the road, I saw a man leading the group on foot, looking at the tracks on the ground. Well, here we go. "They are following the tracks. We are about to have a lot of visitors." I move to the gates and start to plan fast. Am I close to panicking? Hell yes! A dozen men will overwhelm the hunters at my disposal. Looking up, the storm clouds are rolling over the Dungeon, making everything darker. Inspiration driven by desperation gave me an idea, but would it be dark enough? "I have a plan, but it will be a close-run thing. Stay hidden until I give the word." The riders were at the gates now. Three had dismounted and were standing at the gates. "I don''t care, Joshua! If my girl is in there, we must get her!" An older man was nearly yelling. "Matthew, I know you''re afraid, but the tracks show that they were ambushed on the road by three others and brought here. We all saw the cut vegetation clearing the path. You know where we are!" Joshua was a tall man who was well-dressed and groomed. On his chest was a silver star with the word "Sheriff," and he was looking into the Dungeon with trepidation. "Dear God, do you think I wanted to find out she was brought here, but we need to get her!" Matthew was all worked up. Fear was hitting him from different directions right now. Looking over the other riders, I could see their conviction draining away. These were local men who had all heard the stories about my Dungeon. This was a good sign for my plan. Above us, the wind was picking up, and the storm would be here within the hour. Over the last few years, I have gotten good at predicting the weather. "Forester, what do you say?" Joshua asked the third man. Forester had the dress and look of a frontier man. He lacked the heavy use of hide and leather clothing but still carried the air of rigged survivability¡ªa man in his late forties with a greying beard and weather-beaten face. "Got blood in the area ahead of us. At least one person died there. She might be still alive, but it''s hard to say." His voice was low, and his eyes showed intelligence. He was the sort of man educated in the world and not in schools. That made him the most dangerous of all of them. I had forgotten to clear that blood up! "In God''s name, man, Joshua, we need to go in!" The father, Matthew, was getting more worked up. "Patience, Matthew." Joshua snapped. He turned back to Forester. "You think they killed the girl?" "No. They were travelling along the road when three men jumped them. It was them that brought the girl and the two men here. If I were betting, I would say the blood belongs to Albert and Frankson." Forester was looking at the blood on the stones in the courtyard. Sheriff Joshua took a deep breath, thinking about what must be done. I could not blame him as the last Sheriff who visited never left. Sighing, he made his choice and turned to the other riders. "You two guard the horses and the entrance in case they try to flee." He pointed at two men. "The rest of us are going in. I want this done before the rain comes." His orders got them moving. The horses were tied up away from the gates. The two men set up a canvas lean to protect them from the weather if the rains came before they were finished with the search. The ten men entered the courtyard, all armed and tense. They spread out after Forester, who was looking at the few signs of movement left by my Hunters. "Which way?" Joshua asked. "Hard to say. They seemed to stick to the paths." Forester said, not looking up from where he was kneeling. This is where I needed to guide the group. I moved away and threw a stone, causing it to clatter about. This put the group on alert. I returned to catch part of the conversation. "¡­. definitely to the north along the path leading that way." One man was saying. He had a deputy badge. "Did you see anyone?" Asked Joshua, as the group were all looking in that direction now. "No, just heard what you all did." The Deputy said. "Forester?" Joshua asked. "Might have been someone. Hard to say." He was suspicious. I noticed he was taking longer to look around. He was taking the time to see what was here. "Let''s start the search northwards, then." Joshua decided. "Should we split up?" Asked the deputy. "No, we heard the story of what happened last time." Josuha walked along the path flanked by Forester heading north. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Yes! They fell for it!" The first part was happening. They were going north, and now I had to hope the weather would cooperate. I shifted to the top of the bubble. In the distance, there was a flash of lightning; I counted. When the boom arrived, it worked out only a few miles. This is coming together! "We have a big storm about to arrive. Head to cover." I connected and informed my Hunters as I returned to the group moving along the path. Come on, rain! "What is it, Forester? Your head is turning around so much it might fall off." Joshua asked in a low voice. He was concerned at the other man''s actions. He remained silent, looking around, but then answered in the same low voice. "This place is¡­.. wrong" Was what he said. "That I already figured. You heard what happened to my predecessor here." Joshua quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "No, Joshua. I mean, this whole place is wrong!" He was more insistent. "What do you mean?" The sheriff was now getting more concerned. He was looking around, trying to see what the older man saw. "Things are subtle but are there." The older man tried to voice what was disturbing him. "Look at the gravestones, blank." This was the first thing he could point to, drawing Jousha''s attention to them. Joshua looked and realised what he was missing, which was what Forester had seen. The gravestones they were passing while overgrown were all blank. "Next, the statutes. They are all not looking at anything, or they are covering their eyes. It is like they cannot stand to witness what happens here." Forester indicates to one as they pass. Joshua looked at the statue and saw the angel weeping with a hand covering its eyes. It was unlike any statue he had ever seen. Joshua could not explain why, but he was disturbed by this. As they walked, Joshua noticed other things. There are faces on some of the walls they pass. The faces are of cherubs and devils. They were sneering or grinning evilly. This added to the uneasiness that they were experiencing on a subconscious level. The sky above them was dark with rain, and the wind was blowing a damp cold. "It''s about to rain. We need to get to cover." Joshua looked above. "We can use that mausoleum." Forester points to the nearby building. "It''s not right to take cover in a tomb." Joshua "Are they tombs?" Forester asked. He went over to the building and opened the doors. He walked in, and the men outside heard Forester moving around inside. He then emerged. "It''s empty." As he spoke, the skies rumbled again, and the rain started. The downpour was heavy and intense, ending any problems with avoiding the rain by sheltering in the building. The men piled in, and one lit their lantern to light the room. Along the walls were graves that should have bodies within them. One was open and showed that it was empty. Joshua told them, "We wait here and continue when the rain ends." Matthew complained but was headed off by the sheriff. Chapter 15 The rain was intense and was joined by the flashing of lightning and the booms of thunder. Outside, the horses were restless in the weather. The men, united in their resolve to wait out the storm, engaged in subdued conversations. The farmer, Matthew, couldn''t contain his impatience, pacing and muttering his mood affecting them all. Forester, vigilant, stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the handle of his pistol. Joshua sat nearby, watching Matthew, ready to act if he did something stupid. I watched them. I needed the storm to hold for a few hours. It was afternoon, but it was not dark enough for the spirit to emerge. I returned to the top of the bubble and looked across the plains to the east. As far as I could see, there were storm clouds. It might be enough. I shifted back to them and waited again. I listened to what little conversation took place. Time dragged like nothing I had experienced for years. Each minute was excruciating, but we all waited. The minutes turned into hours, and the storm passed. As fast as the rain started, it ended, but the clouds were still heavy above. The men in the mausoleum stirred and emerged. The sun began to move behind the mountains. The light coming through the clouds was weakening. The shadows and patches of darkness were deepening, but it might not be enough. The men were out but still bundled up against the damp, cold air. Joshua organised them and got them moving. They checked to make sure nothing was left behind. He told the group, "We are checking the church first, and then we will see what light we have left to explore the rest of the buildings." They followed Forester''s path, working out the right path to the church. He walked with Joshua in front of the group, with the rest strung out slightly behind them. All the men were not as attentive as they were when they first entered the Dungeon. They were getting used to the place after a few hours of inactivity. As soon as the search group emerged, I reached out and got my Hunters moving from their shelters. They were heading towards the group. I kept them apprised of their location. The spirit was now active behind them. However, its ability to move was limited because the sun''s light coming through the clouds was strong enough to contain it. The group was on the verge of leaving the hunter''s assigned ground. The man at the back was one of the few looking around. He turned back and noticed a figure moving in a patch of darkness between two mausoleums. This causes him to stop and turn around fast, trying to identify what he saw. Two others ahead noticed he had stopped looking back to discover what was drawing his attention. "What are you looking at?" One asked the man at the back. "I saw movement." He was looking intently. "There! Someone is behind us!" His words attracted the attention of the rest of the group. He pointed to a mausoleum they had passed. Forster and Joshus walked back to see what he was claiming he saw. The man, however, started walking back, followed by the other two. The mausoleum was not far, and they walked into the shadow of the building. The spirit revealed herself by glancing around the corner. "Oh¡­ miss, are you OK?" one called out. Forester and Joshua began heading back, demanding what was happening. Hesitantly, the spirit turned the corner. The men''s expressions were a mixture of lust and confusion as her [Seduction] perk washed over them. Part of them knew something was wrong. People do not glow normally, but they are enthralled and not thinking with their higher brain functions. It was only a few steps to them, and if they looked down, they would see that she had no feet and was gliding towards them. Thankfully, the grass obscured this. When she was close enough, she screamed in hatred and turned. The three men soon joined her, screaming but in fear and pain. The rest of the search group had already turned, weapons clutched tighter. Now, they were pointed at the unfolding slaughter. Cries and exclamations came from most. The two closest tried to aim at the spirit, but their companions were in the way. Forester, Matthew, and Joshua were running to find out what was happening. They reached the back of the group as the first of the three died. [A Hunter has made a Kill] The first shots rang out. The spirit ignored them and kept on attacking. The bullets impacted the building next to her. The second man fell back into the grass as she attacked. She started slashing at him, and blood was flying as he screamed in pain. More shots rang out as the other men opened fire to try to save the man being attacked. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Things were getting bloody, and the men were starting to panic. The bullets were not doing what they should. They were hitting around the woman and behind her. The third had scrambled back out of the shadow cast by the building. The others pulled him away. The sun was not set enough for her to move beyond the shadow yet, but it was coming, and the walls were helping this along. The men were pulling back away from the spirit she was standing/hovering over the steaming corpse of the second kill. Joshua was rallying the men while Forster walked backwards, still facing the spirit. Watching him, I was sure he was thinking about why the spirit was still not attacking. Many were reloading their rifles as they were retreating, but they were not heading towards the gates but deeper into the Dungeon. My other hunters were watching the group from different locations, calculating how they could tackle this group. Eight men were left standing. The odds were not still in their favour, so they were not engaging. The sun was setting behind the mountains, and darkness spread fast across the Dungeon. The spirit could now advance as the men retreated, but she was still some distance away. The men were crossing the boundaries of the hunter''s grounds. The spirit walked to the limits of its territory and went no further. I could not change the boundaries and would not even if I could. The men were rattled but had not broken; it would not take much more. Eight was better than ten, but still too many. I was thinking about how to scatter them. They were strung out a bit, and all their attention was focused on the spirit. My hunters were equally strung out and had no opportunities to pick off stragglers. The spirit did take action. She let out the loudest scream I had seen or heard her unleash. From frustration at the intruders getting away or just simple anger, I knew not. The effect on the group of men was more interesting. Several thought she would attack again, so they turned and ran. Four, including the farmer Matthew, scattered in three directions. This must be her [Death Shriek] in action. "Stay together, you fools!" Joshua yelled to the fleeing men. The others gathered around him. "This place is truly the devil''s domain. We must get out and return with more men and priests!" Ok, that''s bad. The four began making their way through the graves and tombs, heading for the gates. I need to find a way to thin¡­. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Rigger caught one of the fleeing men. Back to the group led by the sheriff. If they came back with more bodies, they could overwhelm my hunters, and if they destroyed the church, they could threaten my own existence. [A Hunter has made a Kill] McGregor got that one. I made my choice. Reaching out to my hunters, I gave them the order. "I cannot risk them leaving; firearms are not just allowed but strongly recommended. If any escape, they will return with overwhelming numbers." I knew all three carried pistols, as the intruders were not challengers. Since they needed to get closer before they started shooting, I looked at the hunters'' positions. "McGregor shot one closet to you when you get to them. The others will take them from behind as you keep them focused on you." He was not happy but obeyed. The four men moved fast, but he was closer to the gates. As one closed with him, he pulled his gun out and aimed. The man was not looking his way, but he turned his head and spotted the crouched hunter. Before he could say anything, the shot of a gunshot rang out and he collapsed. McGregor took cover as the other three did as well to the shot.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Can you see the shooter?" Joshua yelled to the others. "No, but it came from the south," Forester yelled back. He was glancing from behind a gravestone. Scanning the surroundings, the gravestones were limiting his view as they were densely packed. McGregor had the same problem. The other hunters were moving up to help but were still a few minutes out. I was watching it all unfold. The other two were still in the Dungeon; I was not hundred percent sure where right now. The three men were scanning, looking for the shooter. Forester and Joshua slowly worked their way through the gravestones, using them as cover. McGregor fired off twice more, forcing them into cover again. My other hunters had arrived and were approaching from behind. The third man was hiding to avoid being shot and never heard Rodriguez until it was too late. A tomahawk to the back of the skull caused him to slump forward, dead. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Forester and Joshua never knew of the danger until it was over. Joshua and Forester were close together and he turned to see where the third man was. What he saw was my hunters aiming down at them. He looked shocked and tried to warn the other man, but several shots impacted both of them. The bullets were large calibre and tore through both men. Blood exploded from the exit wounds as they collapsed. The two hunters walked forward and shot both men again in the head to make sure they were not still alive. My orders were no survivors, and they were following through on them. I searched out the last two and found them near the church. "The last two in the grounds are at the church. Let us finish this." The hunters went after their prey. I shift to the gates. The remaining two men were up and had their weapons ready. The sounds of the fighting had reached them, and they were debating what to do. They were afraid and trying to build their confidence to enter the gates. "No threat here, yet." Shifting around again, I returned to the two men near the church¡ªcorrection: in the church. They were hiding just in the doorway, looking out fearfully. The hunters were not approaching, as the sun was nearly set, and the area was almost in complete darkness. The heavy cloud cover blocked any light from the moon and stars. They had a lantern, but it was not lit. I mentally sat back and watched. They were like the two men outside the gates. Both were afraid and confused, but the farmer was a bit more focused because he still desired to find his daughter. If they went deeper into the church, they would find the arsenal. That would be a problem. Thankfully, they were focused on the graveyard outside the doors. "Do you see anything?" The other man whispered loudly. He was sweating from the exertion of running here and fear. "No, what sort of hellish spirit was that!" Matthew was in a similar condition. "I do not know. Did you hear the shooting a few minutes ago?" The man was almost shaking with fear. I noted the slight tremor in the bar as he moved it around, looking for a target. "We need to find my girl. God knows what is happening to her here!" His concern was beginning to override his fear. The other man argued against it, and the farmer became more convinced that he needed to move. I watched and listened. If they separated, that would be the best outcome. My hunters were watching and waited. They were arranged around the entrance out in the gravestones. Matthew moved, and the other reluctantly followed. He was looking for his daughter but was not thinking. Blind searching in near darkness with strange spirits abroad was a surefire way to die. The hunters started stalking them as soon as they left the church. The two men''s eyes were now adapting to the darkness, but they were not as good as my hunters. McGregor and Rodriguez were moving in for the kill. Each was moving with their chosen blades out and ready to use. They rushed in and attacked the two men when they were close enough. Both men were taken by surprise and were overcome in less than a minute; they fell dead. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] Two levels ups were happening soon as both hunters reached their upgrade kill numbers had been reached. I returned to the gates and the final two men guarding the horses. They had finally built up the courage to enter the Dungeon. As they approached the gates, I slammed them shut. This scared the living shit out of the two men, who turned tail, mounted their horses and rode away fast. With them gone, I had the hunters go to work collecting the bodies and stripping the horses for loot. Rigger got the job of collecting the bodies from the spirits hunting grounds. He quickly collected the bodies even though they had been slashed apart. The spirit attempted to attack him, and I was forced to use my punishment ability to push her back. By dawn, the loot was gathered, and the bodies were buried. I had decided to leave one horse as I would send out a scout a bit further when I thought it was safer. I was counting the money¡­.. [Alert! Infamy (Local) changed from Stories > Known.] "That was expected." I read over the message as it flowed along the bottom of my vision. "I wonder what this me¡­"
Warning The higher your infamy level becomes, the higher the chance that the local population might rise up and seek the destruction of your Dungeon.
"Ok, well, that''s something to be aware of. But that is not surprising." The hunters had retired now, and I knew that two would be levelling. The day was still overcast, but the rain did not fail. I watched the ridge to see if a large group of riders would emerge seeking my Dungeon''s destruction. None came. In time, near dusk, the two hunters emerged, and I looked over the changes.
Hunter Name Hector Rodriguez
Level 3 Kills 0/12
Skills Loyalty Good
Stealth. III
Horse Riding. III
Camouflage. I
Blades. IV
Handguns. IV
Rifles. III
Tracking. II
Dark Traits
Sadistic Rapist
Rodriguez''s look was more animalistic, and his [Stealth] increased. His face seemed a bit longer, and his hair was thicker. His sneer was more of a snarl in the picture.
Hunter Name Charles McGregor
Level 2 Kills 0/8
Skills Loyalty Neutral
Acting. IIV
Blades. V
Handguns. II
Rifles. II
Stealth. V
Dark Traits
Sadistic Predator
McGregor also had changed his eyes and hair, which became paler, but that seemed to be the extent of his changes. His [Stealth] had also increased, which did not surprise me as it was the skill all three hunters used extensively. I returned to my watch. The next few days were nerve-racking as I waited for a horde of riders to cross the bridge. I had an amusing vision of them carrying pitchforks and burning torches as they rode, but they did not come. Regular traffic was travelling again. "I need to find out what''s happening out there." McGregor was the hunter who could spend the most time out of the Dungeon, so I sent him to speak to people on the road and even reach the town if he could. He saddled the horse, and the animal was less than happy to have him as a mount but obeyed. I watched him ride away in the early morning. He had been gone for several hours and returned near dusk. He was covered in dust and mud from travelling. He dismounted, took the saddle from the horse, releasing it when he had removed everything. I took my avatar form next to the gates as he approached. "It appears we will not be having any large groups of locals seeking to burn us out." He said as he crossed the threshold into the Dungeon. "What is the local mood?" I needed more than that. "The community wants to do something but lacks any firm leadership. They are too divided to be a unified threat." He answered as we walked together to his liar. "But are we still at risk from small groups?" "Possibly. The locals are unsure of what transpired and are not willing to commit to any hostile actions." He shifted and slung the saddle over his shoulder as we walked. "There was some word of seeking the aid of the Federal authorities, but they do not know how to frame this place and its danger." This was good news, at least. "Very well. I will leave you to your rest." "One last thing, Keeper, I acquired this that might be of some interest." He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a newspaper. I noticed that it was folded and a bit torn as he handed it to me. "Thank you, McGregor." I took it and went to the church to read it. As I walked, I opened it and found it was the Crossway Chronicle. "I don''t care what anyone else says. It''s still a bloody stupid name for a town." Chapter 16 The newspaper was printed on poor stock paper and was produced the day after the last visitors had come. It did not overtly mention the deaths, but plenty of innuendoes existed. The author was doing everything they could to dance around my existence and the questions it would raise. The stories outside of the main were of poor quality, covering local events, and I suspected there was a lot of gossip. I read the whole thing multiple times. McGregor was right if this paper''s main story was to be believed. It acknowledged the town''s need for a new sheriff, as the last had been lost in a "cursed place". I was not insulted, as it was a rather apt description. The fact they were not openly discussing what had happened here not once but twice now was very telling. Crossway lost two sheriffs in my Dungeon within the last few years. I expected they would be trying to call in the army at least, but they were not. "If not, then why?" This question had me thinking for many days. I watched the travellers'' comings and goings along the road but saw no sign of a mob. The longer I waited, the more convinced I was that they were not coming. Such mobs were driven by anger and fear. These emotions generally created fast reactions within groups, which turned into mobs. I could send McGregor out again, but he had pushed himself last time to get to Crossway and back. As soon as they pass the first level in the Dungeon, hunters become wearier to leave. Doing tasks around it was fine, but they soon despised leaving it for long periods. "Another problem." [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Eh?" This took me by surprise at first. I looked around and found McGregor carrying a body to a grave he had dug. Then I remembered the girl who had started off the whole last event. He had finished with her and was getting rid of the body. I looked her over and wished I had not. It was almost impossible to match what was before me with how she looked. It was hard even to identify her as having once been a person; he had wrecked her body so thoroughly. I departed from the scene. Soon after, I was at the top of the bubble. A storm was in the distance, out across the plains, but it was not heading my way. I watched the flashing of lightning in the clouds. The travellers below moved more purposefully, not wanting to be caught in a downpour. Many wagons and riders were moving along the road. I noticed a gap in the traffic had developed. "Probably seeking shelter in case the weather changes." I looked down and noticed movement in the trees. A rider navigated the woods and avoided the path my hunters maintained. It seemed he was trying to be stealthy. I thought it was a man, as he was wearing trousers and riding a horse. All the women I had seen had ridden in wagons or coaches so far. He was approaching the gates, and I shifted my view to them. As the rider approached, I got a better look. It was a teenager, about seventeen or eighteen¡ªalmost an adult by the standards of the time. He was pale and licking his mouth nervously. The horse sensed his mood and was a bit more jittery than usual. He was dressed in poor but sturdy clothing, a person from town rather than a frontiersman. He was not armed, as far as I could see. Tall and gangly, his features would not cause any womenfolk to swoon anytime soon or at all, to be honest. He stopped the horse and dismounted. He tied it to a tree nearby. My idea for a tying post came back to me, but I dismissed it again. He walked slowly and cautiously towards the open gates. He was so nervous he was almost twitching, and his eyes were open and as wide as they could be. I suspected if a rabbit jumped in front of him, he would scream and run for his life. He inched forward to the gates and then stepped over the threshold into the courtyard. He looked around, expecting a demon to jump out at him, but nothing happened. I have not received any messages yet, as this was the safe area where the system that helped me run the Dungeon was figuring him out. He walked a bit further in, about halfway into the courtyard. "Er¡­ um ¡­ hello?" He spoke. Okay, this was new. "Um¡­ hello¡­ is there anyone here?" The youth continued to ask. I took the bait and formed my avatar behind him. "Be careful, boy, where you ask such questions." He jumped in fright and screamed in the highest pitch outside a man getting stabbed in the testicles. He turned and backed up to the plinth, looking terrified. He had gone white and was breathing hard. "I recommend you do not go any further. The results will be most unpleasant for you." He was breathing so fast that I feared he might start hyperventilating. I waited for him to calm down, which took a few minutes. I just waited as he composed himself before speaking again. "So, pray tell, why are you gracing my domain with your presence?" I waited for the boy to gather himself and answer my question. The sound seemed to have a steadying effect on him, and he stood up a little straighter. "I-I reckon I-I might come and work for ya if ya have me." He stammered out. Now, that was not the answer I was expecting. Or I had even considered. "Why should I entertain this idea?" I could just call up a Hunter and kill him, but since I had so few opportunities for conversation, I chose to humour him. "I seek employment. I reckon ya might be the best choice for me." He spoke. "Interesting. Again, I ask why here?" He seemed confused but pressed on. I sensed he was desperate, but I needed to know why he was here. "I have dreams about this place. I reckon that means something." I got the impression he was holding back. After I asked again, he started fidgeting, and I looked at him. He was holding something back. "And what happens in them?" I prompted him. He shifted around, more unwilling to speak, but I had learned patience. I watched him. "The dream takes me through the forest. I come to the gates¡­." I still wait. "¡­. Every time I approach the gates¡­. Close." He finally came out with.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. What did that mean? I had no idea, but I had been thinking about his offer. Maybe I could use him. "What do they say about this place in Crossway?" "Folks¡­ folks just don''t know. They reckon they have to get rid of this place but don''t know how. Some want to come and do it. Others want to get the army but don''t know what to tell them." As McGregor reported, they are indecisive, which explains their lack of action against the Dungeon. I could not rely on this forever. One strong leader could rally them against me or seek aid from the US military, which would be a problem. I had almost reached a decision but needed more information. "What do you do in town?" "Odd jobs. Mostly shoeing horses." "Can you make them?" "A bit, but I''m not very good." A plan had formed in my mind. "I might have use for you." The youth perked up at this, but I still had questions. "How did you find out that you can talk to me?" "I overheard Augustus talking to the town preacher. Ma had me helping at the church with my standing in the town." The more he talked, the more he showed his lack of education and intelligence, giving away more than he should. "What''s your name?" "Herbert Driver." "Well, Herbert, I am going to test you. If you pass, I will have you work for me and if you are good enough, the gates will open in your dreams." I could see the gleam of hunger in his eyes and knew I had him. "But! If you lie to me or break faith, you will pay the price in this life and the next. If you accept, take my hand. If not, leave this place and never return." I offered him my hand. My little speech caused him to tense up and as I spoke, he got paler to the point he was deathly white by the end. He looked at my hand like I was holding a gun in it. I was bluffing for all I was worth. He tentatively reached out and took it. I would have to be careful how I deal with him. "Go forth and find out your total worth. If available, buy the most current newspaper and buy a land map of this area with prices." He blinked and looked confused and worried. "What is it?" "I don''t have much. Ma and I are poor. We have not had much since Pa died, " he admitted. "That''s no issue. Do as I asked, and I will make sure you have money. You may address me as the Keeper in future. Now go." He nodded and left. I watched him untie and remount his horse. He soon went off into the trees, still avoiding the road. Well, that is something, at least. I ended my avatar form and returned to the church to organise a few things. If he comes through, I could use him to deflect some of the heat from the Dungeon in the future. I placed a few items just off the courtyard in some spare saddlebags and waited. Two days later, Mr Driver reappeared. I watched as he dismounted and tied up his horse again. At first, he walked with more purpose and less hesitation, but it crept back as he approached the gates. He was carrying his saddlebags with him. I waited for him to walk into the courtyard and took form behind him again. "Well?" He jumped again but did not scream this time. "I-I-I did what you asked, Mr Keeper." He stammered, still recovering. I did not bother to correct him. "Show me." He opened one of the bags slung over his shoulder and produced a crumpled newspaper. I opened it and checked the date. It was a new addition. It was printed special, as the paper typically appears once a week. Next, he handed me a folded large piece of paper. I opened it and found it, as requested. It was a topical map of the area around Crossway. The Dungeon was in the woods in the bottom left corner. Some plots were marked on it for sale. I looked over the numbers and got more excited but controlled my outward appearance. I heard shuffling and looked up at Herbert. "What is it?" "S-Sorry to ask, sir. But this saw me use up all the money I had. If my Ma finds out I had to use some of hers, she will be mad." He was highly uncomfortable telling me this. I got the hint. "I promised that if you do well, you will be rewarded. Look over there." I pointed to the location where the saddlebags were hidden behind, but they were pecking out from where he was standing. He started smiling, looking at what was there. He went over and retrieved them, bringing them back to where I was standing. "As you can see, the pistol and gun belt are attached to the bags. The bags are of better quality than yours so you can keep them. You will find more ammunition in the bags and a wallet containing $104.71." I watched him go through the bag like it was Christmas. The money was a total of notes and coins I still had, not precious metal ones. The last group I wiped out had produced a small haul of notes and a few more coins. "That will need to cover your expenses for a time, so do not squander it." He looked up from looking at the money, his eyes wide and nodded. I suspected he had never encountered that much money before in his life at a single time. This was dangerous as young people receiving large sums of cash rarely go well. "Return in another two days and I will have further instructions for you. Do not make me send someone to retrieve you." He nodded and walked off in a bit of a daze. I watched him go. The gun and saddlebags had no link to the town, so they should not raise too much suspicion if they are seen. I walked back to the church, looking over the map. My avatar could make the journey with no issue. I placed the map on the altar and began to think. I had to take action to secure my future. I had the resources, but it would mean giving up all my silver dollars. I was strangely attached to those coins and the twenty-dollar gold coins. Looking at the land plots, I found the best one and began laying out more plans. This could work. Herbert returned two days later, much better dressed and sporting his new firearm. I sighed and released. I should have driven home to the point of not spending the money. I hoped he had not spent too much. Once he was in the courtyard, I appeared. "Here are your instructions, Mr Driver. Come over here." I led him to the map I had placed next to a gravestone with a small pouch. I picked both up and handed him the folded map. "Open it. Plot 34-45. See it?" He opened it and found the plot I named. "That is a bit further down the road." He was reading the map right. "Yes, it is. Here." I handed him the pouch full of coins to even the most casual observer. "Inside is one-hundred and thirty-seven silver dollar coins. I want you to buy that plot of land. Do Not spend that money on anything I do not tell you, and do not spend more than one hundred dollars on the plot." His eyes bulged at the money in his hand, but my warning got through to him. He looked back to the map and then to me. "But, Mr Keeper, that plots listed for one-fifty. It''s thirty-five acres." He noticed that fact, which I took as a good sign. He could read and count, which was a plus for me. "Indeed, it does. Now listen to me, Mr Driver. If you are asked where the money you will spend comes from, you will tell anyone who asks that you have gained a benefactor who has decided to help you in your life. That includes your mother. She must never know of our arrangement. You will offer to buy the plot for one hundred as it is close to this place. If they refuse, remind them that no one else will give them such a good price and that you plan to establish a home there. You are also planning to offer a shoeing service to any travelling the road and who will warn them from taking the turn. I will send someone with you to help you do all this. If you feel unsure, they will do all the talking." At this, McGregor stepped out, revealing himself. I had been planning and knew that Driver would be unable to do what I wanted. McGregor could. He had secured a new horse yesterday and had been briefed on what was required. He had spent the rest of the day digging a new grave for its former owner. Driver was scared by the appearance of my hunter and was shaking a little. "Excellent. Off you both go. I want this done by the end of the day. Mr McGregor has additional instructions for you when it is all done." McGregor led the boy away. It was still early, and McGregor was confident he could get everything done before he had to return. The additional instructions were for the boy to use the rest of the money to build his home and business. It would not be big, but it was doable. McGregor returned later that day and informed me it was done. He had even managed to reduce the price to eighty-five dollars off my Dungeons reputation. The locals had bought into the story of Herbert warning travellers away from the turning. The truth was that Herbert was going to do the opposite. He was, in time, going to be taught to identify small groups or individuals that could be guided to the Dungeon for elimination. I planned to make sure that he could upgrade the business. In the future, if they developed cars, I would change his building into a fuel station. If I were lucky, if he had any children, they would also come to serve my Dungeon in this capacity. The money to fund all of this would come from my hunter''s kills. I had also told McGregor to put the fear of hell into the boy to make sure he would not cross me. But not to hurt him, as I needed him alive and healthy. He reported both done. I was back at the top of my bubble. The skies were clear, and the sun was setting behind the mountains. The sky was covered in colours and very impressive. I have always enjoyed sunsets over the rises and settled into watching this one. As the sunset approached, I felt the Dungeon was in a good place. Chapter 17 Herbert Driver built his new home and business. He settled into his new life but needed a lot of hand-holding. Occasionally, I had to send McGregor to teach or threaten him when needed. But he finally understood what he needed to do. It was a bit of an irony that his business was sought of doing well. Having a place to shoe horses along this road was a service that many took advantage of. The road''s poor condition of being a track caused many horses to throw their shoes. Herbert even cultivated a small section of the land to help with the bills. Thirty-five acres left him with plenty of space to use. Winter rolled through, and then spring followed. I made sure that Herbert did not send anyone my way yet, as I wanted him to be established before that. I had to make sure that the townspeople''s suspicions were not raised. The summer of 1878 was a fairly pleasant one. There were plenty of warm, cloud-free days, and the local wildlife freely roamed. Herbet was supplied with a rifle, and I saw him hunting now and again. I had plenty of ammunition, and getting rid of some of it was good. On one of these days, I got my first visitor of the year. A rider was working their way up the path to the Dungeon. I spotted them when they were close and shifted down to the gates. The rider entered the clearing at the gate entrance, and I got a better look. At first, I thought it was a man but instead found myself looking at a Native American woman. She wore a man''s clothes and had her hair arranged into two long braids. She was armed and had a bowler-type hat on. I watched her tie her horse up and remove her gun belt, which she attached to the horse''s saddle. She walked to the gates and entered the courtyard when this was done. She then walked up to the plinth and read the inscription on it. Nodding to herself, she then looked around the Dungeon that could be seen. "Looks like we might have a challenger." She returned to the horse, pulling things from the saddle and bags. It was late, but sunset was still a few hours away. I watched her take her hat off and leave it on the saddle. Next, she hung a satchel diagonally across her body from shoulder to hip. Then she took a second belt out and wrapped it around her waist, securing it with a buckle. The belt had two knives and two tomahawks attached. Finally, she lifted out a lantern. She then sat on a nearby fallen tree and waited. As the sunset came, she got up and walked into the Dungeon. She stood again at the plinth and looked north and south. She chose to go south and walk along the path. She pulled both tomahawks from her belt as she walked and carried one in each hand. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] "Here we go." I sensed my Hunters stirring. They would be fully active in a few minutes. I decided to follow the woman as she walked through the Dungeon. The growing darkness forced her to stop to light the lantern she had. She connected it to her belt, and she continued. She was in McGregor''s hunting grounds, and he would fist against her. I could not see him yet. Was he close by? I could go out and find him, but I was interested in seeing this from a challenger''s perspective. I remembered reading somewhere that the best hunters knew how to think like their prey. I had decided that with the next challenger, I would follow them instead of my hunters to see if I could gleam some new insight. She was moving along the path and made a wrong turn. She backtracked and continued along the path towards the church. I found this strange, as every true challenger had followed the path through the maze to the church when cutting straight through was faster. My thoughts were interrupted by McGregor''s attack. He came in low, aiming to tackle her and dominate the fight. He was using speed and his greater mass to knock her down. That was the plan I assumed. The woman had other ideas. A tomahawk was thrown and embedded into his shoulder as he closed. This caused him to yell in pain and stop. The wound had caused him to drop his knife, blood staining his clothing. He reached over and pulled the blade out of his shoulder. That gave her enough time to close with him. She dropped close in and used her momentum to travel the last part of the distance, skidding on her knees. The second tomahawk was swung at McGregor''s knee from the side and connected. The blade dug in deep, causing a howl of pain as he collapsed, dropping the tomahawk he was holding. She ripped the blade out as he fell. The angle of his fall meant he came down well within striking range of another attack. The woman did not give him the chance even to try to recover. The tomahawk blade was introduced to the back of his skull. The sickly crack came with impact, and McGregor groaned as he collapsed onto his face. [Hunter: Charles McGregor. Has died he and will be resurrected in 100:00:00.] The red text rolled along the bottom of my view. I was shocked at just how fast he had been taken out. The woman stood and retrieved her second tomahawk before putting her foot on his back and using it to help pull the axe from his head. With a loud grunt, she pulled it free, then wiped the blade on his back. McGregor''s bloody body was left as she walked away. "Well, I am shocked by that turn of events!" Now I know what happened to a hunter when they died. So far, I have been lucky that no hunter has been killed. Plenty had been wounded, but this was the first death. McGregor had a single kill listed and would now have lost it. I followed her as she continued to walk the paths of my Dungeon. With McGregor''s death, the border of the hunting grounds would shift until his resurrection. Rodriguez would be next up if she stayed on her path. The church was close. Would she get there before he found her? By now, the sun had set, and the Dungeon was in darkness. The cloud cover was light, and the half-moon provided some light. The woman then did another unexpected thing: she extinguished her lantern. The area was suddenly plunged into darkness. My vision was hardly affected. I knew it was dark, but I was not hampered like a human. The woman was now using the darkness to her advantage. She moved from patch to patch of darkness, spending as little time as possible in the weak moonlight. The church was in sight. She went around the west side, looking for the doors. She found them on the north side of the building and entered. The same feeling of suspension of violence came with her closing the doors.Stolen story; please report. I watched from the altar as she walked down the central aisle to it. As she walked, she reached into the satchel and pulled something out¡ªa folded piece of material¡ªwhich she placed on the altar. Images and feelings bombarded me. They were both fragmented and suddenly intense. It was her wedding dress. On her wedding day, she and her husband were attacked. He was killed and she was raped repeatedly. Her attackers thought her dead after a savage beating, but she survived. The visual and emotional assault ended as suddenly as it started, leaving me a bit scattershot as I recovered my faculties. The woman had sat on one of the benches and was waiting. Like Augustus before her, she waited out the majority of the night. I had looked beyond the building and knew Rodriguez was waiting nearby for her to emerge. Just over an hour before dawn, she roused herself. She had been dozing on the bench but knew she was getting ready to leave. A flask of water and some jerky were in the satchel. She ate and drank before opening the doors and leaving. I expected her to head back south, but she went north. As she went, she used the darkness to her advantage. "Well, that''s a mistake." Rodriguez is out. He, too, expected her to come out and head south. He noticed her and was forced to reposition. She was moving faster than before but still used the darkness to hide herself. My Hunter was behind her but was trying to get into position to attack. Her speed was making this difficult. There was a path out using the northern walkways, but it took you into the hateful spirits'' hunting grounds, which she was fast approaching. She crossed the line and was now in the spirit''s hunting grounds. "This will be over soon." The spirit did not take long to appear. The figure of a woman in a long, flowing white dress was walking between the gravestones. The native woman spotted her straight away, dropping to one knee watching. The spirit gave off a faint light, enough to convince the other woman to avoid her. Instead of approaching, she turned and went eastward, trying to avoid this strange figure before her. The spirit realised it was being avoided, turned in her direction and changed with a scream. The light around her turned from white to red, and her hair flew around. The native woman saw this and did the only sensible thing and ran. The spirit crossed the distance, following her, screaming as she went. The woman had to move around the gravestones and occasional tree while the spirit passed right through them. This closed the gap between them faster than the running woman liked. She was glancing back regularly, tracking the spirit''s approach. The spirit got close and swiped at her back. As the spirit did, the woman dodged to the left to avoid the strike. She was not fast enough and was caught on her right shoulder. Her heavy coat took most of the blow, but it cut through and drew blood. The woman hissed loudly in pain as she was knocked forward. She fell and started rolling just to keep moving. The spirit was right after her. Then, the spirit suddenly stopped and screamed even louder in frustration. Confused, I looked around and realised the reason. The woman had just made it out of the spirits hunting grounds. "Well, that was fortunate for you." The woman stood and moved again, looking back to ensure the spirit was not following her. She lost sight of it amongst the gravestones, statues, and mausoleums. Here, she stopped to try to tend to her wound; sitting down, she looked over her shoulder to try to see it. The wound was not deep but was bleeding. The native woman looked around and factored her location against that of the gate. With a grunt, she got up and started walking again. It was not far. She did not see Rodriguez. He attacked when she was close to the gate. It was not far, and she could make it out. Some instinct saved her as she turned just in time to see him coming. She managed to block his tomahawk with one of her own. As it was the right one, she screamed from the impact travelling up her arm to the wound. This caused her to stagger back, dropping it to the ground. Rodriguez did not relent and attacked again, swinging his tomahawk in an attempt to connect. The woman dodged away. Even wounded, she was still fast on her feet. Rodriguez outweighed her, so she avoided a direct fight. His strikes were fast and sharp. He did not overextend but stayed close, as he could not give her a chance to think of a way to beat him. He was using the gravestones to hinder her movements, as she could not see the ones behind her. My hunters were getting over their natural arrogance. Being wounded, even with the ability to recover or resurrect, taught them hard lessons. This, in turn, made them better hunters as they became more skilled in the role. I was seeing it here. Before, Rodriguez would have used his mass and speed to overwhelm his opponent, leaving him open to counters. Now, he was being more measured and controlled. He darted forward to close the distance again, but the native woman was ready. As he went forward, so did she. Lashing out with her leg, she was close enough to catch him in the testicles. With a loud cry of pain, he staggered back, colliding with a gravestone that he used to stay standing. His face was contorted with rage and pain. I expected the native woman to turn and run for the gates, but she surprised me by continuing to attack Rodriguez. He was the one trying to get space between them as he avoided her tomahawk. Now, the gravestones were hindering him. He managed to avoid her, but there were a few close calls. This gave him the time he needed to recover. He was stable on his feet again and was defending himself better. I think the native woman understood her advantage was now gone. She was backing away, increasing the space between them. She was favouring her right arm now. The wound was now impacting the fight as she was weakening. Rodriguez smelled blood and advanced with an evil smile. I was unsure if he could smell it. My hunters changed with every level gained, and I had no idea what they entailed. I only knew what their character sheets told me. Whatever other changes were happening to them were not showing up on them yet. The woman was not done yet. I had to admire her fighting spirit. As Rodriguez moved in to attack again, she darted forward. It appeared she had been playing up the wound. Like McGregor, she fell to her knees as she came in close. Rodriguez had swung his tomahawk at her, but it went over her head. She introduced hers to his knee. The blade cut deep, and he fell back with a cry of pain. She had swung in from the side again, but it was not as bad due to this being her off-hand. Rodriguez could steady himself as he caught on to a gravestone, not entirely collapsing. The native woman was soon back to her feet, swinging again at this head. His arm took the blow and the blade cut deep and may have even broken the bone. He cried out in pain again, sacrificing his left arm to prevent a worse injury. He still carried the tomahawk in his right hand. The native woman could see he was wounded but not out of the fight as, with a snarl of rage, he pulled himself back up. Her look of surprise said it all, and she tried to strike him again. He blocked the attack this time and countered, cutting her across her bicep. The impact caused her to twist away, avoiding any follow-up as his knee injury slowed him down. Her coat again deflected most of the blow, but blood was soon staining the area. She turned around to face him again and moved to keep her distance. After looking him over, she made a decision. She turned and ran for the gates. We were both surprised. Dawn had arrived and was lighting the area now. It seemed she was taking the final gamble and avoiding further bloodshed by running. Rodriguez was too wounded to follow her, as his leg injury was slowing him down. Within a few minutes, she reached the gates, running as fast as she could and left the Dungeon. She had made it. I closed the gates behind her. Across the Dungeon, the bell in the church rang out once more, signalling that there was a new victor. "It''s over." I spoke to Rodriguez, who swore up a storm in Spanish. He was still some distance from the gates. I formed my avatar near him. "Lean on me. Let''s get you back to your lair." He only nods, and I help him back to the mausoleum he called home. He thanked me and disappeared inside. The timer appeared above the building. I went to McGregor''s corpse but found it was gone. A blood stain was left, but no sign of the body. I went to his lair and found the timer was now running. "How did his body get back here?" A question for another day. Returning to the church, I moved the offering down underground to my money vault and went to the wooden board off to the side of the altar. Talulah. August 4th, 1878, A.D. She came in memory of her love and to find the strength to punish the guilty. "Two challengers made it in two years. Is that good or bad?" No answer came. I was not surprised. "I might need somewhere a bit more secure for my gold and the offerings of successful challengers." I left a strong bond with those items. It was more substantial than my connection to the coins. Giving up the silver had hurt, but it was all for the long-term good, but I would be damned to give up the gold. "Well, that was enough excitement for one day." Chapter 18 The year went on. Summer gave way to autumn, or fall, as the Americans liked to call it. Winter made its appearance. Young Mister Driver was doing rather well. The idea of a place to stop and get shoes for horses fixed along the road was a novelty that many enjoyed. I suspected he would be doing far better if he had a better personality, but I worked with what I had. The winter retreated slowly again, and spring rolled in. I became more aware of the world around me as Driver provided me with the local newspaper semi-regularly. I was not sure, but was the West as violent here as it is in my world? It seemed like every month, there were reports of clashes and gunfights between gangs or the Federal authorities. Could these reports have been blown out of proportion? I suspected this was the case. Newsmen have to sell papers, after all. I was reading the latest edition of the local paper. Among the adverts and reports on local cattle prices was the story of Adam Pilgrim. He was leading a gang down in Colorado. He was hitting silver mines and trains, robbing them and moving on. It seemed he was the new bogeyman. The Federal government had a hefty bounty out on him. I closed the paper sitting on a sarcophagus in the crypt under the church. I had moved the weapons from above downstairs. I looked around using my avatar body, which I summoned to read the paper. I was hiding my gold and the challenger offerings of the successful in it. I had used all the silver dollars I once had to set Driver up with his new business. I still felt their loss. I was not expecting any financial return from him more than¡­. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "What the hell! I have been here less than an hour!" Dismissing my avatar''s body, I went to the gates. I got there as four men were entering. Outside was a wagon loaded with supplies. Looking the men over, I could make out that they were prospectors from their attire and tools on the wagon. They were all white men with dirty and wild appearances. They were all armed with rifles and handguns. I went in close to hear their conversation. They were talking about gold. It quickly became apparent they were looking for the money hidden here. They were walking far past the courtyard at the gates heading north. I followed them as they walked into the Dungeon. They stopped and checked the mausoleums as they went. They became confused as the tombs were all empty. This caused more conversation as they walked. The day was still in the afternoon, and the night was far away. The spirit would not be around for a few hours. They approached her hunting grounds, but she would not get involved. My other hunters were now shadowing them; they were taking their time, which allowed them to get close. "The spirit will not be joining you today; her hunting grounds are open." I had to keep watch in case this took longer than expected. The night was still hours away, but my hunters might spend too long stalking, watching for an opportunity. I stayed with the four men. They were getting closer to the mausoleum with the body of the spirit. Exposing it to sunlight would not be good for her. Looking around, I saw the hunters drawing closer. They were moving to attack. McGregor was a bit too aggressive; I felt he risked exposing himself. I knew he was looking to increase his kill count after his resurrection. The men were more focused on the search, and two remained on a rough lookout as the tombs were being searched. When they looked around bored, the hunters waited. When they started walking again, they moved with them. McGregor was behind now, and the other two were ahead. What was their plan? I doubted there was one, as they were solitary hunters by nature. One went to a tree and undid his trousers. He started urinating as the others continued to walk. They did not bother to wait, and the distance grew between them. McGregor moved closer. His target had not heard his approach as he shook off and began putting his penis away. He turned to walk and rejoin his comrades. This allowed McGregor to cross the last few feet between them. Before the intruder could react, his hand clamped his mouth from behind, pulling his head back and exposing his throat. McGregor''s knife sliced across it, opening up his windpipe. The man struggled, but McGregor knew what he was doing. He held him as his kill collapsed to the ground. Red blood was pumping from the wound as he drowned in his blood. [A Hunter has made a Kill] One down. McGregor got up and pulled the body from sight. The other three were focused on the next mausoleum and did not realise the other was dead. Two went up to the door, opened it, and went inside, hoping that this one would contain something. The third outside turned to see where the fourth was but saw no one where he should be. His exclamation of shock brought the others out, and all got their weapons ready. They asked each other where the missing man was and started calling for him. They started walking back the way they came. They slowly spread out as they walked, looking for the missing man. The other two hunters were moving up behind them. They were so focused on looking ahead that they were unaware of them. Their stealth skills were also helping. It looked like they would rush two, but what about the third? The hunters had their weapons out and were almost close enough when the body was discovered. The three men rushed over to it, and all the hunters struck¡ªthe two at the back first attacked a man each. The third turned as his companions were assaulted, and that allowed McGregor to come into play. As his target aimed his rifle, he was attacked from behind. One rifle was discharged but missed as everything was close quarters. The resulting fight was brutal and bloody. My hunters had the advantage, they never gave it up. My hunters all smiled gleefully as they killed these men. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Ok, with that over, you all know what to do." The hunters all nodded and got to work. They had all been through this enough times that I did not need to tell them what to do. The bodies were looted and buried. Next, the wagon was searched and looted. It was taken around the Dungeon along the path to the ravine and dumped into it. The horses were released. Back at the church, what loot was not claimed by me was split amongst the hunters, and they retired with their tobacco and alcohol. I was left with more money, two watches, a few other items and the firearms. I created my avatar and moved everything downstairs. Putting everything away took about ten minutes. The highlight was getting three new silver dollars to add to my collection. The weapons were checked and unloaded. "Overall, a good day." I dismissed the avatar and went around the Dungeon. Everything looked right, and I spotted no issues. I used [Hide the Crime!] to remove most of the blood. The rest will be washed away after the next few storms. If necessary, I would use my skill again. I learned that blood was thicker and heavier than water and needed more attention to make it go away. The plant life in my Dungeon was doing well. Over time, more migrated into the Dungeon, even with the effects of the spatial bubble. I looked around at the new plants and flowers sprouting. "Should I take up gardening?" It was a strange thought that came to me as I wandered around. I often found myself looking for a distraction or something to do. In my life as a human, I knew that outside of my hobbies, I did not do much else. Could now be a chance to remedy this? I found myself back at the church as I thought. Around the building, some areas could be used as flower beds. Looking closer at the layout of the paths, it seemed that was the function of these areas. I had most of the tools needed in storage. It was the wrong time of year for planting. Next year, I might give it a try. I could try to gather some seeds. The weather was now starting to turn, and many plants were getting ready for winter. These thoughts stayed with me as autumn passed into winter. The year rolled on and ended. I was more aware of this thanks to the papers from Driver. The locals continued on with their daily lives. Now, I was a bit more aware of them. I gave him the $59.67 we had looted off the bodies. That would get him through the winter, combined with his other sources of income. I advised him to save it in the local bank, which had just opened, and some more in his home.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. He came to the Dungeon now to deliver the papers but never went further than the courtyard. He said he would, but I doubted it. Like many who had never had money before, I believed that, based on his words and the new possessions, he was spending it. I should have been annoyed, but I would not get involved as long as he performed his job as planned. I watched him ride off after delivering the latest edition of the paper. I went back to the church and laid it out on the altar. "January 8th, 1880. This year will mark my first decade." The main story was of Adam Pilgrim again. He had attacked several mining towns and robbed two trains. The authorities reported he was wintering now but were still actively looking for him. There are no reports of casualties or the amount stolen. Odd, they usually shouted those things from the rooftops. There were some other fluff pieces, but one thing did interest me. In the announcement section, a report was listed that made me smile. Mr Augustus Rochester has announced his engagement to Ms Elizabeth McDonald. Both families are pleased to report the wedding will be in the spring. "It looks like that young Augustus is doing well out there. What will he be now twenty? Twenty-one?" The rest of winter rolled on, and spring came. I had been thinking about creating flower beds and marked out several plots. As soon as the snow retreated, I started to prepare the area. "I have no idea how to do this." I started digging up the top layer of soil to get rid of the grass and other plants. I had to shrug and go on. It was all a learning experience. My life became a cycle of working on the floor beds and watching the world and weather from the top of the bubble. I was strangely content. I should have been stark raving mad at all the deaths and boredom, but I was feeling mentally pretty good right then. The spring rolled on to summer, and three fools visited and died. They were barely worth thinking about it¡ªthree men at separate times, all looking for the gold hidden here. McGregor got two and Rodriguez the third. What little loot was split up, and I got more weapons and five silver dollars. That did make me happy. Things were happening in the country around me, and the papers I was supplied kept me abreast of some things. Adam Pilgrim was back, moving and attacking. The US cavalry is now looking for him. Thomas Edison was doing things out east, and several land disputes with the Southern Pacific Railroad had gotten violent. Augustus had his first child, a boy named Joshua, meaning his wife was already pregnant when she walked down the aisle from my mathematics. Naughty boy! It was midsummer. I was down near the gates waiting for the Driver to arrive. He would be here shortly. I had pressed on him my dislike at being left waiting. I thought about my flower beds. They were a disaster, but I was starting to make headway. Give me a few more years, and I might have something presentable. I spotted him through the trees. I waited to make sure he was alone. He got off his horse and walked to the gates. When I was happy, I created my avatar. He was still not used to seeing my avatar forming from black, wispy smoke. "Morning, Mister Keeper." He tipped his hat to me. "Good morning, Mister Driver. What do you have for me today?" "Something different, but I reckon you''ll like." He reached into a satchel he was carrying and pulled out a book. When close enough, he reached out, and I took it. I inspected the title. The American Republic. The first century, 1776-1876 A.D. It took all my control not to scream in joy! "Very good, Mister Driver. Anything else?" He shook his head. It was time to start the next part of the plan. "It''s time to start your true purpose. Are you ready?" "Yes, sir. I will send any single or small group of travellers on the path here. Not locals but people passing through or new to the area." He recited his orders. "Excellent. Off with you now." I walked away as he left, and as soon as he was out of sight, I ran back to the church with the book. Once inside, I placed it on the altar and opened it. There is so much to learn! The first years covering the Revolutionary War and after independence seemed the same as my own history; admittedly, I do not remember much about this time. I soon reached the War of 1812, when I found the first differences. The war ended in 1815 with a British victory. As I remember, the US Army invaded Canada and was beaten back. The US Navy performed badly, losing two major engagements off Boston and New York. I did not remember them. Washington was invaded and burned. The Battle of New Orleans happened in August 1814 with a British victory. Now, that was different; I knew about this battle. It seemed that the British army invaded from Cuba using their new colony troops to bolster the Regular army. General Jackson tried to retake the city near the end of the year but was severely beaten at the second Battle of New Orleans. "Ok, that is different. Jackson won that battle, but¡­ in 1815. I think. What is this about Cuba being a British colony?" There was no mention of that information. This defeat added to the naval and earlier failed invasion of Canada and sparked a succession crisis with New England. The British offered terms, and the author went into detail about the peace terms. The Louisiana Purchase would remain with The United States, and New Orleans would be returned. The price was that Britain could have the Oregon region, and the border was set along similar lines as my world, apart from one disputed area in Maine that was going to Canada. The last significant change was the recognition of the Tecumseh Confederation. They claimed what, in my time, was the state of Michigan. It was part of the US but separated simultaneously, like the reservations that came later but on a much larger scale. The author claimed to be a historian, but his language and tone were very¡­ propagandist or maybe jingoistic. I continued reading. The knock-on effects of the conflict were interesting to see. The US Army got more funding, and the US Navy was reduced. The Navy was kept closer to the East Coast to defend the shipping routes and significant ports, making the US much more insular. In the 1820-30 period, we had a Senator, not President Jackson, leading the push to remove the Native population from the eastern states. This would lead to the Trial of Tears and the mass death of many members of the Native Tribes. In this timeline, they were moved to the Confederation, resulting in fewer deaths. The author''s view shone through here with terms such as "primitive" and "savage" used extensively in describing people in the events. After this, there was a period of relative peace. It did not last long, as there were reports of Natives attacking settlers from the protection of the Confederation. This led to counteractions and an increased presence of the US Army in the land to the south. "Hmm... I think there is a lot of revisionist history going on here." Things hit a crisis point in 1842 when, after several "provocations", the US Army entered the Confederation to secure the area as bandits were plaguing the border. Britain protested but made no effort to support the Native Tribes openly; it seemed they were more focused elsewhere. The author describes a two-year campaign I recognised as a hit-and-run or insurgency tactics against the US Army. It was reported that the Army lost over four thousand men in the conflict, not counting wounded. Native losses were not listed. The US Congress annexed the land, which the author claimed was a great victory. I found this passage interesting. "With the lands of the former Tecumseh Confederation brought back under the rightful rule of the United States Government, the land was opened to settlers as the Indian Tribes once there had fled north. Allowing proper God-fearing peoples to bring the land¡­" If I read between the lines right and from the reports of the fighting, the Native Tribes had realised they could not win against the US Army and had planned accordingly. They used small units to disrupt and delay as they evacuated the civilians into Canada. "Does this mean that Canada has an even larger Native population these days?" I was getting answers, but they were leading to more questions. I continued, fascinated. The American-Mexican war broke out in 1851. I could not remember the reasons in my timeline, but again, attacks on settlers were used as a pretext, like the attack on the Confederation. Something interesting was revealed in my reading. It turned out that the Texas War of Independence was a failure at this time. Santa Anna left a small siege force at the Alamo and bypassed it to attack Houston''s army, catching it by surprise. He was defeated in detail and the uprising fell apart with his death in the battle. The Alamo surrendered a little later, and the Americans (or were they Texians?) there were sent home and paroled under the agreement, never to return. Most of the other settlers returned to the US over the years. The US Army invaded and found a Mexican Army that did a bit better than in my history. The conflict lasted for four years, as the Mexican army took a more defensive orientation to its battles, forcing the Americans to attack them in more substantial defensive positions. The Mexicans were pushed back to Mexico City and were forced to the peace table. The US took all the same territories as in mine, along with Texas and all of Baja California. The combined casualties were American, 34,123 Mexican, 37,245. This was all happening with the issue of slavery burning in the background. The states were split along the Madison-Dixie line and tensions rose every year. The addition of large tracks of land from the last war only heightened these tensions. Congress was deadlocked, and no resolution could be found. Many tried, but it only delayed the inevitable. The only international issue that America was involved in was protesting the British annexation of Alaska after the Crimean War. The territory was added to the Canadian territories. In 1861, the election of Republican President David Crockett Jr. and his running mate, Abraham Lincoln, brought things to a head. Crockett was the son of the famous frontiersman and was from Tennessee. His home state disowned him for his views on containing slavery. His father had never gone to the Alamo and was more active in American politics. Several of his other children had entered politics like he had, including the son bearing his name. Crockett was then and possibly the youngest President at thirty-nine when elected. The Southern States left the Union and formed the Confederate States of America. Fort Sumter was attacked, and the American Civil War started. As McGregor told me, it ended in 1866. As I read the book''s overview, it became clear that it was a far more brutal war than mine. General Lee commanded in the east, and General "Stonewall" Jackson in the west for the Confederates. The Union went through several Generals but Grant in the east and Sherman in the west were settled on. The Confederates held off the Union but were getting ground down. The US Navy was not large enough to implement the anaconda strategy to strangle the Southern economy, which meant foreign suppliers better supplied the Rebel army. It looked like the Confederates might force a peace, but the re-election of Crockett and the deaths of Lee (heart attack) and Jackson (in battle) in late 1865 changed everything. Longstreet took over, but he could not contain his Union opponents. The Rebel lines collapsed, and they were beaten down. Longstreet signed the surrender of all Confederate armed forces in September 1866. The total casualties reported were Union, 1,0,23,567 and the Rebels, 978,459. President Crockett Jr. was assassinated three days after the surrender, bringing Lincoln to the Oval Office. By then, slavery was outlawed by the Constitutional Amendment, and he oversaw the reconstruction of the Southern states, which were still occupied when this book was published. The rest of the book was about the increasing number of people emigrating to America and the movement of many westward. There were some indications of clashes with the Native Tribes of the Great Plains. This ended the book. I closed it. "Well, that explains a few things." Chapter 19 The year continued, and I worked on my floor beds while watching the world go by. I reread the book several times but was still left with my initial impressions. Overall, the United States was not diminished, but it seemed more violent than my timeline. October had just started, and I was looking out over the changing scenery. The land was changing colour as winter was coming again. The book''s last page had a map of the US states and territories. The only differences were that Oregon and Washington were missing, and California was split into two states, creatively named North and South California. The Baja section was added to South California. The rest of the map was how I remembered the state lines. I was now thinking about getting more books. I had limited resources at this time. I was loathe to give up my gold and just starting to rebuild my silver dollars. Spending them was the furthest thing from my mind. I was watching the path leading to the road when I spotted movement. Coming from the trees were two figures on horses with a third-pack animal. They were riding at a leisurely pace. Looking at the sky, I worked out the sun''s location through the clouds. It was not long before it was dark. I shifted down as they approached the gates to get a closer look. Both men were outdoors types, with rough but sturdy clothes and unkempt appearances. They were close enough now that I could hear their conversation. "¡­ to the north inside the graveyard in one of the mausoleums, according to the rumours." The first was saying. It sounded like the locals, but the voice and accent were rougher. "And you believe that Arnold?" The second said. "Of course not, Franklin, but it gives us a place to start." Both men rode up to the gates and dismounted. They tied their horses up and walked to the threshold of the Dungeon. "Heard other stories. Reckon they might be true now I see the place." Franklin said as he peered into the Dungeons grounds. "Maybe." Arnold agreed. "Are we going in now to have a quick look around? Get the lay of the land?" Franklin looked at his watch, which was on a chain under his coat. "It''s nearly dark. We can have a quick gander." Both men returned to their mounts and pulled tow rifles from their saddles. They walked past the gates into the courtyard. Arnold looked at the plinth and then squinted. "Franklin, you''re better with your reading. What does this say?" Arnold asked, indicating to the plinth. Franklin looked over his shoulder. "¡­. Something about a church and leaving by sunup." Franklin offered. "Mighty strange. Let''s get going." Arnold kept looking at the plinth as they turned and walked up the north-leading path. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] I reached out to the hunters that were stirring. I followed just behind the two men. "We have two men armed with rifles heading north. Three horses outside." I looked to the sky, tracking the sun. It was nearing the mountains, causing the shadows to lengthen and deepen across the Dungeon. It was getting close to allowing the spirit enough darkness to start to be able to act. The path curved along the same angle as the outer wall and now had left across the sections from the trees nearby. The golden/red colour gave the Dungeon sudden flashes of colour that stood out among the greys and dulling green. This would fade soon, but it had been dry for the last few days as the leaves started to fall, so their colour had not dulled. The two men walked on, ignoring the leaves. "This place is bigger than I expected," Franklin said as they walked. "How big, you reckon?" Arnold looked out across the tombs, trees and gravestones. "Good few miles. No wonder the gold has been so hard to find." Franklin answered after looking around himself. They continued talking about banal things they would spend their money on when they found the gold. They also noted the buildings they were going to have to check over in the morning. I looked around more closely than they did and spotted my hunters approaching. By then, the two men had crossed into the spirits'' hunting grounds, causing my other hunters to hold back. The sun was setting now, and the darkness was strong enough for the spirit to act. As they approached the mausoleum containing the spirit''s body, they entered a large patch of shadow. She walked into view from behind a tree further north of them to the right. She had a faint white light about her, but from the sudden tensing of their bodies, the men were not paying attention to that but her presence. She was dressed in clothing that would be found on a "lady of the night" or a woman you would see in a tavern in a film as a prostitute. I could not see their faces; I expected her [Seduction] perk to be in play. "Excuse me, Miss. Why might you be here?" Franklin asked as they both slowed but still headed towards her. Nether raised their riles at her appearance. My spirit replied, smiling coyly at them, drawing them closer. When they were close enough, she turned, transforming and the screaming began. Franklin was closeted and disembowelled. The spirit''s claws ripped right through his clothing and lower torso. He screamed in pain and shock as his intestines fell out to the ground. They were steaming and covered in blood. He collapsed to his knees, trying to pick them up. Arnold screamed and tried to run. Tried. As he started to move, she was right behind him. Her claws ripped through his upper torso through his back. She went in deep and ripped out, holding his still-beating heart. Blood was pouring from the wound as he collapsed face-first to the ground dead. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Franklin was in tears from the horror and pain as he tried to put his intestines back into his body. The spirit glided up behind him, reached around, and ripped out his throat. Atrial blood shot out from the wound across the area in front of him. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Fuck me!" I had seen violence, but never that brutal and fast! The spirit was still holding Arnold''s heart as she killed Franklin. Now he was dead, she dropped the organ and glided away. She changed back to her "passive" form, causing all the blood she was covered with to vanish. She wandered away as if nothing had happened.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "I need a volunteer to come and get the bodies¡­. And bring the wheelbarrow." Rigger got the task and he showed up while the others went to the horses. The spirit returned but held back as I was there, too. My avatar was placed between her and Rigger, which motivated him to work fast. She glared but made no further movement. Progress? I ensured Rigger was out of the hunting ground before dismissing my avatar. Later that night, the loot was split up, and the hunters returned to their lairs. I gained some more money which I would give to Driver. I would instruct him to look out for other books from both the Canadian territories and the Americans. The weapons were unloaded and put away. The money was left upstairs in a leather pouch to protect it, to be moved to the gates later. It was not a great amount, but it would help my agent. Driver came around the next day and got the money with my instructions. It turns out the two men were encouraged to check out the Dungeon at these words. He had been talking up the rumours of the gold hidden here to travellers. I complimented him on this. Such stories were becoming local folklore and did not worry the townsfolk. He left, and I went back to my routine. It was the wrong time of year for my flowers, but I will maintain the beds for next year. The year rolled on, and I waited for anything to happen. Winter came in with intense blizzards that turned the world white. Icicles formed as the temperature dropped after a brief hike. I watched the snowflakes as they passed through the spatial barrier, which caused the angle of the snow to change radically. My Dungeon was in full snow globe mode again. Driver supplied me with fewer papers as the weather made it hard for him to reach the town, and here, with no evidence of his travels, left behind. Not much was being reported that interested me. The daily routine continued. 1881 arrived with no fanfare, and things went on as they normally did. Spring came, but winter did its best to hold on a bit longer this year. A few surprise late blizzards blew down from the mountains, showing winter was not giving up without a fight. The view changed as the new growths appeared and the snow receded. As travellers were out in force again, more traffic could now be seen along the road. This year brought about one change to the area I was unsure of. The railroad had arrived. Over several months, I noticed a cloud of smoke that moved. I found out from the papers that the local rail company was building a line through Crossway and the mountains to connect to the British/Canadian territories across the Rockies. They laid track and built several bridges to ford the river in the area and a chasm to the mountains. Summer has arrived and I have had no challengers or intruders so far. I was spending time with my floor beds, and they came along rather well. They would never win any awards, but they were mine and I was proud of them. I had planted and maintained six that ringed the church. I gave the area a slash of colour as only wildflowers were growing there. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Shit!" I had been looking over the flowers most of the day and had not seen anyone approaching. Shifting to the gate, I found a group of six men walking along the southern pathway. The six were workmen from their clothes. They carried shovels, and two had guns strapped to their hips in holsters. "Six male intruders, only two armed with guns. Walking along the southern path." I told my hunters as they stirred. I noticed that Rigger was slower in responding during the summer days. He wore a large hat and heavy coat whenever he was out during the day. It seemed that the sunlight was causing him issues that were increasing to plague him. The men were checking the tombs as they walked. I listened to the conversation and was unsurprised they were looking for the gold they had heard was hidden here. Three against six are not good odds. From what I could see, these were not small or weak men. Several sported scars, and they looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. I watched from above, and I''m interested in how this would go down. My hunters soon found the group, and I watched them, watching the intruders. The men continued checking the tombs and chatting about what they would spend the gold on. They looked around, but their body language was relaxed. They believed they could handle trouble if they thought there could be any here. But why? It seemed to be a quiet graveyard, after all. The men decided to move to the church and search there, as it was the most likely hiding place. They walked along the paths but soon abandoned them to walk directly to the church. This allowed my hunters to strike. They had to walk between two close-knit mausoleums, forcing them into a narrow alleyway as they approached the exit that would get them to the church, Rigger acted. The lead man was close to the wall. Rigger was standing around the corner with his blade out, ready to be used. He was listening for them as they approached. As he stepped out, Rigger lashed out his blade. Holding it in a reverse grip, his arm went out, catching the man by surprise as the blade went deep in the chest. His arm was straight out, causing the man to walk into the blade. The man grunted and then coughed blood. The men behind the first exclaimed in surprise and shock as they saw Rigger. From behind, the other two hunters came from the rear. Rigger blocked the front of the group, keeping the attention on him. The others hit them hard, and two more went down fast. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] Blood was spraying around as the violence was taking place in a small area. The other three tried to fight, but they were in a tight spot that hampered them, and the shock of the attack had shaken them. They tried to use their few guns and tools, but close up, my hunters excelled. They blocked or deflected the danger that came close, creating openings that allowed them to strike back. Soon, wounds were caused, and more blood decorated the walls on each side. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] The fight was over within a few violent minutes, and my hunters stood victorious over the scene. I tallied the kills, and each had two. They were not wounded, but all were covered in blood from their victims. "Well done. Once you have cleared up, check outside to see how they got here." The hunters said nothing but nodded at my instructions. There were no words between them or boasts of victory. Each did have the look of satisfied bloodlust on their faces. They were all on the way to their next levels, with both Rodriguez and McGregor being close now. I went to the gates and found an open wagon there. It seemed they rode it here. The logo on the side was for a rail company. I remembered that it was the one building the line to Crossway and beyond. "Railway construction workers. Let''s hope they do not send others looking for them. That might be more trouble than I can handle right now." The bodies and wagon were disposed of. Nothing except a few small items could be classed as loot. This was split, and the money recovered was assigned to the Driver when he showed up next. A few days later, there was a report about the missing men, but it was suggested that they had just absconded because they did not want to work in the mountains for the rail company. I wondered if the townsfolk thought they had come here and were just staying silent. I asked the Driver about that, and he confirmed that my suspicions were partly correct. The townsfolk were still unsure how to deal with my Dungeon and were sticking to an out-of-sight-out-of-mind policy. I was amused that I was becoming the source of the local bogeyman story. Well, it was true in my respects, after all. During these conversations, he told me many uninteresting things that I usually ignored, but one thing stood out. He had been trying to court the local eligible female population. It seemed to have gone badly at best. Now, this was a problem I might need to address. My plan was that Driver and his descendants would work for me, but that would not be practical if he had none. I had no idea how to address it, but I would think about it. The next day, the consequences of killing those six rail workers came calling. It was early and I was looking around the gates for new attractive flowers when four heavily armed men rode up. They were well-dressed, groomed and looked serious. One was looking to the ground as they approached. They were following the tracks of the wagon. "Well, this is not good." They dismounted before the gates and walked up to them. The tracker took his time to analyse the tracks around the gate. "What do you see, Mr Grey?" One asked, and he looked like the leader of this group. "The wagon was brought here. The men got out and headed in. But it was then driven away in that direction by someone else." Mr Gray pointed to the path that would take the walker to the ravine. I have been dumping things I would like to stay lost. "They did not come back out?" The leader asked. "No. But three different people have been here since then. The first two came out and went back in. The third came to the gates and went no further then rode of that way." Grey pointed in the direction Driver had left in. "Understood. Guns out, gentlemen. We are looking at the men who stole our employer''s property. We will retrieve them and what was stolen." The leader spoke to the other three, and they pulled out rifles. They were different from the ones I had been seeing. They looked like Winchester repeaters. As the tracks indicated, the four crossed the gate''s threshold and turned north. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Shit!" Chapter 20 ¡°They are looking for the six you killed the other day. Avoid them. Fighting them is too dangerous. Engage only if you are discovered. Hopefully, they will get bored and leave when they do not find the men from earlier.¡± The hunters did not respond, but I sensed they understood. As the years and their bond deepened to my Core, nonverbal communication became easier. The four men moved with a casual professionalism. Grey, the tracker, stopped regularly to read what signs he found on the ground. The other three held their guns casually, but their eyes spoke of their readiness. They never stopped looking around for dangers. The men had gone south and stayed on the path until they chose to veer off it. They had gone to the north and lost the trail, which caused them to change direction and return to the southern path. They found where they had left the path, following it to where the fight had occurred. The blood had been removed by [Hide the Crime!] being used over the last few days. ¡°There was a fight here. Three or four men attacked the six.¡± Grey was kneeling on the flattering grass. ¡°It''s strange. This was a place where violence has occurred. But many of its signs are missing. I can make out where the men fell, but there are no signs of blood.¡± The leader spoke without taking his eyes from scanning the area. ¡°Are they alive then?¡± ¡°Maybe. But subduing a greater number as fast as these signs indicate would be hard at the best of times, even for us.¡± ¡°Then we have a group of three to four men acting within this graveyard.¡± The leader reasoned. ¡°Skilled and armed. With the six men, we are looking for possibly prisoners.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what the tracks are saying.¡± Grey agreed. ¡°Do we continue or leave for help?¡± ¡°Continue for now. Any indication of where they were taken?¡± The leader asked. ¡°That way.¡± Grey pointed to the west. It was not far to walk until they reached six newly dug graves. They had found the men they were looking for and they came to the same conclusion. Reading the names on the graves confirmed it beyond all suspicion. ¡°What will we do now, Mr Sampson?¡± Gray asked the leader. ¡°It appears that the men are dead. We will seek the wagon and return to our employer with the news.¡± The men retreated from the Dungeon. Sampson looked at the plinth in the courtyard and read the inscription as the others left through the gates. He looked around the Dungeon grounds again with a thoughtful expression and then to the left through the gates. ¡°They''re gone.¡± I said to my hunters and felt them returning to their lairs. Rigger is moving the fastest out of the three. It is getting harder for him to operate in sunlight. ¡°What will this bring?¡± I had no idea what this event would bring. Good or bad? A group had come to the Dungeon and had left unmolested. Would they tell the locals, and what of their employer? I knew they would find the wagon with several others at the bottom of a ravine. What would they do with this discovery? ¡°Questions with no answers. Looks like I am going to have to wait. What¡¯s new?¡± I could drive myself mad with what-ifs. I returned to the top of the bubble and waited to see if some of my questions would be answered. Days passed and nothing came. Driver came by with the paper and told me what was happening beyond my sight. The return of the men sent to find the missing workers had caused a bit of a stir as it was the first known group that had been here and returned without stories of violence and death. The discovery of the wrecked wagons had left speculation of how many had died here. Some called for the town to call in the army, clear the Dungeon, and destroy it. The problem they had was how they explained this place to outsiders. They had not found the words or terms to get others to take action for them. Yes, Colonel, we want your men to ride to this large graveyard, but we have no idea who built it. Why, it seems that spirits and killers live there, and we would like you to kill them and raise the graveyard to the ground. If they were lucky, they would be laughed out of the place. Many in the town did not believe all the stories, as many new families had settled in recent years. The oldest families were the believers. They had seen the evidence from the few survivors. I had noticed increased numbers of people travelling through the forest to the ravine, avoiding the Dungeon. Days turned to weeks, and I became confident that I would not have a mob visiting anytime soon. Summer gave way to the start of autumn, and it was just as the weather changed that I got my next visitors. A canvas-covered wagon rolled up the track and stopped outside the gates. I moved to the gates to get a better idea of what I was going to be dealing with. It looked like most other settler wagons I had seen over the last decade. It looked worn but was not as packed as the others. ¡°¡­ now Ma, this is not a waste of time. You have heard the stories, and plenty of daylight is left.¡± A man in his mid to late forties was getting off the wagon. He was dressed in rough but sturdy clothing. It spoke of practically over money. His accent was more midwestern, I thought. It was rough and sounded like he smoked a lot. ¡°Come now, Pa, we can be doing better things than going on some foolish treasure hunt.¡± Next down was a woman in a period dress, who was rather on the large side. She looked about a decade younger than the man, with mousy brown hair that a bonnet tried to control. Her face was round and not unpleasant, but she still had no beauty; she was rather plain. ¡°We can have a quick look around, and if we get no hints, I reckon we can be away.¡± He continued looking at the gates. Two other women from the wagon followed him. It was clear they were the woman''s daughters. Both between sixteen and twenty were close copies of the mother.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°This place has an ill reputation.¡± Ma continued. The three opened patched parallels, holding them over them as they peered around. ¡°True, true. But the railmen who came through looking for the missing workers said the place was empty.¡± Pa was now up to the threshold of the gates. The way he was squinting, I wondered how far he could see without glasses. ¡°As you say, Pa. A little adventure might be the thing¡­. Amy, where are you, girl?¡± Her tone suddenly changed and became shrill when she called for this, Amy. From the wagon came a third girl. It was hard to give her an age. Her clothes were heavily patched and were one lousy rip from being called tatters. She had the same hair as the other three but was thin and looked malnourished or even exhausted. She moved like a beaten animal, not making eye contact with the others. ¡°What happened to you, I wonder?¡± ¡°Stupid girl! Bring the picnic box and the canteens.¡± Ma snapped, which caused the other two to giggle at the other''s distress. Amy flinched, expecting to be struck. This explained much to me. I watched them badger and harass Amy as she carried a large wicker basket, Blanket, and several canteens. They treated her worse than a pack animal. I watched them collect themselves and wander into the Dungeon. They went through the courtyard and turned south. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] As they walked, they discussed what they found here, with Amy trailing behind. Pa was carrying a six-shooter on his hip. I informed the hunters of who had entered and waited for them to find the group. I added the instruction not to attack until all three were present. It did not take long, as they were walking at a slow pace. It was warm still, as the summer heat had not yet started to disperse. The sky was clear, and the sun shone brightly. It was a good day for a picnic, I had to agree. Shame that was not going to happen. When all three hunters were ready, I gave them the go-ahead. Rigger, wrapped up as he was these days in sunlight, was the first to move. Pa was close by, and as he passed a large statue, Rigger pounced from his blind side. The man died quickly, and the three women screamed. Amy stood there frozen, watching who I believed was her father die. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Ma collapsed, and the other two made to run. As they set off, they were run down and caught by the other hunters. They were not killed but bound. Rigger stood and walked towards the panicking Ma, covered in her husband''s blood, holding the bowie knife ready for another kill. I knew why the other were being kept alive. Looking at Amy, I did something I had never done before as I had come to a decision. I summoned my avatar to the scene right behind the girl. The hunters had not seen this as they were dealing with the others. With a gurgling scream, Ma died drowning in her blood from her slit throat. [A Hunter has made a Kill] With two subdued and two dead, they turned their attention to the last. They saw me and were confused. ¡°Not this one.¡± The three hunters looked at me and then at each other, unsure of what I was doing. The girl had stiffened as she heard my voice but was held in place by her fear. ¡°I believe this one is ours, Keeper,¡± McGregor said after a few more moments. ¡°Normally, I would allow you your sport, but not today. I have plans for this one.¡± Again, they looked at each other. They were unsure of this as it had never happened before. I felt I needed to remind them who was in charge here. ¡°Of course, if any of you want to disobey me in this ¡­. I can always punish those who wish to test me.¡± That was the only threat I could make, but they all knew what that meant and decided to leave things as they were. ¡°There is a wagon outside. Loot it, but leave it intact with the horses and deal with your newly acquired ¡°toys¡±. As for the body, remember to bury it.¡± This got them moving. The women disappeared with the hunters, leaving Pa¡¯s body behind. They would be back to deal with it shortly. I walked around the girl and faced her. Her face was white, and she was crying but was trying to hold it in. She was not afraid but terrified. ¡°Hello, Amy.¡± Calling her by her name caused her to look in my rough direction. I had to take this slow, or she could break down or go catatonic. I made all my movements slow and deliberate so as not to spook her anymore. I was not good at this, but I was willing to attempt it. ¡°I know you''re afraid, but no harm will come to you.¡± I lifted my hands and palms out, showing her that I was not holding anything. ¡°Would you like to put down what you are carrying there?¡± I indicate a spot on the path near the grass. At first, she did not move, but after a few more verbal prods, she placed the things down. I waited for her to step back, then moved over to them. I took the blanket out and opened it up. I spread it over the grass. She watched me the whole time, not looking at me but keeping me in her eyeline. ¡°Would you like to sit down on the blanket?¡± She was hesitant, but I told her it would be fine and invited her to sit again. She slowly slid over and sat on the blanket, hugging her knees and watching every move I made. I slowly opened the basket and investigated its contents. There was more than enough food present for me to use. ¡°My, this is quite the selection. What do you want to have first? That is if you are hungry.¡± I got no answer but began taking out wrapped items and opening them up to see what they contained. I placed them near her on the blanket. She watched everything I did, making no move, but then a loud rumble came from her stomach. She flinches, ready to be struck. ¡°So, you are hungry. Go on, take what you want.¡± I also placed a canteen on the blanket. When this was done, I sat on the grass out of arm''s reach. It took a few minutes and another rumble, but with great hesitation, she reached out. When close enough, she snatched a sandwich and retreated. I watched and said nothing. She started nibbling on the sandwich and was watching me. I made a show of looking in the basket again. I lifted a tart and placed it where the sandwich was. ¡°Eat what you wish, and then we might talk if you are happy to.¡± I waited as she ate. I looked around the Dungeon, which seemed pleasant from where I sat. I did not rush things, allowing this to play out at its own speed. Rodriguez appeared, which caused her to tense up. He removed Pa''s body and disappeared. ¡°Fear not, Amy, no one here will hurt you.¡± It had been over two hours before I got my first words. ¡°C-can I-I.. h-h-have m-more.¡± The voice was soft and quiet. Full of fear and uncertainty. ¡°Have as much as you want. Tell me when you are finished.¡± I waited for another hour. The sun was now well past midday, but the day was still warm. I knew she was watching everything I did, but I made no sign of being aware of her. I just enjoyed the weather. This was starting to strain my ability to hold my avatar form, but I could handle it as I was not doing anything strenuous. Time was not on my side now. Looking over, I could see she had eaten a little of everything. I noticed McGregor haunting the gravestones just out of her sight. We were in his hunting grounds. ¡°Shall we take a walk?¡± I stood, surprising her, but she rose, and we walked towards the gates. I walked at a sedate pace, trying to hide the strain I was going through just holding my avatar¡¯s form. It did not take long before we reached the gates. ¡°Can you drive the wagon?¡± She nodded yes with wide eyes full of fear and confusion. ¡°Excellent. This is what I need you to do¡­¡± I gave her directions to Herbert Driver''s home and left her a message. It was to help Amy for now and invite her to come and see me later. She was extremely hesitant but did as I did. By the time she got moving, I was ready to scream, as the strain was affecting me badly. As soon as she set off, I let out a groan of pleasure as my avatar dissolved. Driver appeared later that day near dusk, and I told him what he needed to do. Amy was his chance at a wife, so do not fuck it up. He returned home with the money from her family, what had been looted, and a story to tell that her family had agreed to the marriage before moving on. Would it work? I have no idea, but it was a plan for the future I was working on. Two days later, I got a notification. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Rodreguez was tired of his new toy and finished her off, which brought me to the next level. I had McGregor finish his off, and as soon as the bodies were buried, I triggered the levelling. ¡°Here we go.¡± Chapter 21 A blue box appeared in my vision.
Congratulations! You have reached level 5! Your kill count to reach level six has increased to 80. You have gained a new Hunter slot. Your Dungeon has increased to two miles. A new perk slot is available to select. You are far ahead of our expectations! Keep up the good work!
"Well, that is nice to know." I was back at my church, going through the perk list, trying to decide what to select. After a good look, I knew what I had to take. I selected it, and then everything went dark. ¡­¡­¡­ With a flash, my sight returned, and I was in the church again, but it was different as expected. I opened my character sheet.
Dungeon Name New Midian
Level 5 Hunters 4/5
Infamy (Local) Known Infamy (State) Whispers
Infamy (National) Unknown Infamy (Global) Unknown
Kills 0/80 Victors 2
Perks
Beacon (Assigned)
Spatial Folding (Mythical)
Walls (Common)
Maze. (Uncommon)
Mausoleums. II (Common)
Hide the Crime! (Uncommon)
Crypts. II (Common)
I had opted for an increase in the Crypts within my Dungeon. I had much to do and would start with the church. The church was repaired, and the building was changed. I was happy that the church was restored, as the damage compiling over time would be a bad look. The style of the building had become more gothic in its architecture while, at first, it was more of a frontier Spanish chapel style. The overall quality of the building had also improved. The building was a little larger, and the tower above the church had gotten slightly higher. The bell had also grown a little larger along with the bell. I went downstairs into the crypt and noted the increased number of rooms. There were now three rooms where there was once only one. My possessions were scattered around where the shelves that once held them were no longer present. One room was to the north, while the second was to the south. Each room had more shelves for bodies to be placed and a sarcophagus in the centre, providing options for later exploration and storage. I left the church and went to the top of the spatial bubble. Looking down, I took in the view. The Dungeon maze was now more extensive, and the graves, statues, and mausoleums were closer together, reducing the number of ways to get through the maze faster. The number of dead ends and blind alleyways had increased. I checked the unoccupied mausoleums, and many had expanded crypts or had new ones added. I was happy with this as it will allow new options in the future. I was hoping that the crypts would eventually merge, adding another dimension to my Dungeon. Adding an underground maze would supply dozens of new options for me to play with. Summer was now giving way to autumn. 1881 had been an exciting year and was not over. My hunters were developing reasonably, but I knew I would not soon see another level. Eighty kills were a hefty number. The days passed into weeks, and autumn was here in full force. Driver and Amy visited, and the cover story held as they were married in a neighbouring town. This gave them the paperwork they needed to hide much. I was surprised this happened so fast, and Amy agreed. It seems young Mr. Driver was not much of a catch, but she took the opportunity that he presented. Also, they both knew what might happen if he went out of line. I made a few not-so-subtle hints in that regard, and they seemed to be understood. Would it be a happy marriage? I had no idea, but it was part of my plan that was happening faster than I thought it would. Next was children. After some testing, I got the Dungeon to not see them as either Challengers or Intruders. This would stop the constant messages. I also made sure the Hunters would leave them alone. With Amy, when she visited, I would still be vigilant. They kept me abreast of events by supplying me with newspapers. Alas, no books were forthcoming. I settled in and waited, reading the paper when it arrived. Winter soon descended, and visits decreased as snow covered everything, making travel far harder. The rail link had been finished, and many were travelling by rail during this time. Plans were made to expand the rails into the Rockies and connect to the Canadian state of Cascadia, which was the name of what was Oregon and Washington states in my world. What little I had learned was this of the year''s events in the outer world.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it President McDonald was sworn in during March and was assassinated in November. I think something similar happened during my time. I''m not sure of that, but it feels similar. Nineteenth-century American history was far from my strongest subject. Native American Leader Sitting Bull had slipped across the border into Canada with most of his followers after inflicting several defeats on the US Cavalry over the years. For the last five, he had been fighting a war of movement against the US military and was doing well, but he understood he could not beat the numbers they had sent against him. He surrendered to the local Mounties, many of whom were Native American descendants from the Tecumseh Confederation who had settled in Canada. The US Government complained and demanded he be turned over. Their demands were refused. I loved the irony of that. Billy the Kid was shot down while trying to escape prison in April. I could not remember when he died in my timeline. There was a shootout at the O.K. Corral, but here, Adam Pilgrim and his gang gunned down the Earp brothers and several others as they ambushed the brothers while they were moving a shipment of silver from a recently discovered deposit. Now, that was a significant change. Many other things happened, but these stood out to me because I had some knowledge of them. Winter ground on, and the new year arrived. I have made two New Year resolutions for myself. First, I want to keep better track of the time passing, and second, I want to be more aware of things happening around me. I had lost years to just existing; I needed to get into the game if I was going to survive. The paper in Crossway was now being produced regularly, which would help. The telegram office was helping get information to the town faster. I had also decided to buy the land plots that made up my Dungeon and the forest around it. It would not be good if a Land Barron swept in and bought it all to find that I was located here. That could be problematic in the extreme. I had little money available, not counting the silver and gold twenty-dollar coins I had stored. I was still loathed to lose them. The land would be bought through young Herbert. I needed to get a source of income large or regular enough to do this. Herbert was financially sound at the moment, and I did not want to risk that as I needed him to have a family. Nothing came to mind right then, so I went back to waiting. January''s news was of little import, barring the trial and conviction of the assassin who killed President McDonald. James Newman was convicted and sentenced to death. February was quiet. March saw an attempt to kill Queen Victoria in Britain, which missed her and killed the sitting Prime Minister who was riding in the carriage with her. Adam Pilgrim went rampaging again in April. Famous US Marshal Jessie James tried to bring him to justice, but he and his posse were killed in a firefight. The bounty on Pilgrim was now $9000. The story hinted that few were willing to try to collect it. The military was actively searching for him. It was in May that I got my next visitor. Sampson entered the courtyard. I had spotted him as he approached. For the last few days, I have spent more time with my flower beds than watching the world. I had been checking the area when I spotted him coming up the trail from the road. He was dressed similar to before and was just as heavily armed. "Well, this is a surprise." I watched him from the gates as he dismounted and tied up his horse. He then did something interesting: He removed his gun belt and secured it to the horse next to his rifle. I watched him pull a calvary sword from the saddle, securing it to his waist. "Oh boy! We might have a challenger on our hands." It did not take him long to prepare himself. He attached another knife to his belt and slung a satchel over his shoulder with a water canteen attached. He walked through the gates and to the plinth. Here, he paused and read the inscription again. Then he looked up at the Dungeon. His expression suddenly changed to one of shock and surprise mixed with confusion. "It is different!" He exclaimed. He was looking at the changes around him that he could see. I noticed the increased number, along with the density of the graves and mausoleums, was clear to see if you had been here before. Would he leave? After five minutes of decision, he walked along the southern path. "Here we go!" [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] He was in McGregor''s territory. I sensed my Hunters stirring at his presence. It would be interesting to see how my Hunters use the new Dungeon layout. I followed Sampson just above the level of most of the graves around us. Hopefully, this would allow me to see the Hunters before he does. He moves with a mixture of purpose and alertness. As he walked, he drew his sword and held it with the confidence of a man who knew how to use it. "Was in the cavalry during the Civil War?" He was the right age and had a military bearing to him. It was his eyes that told me the most. As he entered the Dungeon, I got a good look at his face. His eyes told me he had seen some serious shit. I spotted McGregor sculking amongst some gravestones as he made his way deeper into the improved maze. He was watching the intruder and not making any aggressive moves. This was not odd, as I often saw my Hunters studying their prey before attacking. Sampson continued deeper, making a few wrong turns and doubling back or cutting through where possible. McGregor continued to shadow him. The more I watched, the more confident I was that McGregor was just doing that shadowing. "What are you up to?" I was a bit confused. Hunters could not attack if they so choose, but I had never seen this before with my Hunters. I could not interact with them when a Challenger was present, so I was left to mull over the why. I thought it over and could only reason that it was his recent death that had rattled him. Sure, he had killed one of Amy''s sisters after having his "fun", but this was a whole different calibre of the opponent. Was he Challenger shy? Now, that was a thought! Time passed, and I was now sure that he was just stalking with no intention of attacking. Sampson passed from his territory into Rodriguez''s, and soon he was on his tail. Rodriguez was the opposite of McGregor. His body language was all but screaming about the pent-up violence he was suppressing. He was soon moving for the attack. He came up behind his target with the tomahawk ready to brain him. I was never sure if he was aware of Rodriguez''s approach or if some sixth sense warned him, but he spun as he was about to charge in, ready for violence. The sword gave him the advantage, but Rodriguez had experience fighting against opponents with swords. He did not stop closing to negate the sword''s advantage, swinging with his tomahawk. Sampson backed up as fast, blocking the axe edge with the flat of his sword. His face was focused, but I caught the brief flash of surprise as Rodriguez pressed into the attack. Rodriguez kept swinging, and Sampson was forced to block. The dull impacts of metal on metal and grunting were the only sounds. As he attacked, Rodriguez reached into his coat around his belt line. After another swing, he pulled out another blade. It was a long dagger-like knife, not as long as Riggers''s bowie, but close. Sampson was aware of the new threat and was moving away from Rodriguez to take advantage of his sword''s length. Rodriguez stayed on him, not letting up. The graveyard was coming into play as the space to move was limited, and Sampson was being driven back towards some dense gravestones. He was trying to avoid the position he was being forced into. Rodriguez did not let up, so he changed his tactics. Sampson stepped in after blocking a swing, knocking aside the blade and punching Rodriguez in the face. His fist was covered with the sword''s hit guard, which acted like a set of brass knuckles. This was not a fancy show sword but a weapon of war made from solid steel. The punch rocked Rodriguez back to his feet, causing a break in his attacks. His cheek was torn from the blow, with blood flowing freely. Here, I noticed that his blood was darker and thicker than Rigger''s had become. Now, it was Rodriguez who was on the defensive. Sampson was using his sword''s length to his advantage. His skill allowed hit to score a hit across the top of Rodriguez''s left arm, but the layers he was wearing prevented a deeper wound. With a snarl, Rodriguez pushed forward, closing the distance again and forcing Sampson back, but not far enough as he blocked the tomahawk but was cut across his right torso by the dagger. Like Rodriguez, the layers he wore prevent a deep wound, but wounded he was. The hiss of pain was the confirmation before the blood was seen. The wounds did not slow either, as they knew a moment of weakness would supply an opening that would prove fatal to one of them. Back and forth, they traded and blocked strikes. Each is moving to try to gain the advantage. Sampson strikes forward with a lunge that catches Rodriguez by surprise, cutting into his left shoulder and going deep. This is a nasty wound, and Rodriguez snarls in pain as Sampson continues to drive the blade in. This, however, opens Sampson up to getting a tomahawk into his thigh. He cries in pain and lets go of his sword as he clutches his leg with the tomahawk still buried in it. Rodriguez is forced to release it as he falls back with a sword still in him. Both men double over from the pain of their wounds, but Rodriguez is an established Hunter in my Dungeon and is no longer a "normal" man. He reaches to his left hand and takes the blade into his right. He sprang forward and drove it into Sampson''s chest. He coughed up blood, and he collapsed to the floor with the blade in his chest. He lay there with a look of peace on his face as he struggled to breathe. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Well, that was intense." Rodriguez staggered a few steps but held himself upright. His breath was heavy and laboured. After he took several steady ones, he reached up and grabbed the sword hilt. After a few more, he pulled the blade out, gritting his teeth. With a sigh of relief, he dropped the sword to the ground. His darker blood flowed but not as much as a normal human with similar wounds. He doubled over, pushing down the pain. I noticed McGregor skulking in the distance. "Rodriguez, head off and get healed." He nodded and received his weapons slowly. "McGregor! I see you! Get over here!" He came overlooking a bit sheepish and concerned. "You can bury the body and collect his stuff for looting. His horse is tied up near the gates." He nodded his understanding and went to collect a shovel. I watched as he slowly returned to his lair, his injuries taking their toll. I would wait until he was recovered to split the loot, as he had earned that right. I was thinking about the fight and many others. I found it strange that many seemed to be aware of the Hunters as they approached. I wondered what caused this¡ªluck, instinct, or something else. "I need to investigate this." Chapter 22 I received seven silver dollars from Sampson''s death. Rodriguez received a new Colt revolver and Winchester repeating rifle, which made him happy. Another thirty-seven dollars and change are supplied to the Driver family. Things roll on as May comes around, and this proves to be a very interesting month outside of my Dungeon. The US Congress are busy, passing three Acts in a month. The first is the passing of the Chinese Exclusion Act, which bars workers from China from entering the US for fifteen years. The second is the US Marshals Act, which expands the scope of the US Marshal Service and allows easier cross-state manhunts and accessing military support when required. This was brought in to help with the growing menace of large, organised gangs. Finally, there is the Indian Removal Act. This one is different from my timeline, I am sure. The Native tribes were forced to reservations by the US Government, but here, many are being forced out completely into Mexico or Canada. This will be used against any tribe that takes arms against the US authorities. Reading between the lines of the story, I think there will be at least several. June sees the hanging of President McDonald''s assassin. Internationally, the Anglo-Egyptian war takes place. The British won and gained land concessions from the Egyptians, making them a protectorate. As for me, a thunderstorm rolls over the Dungeon, and the spatial bubble takes several strikes from lighting. It is an impressive light show. August is when things get interesting again in the news. Germany, Russia, and Austria-Hungary announced the Three Emperor Alliance, which caused uproar across the continent. Here in America, the 1882 Immigration Act is passed. Nicola Tesla accepts an invitation from the Royal Society of Science and moves to Britain. Adam Pilgrim and his band are still hard at work across the Great Plain States. The list of atrocities grows with every report, and his bounty increases to ten thousand dollars. It seems he is heading north. As for the Dungeon, things are quiet. The traffic on the road is regular, but no one is turning my way. I make sure that Herbert and Amy do not start sending people yet, as I think a few years of no significant activity will help people forget about me locally. Things go on, and the year approaches its end as winter comes. Winter gives way to spring, and the countryside is changing. I passively watch all of this scheming and planning for the future¡ªthat is until I hear a loud rumble from the west that sounds like a bang. When I heard the sound, my spatial bubble "quivered." "What was that?" I went to the top of my bubble and looked around. I saw nothing but all the local wildlife, which was extremely unsettled. My Hunters emerged concerned over the sound. I spent a few hours up there watching, but nothing came of it that day. But my spatial bubble interacted with something three times over the next twenty-four hours, the first being the bang I had heard. It was like a wave washing over it, which was the best way to describe it. Something had happened, but I did not know what. It was a few days later that I discovered what had happened. Krakatoa had reputed. It had caused seismic activity, ash clouds, and tsunamis. Devastation was being reported across the Pacific. North and South California reported flooding, with many lives lost and massive property damage from massive waves hitting the coastline. It was the start of June. The rest of the year went on, and again, I was being ignored, which, for the moment, suited me just fine. Fate had different ideas; it appeared because, in late August, I received a group of visitors. A very large group of visitors. I spotted them late in the day when I thought about leaving my spot at the top of the bubble. I had to count them three times as they rode up to the gates. I had many to count and make sure I was not dreaming. Four wagons with two men per wagon and fifty-four horseback riders. That meant sixty-two men were approaching. Sixty-two! They were all mud and dust-covered and dressed for long periods outdoors in the style of the time. As they got closer, I moved to the gate and saw something now scaring me. They were all heavily armed. They were not typically armed for the time, but each was sporting multiple firearms and different close-quarter weapons. This was an army! "Shit! Shit! Shit!" That was all that was going through my mind at first. Then, I focused and knew my Hunters would not stand a chance against this number. Wait, the spirit might, but that is not a given. "Fuck! What''s going on!" The men rode up and gathered in the clearing before the gates. The wagons were circled in the centre of the clearing, and the other riders dismounted and tied their horses to the wagons or the trees. The clearing was never meant for this number, and many peeled off into the trees, dismounting there. They gathered around the gates and the man who appeared to be the leader. "Gather men. We will head in. We are here on a great purpose." The man was about six feet tall, had a primarily white beard, was lean, and wore conservative outdoor clothing. Around his waist was a gun belt with a revolver, and he was holding a book. As he spoke, six heavy chests were offloaded from the wagons. The leader turned and entered through the gates, followed by the majority of the men. Four men carried the chests apiece. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] "Well, that is not¡­" [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] "¡­ alright, that is¡­" [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] "¡­. Another? Well, that is¡­" [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] ¡°¡­. Ok this¡­¡± [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] [Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!] "¡­ This is getting ridiculous now." The leader led the troupe down the southern pathway. I needed to figure out what I was going to¡­..
Well, Dungeon Keeper, this is unexpected! Five potential Hunters in one go with friends! What a popular Dungeon you are! But what shall be done? This means a Battle Royal! When the potential Hunters reach the church, they will be informed of the following conditions.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. To claim the position of Hunter, they will need to be the last man standing. That is by any means! All blade kills will count towards sacrifices and add to the Dungeons'' total. Any others will not. Good Luck!
"Arrgghh!" The sudden appearance of the blue screen surprised me, and I let out a "manly war cry" in response. Reading the screen made things even more confusing. As soon as I was finished, it disappeared. I reached out to my Hunters, who were stirring at the entrance of the intruders. "Beware, we have¡­. Fifty-eight heavily armed men in the Dungeon. Gather near the church entrance but remain hidden for now. When they enter the church, get closer and be ready. Something is going to happen." I knew they would obey and turned my attention back to the group. As I noted, they were heavily armed and a mix of ages and races. I was surprised at how diverse the group was. I noted Mexicans, African Americans, a few Native Americans, and Asians in the group. They all had a mean look in their eyes that I could identify as killers. As they walked, the leader started surmising, and I saw a priest''s collar on closer inspection. "Something really hinky is going on here." Due to the large number entering at once, I could not determine who the potential Hunters were. Over the last few years, I have often wondered what separates a Hunter from a killer. After some deliberation, I concluded that a Hunter is not just a killer but a truly evil thing. As the description said when I first came here, "Monsters that wear the faces of men" was apt. They were beyond a mere mass killer but something else. Psychopath was the closest term I could remember, but something beyond that is what they truly were. They were what police investigating their crimes would call "not human", at the very least. It was a bad description, but it was the best I could come up with. The chests slowed them but soon closed with the church. Several looked around at the graveyard and showed increasing confusion and fear. They were the ones noticing the strange things about it and its size. The subtle wrongness of the place was getting to them. "Fifty-eight with four guarding the horses and wagons. Let''s hope the potential Hunters thin the numbers." As they walked, I saw cliches within the group as different men were closer to others than the rest. Was that a sign of internal divisions? "Let''s hope." The sun was far from setting but was now in the west as they reached the church. They continued to follow the path around the church to the doors and, thankfully, did not walk on my flower beds. They were no prize winners, but I found some joy in keeping them. The leader was still preaching as they walked to the church doors, and he stopped when they reached them. He reached out, opened both of them and strode in. He walked to the altar, and his face became more confused than thunderous as he saw the statue standing behind the altar. The men followed him in. "Things will start soon." The leader stopped before the altar and looked slowly over it with the statue. The men dropped their chests and spread them across the room, many sitting on the wooded pews. Suddenly, the leader turned and thundered out. "We are here to do the Lord''s work. This place is no holy building, but I will reconsecrate it, and we shall first do this by tearing down this false idol." He pointed behind him to the statue of the Angel of Death. "Once this is done, we will store our holy gains here and use it to further our ends in the Lord''s name!" As he spoke, the power and conviction in his voice were impressive. He had a gravitas that drew you to him and made you listen. Some of the men started to move closer to him. "Preacher Pilgrim, will we start now or at first light?" One of the men asked. "We shall the Lord''s work now!" He declared as he slowly started walking forward into the group. Pilgrim? Was this Adam Pilgrim and his band of reavers and bandits? "Casting the false idol is but the first th¡­." Whatever he was about to say was suddenly ended by a man to his left drawing his revolver and shooting him in the head. The gunman was just behind him and out of his eyeline. Blood, bone and brain matter exploded from the front of his head as the bullet ripped through it. Hitting many of the closer men on that side. Adam Pilgrim, feared bandit and killer of Us Marshalls, fell forward dead onto the paved floor¡ªblood pooling from the fatal head wound. The room was in shocked silence. The echo of the shot is fading. The men looked confused, shocked, and a few hungry. Then they went for their guns. Gunshots from revolvers, rifles and shotguns boomed out in the room. Bullets were being discharged as fast as they could, and many missed in the frenzy of killing. My stained-glass windows suffered as bullets tore through them. The walls and pews also had enduring impacts, and I groan at the damage. Gunsmoke was fast filling the air. "I just repaired it all!" The cliches supported each other. Men died, and blood was fast decorating the floor and walls along with bullet holes. Some took cover; others were just shooting and pulling out new weapons as they ran out of ammunition. [A kill has been made] Several were now using blades. Bodies collided as the frenzy of killing escalated. [A kill has been made] Most were still using firearms, and many were trying to reload. Over half were down dead or badly wounded, with the others still fighting. Several sought to escape the madness. Three ran from the building, weapons out, looking over the shoulders straight into my Hunters, who had closed with the building as instructed. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] Inside, the killing continued without pause. [A kill has been made] The number of combatants was falling fast, but the smarter ones using the room''s furniture as cover were the last ones still fighting. I winced more as the damage to the building increased as the fight went on. Eight were left now. No calls for peace or pally were made. I watched as they were whittled down as they killed each other. [A kill has been made] Eventually, one man was left standing, wounded but still alive. I reached out to the Hunters outside. "Come in. We have work to do." He limped over and placed his bloodied hand on the altar. [Potential Hunter: Atticus Roberson. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon] [Do you accept: Yes or No.] "Yes." We went through the bonding procedure, and he seemed happy. My Hunters entered while this was happening, and he was unaware of them. When he did, he turned, leaning against the altar due to his wounds, pointing his Colt at the doorway. "No shooting." I spoke as I summoned my avatar to the room. "This is a fucking mess!" I took in the carnage and damage around me. "Atticus Roberson, meet John Rigger, Hector Rodriguez and Charles McGregor." I indicated their names to the Hunter as I spoke. "We need to deal with this. You three go and kill the four outside. Use your guns. They likely heard this commotion. And yes, I know you are levelling McGregor. Do this first and then head back to your liar." The gates were a mile away, but it is possible to have heard the extensive gunfire. I needed them gone and the horse and wagons secured. The hunters nodded and left to do my bidding. "Right now, to you." I took a good look at my latest Hunter. Atticus Roberson was a tall, broad black man with very dark skin. He had short, cropped hair and no beard. He was dressed in rough but well-made clothing that was covered in dust and blood. Most of it his own. He was leaning on the altar with a bullet wound in his shoulder and his leg. "We better get you settled." He was in too much pain to reply. I had to help him to the mausoleum I had chosen for him. Along the way, I explained the rules. Once I had him inside, I started to feel the strain of exerting my avatar. I looked at the countdown and added that he would be out of action for thirty-six hours to my calculations. I dismissed my avatar and went to the gates. My Hunters had killed the last four, and I was right. They had heard the fight and had been preparing to leave. "McGregor head back. You two secure the animals. Rodriguez, when you have done this, go and get Herbert and bring him to the church. Rigger, head back to the church; I know you are not enjoying the light." There were nods and some grunts of confirmation, and they got to work. I knew Rigger was suffering in the light and needed to get him out of it fast. I went back and took a closer look at the damage. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" This was going to a sod to clear up. I heard a few groans, and it turned out that not everyone was dead after all. When Rigger arrived, I set him the task of finishing them off, which he did with a grin that unsettled me more than I would admit. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] Right, now to the bloody work. I brought my avatar back. "Rigger, start searching the bodies. Money and valuables on the altar. Loot over there and the weapons on the other side. Start with this one." I indicated the locations, and he started working with Adam Pilgrim''s body. As he turned over the body, I looked at the chests. Each had a heavy padlock. The floor was fast gaining a layer of blood covering the surface as it spread from the cooling bodies. Body matter was also present. My shoes were soon covered in blood. A jingling of keys drew my attention. "Wait, unlock these if they fit." Rigger had discovered a bunch of large metal keys on Pilgrim''s body. My avatar would not last much longer, and I would need it to deal with Herbert. I indicated to the chest. Rigger went over and began testing the keys until one fitted the lock and opened the padlock. The chest was opened, and I was stunned by the condense. Silver dollars, maybe a few thousand in bags. Gold bars. Twelve in total. Silver bars. Fourteen in total. Another fourteen silver bars. A few thousand dollars in notes and coins. The last was filled with a few hundred twenty-dollar gold coins. "Fuck me, I am rich!" Rigger was uninterested in the wealth and went back to work. He was about a third of the way through the bodies when Rodriguez arrived with Herbert Driver. He took one look at the aftermath and went green, then started gagging. I summoned my avatar and yelled. "Throw up outside and not on my flower beds!" Chapter 23 It took the better part of three days to get everything at least organised. Herbert threw up for a good ten minutes until he was only dry heaving. Even then, he did not stop for a little longer. Eventually, he was able to stop and receive my instructions. He would take the hoses to the neighbouring town and sell them. If anyone asked, they were an inheritance from a relative''s death. He could choose which one he wanted, as I did not care. He could hire help if needed, but I wanted the horses gone after the wagons were emptied and dumped. Rodriguez oversaw that, leaving the contents next to the gates, which the Hunters moved in after the bodies were buried. He could keep the proceeds but was to return when he was done as there was more to do. He stumbled away. I was too busy to worry about him. So much to be done. Flies soon started to appear as my Hunters went through the bodies. I had them begin burying them as soon as the sunset. I looked over my newest Hunter''s stats when they did this.
Hunter Name Atticus Roberson
Level 1 Kills 0/5
Skills Loyalty Neutral
Blades. V
Handguns. IV
Rifles. IV
Stealth. III
Tracking. II
Explosives. III
Dark Traits
Cannibal
"Cannibal? Why just not mass murder? Seriously, can I just get a mass murderer for a change!" He was a skilled killer with a talent for explosives, which was new for the Dungeon. What could I do with that? I had no idea just yet. There were no kills, but that was due to his unique recruitment. McGregor emerged the next day to help and had gone through his second level up.
Hunter Name Charles McGregor
Level 3 Kills 0/12
Skills Loyalty Neutral
Acting. IIV
Blades. VI
Handguns. II
Rifles. II
Stealth. V
Dark Traits
Sadistic Predator
His blade skills had improved, which suited him. His picture showed me the changes he had gone through. He was paler, his skin almost translucent, and his eyes more bloodshot. I had thought he would show a more visible change, but not yet, it seemed. Roberson emerged a day and a half later and aided in burying the last bodies. Then, together, they went through the wagon''s contents. What was wanted or interested me was kept, and the rest dumped. What was taken and split up was the following. Tabacco divided. Alcohol divided. A small amount of opium is divided. I was not sure how I felt about that. It turned out old Adam liked to chase the dragon a bit. Several items of clothing, the rest of which went into storage for future use. Oh, Rigger got some new boots. All hunters received weapon upgrades if they desired them, and they did. They all sported newer-model Colts and Winchester repeating rifles with plenty of ammunition. What I gained was the following. A small arsenal of guns and other close-quarter weapons with several thousand rounds of ammunition. Stored in the crypts below the church.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Thirty sticks of dynamite with wire, blasting caps and two detonators. I had refused to allow Roberson this stuff and stored it far from the church. Nineteen watches of different makes, ranging from cheap to expensive, various assorted jewellery, silver cigarette cases, and other containers with precious metal plating, all stored downstairs. Then, to the big stuff. After a full twenty-four hours of counting, my wealth totals were now the following. $467.56 in change. $17,598 in notes of very value, the good old greenback. $2434 in silver dollars. 1420 twenty-dollar gold coins. 28 silver bars. And finally, 12 gold bars. The ones seen in films that you find in bank vaults. The total sum of Adam''s Pilgrim''s fifteen-year criminal career. Now mine. I learned that from Roberson. He liked to keep the money close and trusted none with the keys to the chests. "Yes, I am rich. Now, to start clearing up this mess. [Hide the Crime!]" Herbert needed help but got the horses to the neighbouring town and sold them for less than they were worth. He still made a healthy sum after all of his expenses were paid. I learned from Amy there were some questions, but they were eased with some alcohol and a bit of bribery when they did not believe the story. The relative who died was one of hers, making it harder to disprove. Amy was pregnant now and was growing in confidence as she was given more responsibilities, mainly at my insistence. I had her run the Driver family finances as Herbert liked to flash the cash, drink, and gamble a bit too much. He tried to complain, and I reminded him of what he witnessed in the church, which silenced any further protests. It was through her that I implemented the next phase of my plan. I continued to use the story of the family inheritance to have them price and buy the land under and around the Dungeon. This was to be covered with the excuse of protecting the public by hiding the place in the forest and not having any developer come in by land only to discover the graveyard. Who knows what would happen then? The land was not to be bought all at once but slowly over several years, and the town elders were happy to get rid of it. It was agreed that the land and some more would be bought for a set price over the next five years. It was easy to cover that cost now. The total was just over a thousand dollars with a slight discount. The local price was five dollars per acre right now. He was buying three hundred and fifty acres in total. This was just the start, as the forest was far larger, and the land just bought was barely a square mile. Once it was all done, the Driver family would be a mid-size landowner in the area, with the Rochester family being one of the largest. Knowing where their money had come from made me laugh. Amy reported that she suspected the older families were not completely fooled and were watching them now. I had them be more careful when visiting, just in case. The church was being cleared of blood, but the damage was extensive and would not be repaired until I reached my next level. This would expose the inside of the church to the elements. Thankfully, the crypts were safe. [Hide the Crime!] could only do so much but was improving. Autumn arrived, and I settled into my usual routine. I was still receiving news from the world, but not much caught my attention. More rail companies were forming, and the Orient Express started in Europe. Toward the end of October, the Supreme overturned most of the Civil Rights Act of 1875. Former President Adram Lincon criticises this, claiming it was detrimental to the country. He had led the arguments in its defence when the Court had heard them. He had been credited with not seeing a complete repeal. November saw the institution of five standard time zones on both US and Canadian railways. Across the Western states, robberies and hold-ups continued, but the local Sheriffs or Marshals were hunting down more criminals. Reports of dramatic gun fights appeared at least once a week in the paper. Many were wondering where Adam Pilgrim was presently and what dastardly deeds he was planning. "Buried half a mile from here and rotting." I chuckled as I read the worried editorial. The first regiments of the Royal Canadian Army were raised and presented their colours near the end of December, before Christmas. The US Government called it a "provocation". I had no more visitors after Pilgrim and his group. I was happy about that. 1884 starts with little happening globally or locally. Heavy snows halt nearly all travellers beyond the rail, and even then, there are delays. I did get an interesting piece of information from Amy: several Marshals were in the area trying to pick up the trail of Adam Pilgrim. I stayed watchful during January. I had hoped they would pass me by, but I got four riders approaching the gates late one day. I suspect there is at least one Marshall amongst them. Shifting to the gates, I was sadly proven right¡ªa Marshall and three riders. "I do not think there will be anyone here." One of the men was saying. "You have said this before." Said another. He had a Marshall badge on his coat. "Why hang out here? It''s a graveyard." The first man continued. "No amenities or housing. No sane man would stay here." The Marshall stood at the gates looking out across the graveyard. "Who built it?" The question was not what the first was expecting, and he stumbled into his answer. "Sorry. What did you say, Marshall?" He asked. "I asked who built this place. Because from the number of graves and tombs, there was a mighty large amount of people dying at some time around these parts." He said, turning to the first. "So, Mr Turner, who built this place?" Mr Turner was on the spot and had gone pale. I suspected he was a local and was not eager to answer that question even if he could. "Your silence is even more telling." The Marshall turned to the other two men. "We go in and have a look around. Shout out if you see anything." They nodded, and all carried firearms. Bundled up against the cold, they seemed ready for trouble. They started to enter the Dungeon, but Turner refused. The Marshall noticed and turned to the other man. "Not coming, Mr Turner?" "No sir, I am not. Searching the area, I will help you with, and I have. This place has a reputation of ill repute. I shall leave you to this course of action." He about-faced and left the gates, remounted his horse, and left the three behind. "Do you want me to go and bring him back, Marshall Jones?" The man to his left asked. "No, Issac. It''s best to leave him to his ride back to Crossway." Marshall Jones turned and faced the plinth. He read the inscription as he continued talking. "Something mighty strange is happening here, and I want to know what." "True, Marshall, this place is a grand place for such a young town like Crossway. I would have expected something like this out east." The other said. "I agree. Let''s get going." They went along the northern path. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] I sensed my Hunters stirring. I reached out to them. "Three lawmen, all armed, heading north." I followed behind the three men, listening to their conversation. "Mighty unsettling place," Issac commented. "I agree." Marshall Jones replied. The three men went silent after that, and all that was heard was the crunching of their footfalls through the snow covering the ground. There were no other sounds this was mainly due to the time of year. I checked the sun''s position. It was still too early to see the spirit. We were in Roberson''s hunting grounds right now, and I was a little concerned as he had no kills to protect him from death if he fought these men. Another factor became apparent as my Dungeon grew denser and larger. My Hunters took longer to move around and find their prey or intruders. The maze layout was working against them as much as the intruders. "I will need to get them out more to learn the Dungeons layout." I thought about it, but that was for another day, as I needed to focus on these men first. I continued to follow them. I noticed Roberson stalking them from behind now. He had picked up on their trail and remained behind to maximise not being seen. The men were always looking around, which caused him to duck out of sight often. They were now crossing into the spirits'' hunting grounds. This part of the Dungeon had more trees, but they were all bare. The sky was overcast, and there were plenty of shadowy areas, but not enough for the spirit to appear. Rodriguez had arrived to join the hunt. I suspected the other two would be here soon. The men continued, not aware of the danger following them. "Odd." The man whose name I did not know said. "What is it?" Jones asked. "These graves are blank," he said. They had turned a corner and could now see the faces of some of the graves that were not hidden by snow. It was a little fun fact that all the mausoleums and graves faced the church. I also discovered that when they moved, their bodies moved with them. They stopped and looked at what he was seeing. "You''re right. Reckon that''s might strange." "Let''s keep going. Good eyes spotting that, Gerald." Jones said. They started walking again and went deeper into the maze of my Dungeon. They made a few wrong turns and were forced to double back and take another route. All four Hunters were now present. This was the second problem of my Dungeon. Unless I was directing them, they did not work together. I sighed mentally and intervened. "Attack them at the next major path junction." This got them moving. There was another issue to look into. This one would be far harder to resolve, as their natures are the source of the problem. I positioned myself to watch the fight. The Huter had come here from a more oblique direction to avoid leaving tracks. The three men reached the junction, and the Hunters emerged from their hiding places and attacked. Their footfalls in the snow alerted the men, who turned as they ran at them. "Who are you¡­" Marshall Jones started, but the drawn weapons told him everything he needed to know. "Fire! Do not let them get too close." Rodriguez and Roberson fired first while holding their Colts ready for use. They discharged as they ran in and aimed to hit them, but this threw off the intruder''s aim. There shots going wide, but not by much. As this worked, it allowed them to get close enough for close-quarters combat. Rigger was further away and failed to reach the melee before it began. The lawmen never had the opportunity to access their close combat weapons and had to defend themselves with their rifles. Against my Hunters, the fight went as I expected it to. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Bury the bodies in room single room mausoleum." Not even I was so cruel to have them dig a grave in frozen ground. Rigger stomped off to the horses in a bad mood as he had not killed anyone. I reminded him of the additional kills he made in the church when Pilgrims gang died. Roberson looked odd but got to work as I returned to the church. The loot was collected, and horses were released. The split happened, and the Hunters shuffled off except for Roberson. He seemed unsure, so I took my avatar form to take the additional money and the Marshall badge downstairs. "Pardon, Keeper. Might I have a word?" He started. "Of course, Roberson. What do you want?" "I was hoping to get a pot belly stove for my lair?" He was acting like he was asking for something expensive and complicated. "I do not believe your lair has the ventilation to handle the smoke from such a stove?" "I reckon I put in a small chimney as well. I have done it before." He seemed to have thought this out. "Very well, take this money and go see Herbert to buy one. If you need more, let me know." He did, and the next week, a cast iron pot belly stove with a small metal pile chimney was added to his layer. There were plenty of tools in storage. He went out and gathered firewood, in addition to exploring the Dungeon better with the other Hunters. They grumbled but did as I instructed. He had not lit the stove yet, which I found odd, and had acquired cooking utensils from storage. This confused me until I remembered¡­. Cannibal. This all happened in late January, and I let the days pass, but I instructed Amy when she was going to Crossway to remember to look out for some things and seek a single piece of documentation that made me curious. Just how much power did the US Marshalls now have? Chapter 24 Amy was heavily pregnant now and was getting ready for the birth of her first child. I had suggested she head into Crossway to be closer to the local doctor, which she agreed to, but she gave me something that interested me before she left. Canada: Revolution to Dominion and Beyond by Rupert C. Giles. It was mid-February, and things had gone quiet again. The book was the Canadian slant on the last book I had read on a century of US history. Hopefully, it would supply answers, and it did. It was not as jingoistic as the first, but not by much. I think it was just the times. It started with the end of the War of Independence. It explained how twelve per cent of the population of the former thirteen colonies got up and moved to Canada rather than live in the new Republic, becoming the bulk of the Anglo-Canadians today. Things went into the Napoleonic Wars. When Spain joined France, Britain used it as an opportunity to take Cuba and Porta Rico. The Spanish garrisons were having problems with insurgents and were quickly overwhelmed. The British Crown made deals with the local Cubans and made them into a protectorate. Porta Rico was made into a colony. There was not much until the War of 1812. Surprisingly, the author admitted that the British had started this one. The US Navy went on the offensive, raiding the Caribbean, attempting to blockade the British Isles, and launching an invasion of Canada. The War was fought on several fronts¡ªTecumseh with the British in the Great Lakes. The Gulf, Chesapeake campaign and the Atlantic were scenes of many engagements. At first, things were disjointed, and the fighting was sporadic. An attempted invasion of Canada was soundly defeated, but the US Navy was hitting the British merchant fleet. With the help of the Native Tribes, the British made progress in the Great Lakes. The US Army reinforced, but it suffered a string of defeats. The US Navy had more successful engagements, but they did not have it all go their way. Things went back and forth except in the Great Lakes, where the US suffered severely. The Royal Navy arrived in force and started a large-scale blockade of the East Coast. President James Madison declares, "The free Fifteen will stand and remind the British that we are a free people." It was not until 1814 that things changed. The US Navy suffered two significant blows between June and August. During a storm outside of Boston, two flotillas discovered each other and engaged. Looking at the damage and casualties, I would have called it a confused draw, but the loss of the US Navy''s newest warship, the USS Boston, hit the navy''s morale along with the civilians. The news of the invasion of New Orleans then arrives. The city''s fall forced the Navy and the Army to take action. A large force sets sail from the harbour of New York and is ambushed because a spy leaks the fleet''s plan to the British. The Royal Navy crossed the T and mauled the US Navy ships. The Army is defeated outside the city. All this added to internal pressures, causing massive civil unrest across the northern states. Open demands for secession were soon heard in different state senates. Napoleon had abdicated, freeing the battle-hardened British Army to come to the North American theatre. Peace was signed the following year, and the state of Cascadia was declared. Then came the US invasion of the Tecumseh Confederation, which was the next thing that affected Canada. The combined Native population withdrew across the Great Lakes and escaped the US Military. This increased tensions with the Anglo-Quebec population, which saw them head west into the Great Plains States. They were encouraged to do this with land grants and establishing loans. This caused tensions with the Tribes already there, but eventually, they came to an arrangement to live together. British forces invaded and annexed Alaska during the Crimean War and took it as part of the peace treaty. They did not hide that they were happy to have it part of the Canadian Territories. Things went on with the Dominion of Canada, established in 1865, with the establishment of the transcontinental railway, which linked the two coastlines. Many approved of this due to the ongoing conflict in the US with the Civil War. Many freed or escaped slaves made their way to the new Dominion in the years leading up to and during the War. Newfoundland remained separate from the new dominion under British control. Since then, the country has had issues but is moving forward. The biggest was the sizeable Native population, which increased their stake in the nation''s economic power. The native French speakers in Quebec were another. "Well, that was interesting." I put the book with the other and went back to work. March reported on a story that caused a stir: a man named John Montgomery conducted the first glider flight but died in a crash on the fourth one. Many were debating whether this would lead to future human technological development. May had the establishing of the eight-hour workday by the Federation of Organised Trades and Labour Unions. Gordon was besieged in Khartoum, but the British tried to mount a military campaign to relieve the siege. During these months, I watched for any trouble caused by Marshall Jones''s disappearance. Herbert and Amy added a son named Joshua to their family, making my plan more viable. Towards the end of May, Herbet came to the Dungeon worried. I saw him approaching and met him at the gates. I wondered what had him so concerned. "Keeper, we have a problem." "What would that be, Mr Driver." "The city fathers have given me an ultimatum or an offer, but I''m not sure which one it is." I did not ask, but my look told him to get on with it. He visibly swallowed and then continued. "They are demanding full payment for the land but have offered for a sizable sum a greater stretch of land if I could make the payment." "How much land and how much for?" "They are seeking an additional $10,000 in return for¡­." He pulled a map out of his pack and opened it up. On it was the marked area we were buying, but they offered a second line for an additional $10,000. This covered nearly the entire forest area around the dungeon. In total, it was over 5000 acres. I would not lie and say that it was not interesting, but what caused them to ask for such a sum now? There was a series of legal documents, and the map outlined everything. Looking at Herbert Driver, I wondered? "Who have you been speaking to, Herbert?" His face suddenly paled, and his eyes went round. He tried to start her out with some excuse or a lie, but the look on my face told him otherwise. My suspicion was correct. He had been speaking. Over the next few minutes, I got the tail out of him that he had been drinking while visiting Crossway and mentioned that he had come into a large sum of money far beyond what they claimed the inheritance was. I ensured he had not mentioned me or the full extent of the wealth I now possessed. With this knowledge, I went back to the documentation he had received.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The more I looked at it, the more confident I became that this was not a simple push to get a bigger land deal but a shakedown. Someone inside Crossway was trying to extort all the money they could from Mr Driver. "Herbert, who is pushing for this deal?" "I do not understand, Keeper, what you mean?" Games of intrigue were not his Forte. "Who in the town has been talking to you most about this, trying to get you to sign it?" "Oh, that would be Mr Myers." He said after a few moments of thought. "I take it that this Mr Myers is part of the Crossway council?" "Oh yes, he moved to the town a few years ago and has become established as a local businessman." I continued to speak to Herbert, and it quickly became clear that this Mr Myers was a shark who preyed on those around him. Well, he thought he was a bully and a hard man, but he had not encountered me and mine yet. I looked over the map again and considered the pros and cons. This might work out in my favour. "Herbert, I''m going to give you the $10,000. And this is what you''re going to do¡­." I gave him the money and sent him on his way with stringent instructions and a real warning. I had McGregor come out of his lair to help reinforce my unhappiness with what he had done and revealed. This Mr Myers might become an issue for me, so I will have to do a bit of Recon. Roberson was probably the best choice for this, as he was the hunter least tied to the dungeon at the moment. This meant he could spend the longest away. I roused him from his layer and sent him off with instructions to Crossway. I had him ride with Herbert to act as an escort and protection. Part of his instruction was to oversee the transfer and signing of the paperwork. However, the central part was to research and recon on Mr. Myers and his assets. I didn''t want to, but I might be forced to take action beyond the limits of my domain. Roberson returned near nightfall and felt the strain of being away so long. He reported his findings to me, and I was both happy and more concerned. Herbert had gone to the lawyer I had told him to find, and the paperwork was checked over and confirmed to be legitimate, with no hidden clauses that could be used against him. He was now the proud owner of a little over 5,000 acres of prime woodland in the territories of Idaho. The fact that he had been able to stump up the money and pay it off in one go had caused quite a stir in town. From what he could see, Roberson informed me that this Mr Myers was not happy. I suspected he hoped that Herbert would not be able to pay off the first amount, let alone take the second one, but I could back him financially. Mr Archibald Myers was indeed a local businessman. He arrived in town less than three years ago yet established himself as one of the most influential businessmen in the area. Roberson, I''ve seen many businesses in town that bore his name. He also owned quite a lot of land in the Northwest that was used for mining and logging. He was an industrialist, not a farmer, it seems. From what gossip he could gather, most of the population was neutral about the new entrepreneur in their midst. Several, however, hinted that they suspected he was responsible for darker deeds in acquiring his business ventures and forcing out his competition. Yes, I feared this one was going to be trouble. Plans will need to be made. When he was recovered, Roberson was sent on several more intelligence-gathering missions. For now, I would not take any action but watch and wait to see what he would do. Not long after Amy gave birth of her first child, she and the boy returned to their homestead. From what Herbert told me, both mother and son were doing well. Roberson overheard her yelling at Herbert over his indiscretion about revealing the money. It seems she had the situation well in hand, and I did not expect a repeat of it. I had Herbert acquire a map of the area he now owned as my proxy and another of the surrounding states and Cascadia. I put it up in the crypts below the church so I could look at it whenever I desired. I now controlled everything from the rough dirt roads to the ravine in the West. Also, my dungeon now owned a fair chunk of woodland to the north and south. The end of May saw an economic panic that deepened the country''s depression. The economy had not been well since 1882, but things were getting worse as many were cutting back on credit to small and large institutions. May surrender to June, and the month passed with little of interest happening in my area. Internationally, Germany was claiming new colonies around Africa and in the Pacific, which was raising tensions with the British Empire. July arrived, and as the town of Crossway celebrated Independence Day, I read about the establishment of the Dow Jones Transportation Average. When I recognised the name of the Stock Exchange from my world, I wondered if it would be as powerful as it was there as in this. August, however, turns out to be a far more interesting month for the East Coast of America at the start. A large earthquake rocks many states, causing extensive damage mainly through New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania. This only aggravates the national economic woes as many businesses and factories are damaged, which they cannot find sources of credit to repair if they do not have the money themselves. The Sino-French war in the Pacific broke out at the end of August. According to reports, the French initially seemed to dominate the conflict. I had watched traffic along the road at the forest''s edge all year, and none had turned to come up to the Dungeon. I was secretly glad of this, as it gave me time to allow the memories of those who had disappeared here to fade. Killing too many too fast would attract far too much attention, and I was not ready for that. All year, the papers asked the same question: where were Adam Pilgrim and his gang? Other gangs had been active, especially in the southwest near the Mexican border, and we''re now starting to draw the attention of the US Marshall Service. I had secured a copy of the US Marshall Act and had read it through. It seems here that the US marshals were fast becoming what the FBI was in my world. They have been divided into several organisational bureaus, each dedicated to a specific crime or job. Such bureaus are the Bureau of Fugitive Transport, the Bureau of Cross-State Border Pursuit and the Bureau of Judicial Protection, to name a few. The southwest was terrorised by a very large gang of individuals known as the "Cowboys". With Pilgrim and his gang''s disappearance, the Marshall Service was now focused on this other group as they were spread across several states, causing trouble. There had been several reports of running gun fights, and even military forces called in to support the Marshalls as they shut down different aspects of this criminal gang. Many within Marshall''s higher echelons claimed that they would have the territories pacified and order restored by the end of the year. As the months rolled on and the number of gunfights increased, I wondered if they would. It seems that these "Cowboys" had other ideas. September was another quiet month, both locally and nationally. Internationally, it was also pretty quiet, except for the discovery of a gold deposit in Argentina, which triggered a new gold rush there. October rolled around, and at the start of the month, Congress rejected the US Navy''s request for a Naval War College to be established. Since the end of the Civil War, the US Navy had been relegated more to a support role. They had been unable to blockade the Confederate States coast, and many new ships were built, but this wave of new construction stopped after the conflict. It was problematic for the US Navy to get any funds to upgrade or get new ships. At the end of the month, Greenwich was declared the world''s prime meridian. November saw the US in election mode, as the 1884 United States presidential election returned a new Republican president to the White House. President-elect Arthur Windborne ran a campaign to restore the equality laws that the Supreme Court had recently gutted. He only won the presidency with two votes in college and faced a Congress and Senate controlled by the Democrats. By now, the weather had changed around the Dungeon. The leaves on the trees were mostly gone, and the cold wind was blowing off the mountains or coming in from the north. There was a lot of rain, and I suspected it would turn to snow quite soon. I''m settled in for the winter now, but one last story caught my attention from near the Mexican border. Near Frisco in New Mexico, on December the 1st, a deputy sheriff arrests a member of the Cowboys. The gang does not take too well to this and seeks to free the prisoner. Things quickly escalated into a major gun battle as several marshals, along with the posse, arrived to support the deputy. One Marshall, several members of the posse, eleven civilians and sixteen Cowboys are killed. The prisoner was not freed. "Pacified my crystal backside." Chapter 25 During a heavy snowstorm, 1885 arrives. January kicks the year off fast and hard, with a lot happening, mostly internationally. The French are pushing the Chinese back on all fronts. The British reached Khartoum and relieved the siege, rescuing General Gordon. Irish nationalists tried to blow up a tower in London with dynamite but were prevented. The US Marshall Service and the Cowboys engaged in several running fights during the month, leading to nearly thirty deaths combined. In February, the United States government protested the expansion of the British naval base in the Hawaiian Islands. King Leopold II of Belgium announced that he was keeping the colony of the Congo for the Belgian people. Finally, the outgoing president dedicated the Washington Monument in Washington, D.C. Of course, other things are happening internationally and locally, but nothing else catches my attention. There is one final thing to add: the US Marshall Service went through a bit of a shake-up and announced two new ranks within the organisation: Deputy Marshall and Senior Marshall. The deputy marshals are drawn from local men who have acted with the Marshall service in their policies, but I have now taken on full-time and are working towards the rank of full Marshall. Senior Marshalls run locales or specific operations within states or even counties, depending on the level of crime. This might impact me in the future, but there was not much I could do about it right now, so I didn''t concern myself. With the start of March, I am overlooking my dungeon from my favourite spot at the top of the spatial bubble. Overall, I am happy with my dungeon and how it is progressing. In hindsight, I still feel that my first few years here saw me expand a bit too fast. The dungeon is now a two-mile circular area, a mile from the church to the gate. The maze layout of the paths has increased in complexity and density, with surface tombs, mausoleums, statues, and graves now blocking a direct route to the church. With the kill count at 14 out of 80 so far, I knew that I was not looking at a new level for quite possibly a few years. The massive firefight damaged the church, and I could only repair a small amount of it using [Hide the Crime!]. The winter weather had brought some damage to the inside of the building due to the smashed windows, the altar, and the statue, with the only parts unaffected. Sure, both had extensive bullet scars from impacts and ricochets, but the weather hand had not touched them yet. I did a rough calculation and knew there were at least 140 bodies at very least now buried within my dungeon. I could go down and count them all and get the exact amount, but I could not be bothered. Roberson was the most active of my hunters as I sent him out doing various little jobs for me, mostly tracking Archibald Myers''s business movements in the land around me. It seemed he wasn''t making any overt moves toward my dungeon, but I would not bet on it in the future. The biggest news in March was a clash between the British and Russian empires On the British Indian frontier. Tensions quickly escalated, but the Kaiser called a diplomatic meeting in Berlin to resolve the issue. The Anglo-German treaty also emerged later in the year, which sorted out several colonial problems they had in the scramble for Africa, an agreement not to violate each other''s territories. The other two members of the three-emperor alliance eventually agreed to it. Canada had some issues with several native tribes during this. Still, due to the large number of natives throughout the northwest and central territories, they could resolve the problems without bloodshed. It was at the end of April that I got my next visitor to the Dungeon. A man rode up from the dirt road along the path through the trees to the gates. I spent the last few weeks getting the flower beds ready for replanting, and it was one of the few days I decided not to work on them. This allowed me to spot him as he approached. He dismounted before the gates and took the horse to a nearby tree. He was dressed ruggedly but strangely did not have any visible firearms. He pulled a wooden stick or bat wrapped in barbed wire from the horse''s pack. He walked in through the gates and stood before the plinth. I watched him as he read over the inscription and then turned and started walking South. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] Well, this limited my options. I took a closer look at him. He was in his mid-30s and white. He had brown hair and a brown beard and wore a cowboy hat on his head¡ªa Stenson, I believe it was called. He wore a long coat and carried a bat wrapped in barbed wire in his hand. I did not know if he carried any other weapons under the coat, as I could not see them. McGregor¡¯s territory was the first he was going to wander into. My hunters were stirring in my dungeon with the notification that the challenger was present. I decided to settle back and watch after Challenger wandered through my dungeon. I had not seen McGregor, knowing he was looking for the challenger. I felt the training I had been getting them to go through in understanding the dungeon''s layout would now benefit him more. The challenger was doing his best to navigate the increased complexity of the maze of the dungeon. The quick routes cutting through the dungeon were mainly closed off now, so he had to follow the pathways. Progress was being made but slowly. He made a few false turns and was forced to double back. It was during the second time he was returning to the main path that I noticed McGregor had found him. The last time anyone was in the Dungeon and McGregor stalked him alone, he was a little kill shy. He had killed since then, but I wondered if he was confident enough to handle this one on his own. Watching him, he seemed more willing to get involved this time. If he did not, I would have taken action later. It was late afternoon, and the dungeon was becoming darker. It was not the cause of the sun''s position as such, but as the dungeon was now far more congested with structures, the places where deep shadows or darkness could form quickly increased. McGregor used this to his advantage, keeping out of sight and moving from dark patch to dark patch. I noticed the hateful spirit was also out and about more often in the early morning and evening. As her lair was close to the walls, they also contributed to the amount of shadow and dark patches formed. I realised I was getting distracted and focused again back on what was happening. We were now approaching the edge of McGregor''s territory, and I wondered if he would make a move. I should''ve had the answer as he was now angling towards his prey, approaching from behind to ambush him. His blade was drawn and hunched over low, and he moved as quickly and quietly as possible.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Alas, this did not work out as well as he hoped. Somehow, his opponent became aware of his approach and spun to meet him. What he was hoping would turn into a simple ambush was now a fight. And he was at a disadvantage, as the challenger had his, what I was going to call a bat wrapped in barbed wire, which gave him the ability to strike at longer distances. Which, unfortunately for McGregor, he did. There were no exclamations of surprise or questioning of who he was. The challenger just attacked. He swung in with the bat, and McGregor was forced to block it with his left arm. However, his heavy clothing protected him from much of the possible damage he would have taken. It did not stop him from grunting in pain, and I could see blood flowing from some minor injuries caused by the wire. I didn''t think his arm was broken, but it was definitely bruised. McGregor used the opportunity to step in and attempt to stab his opponent. However, the challenger could step back quickly and avoid the blade thrust. This challenger knew what he was doing and used his weapon to his advantage, keeping the distance between them. Two more strikes quickly hit McGregor, and he used his arms to block them. From the impacts, I knew he was in danger of suffering a break if things kept up the way they were. I could not interfere, but I knew that he had to change his tactics, or he would lose this one. It seemed that he knew as well and did something desperate. Ignoring all pretences of defence, he charged forward straight at the challenger. This caught him by surprise, as he was not expecting it, and finally allowed McGregor to get close enough to use his blade. He knew this was his only opportunity and stabbed forward with his blade multiple times into the gut of the challenger. The man screamed but then was soon coughing up blood as his stomach had been punctured many times. He collapsed back with McGregor on top of him, still stabbing away. I knew this fight was over and just awaited the notification. [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡°And there it is.¡± McGregor stood covered in blood from his kill. He was favouring his left arm, and I suspected he was far more injured than I had realised. ¡°McGregor, can you deal with the body?¡± He looked at his arm, lifting it and flexing it. He was grimacing the whole time, and he shook his head. ¡°No, Keeper, I think it might be broken.¡± Was his frank assessment. ¡°Alright, I''ll get the others to deal with the body and his horse outside. Head back to your layer and get healed.¡± He simply nodded and headed off while I rounded up the other hunters and got them to work. There was a little grumbling, but they got to work. Roberson was the happiest as he took one of the challenger''s legs for himself. What little the challenger had was split up, favouring McGregor as he had made the kill. It took him just over 10 hours to heal, but as soon as he was, he took his cut, and all the hunters retired to their liars. May passes with little happening. I had spent the month watching the hateful spirit and her movement habits. I had noticed before that she was a bit more active and only retired when the sun was over the walls. I wondered what the long-term effects of this would be. If I increased the size of the mausoleums along with the next time I levelled, she would have spent even longer outside due to the increased number of areas of shade and darkness. An interesting question, to be sure, but one I could not answer just yet, so I turned my attention back to my flower beds. June dominates the calendar. The arrival of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour is a major event. The city and nation are abuzz with its installation, which the press hails as one of the great achievements and representations of modern democracy. New York celebrates its arrival with a large and lavish party. I received another visitor in the early evening of the last day of June. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] ¡°What another one!¡± I spent the day in the church reviewing weapons and other items outside my wealth. I was starting to build up quite a collection of US Marshall badges, and I am not proud of this. I shifted my attention to the gates and found another man had entered the Dungeon and was heading north along the path. Another white man, this time cleanly shaven but dressed in sturdy-looking clothes. He carried an axe, and I saw several knives attached to his belt. Across his back, he was strapped a pack with a water canteen attached to it. He, too, wore a hat but had blonde hair this time. The sun was fast approaching the mountains, and the Dungeon was starting to darken. I looked around and realised it was now dark enough for the hateful spirit to emerge. He was making steady progress along the path and would soon enter her hunting area. As he was a recognised challenger, I had to sit back and wait to see what would happen. He reached the outskirts of her hunting domain and crossed into it, oblivious to the danger. He was still skirting the edge of the dungeon wall and hadn''t made any turnings to take him deeper. This was a mistake, as the mausoleums on the wall shadowed his whole area. I wondered if the spirit was aware of his presence until I saw the faint glow a short distance away. ¡°Here we go.¡± She appeared in her non-threatening form and seemed to be walking amongst the gravestones, which hid the fact that she wasn''t actually making contact with the ground. The challenger quickly spotted her and became very wary. ¡°Smart, not taking anything for granted.¡± He got closer and attempted to engage her in conversation, but she turned her attention to him. I said she was trying to use her seduction abilities on him, but it did not seem to be working. She moved a little closer to him, and when he did draw away, she attacked. Her sudden change and scream of hate disoriented the challenger. She was on him before he could defend himself, and he was torn to pieces. She started with his clothing and quickly reached his torso. Skin and blood and soon organs were flying through the air in different directions as she clawed him with a frenzied desire to inflict harm. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Even after his death, she continued to claw and mutilate the body. The spirit did not stop until she had totally desecrated the remains. Only then did it wander away, heading back towards its lair¡ªthe follow-up notification I got explained why, as it was now about to level. I waited until it returned to its lair and got the Hunters to clean up the remains and deal with the horse. It was an equal split this time, but there was very little again. The next day, the spirit was again sighted north of the Dungeon. I opened its character sheet to see what was different now.
Hunter Name Hateful Spirt (Mary Johnstone)
Level 3 Kills 0/12
Perks Loyalty Hateful
Spirt Form (Rare)
Seduction (Common)
Death Shriek (Common)
Talons (Common)
Dark Traits
Hateful Spirt! I
¡°Talons?¡± I opened the description and found that when she went into attack mode, her hands were no longer claws but full-blown talons. They were capable of inflicting far more damage than just her extended fingernails and could even cut through wood, given time. This replaced her claws on her sheet as they were an upgrade to them. This new perk made her far more dangerous when she crossed the distance and was close in. I would have to make sure that the other Hunters did not approach this area unless I was with them. They did this now, but I couldn''t risk an altercation between the spirit and them. I knew she disturbed them, so they avoided the area anyway. I contacted him, informed him of the change in spirit, and warned them to stay away unless I was with them personally. Their responses confirmed my suspicions that they were quite happy never to come to this hunting area. ¡°Well, it''s been a busy year so far!¡± Chapter 26 July 1885 was a very wet month. The month started with a large thunderstorm that swept through the area, but it was quickly followed up by several other smaller storms that kept the whole area subdued. Anything in the open was pounded by fat, heavy drops of water from the sky. Thankfully, there was no lightning show from strikes on the spatial bubble. The damaged windows in the church let a lot of rain in, and I was forced to do some basic cleaning to ensure that the water did not cause any long-term damage. I was sure my next level up would repair all the damage anyway, but I wouldn''t take any chances. It also gave me something to do, which was quite welcome, as though I had two challenges so far this year; overall, it had been pretty quiet. It was good to find out if there were any limits to what my avatar could do outside those I already knew. Over the years, insects had migrated into the Dungeon, but no animals. It seemed that there was a beehive now in a tree on the south side of the Dungeon that was doing quite well. In the last 15 years, the wind had brought in quite a few seeds of flowers that had taken root in the Dungeon, which I had used to create my flower beds. The bees had set up shop and were now pollinating all these flowers across the South side of the Dungeon right up to the church. They arrived about two years ago, and I suspected I could take up beekeeping if I wanted. I had thought about it for a while but decided against it because it was too much work. I had no knowledge of the job, but I had the advantage of not being able to be stung by the bees. I discovered that by trial and error with them. Roberson''s lair was the only one with a potbelly stove and a crude chimney. Smoke was produced at the start of the month as he cooked up the leg of the last challenger who had died in the Dungeon. Over the winter, he had gone out and collected firewood and built up a small store of it within his lair. It was at this time I was thankful that I had no sense of smell. From what I remembered of the stories about cannibals, cooked human flesh smelled and resembled pork. Hence why cannibals generally referred to people as "long pork". The other Hunters were less active. Roberson has been much more active overall since he arrived. He often asked to be sent out to do various deeds or look for things for me. The others were more content to wait and amuse themselves when active in their own ways in private, but he liked to be a bit more engaged. I decided to have a conversation within one day to see how much I could learn. "Another firewood run, Roberson?" "Yes, Keeper, I used up a bit more than I expected," I spoke to him as he left his lair with an axe in hand. "I must admit I''m surprised by your enthusiasm to be out and about. Your fellow Hunters prefer their solitude." "I grew up on a large farm as a slave near the Madison Dixie line in Tennessee. As soon as I was freed, I could not be bound in one place. If I did, my feet started itching." "How about now that you have joined my Dungeon?" "I was initially concerned as my rambling ways always brought me great joy. But I have found that these little excursions fill my needs." We spoke as he walked towards the gates, following the paths through the gravestones. Of all my hunters, he was the most knowledgeable about these routes. "I am interested to know when you received your education." He smiled at the question. "Yes, many of the white folks find it perplexing to speak to an educated negro. Though I am surprised that you are not, Keeper." "Let us just say that my experiences are far different from the average person you would meet in the world." Roberson laughed at that as he walked. We were quiet for a few minutes as he continued towards the gate. As he drew near it, he suddenly stopped, and we both heard the sounds of horse wine. "Hide. I will investigate what is going on." He said nothing but stepped away into the trees and gravestones and quickly made himself hard to see. I approached the gates and saw another rider tying his horse up. "Another one?" From his clothing and skin tone, it was clear he was Mexican or from close to the border. He was wearing a sombrero and a poncho. As I watched, he removed his gun belt and hung it on his saddle. He unhooked a satchel from the horse''s saddle and diagonally had the strap across his torso. Finally, he pulled a large blade out and tested the grip in his hand. The blade was more of a meat cleaver than a knife or a short sword. He attached a leather cord from the handle to his wrist that I quickly determined would stop him from dropping the blade. Smart. I watched as he approached the gates somewhat hesitantly, scanning around as if he were expecting to be ambushed at any moment. It took a few more moments, but he crossed the threshold into the courtyard and stood before the plinth. I saw him mouth the words written there, and from his expression, he seemed relieved, as he had never expected them to be here in the first place. He looked down the southern path and then the northern path. He seemed to be deciding which way to go and was looking for a sign to give him a clue. He eventually turned and walked up the northern path, as the southern path had quite a few bees flying around, and I think he wanted to avoid them. Ironically, this was taking him directly towards Roberson. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] The minute he left the courtyard and the notification came, I could no longer interfere in what was about to happen. The man moved up the path at a respectable pace, constantly looking around, vigilant for any danger that would come. He only took a few minutes to reach where Roberson was hiding. He passed by him with no indication that he had become aware of his presence. Around the Dungeon, I sense the other Hunters stirring.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. "Well, it looks like Roberson gets the first crack at this one." Roberson emerged from behind the challenger''s back as soon as he passed him. He quickly moved up behind him, action hand ready to be used. He got into striking range just after the challenger became aware of his presence. With a loud grunt, he swung down with all his force, driving the axe into the challenge''s head. The back of the skull could not stand against the axe blade and collapsed, causing blood and brain matter to explode out of the wound. Roberson received a splattering of blood from the impact, most of it on his face, which he started to lick at with great enthusiasm. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Well, this is shaping up to be a bit of a strange year." Roberson planted his foot on the back of the now-dead challenger and pulled his axe free. I noticed the way he was eyeing up the corpse. "Yes, you can before you ask." You never said anything but grinned manically as he started to strip the body. Once he had done this, he began to hack the body apart. I noticed he aimed for specific organs and limbs, ignoring the rest. As long as you buried what was left, I cared not, but I reminded him before I went on with my daily business to deal with the horse outside as well. Before I left, I had decided to ask one more question. "Roberson, you could get close to the Challenger without him noticing. I have noticed that the others do this. Yet often, the Challenger is somehow alert to their presence. Any thoughts on why?" He laughed at the question but answered. "Sure, Keeper. The others have quit the fragrant odour." I was stunned that it could be so simple. My lack of sense of smell was working against me now. I left him as I reflected on what he had said, which also raised another issue. The fact that I was watching him butcher a human body and felt very little. Sure, part of me was disgusted by it in some respects, but it was far quieter than it was when I first started in my new life. I suspected it was a combination of both time and constant exposure to death that was making me numb towards it. The Challenger had little like the others, and what was looted was split favouring Roberson. I gained a little more money but arranged to send it to the Driver family. I did, however, keep the only silver dollar that was in the challenge in possession. That made five more from the three that have died this year alone. That meant I now had 2439 silver dollar coins. Although I knew that the silver would not be worth as much as the gold I held in the long term, I still had a pleasant feeling knowing that I possessed such wealth. I used [Hide the Crime!] over the next few days to clean up the mess left by the butchering of the challenger''s body. The problem with blood is that the rain does not always wash it away as the blood is heavier. I informed Roberson that all future dismemberments of bodies must be done within his lair and not out in the Dungeon. He accepted the new instructions with no arguments or complaints. Over the next few days, I heard the sounds of construction within his lair and discovered that he was setting up the needed area. He also requested a complete set of butchering tools and knives. I saw no issue with this and allowed him to acquire them when he went next to Crossway for me. I supplied him with the money he would need to obtain them, feeling it was a good investment for the future. The other hunters were present when he requested, as we split the loot from the kill. Rigger asked if it was possible he could have a set, too, as he claimed he would need such things in the future. I consented to two sets being bought. [Hunter: Atticus Roberson''s loyalty changed from Neutral > Good.] The notification telling me of the change in loyalty was what I had hoped would happen. I decided early on to ensure that I had good relations with all my Hunters as it made my job far more straightforward. It appeared when he returned to the Dungeon after buying the blades. The extra set was left in the church for Rigger to pick up when he was ready. I have considered why I suddenly received an influx of challengers. After a few days of thinking, I realised they could reach here because of the new rail link running into Crossway. The railway gave easy access to the area, and anyone who knew where they were going through the dreams would seek it to cross larger distances faster. So much for me trying to lay low for a few years. The rest of July passed without any other events taking place. Even the news was quiet, as not much seemed to be happening internationally, nationally or locally. The only thing to note was the reporting of another child born to Augustus Rochester and his wife. It was reported that both were doing well, and the family was happy to add another member. August came and went in a similar manner. Very little happened, and no one came to the Dungeon. Amy often visited, dropping off the papers that kept me abreast of what was happening in the world beyond my domain''s borders. She had broached the subject of supplying me with several more books and had suggested several titles, but none had interested me, and I had vetoed buying them. I told her that if any interested her, I would be happy to help cover the required costs. She took me up on that offer and bought several books for herself. September seemed to be going the same way as the last two months, but something happened that caught my attention. I found out several days after the event itself that what the press was calling the "Rock Springs massacre" had occurred. According to the article, the local miner population of Rock Springs, Wyoming, had been roused to action by the "unchristian" actions of their Chinese coworkers. Since the introduction of the Chinese Act a few years ago, the Chinese population has been subjected to far more harassment. Reading between the lines, I surmised that something had triggered the event, but I could not tell what. Several hundred miners were involved in the resulting "massacre" It seems that the Chinese miners were ready for the trouble. I met the white miners head-on. It sounded more like a pitched battle that destroyed most of the town as fires raged out of control during the fighting. The combined dead was close to 90, and the wound was well over 150. The Chinese population had been driven from the town by the end of the altercation. The US Marshall Service was reportedly descending on the town to discover what had happened. The mine owners had made several allegations against the Chinese workforce, which were now scattered about. The Marshalls were being sent to investigate and round up the perpetrators. A follow-up piece a few days later did have a little side note that interested me. It reported that many Chinese were moving northwards into Cascadia. It also reported that many native tribes were being pushed that way as they were being relocated. "I wonder how that will influence the culture of that section of Canada." Herbert mentioned that many more trains were now running between Crossway and the Canadian territory of Cascadia across the Rocky Mountains. In my world, the route was called the Organ Trail, but here it was, the Cascadia Trail, as the settlers turned south into the two states of California. The other major rail line followed the coast through Northern California. The Canadian and Mexican governments were making complaints about the forced relocation of people to their territories, but there was not much they could do. All sides deployed more troops to monitor the borders. At the end of September, a massive storm rolled from the east. The worst of it came directly over the Dungeon. I counted no less than seven lightning strikes hitting the spatial bubble. There were a few electrical discharges into the Dungeon itself, and some damage was inflicted on a few buildings and a tree, but that was the worst of it. October arrived, and the weather was changing. The trees within the Dungeon and all around it were changing as autumn took full hold. The former green leaves were all now brown and gold, and we''re starting to fall. I was now beginning to prepare myself for winter as I would be cut off for long periods due to the snow. I was looking out across the world from the top of my spatial bubble when I noticed a large group of riders making their way through the trees towards the Dungeon. "Well, this does not bode well." I shifted my focus to the gates and awaited their arrival. Chapter 27 "Are you sure this is where Marshall Jones was last seen?" This came from the man leading the group, who was the leader. He had a confident presence around him that commanded attention and respect. On his chest was the star of a US Marshall. Ten men were bundled up for the changing weather but not in as heavy clothing as they would in the winter. "Yes, Marshall MacLeod. This is where Mr. Turner and Marshall Jones parted company. He was quite adamant before he left town and moved back east that this was where he last saw him." This came from a slightly portly man to his right. All the men were still sitting on their horses, and none had dismounted. Marshall MacLeod looked intently at the gates. I could tell from his squint that he was not just eyeing them up as a possible ambush point but also wondering what such a place was doing here. I had come to fear smart lawmen as they were some of the most dangerous people I''d yet encountered. "Very well, Mr Myers, we will take a look inside together." Myers? Could this be the man who had been causing trouble to Herbert and had arranged the recent land deal that allowed me to buy nearly the entire forest around me? This was my first look at the man, and he screamed bully. He was slightly overweight, and I expected he was going balled under his hat. "But Marshall MacLeod, you only asked to find out where Marshall Jones was last seen," the man replied, but I heard a slight whine in his tone. He seemed happy to bring Marshall to my door but did not go any further. "Mr. Myers, I said no such thing. In your telegram, you strongly suggested that the local Driver family might have had something to do with Marshall Jones''s disappearance and possibly the Pilgrim gang. Our records clearly show that several Marshalls have disappeared over the last fifteen years in these parts, and I''m here to find out why." He had turned to speak to Myers, and the other man shrunk slightly under his scrutiny. Marshall MacLeod looked back to the gates for a few seconds and then over to his men. "All right, gentlemen, tie up the horses here. We''re going to investigate this place first, and then we''re going to head to the Driver''s residence." I checked the sentence position and knew it was still early in the morning. Even though it was autumn, it was a clear and sunny day. There was a chill in the air as most of the men produced puffs of vapour as they worked and spoke to each other. "Is not good." I had many questions about how Myers had been able to manipulate information in such a way as to bring the Marshall service here with such force. As I just overheard, he had been doing serious rumourmongering and truth manipulation. It was mostly actually correct, but that didn''t mean he knew that. I watched the men tide up their horses and pull their rifles from the saddle bags. They were all armed with repeating rifles, and I counted several with Colts and other firearms strapped to their hips in clear view. I knew that all ten were going to be heavily armed. I had five hunters, but one of them was not going to be able to get involved in this one. It took less than five minutes to prepare everyone. In time, I noticed that Myers and another man had no badges. The other eight all had martial badges on their chests. As they got closer, I read Deputy Marshall on all but Macleod''s. The other man was now shadowing Myers; I suspect he was some former bodyguard. They crossed the gates into the courtyard, and MacLeod stopped at the plinth and read the inscription. He then looked up and across the graveyard, and I could see his mind analysing everything and not coming up with any solutions or answers he was happy with. It was a strange echo of how Marshall Jones had acted when he arrived in the Dungeon. "Take the northern path," he ordered, and his men quickly moved. Myers and his bodyguard tried to trail behind but were placed in the centre of the formation." Stay alert. Even if this is a place for the dead, we might find some unpleasant living haunting the area." The way these men moved at his instruction and how they carried themselves indicated they were no mere rabble or quickly rounded-up posse but experienced lawmen. My concern only grew as I took this all in. This was not going to be some easy ambush and scattering. There was a good chance that my hunters might end up dying in this fight, and I knew Roberson was the most vulnerable of them all. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] As soon as the message appeared, I connected to all my Hunters. "Ten lawmen, all heavily armed. Heading north." Myers and his bodyguard weren''t lawmen, but I wouldn''t take any chances with them. I would treat them all as if they were some of the most dangerous people I had ever encountered. Until this point, they probably were. The only group that would be more dangerous was when Pilgrim and his mob showed up, but that was more due to the sheer weight of numbers. During that time, I had allies amongst them, which allowed me to emerge as the ultimate victor. Here, I did not. I sent my hunters moving from their lairs. I would have to take a more direct role in controlling them here, as I knew that their natures would prevent them from working together unless I instructed them. But I had a dilemma about how I was going to do this. Could I ambush them? From the way they were moving, that would have been difficult. Unless I gave permission to use firearms. Now, that was an option I might have to consider. "Make sure you also have your rifles when you come." This slowed the hunters, as most had to return to pick up their rifles, but I was content. Roberson and the hateful spirit were the closest. The spirit was out of this one, so I ignored her presence. Roberson was the only one who did not go back for his rifle, so I suspected he was already armed with it. I could allow them to go to the church as they were deep in the dungeon then and use¡­.. "Tell me, Mr Myers, when was this place constructed?" Marshall MacLeod spoke and distracted me from my line of thinking. "To be honest, Sir, I''m not sure I know that this place has been here for many years before I arrived to set up my businesses here," Myers replied. "Interesting. I ask because this place is far too large and appears too old for such a community at Crossway." MacLeod continued. As he spoke, he looked around like all of his men, but he paid more attention to the architecture and the apparent age of my Dungeon. Again, I was getting deja vu from when Marshall Jones came here, as he had said many similar things.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "As I said, Marshall, it was here before I arrived, so I cannot tell you much more beyond that." Myers wasn''t lying, but I suspected MacLeod knew he wasn''t telling him the truth. "I also find it interesting that as I came to town on the train, we passed the local graveyard. I wonder why the population of the town do not come here to bury their dead." MacLeod continued speaking. "All I know, Marshall, of this place is it has an ill reputation amongst the earlier settlers of the area. That is why they have chosen not to bury their dead here." "That is very interesting, Mr Myers, and it brings me back to my first question about who built this place. Look around you. The construction here would involve dozens, if not hundreds, of workers and cost a pretty penny. Yet, in my travels of the western territories, I have never heard of such a place or anyone with the resources to build such a place. Yet here we are, and that Sir is concerning me most." Myers continued to State that he had no knowledge of the graveyard or who constructed it, only that it was here before he arrived. Marshall MacLeod kept probing with different questions, clearly unsatisfied with what he had been told. I turned my attention back to my hunters and how I would deal with this group. "If you find them, shadow them. We''re going to let them get close to the church. Before they enter it, you were going to ambush them using your rifles." I knew where the ambush was going to have to take place, but it was apparently close to the church. They could possibly make it there in the middle of the battle, but that was the risk I had to take. If I were lucky, I would be able to have this drag out to later this evening or even night, when I could use the hateful spirit to go in and finish them off. They continued to navigate my Dungeon maze, making many wrong turns, but they quickly realised this, and one or two men scouted ahead. When they discovered the dead end, they returned to the main group and took the other route. Slowly but surely, they were making their way through the northern pass, and we were on our way to the church. As they progressed, my concern was growing, as this was going to be something I had never done before. My hunters knew where the ambush point was and quickly set themselves up. I ensured they were split between both sides of the path and not in each other''s firing angles. That was one thing I remembered, though I had to make sure of it as I did not want the Hunters accidentally shooting at each other. Thinking of my plan, I wanted to drive them into the church. From there, my hunters would lay siege to it. The only problem was the arsenal under it would give them a marked improvement in firepower volume. I explained my plan to the hunters and made sure that they knew their roles in it and that we needed to hold them within the church until it was dark enough for me to send in the hateful spirit. I sensed their unease at the mention of the spirit as she was one of the few things that seemed to actually disturb them, and I understood why, but this was the best I had come up with. Eventually, the group arrived at the ambush point and were none the wiser. I noticed that they had become slightly more relaxed. Although the journey had not even hinted at any danger, that does not mean they were lax by any means. "Fire." I gave the order, and four shots quickly rang out. Three men were hit and went down. The intruders reacted promptly, took up defensive positions, and began returning fire when they believed they saw a target. Myers was dragged by his bodyguards into what cover they could find behind some gravestones. As I was not in my physical form, I could get up close and study what had happened. Two were dead, and one was wounded. Two bullets had hit one man, and I mentally kicked myself for not getting the hunters to mark their targets better. McLeod quickly assessed the situation and began organising his men. The wounded were dragged into what cover they could find, and the others were now returning fire with more confidence. MacLeod was no fool and realised that they were in a bad position and needed to shift to a stronger one: the church. He split his men into two groups, one moving and one covering with rifle fire. The hunters continued to shoot back, but they were now at a disadvantage as they were being forced to duck and hide themselves from return fire. They did, however, manage to clip and wound two more of MacLeod''s party before they reached the church. As they approached, I shifted inside as I needed her to find out what they were going to do. "Reginald, cover the doors. Albert, help the wounded." MacLeod was quickly barking orders, scanning the room as they entered, ready for any trouble. "What in God''s name, Myers, have we walked into?" "M-M-Marshall, I have no idea. I''m as shocked as you are." His reaction could not be faked, as he had actually pissed himself in fear when the shooting started. "Michael, check the rest of the building," MacLeod ordered. Michael was one of the walking wounded and set off as soon as he was bandaged as a bullet had grazed his arm. Turning it back to the doors, he spoke to the man using one as a cover. "What do you see, Reginald?" "The four shooters are still out there, but they''re not advancing on the building. I don''t know if that''s a good or bad sign." "I agree we got here too easily." MacLeod agreed with him. He joined him at the doors, and both were taking glances out, trying to understand where my Hunters were. After a few attempts to see what was outside, he turned his attention back to the room. "Albert, how are the wounded?" "George and Oscar can fight. Isaac is in a bad way." Albert did not look up from doing his best to treat the wounded man who was first shot. "All but Reginald, take a window and seek out our assailants. Open fire on them if you get a target." MacLeod ordered the group. Even Myers''s bodyguard took a position at a window. There were several tense minutes as they looked out across the graveyard. My hunters had been ordered to get them in here, surround the building, and then take up a position in case anyone tried to get out. Each hunter was at a cardinal point around the building, watching for escape attempts. "Marshall MacLeod, you need to see this." Michael had returned to the main hall from exploring the rest of the building. "What is it, Michael?" McLeod asked, not gazing from the window he was looking out of. "This church has a crypt¡­. And I found¡­.. I found¡­.. So you need to come and see it." "Speak plainly, man!" "Sir. I found gold, silver and a great deal of guns." His words drew the attention of everyone in the hall, and I clearly saw the hungry look on Myers'' face. Whatever McLeod expected Michael to say, he was not this. He quickly stood and went to the other man. He also saw the look on Myers'' face as he walked. Myers was making the stand to go with him. "You, Sir, stay here," McLeod ordered in a tone that broke no refusal. Myers sat back down again if he was struck. Michael took Marshall MacLeod downstairs into the crypts. There were wooden torches on the walls, and he had lit one to illuminate the area. He quickly showed his superior the money on the guns. MacLeod knelt and picked up one of the gold bullion bars. He inspected the markings on the bar and grunted in recognition of something. "What is it, Sir?" Michael asked. "These bars are from one of the heists that Adam Pilgrim committed five years ago. I wouldn''t be surprised that the silver was as well. I think Deputy Marshall, we have stumbled across where Pilgrim has been hiding his ill-gotten gains." MacLeod put the bar back and looked around the room as he spoke. "You reckon it''s several of his gang members outside then?" "Very possible. Adam Pilgrim was not the man to leave his money unguarded. The question is, where are he and the rest of them?" MacLeod now stood and headed back up the stairs. "Sir, what about the gold?" Michael was confused by his superior''s actions. "Leave it, Deputy Marshall. It will be no use to us in the coming hours." I was a little impressed, as I knew human greed would demand that they take as much of it as they could with them. MacLeod Was smart enough to know that it was a fool''s errand to try to take it with them, as they needed it to survive. The precious metals would only slow them down, and speed was their best chance of surviving. "What''s down there, Marshall McLeod?" Myers demanded as greed was giving him back his courage. "Mr Myers, that is no concern of yours. I suspect we are facing part of the Pilgrim gang. Keep your wits about you, men. We''re in for one hell of a fight." I monitored them over the next few hours and ensured they were not making a break for it. The wounded man did not survive and died less than an hour into the siege. Marshall MacLeod took his badge off him and prayed over his body. The rest were grim, but we were keeping watch in case they were attacked. I was concerned for my wealth, but my primary concern was holding him here as the sun slowly passed across the sky and prepared to set. "The time has come to bring the hateful spirit." Chapter 28 On my order, the Hunter shifted position. They cleared the northern route to the hateful spirits'' hunting grounds, and I was forced to leave the church to bring her here. By now, the sun was setting, and the Dungeon was dark. By the time I corralled her to the church, she would have a clear route to it that would not interact with any of the weak sunlight that was now coming. I removed the restrictions on her hunting ground but formed my avatar close to her. She was already out and about, aware of the intruders'' presence, and we were seeing if any were on her grounds. "Move to the church. There are men to kill inside." I needed to keep my orders simple and easy to understand, as she was driven by one thing and one thing alone: hate. At first, she was resistant, but after I used my punishment ability on her a few times, I got moving. I reassigned her hunting grounds to just around the church to help, and she set off in its direction. I followed in my avatar form to ensure she did not go after the other hunters or try to disobey my instructions. It didn''t take her long to reach the church, as she was primarily non-corporeal. The spirit passed through many hazards on the way. I was forced to move in and out of my avatar form to keep up with her, as my physical form could not pass through walls or gravestones. She tried to change direction as she had spotted one of the hunters, but I kept her on track by quickly triggering my punishment ability. As I had said, she realised that there were figures in the church and that they were the intruders, which quickly focused her attention as she moved to engage them. Thankfully, as they were not challenges, the right of protection within the church did not apply to them. But I feared the amount of damage and clean-up I would have to perform if this worked. I shifted from my avatar form and returned to the church ahead of her. Reginald spotted her approach and formed MacLeod, who watched as she approached the church. They had not yet noticed that she wasn''t properly touching the ground, as they were more focused on her look, and we wondered why she was there. "What do we do, Marshall?" Reginald asked. "I find this whole situation most vexing, Deputy Marshall and this woman''s appearance is only adding to it," Macleod replied. "I agree with that sentiment, Sir." Myers was shifting back further into the church, aiming to get downstairs into the crypts to find out what was down there and how he could profit from it. This would work out well for me, as I had plans for him. An idea came to me while we were waiting for the sun to set, and it involved him living to do something for me¡ªwell, a few things. The hateful spirit was making good time toward the church, but her seduction ability wasn''t taking hold of these men. I think she was aware of it, but she was still closing, as she wanted to be in striking range before she unleashed her hate. I was pretty eager to see how her new ability of talons worked. When they realised she wasn''t right, it was far too late, as she was close enough to attack. Marshall MacLeod first realised something was off and tried to call out a warning, but she screamed. The sound wave hit them, and they were momentarily stunned by it. She changed and crossed the distance to the doorway. Her hands had changed, and each finger now had long, black, sharp talons protruding from them. MacLeod recovered just as she reached them and tried to pull Reginald back. Unfortunately, this made him a perfect target for the hateful spirit, and she disembowelled him with a single swipe. Rational screamed as his guts spilled out across the floor. The rest of the men in the room were shocked by the sudden savagery and the appearance of the hateful spirit. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "For the love of God fire!" MacLeod ordered as he fell backwards. The deputy marshals in the room acted fast and began shooting at the hateful spirit. This did not affect her but damaged my walls, which I winched at each impact. She advanced quickly into the room as MacLeod was scampering across the floor to put distance between them. One of the deputies ran forward to try to help him, and the hateful spirit clawed across its face, ripping it off. The man collapsed with a terrible scream and blood pumping from his ruined face. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Right now, all the men were backing up and firing. The bullets were having no effect, and the hateful spirit focused on the ones attempting to hurt her first. She moved quickly across the room, and blood and screams promptly followed. [A Hunter has made a Kill] One by one, she started killing these men, screaming her hatred every time she did. Myers had fled now into the back of the church to where the entrance of the crypts was. In the main hall, the slaughter continued. [A Hunter has made a Kill] It quickly became apparent that their weapons were useless, and Myers''s bodyguard tried to get around her to flee the building. He was stopped when the talons of both hands tore through his back and out through the front of his chest, and he choked to death on his blood. [A Hunter has made a Kill] The other made it to the door but had his legs sliced out from under him, and as she collapsed screaming in pain, the talents punched through the back of his neck, up through his face, and out through his mouth. [A Hunter has made a Kill] I was surprised that Marshall McLeod was the last one left alive. By the time the others died, he had made it to the altar, where he was firing his repeat rifle as fast as he could until it ran out of ammunition. He pulled his colt out of its holster and continued to fire as the spirit approached him. The man stood his ground, cursing the spirit to the end. But his end came as she ripped out his still beating heart from his chest.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. [A Hunter has made a Kill] That left one man alive. I changed the location of the hateful spirit hunting grounds once more and sent her back to her normal area. Again, I was forced to use my punishment ability to get her to move, but she did move. As soon as she was clear, Rigger came into the church. He was the next part of my plan. "He''s downstairs trying to loot my gold. Go get him." My Hunter nodded and set off. I explained the plan to him in advance, and he knew what was required of him. I could follow him down and see what happened, but I was in my avatar form, waiting by the altar. I looked around the main hall of the church at the increased damage from another gunfight. The dismembered and mauled bodies were another thing that needed to be cleaned up. I also had to make sure not to step in the spreading blood. There was a gunshot from downstairs that echoed from the stairwell. I was sorely tempted to go and see what had happened but decided to wait, trusting in my Hunter. A few minutes later, my patience was rewarded as Rigger pulled the babbling Mr Myers back into the main church hall. The terrified man was thrown bodily at my feet. The impact caused several gold coins to roll across the floor from him. Time to get to work. "Welcome to New Midian, Mr Myers" The man looked up, his face covered in snot and tears. Like most bullies, he caves when facing a true challenge or dangerous situation. They think they are untouchable as long as they have the power or believe they have the strength. Stripping him of this illusion is also dangerous for me as it could make him bitter, angry, and liable to do something stupid. "Come now, Mr Myers. Let us take a seat and discuss this situation." Rigger hauled him to his feet. Several more coins fell from his pockets. "But first, I think I should retrieve what is mine." Rigger began to roughly search him, placing everything in his pockets on the altar next to the body of Marshall MacLeod. The angry spirit, when she had ripped out his heart, had cast him back over the altar, and he was now spread-eagled across it. I walked over, avoiding the pooling blood on the floor. I sat on one of the wooden pews and waited for Rigger to finish searching my guest. Rigger took more than just what was owned by the Dungeon, but I did not broach that subject with him. It took a few minutes, but Myers sat on the pew beside me. When he did, there was a squelching sound, and from the look on his face, I''m pretty sure that he had err¡­ soiled himself. I had never been more thankful that I couldn''t smell in my life. "Now, Mr Myers, we have a bit of a situation here, don''t we." He turned and looked at me and was confused and dazed by the sudden change, expecting to be dead by now. Rigger cuffed him across the back of the head, and he cried in pain, but it focused him. He was hesitant but started talking. "W-w-who a-are you?" "Me? I''m the individual who runs this place. You have happened to have met a few of my¡­ how shall we say ''employees''." "W-wat do y-you want?" He was a little more coherent now but still in a state of shock. "Well, Mr Myers, you led the United States Marshall Service to my door. Most would consider that quite a hostile act, wouldn''t you agree?" His eyes went round, and he was even more pale now as he interpreted my words as a threat, which they were in many ways. "But we are civilised men, and I believe we can come to an accord to rectify the situation. Would you be open to such an agreement?" "Yes! Yes, I would." I had offered him a lifeline, and he grabbed it with both hands. "Excellent. I will let you walk out of here with your life, and in return, you will perform a few simple acts for me." The cunning part of his mind was now in full gear, and it was almost hilarious. I could see it turning as he tried to figure out a way to escape this situation. The problem was I was already ahead of him and knew his ilk. "S-such as?" He asked hesitantly. "Well, first, we have to deal with the Marshall service. When you return to town you will spin a tail of visiting here and then Driver homestead. Marshall MacLeod was quite satisfied that this location was empty and that the Driver family was not involved in any illicit activity. However, one of his deputies spotted some unusual activity several miles away, and you went to investigate. There, you were ambushed by Adam Pilgrim and his gang. During the firefight, you were told to flee by Marshall MacLeod, and you do not know their fates." The story was as thin as a sheet of paper, and I''ve been racking my brain to try to come up with a better one, but I couldn''t. This meant we had to work with whatever was created. "T-they will never believe it; I find it hard to believe." He could also see the problems with the story. "Yes, it will be a bit of a hard sell, but I trust that you will be able to get it to pass and accept it." From his look, I could tell he was doubting that. We went over the story a few times to make sure that I was happy with what he was going to say. It also got him used to saying it, and we ironed out a few details that we both realised needed to be resolved or addressed. "Next, you will leave the Driver family and their land alone." He did not respond to that one, but I could see the frown on his face deepening, and I knew he was aiming to claim it as his own. I needed him to forget that desire. "Finally. You will forget about this place and perform the tasks I have assigned to you. Success means that we will never encounter each other again, and you will be allowed to live your life peacefully. Failure in this regard will mean that one of my less pleasant associates will come to pay you a visit." Thanks to Roberson, I had a good idea of where he lived, his business locations, and where he hid his mistress. I went into great detail, explaining to him that I knew all of this and that I could reach out and get him no matter where he thought he was safe. His face paled even more to almost a plaster white as he realised that my knowledge of him was far more extensive than he ever feared. "A-a-are you a d-devil?" He stammered out. "To some but an Angel to others." I never got bored with using that line from Hellraiser. Sure, I butchered it a bit, but it works so well for my current situation. "Are we in agreement, Mr Myers?" He looked at me; then he looked at Rigger. I chose him for this job because he was now the least human-looking of all my Hunters. Myers, so far, I had only seen him on the hateful spirit. I had planned to use fear of the unknown as the means of control over him. I had proven to him that I knew much about his life and that he knew nothing about me or what I possessed regarding resources or personnel. "I-I-I agree." He finally relented. "Excellent Mr Myers. But remember, either in this life or the next, you break faith with me, and I will come for you." With that, I dismissed my avatar, and he screamed in shock as my body dissolved into a black mist. Theatre was essential to drive home the importance of our bargain and what would happen if he broke it. Rigger had a good idea of what I was doing, as I had explained to him during the siege what was going to happen if Myers survived. He man-handled him to his feet and almost dragged him from the church. He took him through the Dungeon to the gates and had him mount his horse and ride off. The other Hunter stayed hidden as I did not want Myers to be able to identify them in future. They quickly descended on the horses. I brought the loot back to the church and cleaned up the mess. Roberson took the horses to Herbert, who took them some distance away and scattered them. As standard, the bodies were buried, and the loot piled on the altar. I gathered the fallen gold coins and returned them to the crypt. I also gathered up the others that had spilt across the floor down there in his rush to shove them in his pockets. By the time I had done all this, I encountered them to make sure that they were all present and the bodies were buried. I added eight more US Marshall stars to my growing collection. "This is going to be a problem." I spoke to myself in the crypt, looking at the pile I now possessed. That many dead lawmen in one go was going to raise questions. Myers'' story was an attempt to hide and obfuscate the truth. Would it be believed? I doubted it, but it was the best I could do right now. I remembered something about telling a lie often enough until it became the truth. I couldn''t remember where I heard it or who had said it, but I hoped it was true. It was near dawn with all hunters were now returned, and we¡­ Chapter 29 2040 "It was near dawn with all hunters were now returned, and we¡­" Gaberial blinked as her phone suddenly started to beep. This broke the flow of the story coming from the Keeper. She went around and looked at the information displayed on the screen. The battery pack was running low, and this was a warning that it would soon power down the device. They had been speaking for hours, and her legs were stiff from standing most of that time. Her stomach was also now complaining, and her throat was also expressing its unhappiness. She was meant to have asked more questions than she did, but the story told to her mesmerised and sickened her simultaneously. It has only covered fifteen years, but the figure before her had confessed to being a part of or actively engaged in the deaths of over 150 people. But that wasn''t all. It was the implications of what he had said about forces beyond this world and that he was originally from another Earth with another history. The journalist in her had many questions, but the woman feared the answers. As the story of Pandora came to the forefront of her mind, she remembered it. Was she Pandora here? She manipulated the applications and information on her phone''s screen as she stopped filming. She then went into her history and checked to see how much of the transmission had been uploaded to the satellite and then to the servers for publication. She looked at the history and suddenly swore in Spanish. "I take it there''s a problem," the Keeper asked. She had spent several hours listening to his voice, and it was the type that she could continue listening to, which disturbed her even more. "Yes. The upload was blocked." She answered, but her attention was focused on the information on the screen. She looked at the transmission logs and saw when they were disrupted. "Well, that was expected. How long into our conversation was it." He asked. "I think we got a good thirty minutes out before it was blocked." Her phone recorded several hours of the session on the backup info drive, which was also attached. She made sure it was all saved and stored correctly. "Thirty minutes." He seemed thoughtful. "Well, that was far better than I expected, actually." Gaberial looked at him. "What do you mean?" "I mean Ms Santez. I had expected the authorities to block the signal much sooner." Gaberial thought about it and realised he was right. The authorities'' ringing outside this place showed a massive oversight in not blocking her sooner. Looking at a phone, she realised that all signals were blocked at the moment, and she did not know what the reactions were to the thirty minutes that had been released. Her editor was already having their legal team find out what had happened. They had arranged this in advance. "Dawn is almost here. It seems our time is at an end." She looked up and found the Keeper looking east to the horizon. She turned on notice that the sky was now changing colour. The floodlights still illuminated them, causing a lot of light pollution that made seeing the change harder, but it was definitely happening. She had been up for over twenty-four hours and felt the effects as her body protested. "Yes, it is." She agreed. "Hopefully, I can return, and we can finish what we have started." The Keeper chuckled at her words. "Come now, Ms Santez. Let us be honest: the odds of you not being disappeared by your government on national security grounds are not very high." What upset her most was not his words but the truth in them. Over the last few decades, many have decried the US government''s bent towards a more authoritarian outlook. She knew that that was possible when she tried to reach this place, but now she was looking at a certainty that the minute she left, she would be snatched and disappeared or arrested, as the authorities would claim. He was right. They would argue it was all in the name of "national security". "I knew it was a possibility." As she spoke, she looked across the open area from the gates to the line of soldiers and floodlights. Knowing and facing it was something very different, and she was afraid. "Yes, you did, didn''t you." His tone was almost respectful. "Alas, I cannot offer you sanctuary here. I am capable of much, but not that." "Can you answer one question for me?" she asked, looking at this¡­. Could she call it a man? He claimed he once was, but now was something else. "I remind you about I told you about questions when we first met." The slight smile is back on his lips. She thought about it and then decided that she was damned either way, so she dived straight in. "How much more is there to this story?" "Much, much more. I''ve been here for 170 years and you have only scratched the surface with the first fifteen years of my story. There is much more to my tale, both heroic and monstrous." She believed him; she wished she did not, but she did. But she had many more questions burning within her, not just about New Midian but about the world he was from. She wanted to ask them, but something inside her told her their time was up. She noticed that he was again looking towards the line of soldiers. The questions would have to wait. "They''re going to come for you, aren''t they?" She asked in a rare moment of insight into this whole situation. She felt a thrill of fear at this revelation and what might happen. "Yes, they are." He confirmed this to her, but she noticed the sadness in his answer. Which she thought was strange coming from someone who had confessed to hundreds of deaths already. "What will happen?" "That Ms Santez is a story for tomorrow. But know this: I am ready for the day they do. It is a day I long expected and prepared for." She sensed their time was at an end and began to disassemble her equipment to pack it up. No more procrastinating on her part. It was time to face the consequences of her actions. The Keeper remained with her the whole time, not speaking but occasionally returning his attention to the dungeon but mainly looking out at the soldiers. She reached out, pulled in the satellite relay, and folded it up. It did not take long, and she was now ready to leave. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Do you think we will meet again?" She asked. For all the terrible things she had told her, she wanted to see where this story ended. "Doubtful. But never say never, Ms Santez." "Goodbye." She said as she started walking through the gates. "Goodbye and good luck, Ms Santez," he said in return, and she looked over her shoulder to find that he was gone. She did not know why, but she found this on brand and smiled. She turned her attention back to the soldiers watching her. She walked forward with her hands up so they could see she was not armed. She was not thrilled with approaching a line of heavily armed, trigger-happy soldiers and was not looking to be shot. A voice came over the speakers instructing her to approach the soldiers and to keep her arms up. As soon as she was a few steps away, she was instructed to kneel down and put her hands behind her head, locking her fingers. She did as she was instructed, and several soldiers quickly pounced on her, forcing her face into the ground, twisting her arms behind her back, and securing her wrists. She was then pulled up, and a black bag was put over her head. Gaberial was no longer sure what day it was. She had no idea where she was as she had spent the last¡­... However, long in this small grey cell with no window, she was moved blindfolded to an interrogation room again without a window. They had taken everything from her, and she was dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit they gave to Federal prisoners. It was irritating her skin to no end. For days, at least a few weeks more likely, different people had repeatedly interrogated her. They did not identify what organisations they were with; they only stated that they were part of the US government. Every facet of her life was questioned, and they demanded answers. They wanted you to know how long she had been in contact with the entity in the containment zone and watch her relationship or affiliation with it. Another was how long she had been betraying the United States of America or planned to. Her whole life was put on display and questioned. Every success and failure are identified and then torn apart. It was all to demoralise her. She answered the questions honestly and consistently, but the answers were never what they wanted, so they continuously asked over and over for hours on end. This was a form of psychological wear down to break the subject they were interrogating. She was aware of this but went through it with a different experience to understand it academically. As a mental defence, she had gotten snarkier as it went on. It did not help her situation but made her feel a bit better. She wondered on occasion when they would start waterboarding her. They had also claimed she was on suicide watch, and so every hour on the hour when she was trying to sleep, they woke her up to check on her for her safety. Sleep deprivation was adding to her disorientation and confusion. So far, she had remained strong and stuck to her principles, but she was close to breaking. She could sense it inside of herself. She understood when others told her that everyone had a breaking point. The cell door suddenly flew open, and two men barged into the room. Gaberial didn''t bother resisting as they cuffed her and bagged her again. She was dragged a short distance to the interrogation room and sat on the chair. Her cuffs were removed, and she wasn''t cuffed to the metal table this time. The bag was removed from her head, and the two men left. She looked around, and across from her was someone new. She thought he was a Hispanic man in his early 60s, and he wore glasses. Well-groomed and composed, they looked like the grandfather most kids would be happy to have. But there was something in his eye that told her otherwise. She had long ago learned to trust her instincts and was on guard. "Good morning, Ms Santez. I must say you have caused quite the stir and presented me with a thorny problem." His voice was cultured, and his accent spoke of being from the East Coast. "Nice to know that I''ve been doing my job then." She quipped. "Yes. The freedom of the press is a true cornerstone of our democracy." He told her, not changing his tone, making her unsure if he was laughing with her or condemning her profession. "You know I''m still waiting to see my lawyer." One of the ways she had remained sane through these lengthy interrogations was to rely on her rights as an American citizen. "Ah, yes, your legal representation. Well, I''m afraid to say that you''ll be waiting a bit longer." Gaberial had gathered enough of her wits to take a better look around the room and at the man before her. It was the same room they had dragged her into. God knows how many times. In the corner over the right-hand side of the interrogator, there was a camera pointed at her and another one behind her. The room contained the table, two chairs, the door, and nothing else. The fluorescent strip light above her head flicked occasionally¡ªthe room stank of stale coffee and harsh bleach. She was quite familiar with it now. "You know I''ve watched the whole recording on your info drive with the entity identifying as ''the Keeper. ''" He spoke to her but was looking at a folder on the open table. As he finished speaking, he looked up at her. His expression gave nothing away. His eyes somehow were scaring her more than being locked away for God knows how long. She could only describe them as soulless. "Yes, he was an interesting subject to interview. Shame I won''t be able to finish getting his whole story." "I have to agree with you the implications of what he said are earth-shaking, at least." He leaned back in the uncomfortable chairs they were sitting in as he spoke. "I should tell you that there is a great deal of public outcry demanding to know where you are and what conditions you''re being held in. We tried to secure the feed, but it got out, and it is presently the highest-viewed footage on any platform it appears on before we remove it." "Yes, being an American citizen does come with those pesky rights, doesn''t it? Nice to know my work is being appreciated with what had gotten out." She was being combative, trying to get a rise out of him. She had begun to do it to all of her interrogators. He, however, did not seem fazed by it at all. "Well, there are those within the government who want you to be charged with treason at the very least. That, however, requires a trial, and I think we both know that would not be the best for anyone involved. As you say, being an American citizen does give you certain rights." Gaberial''s training as a journalist had taught her that there were times when you said nothing and let the person talking to you tell you what they were saying. "As you suspect, we''ve been trying to contact the entity within the containment zone. It has proven most unwilling to communicate. Some others within the government managed to force the issue and took more aggressive action." "You attacked New Midian." She asked deadpan. Inside, she was screaming. Fools! "In a manner of speaking, yes, but the results were not what we desired. This has brought us back to the original conversation that we were having." "And what was that?" She asked, now wondering what he was talking about. "Ms Santez, we want you to go back and re-establish contact with the entity and finish finding out its story. We have concluded that we need more information before we take any more action, either diplomatic or military." Gaberial was shocked for a few seconds, but the professional with her in her realised the truth about what he was asking. "Why should I? You will never allow me to publish the story." "You are correct in that. But we offer you a full pardon in return for your doing this." "What will happen to the footage then?" "It will be studied and then buried under at least a century-long national security protection order. As you will be on everything that you learn." He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he spoke. She knew he was telling her the truth as there was no way she could refute his words in this room. "That''s not good enough. The stories out there need to be told." Gaberial knew she had to fight for the truth to come out. "Again, you are correct, Ms Santez. But we''re going to control what is going to come out. So once again, I offer you a full pardon and part of what we deem to be released, or we let you rot here in an unmarked cell for the rest of your life, awaiting a trial that never comes for treason against the United States of America." Gaberial knew her back was against the wall, and her options were limited. She remembered the time when she first met the Keeper when she asked if he was a devil. Now she knew, but the devil was sitting across from her. "I take it this will all be in a legal document I must sign." "Very astute, Ms Sanchez. We will be sending you back soon." Chapter 30 2040 "Gaberial Sanchez, what have you gotten yourself into?" She asked herself this question while sitting in the military tent just outside the Dungeon of New Midian. To say the last week had been eventful would have been an understatement on almost a biblical level. Since she signed the papers, it had been nearly nonstop. Upon signing the agreement with the still unnamed government operative at the time, she was allowed to contact the outside world. It turns out she had been held in seclusion for 23 days, and as the man indicated, quite the political storm was raging around her. The Federal Government was locked in battles with both internal and external organisations. The man only identified himself as Mr Grey. To be sure, it was a fake name, but that was the only thing he would respond to. The first thing she did when given access to a phone was to contact her supervisor/editor in the IPC. The entire group had been actively trying to find out where she was and what her condition was, and finally, being able to talk to her was a great relief to many. The IPC lawyers were in full litigation mode, fighting the US government for every scrap of information and access to her. They were supplied a copy of her agreement, though it was heavily redacted in many areas, which only increased the legal war waging in the background. The IPC was trying to allow her to give a full interview, but she was being heavily monitored and was only allowed to supply previously approved sound bites and answers to vetted questions. The First Amendment and freedom of the press were being fought for; she was a bystander to it for all she could do. She was unsure if she should cry or laugh at the irony. From just trying to report this story, she had become part of it in a most unexpected way. In the darkest times in the cell, she was forced to ask herself why she had gone. Was it for the story or her own vain glory? Next, she contacted her family, and before she knew it, everyone from her Abuela down was trying to talk to her. She had a large extended family, which was quite tedious as they all weighed in with their thoughts and suggestions. She knew it was from a place of love, but it still did not make it any more annoying to be put through. They had gathered at the Abuela''s home and were awaiting news when she had called. She was not allowed to leave where she was placed for the moment, and her movements were heavily monitored and restricted. What she could do during this time was to use her journalist training and instincts to try to ascertain what they weren''t telling her. It wasn''t until the last few days that she had been returned to the encampment that she could learn even more. They had extended the exclusion zone as well. She had learned to spot unit patches by counting the Rangers, and one armoured brigade was here. Something had happened while she was locked away, which she already knew. Still, she had learned from contact with the outside world and overhearing some limited conversations is that the military had indeed taken some form of aggressive action. As to what she did not know, the results were not what they expected, and this had thrown off any further attempts until they understood more. She realised that the government was split into three broad camps. The first was to contain and study the location. It was made up mostly of scientists and those who believed they could control that place for their ends or just learn everything they could. Next, of course, were the military and hardline elements of the government that just wanted to bomb it out of existence. The type who flattened a place then salted the earth and called it peace. They had briefly taken charge and took some form of military action with the President''s approval. She needed to discover what had happened and why they had suddenly backed off. It must have gone badly in a significant way. The final group was the largest, she believed, and was now in charge. They were, and we need to understand more, so there are no rush actions yet. She reasonably thought they had a strong military bent to them but were smart enough to know that they needed to know more before taking action. Too many unknowns were a dangerous thing. Once again, dressed in fatigues, she packed up her gear, ready to go back to the gateway. It was early morning, and she had just been fed military rations. It was not the best food in the world, but it filled you up and kept you going all day, so she was partly thankful for that. As far as she could see, all of her equipment had been returned to her undamaged, and she was packing up after checking everything over once more. They had also supplied her with energy bars and water canteens to help her through the day. Grey was around somewhere, and he had popped in to see her this morning while she was eating to confirm a few things. He had a list. The government wanted the full history of this place and more significant insights into what was running it. He, however, said something very strange to her, which he was still trying to understand. In the nearly nine hours of recording she had done in the first interview with the Keeper, there had been times when the audio and video had broken up and unwatchable. He did not elaborate on what sections they were, but she felt they were somehow important. "Ma''am, it''s time to go." One of the soldiers guarding her popped his head into the tent and informed her. "Thanks. I am ready." She stood up and looked around the tent again to ensure she had everything before leaving the flap. Everywhere she went, she had an escort of four heavily armed soldiers. What she found concerning was that not one of them had a single rank or unit emblem on their uniforms. Their eyes told her that these were not the guys you messed with. They escorted her through the camp. They were moving at a good pace, but she could still look around as they moved. The camp was even larger than before, and ringing the perimeter of New Midian was a series of towers. They looked like mobile phone towers you saw around the country, but they had more antennae facing towards New Midian and what looked like cameras. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. At the edge of the perimeter, they found Grey waiting for them. "Ready, Ms Sanchez?" He asked. "As I''ll ever be." It was the only answer she could give him. She forced herself to stay focused on him as there was so much happening around them, and she wanted to observe it all. "That is good to hear. Please remember to ask the questions we have supplied. Please work them into the conversation wherever you can, as we would like them to seem as natural as possible." "I understand." She wanted to rebel on the screen but knew that she could not do this right now, but she could dream. She had to wait and watch for any opportunities. "Then good luck, Ms Sanchez." The razor wire before her moved aside, and she now had a direct route up the slight rise to the gates. As before, they will open and be ready to welcome anyone who enters. As she walked forward, she could hear the aircraft flying around the perimeter in the distance. She could smell the engine fumes from the countless vehicles driving back and forth around here. The trees have been cut back even further, expanding the perimeter with no more cover. As she approached the gate, she noticed the strange black stains and burned grass around the edge of the wall. Something had happened, and she suspected it was related to the military action, but now, she had other things on her mind. The gates were open, and she could see part of New Midian, but there was no sign of the Keeper right now. With a deep breath, she crossed the threshold and entered the courtyard of New Midian once more. "Abuela is right; you are such a fool sometimes," she muttered as she cautiously stepped into the courtyard. Around her, New Midian was clear to see, as the day was unclouded and sunny. In the distance, several miles away, she could make out the cathedral in the distance, which the Keeper claims is the heart of this place. She found it odd that he called it a church every time he mentioned it in their conversation. The more she thought about it, the more she realised he was telling her what it was, not what it had become. Around her, the weathered stonework was being covered by grass as nature tried to reassert dominance over this place. The place looked like a giant, overgrown graveyard. No, it was a giant overgrown necropolis. The Keeper''s dream had become a reality. "Well, I am honestly surprised." Came a voice to the sight of her. It was so expected yet surprising that she still screamed out in fear. Suddenly turning, he was standing there once more. The Keeper was tall and broad, as she had last seen him, with brown hair and a beard. His tailored jet-black suit and red shirt were no different from the last time they had spoken. The fashion of the suit cut was not like the current style or one she remembered. "Don''t do that!" she yelled at him, panting, trying to get her heart rate back under control. "You almost gave me a heart attack!" "Occupational hazard, I''m afraid." He said with that same slight smile on his lips. She knew he was laughing at her and some private joke simultaneously. While she was composing herself once more, he walked around the courtyard. He looked outside the gates at the people watching him. His appearance generated a lot of new activity. He turned his attention back to the stonework around him. She looked at it well, noting the cracks and weather look of everything. Grass and other weeds were growing everywhere, adding to the air of age. He stopped his circuit at the plinth, where the inscription explaining what was required to claim this place''s "reward" was inscribed. "So, they have let you return, Ms Sanchez." "Yes, there are those who want to know the history of this place and are trying to understand you better as well." "Well, I find that curious after their recent actions." "I heard that some form of military action was taken against you. They had me sequestered the whole time, and I still do not know what they did. I half expected to come here and find that they had bombed the place." She added the comment about bombing the place as a bit of a quip to lighten the mood. "Actually, they did." Was his deadpan response. "What!" She screamed, realising he was telling her the truth. "Two days after you left, The US military launched an aerial strike upon my domain. The results were not what they expected. As you can see, New Midian still stands." Gaberial Looked around at what she could see for signs of damage. "I can''t see anything. Do they bomb further in?" "Yes, they aimed for the cathedral at the centre of my domain." She looked out across the area and could see the building in the distance. From the angle she could see, it had no damage. "Before you ask, the building only suffered minor damage in the form of a few broken tiles on the roof," he informed her. "How?" She asked, clearly perplexed at what he was saying. "Something I''ve been aware of quite some time, and I told you about it in the first part of our last conversation. The spatial bubble around my domain warps space to allow it to exist. The missiles fired struck the bubble and detonated. The energy and debris were scattered away from the cathedral." It took her several seconds to process what he was saying. "So, it''s a shield? Like in the sci-fi films." "In many respects, yes, you could call it that." He thought about her question before answering. "But back to business. Why have you returned?" "I''ve returned to finish what we had started. You claimed you gave me only fifteen years out of one hundred and seventy." Her answer wasn''t a lie, but it wasn''t the truth either. "Really? At your own curiosity or your government''s behest?" She could see he wasn''t buying her tale. "Both." She answered honestly. He nodded, and she thought he believed her. She had found that being honest yielded more from her interviews than lying to get the story. "Well then, Ms Sanchez, shall we begin? Or, more appropriately, shall we continue?" She quickly started to unpack and set up her equipment once more, her stomach containing butterflies as she was strangely excited and once more repulsed at what she would hear. As she set up her recording devices and attached an info drive, she saw that he was paying more attention to her equipment than before. "What is it?" She asked. "When you were taken into detention, was this the same equipment that the government confiscated from you?" "Yes, why do you ask?" She looked at her gear, slightly confused. "I suspect that they have made some additions to it and are listening to us even now." At first, she thought he was being paranoid, but then her instincts kicked in, and she thought over what she said. She mentally kicked herself for not seeing the obvious: It wasn''t a case of whether the government would do such a thing but how many they had put in. That indicated how much she was of her game that it had not occurred to her. "Fear not, Ms Sanchez. We shall continue." He smiled again to reassure her as she spiralled into a paranoid rabbit hole, wondering how much the government was monitoring them. "Ahhh¡­ right." She finished setting up and decided not to start with the usual spiel but to jump straight into it. "And recording." She moved around and made sure that they were both within the angle of the camera being recorded. "When we last spoke, it was 1885." She started. "Late 1885. US Marshall McLeod had just died with his party within my domain." He reiterated the crucial facts of where they had left off. "Yes, and you had made some deal with a local businessman named Myers." She was getting herself back up to speed to where they were. "Almost unpleasant, man, to be sure, but yes, I had to make a deal with him." "Was that the end of the events of that year?" "Apart from a few minor issues, that was pretty much it. 1886 arrived not in a blizzard this time but in a clear starry night and a lovely sunny day¡­..." Chapter 31 January 1886 was a quiet time. New Midian was cut off due to the heavy snow; even the Driver family hunkered down to wait it out this year. The start of the year was a series of days and nights with no cloud cover, but it was bitterly cold. Ice and snow were inside the church, and I spent most of the short days cleaning it out. I was cut off from the world until late January when the snow blocked all transport routes into Crossway. Eventually, it melted enough for people to start getting through, and I saw Herbert appear with a backlog of newspapers for me. I had become acutely aware of how important this limited access to the outside world had become to me. When the papers were finally in my possession, I spent several hours reading through them in the crypts. Locally, little had happened, of course, due to the weather. There were a few births and a sharp uptick in deaths because of the weather and the time of year. All in all, it was as it should be; nothing stood out. That was until the last paper was published. It looked like Mr Myers was upholding his side of the deal and openly calling for the federal government to send more Marshals after Adam Pilgrim''s gang that was heading towards the state of Northern California. ¡°Good. Hopefully, that will take some attention away from me.¡± It was a flimsy story, but hopefully, the longer it was told, the more it would be believed. So far, the federal government hasn''t responded to the US Marshall Service report that they were sending more agents to Northern California to investigate whether Adam Pilgrim had indeed gone there. Internationally, the only thing to note was the British annexing of Burma. At the start of February, more snow started to clear slowly as the snowstorms subsided. It was slightly warmer than it should be this time of year, which helped. San Francisco was rocked by anti-Chinese riots, as it was one of the last cities on the West Coast to have a sizeable Chinese population. Many had either returned to China or moved up to Cascadia. The governor called in the National Guard, and the remaining Chinese population was driven from the city. Most were reported to be heading north into Cascadia. I had a map of the neighbouring states, and I looked at Cascade to figure out how the population dynamic was starting to take shape. The city of Portland was the major population centre in the state, and there was no Seattle, but a small fishing village was located there. According to reports over the last few years, Portland has grown primarily due to the influx of Chinese from the United States. Many native tribes that were forced out of their lands by the federal troops had also made their way there. They had settled in the state''s east side along the Rocky Mountains. A large European population was also there, making the whole thing a very tense location. It seemed, however, that the Canadian government was adamant about holding the place together and not having it explode into violence, as the US might use it as a pretext to try to annex the territory. There was still some lingering resentment over the War of 1812. The rest of the month saw President Arthur Windborne fighting with Congress, the Senate and the Supreme Court over the acts that were removing the Chinese and native populations. He actively pointed to the recent riots in San Francisco as a clear sign of their problems and how they were open to abuse. He did win a few victories, it seems, but at a cost that he was presently under investigation for impeachment. March had much more traffic along the roads at the edge of the trees that marked the edge of my land. The snows were retreating fast, and spring was now taking hold, with new growths appearing all over. Amy and their new son visited the dungeon for the first time. The child was bundled up, and she carried him as she approached the gates. She had written in on her horse and seemed quite able to handle both simultaneously. We exchanged pleasantries as she entered the courtyard, and I brought forth my avatar. She was here to get her instructions for the rest of the year as I like to keep things loose but aimed towards their goal. It did not take long for her to understand what I was aiming for in the next year, and she was happy to help me achieve my goals. I thought it was the best time to raise the subject that she had not apparently thought of. ¡°Amy, it is not safe for you to bring your child here.¡± ¡°Why. Is there a problem?¡± Amy looked at her child and then back at me, confused by my words. ¡°Amy, New Midian is not a place for children; it is a place for monsters and those who want to challenge them.¡± ¡°But we have always been safe here.¡± ¡°That is because I''ve been protecting you. I do not let you pass the courtyard often for the simple reason that there are rules here that I cannot even cross. I can bring you in and have you do things, but if you stay too long, I will not be able to protect you.¡± This causes her to look around the Dungeon for the first time with fear since she arrived for the first time with her family. I was lying to her, but for a purpose; I thought it was noble. I wanted to limit the child''s exposure to the monsters around here because if he grew up playing here, it would skew him in a way I did not want. He was most likely going to be screwed up in some way, but I tried to limit it, not make him a social outcast due to his outlook on life. ¡°Bring him by all means. But know that you could hurt him before he has started in life.¡± I hoped that this would force a change in her attitude. Since I had freed her from her family and got her started on her new life, she had come out of her shell and become far more confident. This was a good thing, and I was happy about it, but I knew I could not allow it to become complacency. She was becoming too accustomed to coming here and being allowed access. I needed to remind her that this was a place of danger for her and her child. From the look on her face, I think it might have sunk in, and she was taking this information to heart. The problem was that I knew we were losing something in this, as there would be a distance between us now. She had become one of the closest to a friend I had. I had realised this would become an issue if someone tried to use her against me, so I needed to establish a line between us. I had a job with clear consequences if I failed to perform it. She finished her business with me and departed. As she rode away, I knew that what I needed to do had been done. In the past, she had often left with a smile on her face, promising to return quickly, but now she simply said goodbye and rode off, never looking back. ¡°It is for the best.¡± It wasn''t pleasant, but I knew it was the truth. March passed and turned into April, and I now saw much less of Amy. Herbert was often now delivering the papers and taking my instructions to implement them in the world. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Locally, April had little happening, with the usual notices in the paper on births, deaths, and minor business transactions. Crossway seemed to be doing well and was settling into a community with a future ahead of it. Trade from Cascadia along the rail line and its farming produce made it a reasonably thriving community. Internationally, things were happening. The first report in the paper was that Vancouver was now incorporated and the centre of the new state of British Columbia in Canada. Vancouver and Portland, the two major Canadian cities on the West Coast, are now linked by rail. Portland was connected to the US rail network through Crossway and up through Northern California. One story that was reported heavily was the passing of the Irish Home Rule Bill in the United Kingdom. The bill would grant home rule to the Irish nation by 1890 with specific provisions and protections for the Protestant population in the north. Most welcomed it, but there was still a hard-core group of Irish nationalists who wanted complete independence. There were the opposite rumblings from the Protestants. At the start of May, there were large-scale general strikes across the United States, and we''re all campaigning for the 8-hour working day to become a federal law. Many had taken it on, but many corporations were still resisting the idea, and the strike seemed to target them and force the issue. I was reading about the strikes out east mainly when my first visitor of the year arrived. I was down in the crypt under the church reading the paper when the notification came in. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] ¡°Shit!¡± After dismissing my avatar, I quickly shifted position to the gates. Here, I found a black man walking along the northern route. He was stretched out in travelling clothes and carried a satchel across his back. He held a hand scythe in his hand, and along his belt, I could see several knives strapped to it. It was about halfway through the day, and the weather was clear, so I knew the spirit would not participate in this little event. My Hunters were aware of the Challenger now and stirring from their lairs. Roberson would be the first to take a crack at this guy while he was on his hunting grounds. Roberson took a little time to find him, as the denser nature of the graves and buildings within a dungeon limited the number of directions he could move in. The Challenger was approaching the edge of his hunting grounds by the time he did find him, and he had a choice to make. I wondered which one he would take, but it became clear that he wanted to engage. After evaluating the Challenger, Roberson did not hesitate. He favoured a large, almost meat cleaver-like blade, which he used to hack off the parts of his victims that he desired to consume. He had pulled the blade out and was now moving just behind the Challenger to ambush him from behind. Today, luck was not on his side. As he approached, he stood on a branch or small twig that snapped as he put it down, alerting his opponent that someone was behind him. ¡°Classic mistake of not looking at where you''re walking.¡± The Challenger had turned around and was facing his hunter in a guarded stance. Now that the element of surprise had been lost, this would be a much closer fight, and I was pretty interested to see how my newest hunter would handle such a fight. Both men were similar in build and height, and their weapons did not give either an advantage in range. I wondered who would make the first move when my Hunter leapt into action. The sudden assault pushed back the Challenger and blocked the blade with his own. The dull clang of metal striking metal was heard with grunts of exertion and the occasional curse. Roberson was able to claim first blood with a small cut across the hand holding the scythe. The Challenger didn''t drop the blade but was clearly in pain from the wound, but not enough to stop the fight or give my Hunter the advantage. This brought both men back to circling each other. They had made about half a rotation around each other when the Challenger attacked this time. Roberson Was forced onto the defensive, but his knife proved to be much better at blocking his opponent''s weapon. He broke away, and the men began circling each other again. Both were breathing hard now as the fight started taking a toll on their stamina. I did not often see a battle like this last as long as this one had. ¡°Do I need to get my hunters to do more cardio?¡± I wondered to myself as Roberson went back on the offensive. It seemed she had gotten the measure of his opponent and changed how he attacked. He made it look like he would strike again with his blade in a downward strike, and as his opponent raised his weapon to block it, he charged and body-tackled him. Both men collapsed to the ground, but Roberson had the advantage of falling on top of his opponent. The fight quickly devolved into a brawl on the ground as both men searched for the advantage of bringing their blades into play. Roberson kneed his opponent in the groin, causing the fight to go out of him for a few seconds. But it was enough, and Roberson climbed on top of him and began to stab him repeatedly. ¡°Well, this is over.¡± The challenger died coughing up blood as he weakly tried to stop his murder. [A Hunter has made a Kill] ¡°I will leave to clean this up.¡± I turned my attention away, and within an hour, I was using [Hide the Crime!] for the bloodstains and trail leading to Roberson¡¯s lair. The little loot was split, and the Hunters returned to their entertainments. I thought we were settling back into our routine, but something odd happened a few days later. I was downstairs in the crypts below the church, just moving a few things around when Rigger came and visited me. This was quite surprising as Hunters rarely came and sought me out on their initiative. ¡°Pardon the Interruption. I would ask you something.¡± He had taken his hat off when speaking and was holding it before him against his chest. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Keeper, I was hoping to get a few things brought him from town.¡± He said after a few seconds of delay. ¡°And what would they be?¡± He went on to supply me with a short list of things he wanted. They were not major things: a few more clothes, a couple of blankets, a potbelly stove, and a few other odds and ends. ¡°Sure. That can all be arranged.¡± I still had over $6000 in notes lying around, so the financial cost was nothing to be concerned about. I wouldn''t ask her, but I would get the stuff as soon as he next came around. Rigger broke into a smile when he heard this. Part of me wishes he had not, as without his hat on, I have a full look at his face now. ¡°Thank you, Keeper.¡± He turned on and shuffled off, putting his hat back on as he ascended the stairs to the church above. I thought nothing more of it and instructed Herbert on what to pick up. I had considered it since Rigger left and decided to add it to his list quite considerably. Herbert would have to make a few trips to the neighbouring town and Crossway to hide the purchases, but it was all doable. I decided to pick up a lot of clothing in men''s sizes and ten-pot belly stoves. The stoves could take longer to get, but I wanted a stockpile in case other Hunters change their minds and request them as well. I had plenty of room and underground storage, so holding them until needed was no longer a problem. I ensured that Herbert had a cover story to explain why he was buying all the stoves but was unsure if it would hold up too much scrutiny. It took the rest of May, but the supplies eventually arrived. It cost me a little over $500, but I think it was worth it in the end. [Hunter: John Rigger''s loyalty changed from Good > Loyal.] This was an unexpected but entirely welcome surprise after I gave him all the supplies he requested. At this time, he had the highest loyalty out of all my Hunters, with the spirit being the lowest, but she was a special case. The other Hunters learned of the new stockpile as they were the ones who carried it in. They request quite a few items each, and they''re all supplied, but the other two Hunters have no interest in getting themselves a stove. This didn''t bother me as he would rather have them now for future Hunters rather than be scrambling to find any upon request. June 1886 was a pretty dull month as very little happening locally or internationally drew my attention. Sure, there were occasional local stories of vague interest to me, but it was all quiet on the crucial things. The biggest was a volcanic eruption in New Zealand and a significant fire in British Columbia. Herbert regularly attended town now for surprises and listened to the local gossip when he could, and so far, Myers''s story seemed to be accepted by the locals. The US Marshall Service had launched an investigation, but because of the horses'' scattering, they could not find where the battle had taken place against the Pilgrim gang. Questions were still being asked, but they were not a priority as the Cowboys down in the southern states were causing more immediate problems to address. I hope this will continue for quite some time, and I hope it was making no one turn up at the junction to my Dungeon just yet as I wanted to remain quiet and ignored. Chapter 32 July was summertime, and the land around was alive and active. Wildlife was plentiful, and the plants were thriving. The land was green, and flowers were everywhere. My flower beds were blooming, and I was happy with what I had created around the church. Each flower bed was a riot of colour, and the bees happily buzzed around. A few rainy days had helped with the growth around and within the Dungeon. Rigger had been very active during the shorter nights. The sunlight was strong this time of year, and he avoided it as much as possible. The few times he did, he was bundled up like it was the height of winter. Hat, scarf, gloves and heavy coat, leaving as little skin exposed as possible. He had been working on his lair during the nights. He had installed the stove and added a chimney. He had been working on other projects, but I was unsure what they were. I decided not to ask, as they remained within his lair. This was the most I had seen him active in a few years outside of fighting against Challengers or Intruders that enter the Dungeon. Roberson was also out and about as well. The two were often out in the woods harvesting trees for firewood. I ensured that they planted at least a new one for every one they cut down. They were a bit confused by it but obeyed my instructions. Now and again, I would see a tree fall out in the forest surrounding the Dungeon at night or day, knowing they were at work. The other Hunters were not left to their own devices and were at work, ensuring the path leading to the Dungeon and the space before the gates was free of too much vegetation. This happens yearly as the autumn and winter months present too many obstacles due to the weather. August came on with the Hunters, who were still working around the Dungeon. There was far less work to do now, as most of it had been taken care of, so they ventured out less. I was regularly supplied with papers this time of year, and little attracted my attention. I was content to sit back and watch the month pass. I stayed tuned into nights, into days, and back into nights, then days. This changed a bit towards the end of the month when two natural disasters happened within ten days of each other. On the 20th, a massive hurricane destroys a large swathe of Texas, completely destroying a town. The second occurred on the last day of the month when an earthquake in South Carolina, centred around Charleston, caused massive damage. It registered as a 7.5 and caused enormous damage, estimated at around $8 million, and killed over 100 people. September started with a change in the weather as more rain arrived. These rainy days dampened the memories of the summer ones that had just passed. At the start of the month, down in Arizona, Geronimo was engaged by the US military, with him and his followers being killed in a running gunfight. It was announced that many believed that this marked the end of the American Indian Wars, as he was the last major leader left in the country. Over the last few years, it seemed that the number of reported battles with the native tribes had been steadily falling. With the tribes being moved to reservations or forced out of the country, there were far fewer of them to fight the US military now, but they always had the numbers against them that the US army could call on. The weather did not improve over the rest of the month, and the area experienced quite a wet time. Two things that drew my attention did, however, happen in October. The first was reported on the 10th of October, but it had occurred on the 7th, and that was Cuba breaking away and becoming an independent country from the British Empire. It had been a protectorate for nigh on 80 years and now took its steps as an independent country. The paper had an editorial wondering what the long-term effects would be. From the comments I got from the British government, they seemed pretty happy to be rid of them. The Royal Navy Caribbean squadron was based in Puerto Rico and Jamaica, not Havana. I thought that was odd as Havana would be a much more practical choice due to the size of the city there. The fact that no significant military presence in Havana meant that the British had kept the island at arm''s length. The next was President Winborne, who dedicated the now-completed Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour. In his speech, he called upon Americans to remember that this new symbol of their freedom extended to all within their nation. His political opponents derided him for such comments. Things suddenly changed in November as blizzards rolled off the mountains to the West with shocking speed and ferocity. The storm''s sudden speed quickly cut off New Midian and the Driver''s residence. It was many long months before I again established contact with the outside world and learned that this was one of the harshest winters seen in living memory and its effects. Thankfully, I had ensured the Driver family had sufficient supplies that were stockpiled in case such an event happened. I knew they would be OK, and they settled in to wait out the winter. Unfortunately, I remembered that the church was a bit banged up, so I spent a lot of the winter getting rid of the snow blowing into it, doing my best not to have the weather damage be too extensive inside. It got so bad that for several weeks, I had icicles hanging from different parts of the church on the wings of the statue of the Angel of Death. This was not a pleasant winter for me. It wasn''t until the beginning of March 1887 that I reestablished reliable contact with the outside world. The Drivers were now able to travel again. The snowstorms and resulting snowfall had been so bad that they had been pretty much trapped inside the house until a few days earlier. The world around us continued on, and many things happened, but I was not interested in much of it as few things would affect me. Towards the end of March, however, something did pop up that I found might be affecting my future in some small ways or maybe more extensive, depending on how things pan out. There had been an incident on the French/German border that nearly escalated to war. The French backed down as they would be fighting the other two members of the three-emperor alliance and Germany. Even the prideful French at this time were not stupid enough to pick a fight as one-sided as that would be. I did not know how this would affect Europe going forward, but I knew I would need to keep an eye on it. From my timeline, I remembered that this was when the road to the First World War was effectively guaranteed. The snows were now retreating all over the place, and spring was here in force. April brought my first visitors to New Midian. Early in the month, a rider approached the gates and looked into the Dungeon but did not cross the threshold into the courtyard. After a few moments, the rider returned to his mount and left the way he came. That confused me then, but it was answered the next day when the rider returned with three others. The style and quality of their clothes indicated that all four riders were frontiersmen. Each was riding a horse but had brought a pack mule to accompany them. They dismounted, tied the horses before the gates, and unpacked the mule. They were all armed to different degrees, but what caught my attention was the picks and shovels that they were now also starting to equip themselves with. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Great, more grave robbers.¡± Yes, they increased my kill count, which benefited me, but overall, I was getting quite bored with these people constantly coming here to try to rob the place. I did have a fortune located under my church, but the principle of the act was starting to get to me. I contacted my Hunters and warned them of the robbers'' approach, saying they would soon be called to deal with them. It was close to midday, and they strode into the courtyard, ignoring the plinth and turning immediately to the north. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] I got closer to them to listen to what conversation I could. ¡°The stories are true that this place is here.¡± ¡°Like you, I am most surprised by this. When I rode up yesterday and confirmed its location, I was perplexed by the volume of graves here.¡± The rider from the previous day said. ¡°I agree it is odd to see such an expensive graveyard in such a location.¡± At first, I found the conversations and language used that I overheard, but I remembered the time I was now in and how, by my time, the English language had grown and changed with terminology and words falling in and out of use. After nearly sixteen years, I had become used to it, but part of me always found it odd that such men with poor hygiene and worn clothes could still surprise me with the extent of their vocabulary. The men continued along the path, unaware that danger was soon to find them. Roberson was the first to see them. They made it easy for him as they were not moving very quickly, taking note of different graves and mausoleums as they went, planning to start at the church and work their way out. Listening to that plan, it was pretty logical. If the bodies buried in my graves and mausoleums had any valuables on them, it would have been quite profitable for them. Over the next ten minutes, the other three hunters arrived and started stalking the four men individually. I realised I had to step in here and ensure they didn''t trip over each other. ¡°That''s a T-junction head. Take them there. But wait for my instruction.¡± The hunters quickly got into position, realising what I was planning to have them do. The men were armed but had left their rifles with their horses: they all carried digging tools and six-shooters on their hips. I also suspected blades, but their long coats hid them. ¡°Go.¡± When the men reached the T-junction, I instructed them to spread out a little, inspecting different areas. The four hunters exploded from their hiding spots and were forced to defend themselves straight away while the others dropped their tools and went for their guns, but it was far too late. The hunters were too close and too fast. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] The four men''s deaths were brutal and bloody. None of them had the chance to defend themselves. There were a few punches, and even one tried to bite, but the momentum was too much against them. My hunters were starting to saver their kills more and taking their time. I was a bit concerned for the future if they continue to do this, as this could make them sloppy. I could not speak out against it as they were doing their jobs and achieving the kills we all needed. Without instruction, my hunters got to work stripping the bodies and preparing new graves. As the earth was soft and they had become quite proficient at digging graves, it did not take long for the bodies to be buried and the horses outside to be released after their saddlebags were looted. There was a fair amount of tobacco and alcohol to be split among them, and they seemed happy about that. Roberson had dug the grave of his kill and placed it in; then, he had stripped off what he wanted from the body. I couldn''t condemn him for it as he was far more considerate of it and did not leave me a bloody mess all over the place. May returns the quiet times to my Dungeon. An earthquake hit northern Mexico, but I noticed that the details on damage and deaths are relatively scarce. The month rolls on, and I pay attention to the world around me from the top of my bubble. The grave robbers'' disappearance seems to have not attracted much attention. Things continued on as expected, and Herbert, when he visited, reported no investigation into that disappearance as it was believed they had moved on. June was just as quiet for me as May was. Internationally, a few things did pop up that I found interesting. The three-emperor alliance had been signing a series of treaties between them to help with trade and resolve any outstanding issues. Queen Victoria''s Golden Jubilee was celebrated in Britain. Up in Canada, they established their first national park. The only thing of interest in the dungeon was that a wolf chased a deer into it, bringing it down and killing it. The wolf ate its fill and was soon away back into the forest around the dungeon. Rigger discovered the corpse that night and seemed quite happy to salvage what he could from it. Overall, he got some deer hide and antlers with a little bit of meat. After some thought, I decided to leave the corpse where it was. July seemed to start off the same as the last two months, and I was down in the crypts below the church reading the latest edition of the paper that Herbert had supplied. The biggest story internationally was of the British Empire, formerly an annexing of Hawaii after an anti-monarchist revolt on the island that had led to a great deal of internal strife. The large British military base allowed them to take control of the main island quickly and start to extend that control to the others as¡­. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] ¡°Shit¡± I dismissed my avatar and quickly shifted my position to the gates to see who had come to the Dungeon. I looked around and found the Challenger walking along the southern path. I could only see them from behind, so I moved ahead quickly and turned to see who had entered to challenge this place. Walking along the pathway was an Asian man who I thought to be in his early twenties. He was dressed in rugged Western clothing, and clearly, he had been travelling for some time. Across his chest was a strap attached to a satchel on his back. Upon inspection, he held a sword in his hand, which was a Chinese one, not a Western cavalry sword or rapier. I looked up to check the time of day and realised it was much later in the afternoon than I had thought. Being underground while reading the paper caused me to lose track of time as I was thinking about what was happening abroad. If my Hunters didn''t kill him, he would reach the church just before nightfall. I looked him over again, knowing that I could not interfere in what was happening. I took note of the other things he was carrying. He had two knives on his belt and a miner''s lantern on the satchel. He had clearly come prepared. As he walked, I knew my Hunters were starting to stir and look for him. This brief time for the violence started to give me time to reflect. I had no test over the years at all. My challengers came prepared for this place, and I suspected it was the dreams that had told them what they needed to do as well as where they needed to go. In what shape or means those dreams came to them was another question that I could never answer unless I got to speak to one of them, and the chances of that were doubtful even if they did finish the dungeon and escape. The Challenger was in Macgregor''s territory, and I looked around, expecting him to be here at any moment. I shifted my view around and eventually found him as he found where the Challenger was. From his body language, I suspected he was going to move quickly until he saw the sword. Identifying his opponent''s weapon forced him to change his tactics a bit. You couldn''t just charge, as the sword gave his opponent the advantage of length in his attacks. McGregor used knives, so he would be at a disadvantage. McGregor let him pass by his hiding spot and started stalking him from behind. I had to agree with his tactics, as this was the smartest thing he could do. He moved in slowly from behind, avoiding anything on the ground that could give him away. He spent his time looking at his opponent on the ground where he would walk equally. Again, this is another smart move I could not disagree with. The challenge was moving steadily, being aware of his surroundings, and constantly looking around. This meant McGregor could just waltz up behind him and attack; he had to be more strategic in his advance. Several times, he was forced to dive behind a gravestone or a large statue to avoid being seen. We were both aware that the challenger was not cognisant of his presence. Or we hoped if the challenger was, he made no overt sign of it. It took several long and painful minutes for McGregor to get close enough to attack, but when he was ready, he moved quickly. He wanted a blitz attack to dominate and then, if possible, to take his time with the kill. Unfortunately, it turned out the challenge was aware of him. Chapter 33 As McGregor approached, the Challenger swung around to meet him. He was holding his sword in a pose that showed he knew how to use it. One arm was pulled back, and the other was straight out in front of him, parallel to the blade. His footing had also changed, and I felt he was ready to spring forward at any moment. McGregor was able to halt his forward momentum. If he had not, he would have been impaled upon the sword. He backed up slightly to give himself more room to play with and pulled a second blade from under his coat. He hunched over slightly and looked for a way through his opponent''s guard. The pair slowly started to circle each other, each looking for an opening. The Challenger made the first move. He moved forward gracefully and began stabbing with a sword. McGregor was forced onto the defensive, using his knives to deflect the blade trying to pierce him. The new layout of the Dungeon had reduced the amount of space around the path. The graves were much closer to the edge of the walkway now. McGregor knew this as he was being forced back towards the headstones. If he were pinned there, he would be in serious trouble. He made it look like he was preparing to dive to the right but shifted to the left at the last minute, throwing his opponent off slightly and allowing him to get out into a more favourable position. His opponent quickly turned and faced him again. From the footwork and the stance, I was confident that the Challenger had been trained in martial arts that involved the sort he was using. The Challenger was again on the attack, forcing my Hunter back. This time, he backed up the pathway, giving him more room to work with. He was desperately deflecting the blades with his knives but was at a massive disadvantage here. He held his blades differently in each hand. The right had the blade upward, while the left had it downward. This allowed him to block the sword by deflecting it as it approached him. His breathing was becoming more laboured as he exerted himself quite thoroughly, and his opponent did not let up. As for the Challenger, his breathing was becoming deeper and faster, but he was regulating it far better due to his training. The Challenger never let up and continually attacked McGregor, keeping him off balance and unable to take the initiative: block and counter, block and counter. The deadly dance continued, with McGregor unable to get close as the Challenger kept dominating the fight. The sword proved the decisive factor as McGregor was forced to absorb two separate strikes rapidly. His heavy clothing protected him from most of it, but the blade sliced through, and now he had a bleeding wound on his left arm and right shoulder. He was losing, and he knew it. This Challenger was too much for him, and he chose to retreat. He turned tail and ran as fast as he could, which surprised the Challenger enough for him to get away, as he was not followed. The Challenger stood there for several minutes, wondering if he was coming back, but it quickly became apparent he was not, so he continued along the path. His stance was that of a man prepared for violence at any moment. With McGregor stepping away from the fight, the Challenger was now in Rodriguez''s territory. While I waited for Rodriguez to get into position to fight this new Challenger, I thought about McGregor. He was skilled and sadistic by nature, but when faced with a competent challenger, he seemed a bit of a letdown. "Do I have to start training my Hunters?" They were monsters, not warriors. I had to work with what I had. The day was coming to an end, and the sun was starting to set in the West. Darkness was beginning to cover the Dungeon; the shadows deepened as the light faded. This would work in my Hunter''s favour now, but it might not be enough against this guy''s training with a sword. Rodriguez sprang an ambush as he turned the corner to move to the next ring in the maze leading to the church. A tree was next to the T-junction connecting the two rings. He had positioned himself behind it, and the Challenger had not seen him due to the growing darkness around him. I have to admit this Challenger''s reflexes were good. As soon as Rodriguez attacked, the man was on the defensive and used a sword to parry the first attempt of Rodriguez''s tomahawk to end the fight. My Hunter was in close now and kept up the pressure. The Challenger was the one backing up now, trying to give himself more room to manoeuvre and bring the greater length of the sword into play. Rodriguez swung in again with his tomahawk, expecting it to be parried to the sword, but instead, the Challenger dropped it. He reached out, grabbed Rodriguez''s arm, and then threw my Hunter over his shoulder with a twist of his upper body. Rodriguez hit the ground hard and was winded. The force of the impact on the ground had caused him to drop his tomahawk. The Challenger used this opportunity to recover his sword, and by the time Rodriguez could get back up, there was a distance between them. Rodriguez was now on the defensive. He was in a worse position than McGregor because his tomahawk was less effective than the knives he had used. The Challenger pressed using his sword''s length to its best advantage, and Rodriguez was now backing up fast to give himself room. Rodriguez was a better brawler than McGregor. He ran towards his opponent and launched himself into the air. The Challenger was not prepared for this. Rodriguez collided with him in a combination of close line and shoulder barge, knocking him back onto the ground. The sword was knocked away by the impact of the Challenger with the path. Rodriguez was on top of him and scrambled to straddle him to gain the advantage to win this fight. A forearm blocked the tomahawk as it swung down. The fight had become a grappling match, with punches and elbows being used. Both men were seeking an advantage and rolling around. Grunts and cries of pain came when blows found their mark. It was intense and brutal now. The Challenger cried in pain as Rodriguez bit into a hand holding on to the tomahawk''s handle. This allowed him to regain control of it when the other hand let go. The fist to his face stopped him from doing more. The pole was strong enough to knock him to the side and allow the Challenger to roll him over and place himself on top. Rodriguez wasn''t done yet by any measure. He returned the blow with one of his own, followed by an elbow to the ribs as he rolled him back. I did not know if Rodriguez had seen the danger he was now in. During the scuffle and the rolling, the Challenger had come close enough to his sword to grab the handle once more. This time, he swung up with a closed fist around the handle, but its blade guard caught Rodriguez in the face. This cut open his cheek and knocked him to the side again. The Challenger didn''t try to gain dominance this time but rolled the other way, giving them distance. Both men quickly scrambled to their feet and faced off against each other once more. Now, it was impossible to tell which way this fight would go. The Challenger initiated an attack this time. He closed the distance between them, fast-striking with his sword. Rodriguez was forced to backpedal quickly or get skewed, but he was not fast enough, and the blade caught him across his chest. He smiled in pain, but the wound was not too deep, as it was only the tip of the blade that had caught him. As with MacGregor, his heavy clothing protected him from some of the danger the blade presented. Both men were breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight, but Rodriguez was not letting up. He charged forward, swinging aggressively with this tomahawk in shorter, more controlled swings. This forced the Challenger back as he was desperately defending himself. Rodriguez was able to batter aside the sword blade and score a grazing hit against the Challenger. The wound was on his upper left arm and was not deep. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The Challenger used the pommel of his sword as a weapon, striking it into Rodriguez''s face, knocking him back, and breaking his nose. Thick dark red blood flowed from his nose. Like Rigger, his blood was changing as he spent longer within the Dungeon and levelled up. By now, the fight had dragged on long enough for the sun to have nearly set. The last rays of the sun were illuminating this desperate struggle. Both men were in such a position that neither could take advantage of the dying light to blind the other. Rodriguez went on the attack again to finish the fight. This time, his opponent did something different and stepped forward to meet him. Just as they were about to get close enough to clash blades, he dropped to a knee. With a savage and powerful sideways slash, he caught Rodriguez across the stomach. This time, the wound was deep. Rodriguez was forced to backpedal again, desperately holding in his intestines as they threatened to spill out. I could tell straight away that this fight was over now. We were close to Rodriguez''s lair; he needed to get out there now if he would survive that wound. He made the same calculation and quickly smiled, so I started retreating. He did not turn his back up on his opponent but quickly moved away, and the Challenger was unsure whether or not to follow. I could understand his hesitation, as the wounds that he inflicted on my Hunter could usually prove fatal unless treated quickly. The Challenger looked at my Hunter and then to the church. He looked back again, decided, and moved away in the opposite direction towards the church. "That one''s over, then." I looked over the Challenger one last time before following Rodriguez. I could not take any action when a challenger was in the Dungeon, but I could watch to ensure he got back to his lair. It did not take long, and he was soon tucked away. As soon as the doors closed, I was notified how long it would take him to heal, and I went back, looking for the Challenger. When I found him, he had reached the central part of the maze that made up the Dungeon. He was on the South side of the church, moving around the building to get to the doors on the other side. The last three hunters left in play are Rigger, Roberson, and the Hateful Spirit. He would eventually run into one of them, depending on what direction he went when he came out of the church. I knew that none of them could reach him in time before he went through the doors to the church, so he was protected until he left. By the time he reached the doors, he had lit the miner''s lantern, which he carried with him to help illuminate the way. I watched him open the doors and step inside the church. The usual sensation of peace and the end of hostilities swept over me. As the sign above the door said, this was a sanctuary to a Challenger. After closing the doors behind him, he walked towards the altar. His body language had changed, and he had become far more relaxed but still wary as he stepped forward. Whatever brought them here always instructed the challengers that they were safe while they were in this building. Of the few challenges that made it this far, they had never doubted that. When he reached the altar, he placed the lantern on it. Slowly, with some care, he rotated the satchel around as his arm injury gave him trouble. From within a satchel, he pulled out a jade medallion. The medallion was round with a square hole in the middle. It was about two inches wide and covered with designs and oriental writing that I could not understand. A simple piece of string would allow it to be worn around the neck. With some reference, he placed the medallion on the altar, and my mind was flooded with images. [Challenger''s offering has been accepted.] I got the impression of a family. Being trained in the family way of war and of the sword. I got glimpses of fire and pain. After that, there was no more. The Challenger had sat down during my visions and pulled off his coat. He saw it was once more in its sheath and sitting beside him. He was reaching into a satchel and pulling out bandages to treat his wounded arm. Most of the left arm was covered in blood, which had soaked into his white shirt. He ripped off the lid and sleeve of the shirt and set about cleaning the wound. Once this was done, he bandaged it up. He drank water from his canteen, pulled out jerky from the satchel, and started eating it. Once he was finished, he extinguished the light from the lantern and settled into sleep. He stood a good hour before dawn. His wounded arm was stiff, but he worked on it to use it again. He then underwent a series of stretches and exercises reminiscent of Tai Chi. Hell, they might have been Tai Chi for all that I knew. I watched him strap the sword back to his waist as soon as he was done and put his coat back on. He walked back towards the doors, planning to leave, eating and drinking as he went. He put the water canteen away when he reached the doors. Looking out, he checked the light conditions. There was a high full moon, and the Dungeon was surprisingly well-lit. "Risky but understandable." I realised he had planned to use the last hour of darkness to get across the Dungeon as fast as possible. He had to go through the maze again and had over a mile to cross before he reached the gates. He could just wait until the sun was up and then make the trip, but it seemed that he wanted to be away from here as soon as he could. This meant that all three of my last hunters were in play. He stepped out, drawing his sword, but did not head south, taking the northern path this time. ¡°Thinking that is a mistake, you should have gone South.¡± Rigger had spent the night preparing to engage the Challenger by finding a good ambush spot to the South. Roberson and the Spirit were to the north. The Challenger seemed stiff and sore from the previous day''s fighting, but overall, I thought he had a better chance against Roberson than the Spirit. He moved with the same level of caution as the day before. He pushed through the dungeon maze at a determined pace. He made several wrong turns but quickly entered the Spirit''s territory. To the east, the first hints of sunrise were starting, and the morning chorus of birds was stirring. It had taken him longer than I thought to get here. It did not take long for her to find him. The Challenger saw her out of the corner of his eye. In response, he turned to face her, sword ready. She was some distance away and slowly approaching him. I suspect she was using her seduction ability. Looking at the Challenger''s face, I could see it was not working. He knew something was off and was actively trying to avoid her. I think it was the soft white glow surrounding her, but that could just be me. She was still too far away to rush him. He was moving activity each now, trying to get away from her and to the gates. By now, she became aware that her seduction ability was not working until she changed tactics. With a hateful scream, she changed and chased after him, transforming into her true form. The Challenger took one look at the transformed creature stalking him and turned and ran. I could not blame him. He was running along the path that would soon take him out of her hunting territory, but she was faster than he had realised. Glancing over his shoulder, he realised too late that she was upon him as she swiped with her talons. He managed to charge, but not fast enough, taking a nasty wound across the back of his left shoulder. He cried out in pain and dived over some gravestones, hoping to delay his pursuer. Unfortunately, she was not hindered by such things and kept after him. He was forced to dodge several more strikes from her talons. He managed to get his sword to block another few and was soon finding his footing again. This only infuriated the Spirit more, driving her to more extraordinary acts of violence and speed. By now, the Challenger had realised he was against something he could not fight like the earlier hunters. This brought him to a fighting retreat, as he kept the Spirit back to the best of his ability, but he was taking several more light wounds from the talons. In the distance, the sun was starting to peak from the horizon. Time was now not on the spirit side, and she had to finish him off quickly if she was going to win this one. Another factor came into play much sooner: the limits of a hunting ground. He crossed that boundary without realising it, and she was forced to stop. The Challenger was backing up still without fully understanding what had just happened, but had realised that the Spirit was not following him. He looked at her as she screamed in frustration at him. I didn''t think he fully understood, but he knew he had a reprieve when turning and running for the gates. Roberson had a good idea of where the Challenger was now and was moving to intercept him. Rigger was moving along the outer ring pathway, trying to get to the gates, but I didn''t think he would be able to get there in time unless Roberson was able to intercept the Challenger. Roberson found him not too far from the place he left the Spirit. He stepped out into the pathway, weapons drawn, to face the challenger head-on. The Challenger had spotted him but hadn''t slowed down, clearly bleeding from many wounds. The one on his back was the most serious and, unless treated soon, would turn life-threatening. The Challenger was desperate, and in his desperation, he took a terrible gamble. He charged right at my Hunter with his sword, ready for a savage strike. Roberson was no fool and shifted his position to meet the blade and turn it aside. As it seemed like the sword would fall, he lifted his blade, but his opponent dropped to his knee, slashing across his legs instead. Roberson collapsed in a cry of pain. The Challenger didn''t wait and was on his feet again, running for the gates. Rigger was coming up from the South, and it became a race to see who would make it to the gates first. The challenge was staggering from blood loss, but he kept up with the beast as best he could. It was close, but the Challenger made it to the gates and was let through before Rigger could reach the courtyard. When he passed through, the sun''s light was on the gates. The sound of a ringing bell came from the church in the heart of my Dungeon, indicating that he had completed the Dungeon''s trial and whatever reward was his declaim. "Well done, Challenger. You are the third to have passed through my Dungeon." I wanted to ask him what his reward was, but his condition worsened before me every second. He struggled to his feet, his weapon ready in case something came out of the Dungeon after him. I could summon my avatar and tell him it was over, but I closed the gates instead. When they finally closed, he collapsed to the ground, breathing hard. There, I left him. Chapter 34 I returned to the church after helping Roberson back to his lair. The Challenger''s sword had done a real number on his legs. Rigger returned to his lair, unhappy at missing out on the chance for violence and blood. The Spirit retreated from the light of the sun. I knew what I would find but not what it would say. Wong Da. The 7th of July, 1887, A.D. He came to honour his family and find the strength to move forward on his path. "Wong Da. Another successful Challenger and I still have no clue about their reward. Such is my life. A hint would be appreciated." Silence. Sighing, I returned to dealing with the things I had to take care of. As for the rest of July, nothing involving outsiders took place. The plants grew, the insects flew, and my Hunters did whatever they wanted. Rigger was much more active during this time at night than usual. He found the deer carcass had awakened something sleeping within him. He was out and about in the forest at night, more often hunting. He had also set traps and brought in the kills from them¡ªprimarily rabbits or small animals such as squirrels. He took the bodies into his lair, and I often saw smoke coming from his new chimney. Whatever he was doing, he seemed happier, and as he was doing nothing that threatened the Dungeon, I allowed him free reign. The other Hunters were up and about now and again, but none of them to the extent Rigger had been. Roberson was the closest, but that was mainly for firewood. He seemed to be preparing for winter and ensuring he had sufficient stock if needed. I did not count the Spirit, as she was out and about every time the sun was no threat to her. I spent several nights just watching her and her nocturnal patterns. It took a little time, but I noticed that she followed a similar patrol pattern around her territory every night. Certain random elements were thrown into it, but she always went to certain areas at selected times. I didn''t know why, but it seemed to be what she was content to do. And yes, I knew the irony of using the word content when it involved anything with that Spirit. Life continued around the forest that hid my Dungeon. Births and deaths are recorded in the local paper, along with regional and international news. The Rochester family continued to grow, and it was clear they were becoming wealthy and well-respected within the local community. The Driver family was also expanding, with Amy pregnant again. Looking out across the world from my vantage point at the top of the bubble, I was content with what was happening and with what plans I had in motion. Traffic along the road was a constant now. None were turning to my Dungeon, and I was content with that. Killing too many too fast would attract the attention I was seeking to avoid. July gave way to August, and things continued as they had for many years. No one came to New Midian, which was unexpected. Rigger was still active during this time and returned with bigger kills on his hunting trips. Another stag and a wolf were added to his kill total. What he was planning to do with those bodies, I had no idea, and some part of me did not want to know. August gave way to September, and the first hints of autumn started to appear later in the month. It was not until the end of September that the first international story was reported that actually interested me. The story was buried in the back of the paper, but it seemed there had been some form of large flood in China. The editors of the Crossway Chronicle were downplaying it, but what I remembered from the earth''s geography indicated it was something more substantial. The Yellow River had flooded in China, and what little I could glean from the article was that the death toll was massive. September shifted into October, and I continued to look for additional information on the flood. However, the international news section of the paper only mentioned it occasionally. Around the world, the British Empire was taking over different areas, and tensions between Germany and France were still relatively high in Europe. The countryside around me changed as autumn settled in and winter prepared to return. Rigger slowed his nightly excursions and seemed to prepare to withdraw for winter. October passed with little happening, and November soon arrived. The weather was a lot damper now, and the temperature was dropping. The red and golden leaves of autumn were now falling to the ground, and in the distance, the snow line on the mountains was starting to move down. One thing of note that happened in international news that interested me and was reported on in quite a bit of detail was the confirmation that the dominion of Ireland would gain its separate parliament on the 1st of August 1890. This was the final part of the Irish Home Rule Act passed by the British parliament. December arrived, and the snow soon followed. The report on establishing the International Bureau of Intellectual Property was one of the last papers I got from the neighbouring town before we were cut off again. I snorted at this and thought of all the different pieces of technology I could use to patent through them and make an absolute fortune. However, I quickly concluded that this would be a fool''s errand as I understood the concepts of this technology but not how to design or make it. From my perspective, the winter of 1887-88 was not as bad as the last. That winter had been brutal, and the Dungeon was utterly snowed in for several weeks. It was not until the start of February that contact with the outside world was re-established. It turned out that January 1888 had been quite a busy and tragic month. What people called the schoolhouse blizzard swept through Dakota, Montana, Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas, and a large chunk of Texas. Several hundred people were left dead by the sudden and powerful blizzard, primarily children, as they were caught heading home from school when it had swept through. The Hatfield-McCoy feud rumbled with what people called the battle of Grapevine Creek. Several people had died in the clash, and the US marshals announced that they had enough deploying many Marshalls to the area to end the violence and the feud. In February, several more blizzards and heavy snowfalls swept through the area, closing the road routes again. It became safe to travel again at the start of March, but the weather was still unpredictable. Once I had contact with the outside world again, March proved to be an equally busy and tragic month for the United States and internationally. In Germany, Wilhelm I, Emperor of Germany, died and was succeeded by his son Frederick III. His reign was only four days as he died, and his son Wilhelm II ascended to the throne. This led to quite a lot of confusion and grief within Germany. On the 11th of March, the great Blizzard of 1888 swept through the eastern seaboard of the United States, shutting down all commerce and travel. The reports coming out claimed that hundreds were dead, mostly frozen in their own homes. To top the tragedy off, the summit of Ritter Island collapsed into the sea, causing a tsunami. Reports were varying, but some claimed that between 500 on the low side and up to 5000 on the high side were dead from the resulting wave. "Well, this month chalking up quite the death toll." The month passed, and April arrived. The countryside around me was soaring now very quickly. Every day, it seemed there was more green and less snow. By the end of the month, the snow was gone, and the countryside was alive once more. This same Spirit seemed to have been passed on to the rest of the country, and traffic along the road had increased markedly. In Texas, the new capitol building was opened to the public in Austin on the 21st of April. Interestingly, the Mexicans renamed the city after the failed war of independence. However, when the Americans took the territory, the name was reclaimed. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. This month also saw the US Marshals breaking up the gang along the Mexican border known as the Cowboys. Over the last few years, they had aggressively hunted down and arrested all the members they could find. Many had now fled across the border into northern Mexico but had found a very unwelcoming Mexican military waiting for them. Those who were not killed were handed back over to the US for trial. May arrived, and spring was in full force. On the 10th day of the month, I got my first visitors since the Challenger last year. I spotted them as they rode up to the gates while I watched the world pass by from the top of the bubble. "What''s all this?" Two covered wagons came up the road. Both wagons looked battered, and the canvas coverings had been patched in several different locations. I could see four men riding on the wagons, but I was unsure if there was more inside either of the wagons. "Pioneers? Doubtful, most are coming in with the train now." Since establishing the rail link, I have seen a sharp drop in the numbers of pioneers and families travelling by wagon along the road on the forest''s edge. This was one of the signs to me that what people call the Wild West was now ending. Civilisation and progress were slowly taming the land and containing the wild men that once lived there. The wagons were parked in the open space before the gates, and I shifted my position to get a good view of the men who had arrived. The four men I had seen were soon joined by two more from the back of each wagon. I looked closer at the wagons now and counted the additional packs and containers on the sides. Mixed in with them were many tools, and I would hazard a bet that these men were miners. "If you are, why are you here?" They were a rough and ready group. It could be that these men were used to living in the more uncivilised areas of the country. Something was a bit off about them, and I was unsure what it was. Listening to them was pretty interesting. They were miners but what would be termed "claim jumpers." What they were doing here became apparent as they investigated the rumours of the hidden gold within the graveyard. I suspected they were here for a bit of grave robbing, on top of that if they could get away with it. The four crossed through the gate and stood around the courtyard. They took in the sight of the Dungeon and started to make plans. They did mention that the proportions of the place seemed off, as well as the density of the structures and graves present. This should have been a red flag for them, but they were far more interested in what they could gain from the place after some exploration. The church in the distance was their primary objective. [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.] The message came as soon as the first crossed out of the courtyard onto the southern path. I checked them over and countered that all four were armed with pistols strapped to their thighs. The sun was high in the sky, meaning that they had several solid hours of sunlight ahead of them. I could sense my Hunters stirring once more as they were now aware of the intruders within the Dungeon. Rigger was not going to like dealing with these intruders today. The sky was nearly completely clear, and the sun was bright, shining down on everything. "Four armed men heading along the southern path towards the church." I knew I did not need to tell my Hunters any more than that. I had been trying to get them to work more closely together when stalking large groups, but their natures were in opposition to me every time. I had concluded that I needed to keep my instructions simple and easy to follow. This was not because my hunters were dumb but because they did not like working in concert with each other. This meant simple battle tactics and ambushes were the most effective. By the time all four Hunters were in position, the four men had made it roughly halfway through the southern pathway towards the church. Ambush is the most effective at the junctions in the maze, giving them different angles of attack when the order comes. This had worked well in the past, and I thought it would work well here again. "Go." The four Hunters emerged from their hiding spots and attacked. Rigger was the first seen, and the men cried out in alarm as they went for their guns. The others were forced to factor them into the equations of their firing arcs. One man managed to get a shot off, clipping Rigger and breaking his stride. He quickly compensated and was soon attacking again. The man who shot him was unable to get a second one off as he was distracted by the others around him, finding themselves locked in vicious hand-to-hand combat. This allowed Rigger to get close enough to jump him. The flying clothesline took him to the ground, and soon, there was blood spilling. [A Hunter has made a Kill] These were tough and brutal men themselves, used to violence. They were not going down easy, fighting back with everything they had. Fists and elbows were being used, and even biting occurred across the remaining three fights. Each fight saw the momentum swing in my Hunter''s favour as the rest of the men died. [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [A Hunter has made a Kill] [Hunter: Atticus Roberson, Level up!] Looking over my victorious but bloodied Hunters, I counted the injuries that they had sustained. Rigger was the worst, sporting a bullet graze on his arm. It had torn through his coat, and I could see some blood coming from the wound. His shirt was absorbed, and most of it was under the coat. "Right, clean-up time. Rigger, how is your arm?" "Reckon it be fine, Keeper." He spoke as he tested his arm to see how much range of motion it had and how much pain it caused him. "Good to know. Search the bodies and make sure that they''re buried by dawn. The two wagons outside need to be taken care of. You all know what to do." Roberson searched the body of his kill and then looked over it for another reason. He didn''t seem too impressed. He slipped the body over his shoulder and carried it to his lair. As he walked, I went with him. "Congratulations on gaining your new level. After everything is dealt with, it''s best to go through with that tonight." "Understood, Keeper." The horses and money the group had were sent to the Driver household. It was not much, as it seemed they had been heading on an expedition up into the mountains. I kept the mining equipment, and some more dynamite was added to my collection. The wagons were dumped into the ravine to the West. The bodies were buried. All the alcohol and tobacco were split, and the hunters went off happy with their bounty. I waited until the next day and looked over Roberson''s status sheet to see what he had chosen to do with his level-up.
Hunter Name Atticus Roberson
Level 2 Kills 0/8
Skills Loyalty Good
Blades. V
Handguns. IV
Rifles. IV
Stealth. III
Tracking. II
Explosives. III
Corpse Harvesting. I
Dark Traits
Cannibal
"Corpse Harvesting?" At first, I thought it was an odd choice, but then I remembered his dark traits. After a little more thought, I realised it was probably the best choice outside of improving his base skills. Whatever he was doing in his lair, he seemed pretty busy, and there was a regular trail of smoke from the chimney. His picture had not changed much, but he seemed a bit darker with his skin tone the more I looked. May then settled back into the usual sequence of events I had become used to. I moved around the Dungeon, investigating different things that piqued my interest. During the month, I was looking at the map of this part of the continent. Something in the back of my mind was telling me that there was something here that I was seeing but not fully understanding. Of course, the map was different from what I had expected from my timeline, but something else was an itch in the back of my mind. "What is it?" I spent the better part of a day looking at the map and thinking about it. There was Vancouver in British Columbia, where it was supposed to be. Moving south, there was no Seattle, but half a dozen communities spread out where it was. I continued down the map, looking at it, trying to understand what I was seeing but not grasping. I reached Portland at the mouth of the river it sat on. From its location, it was clearly going to become a major hub as it had quite a decent harbour and access to a large river. In the end, I had to give up as I couldn''t see what it was, which frustrated me, but it was another one of those things that I could not control. I settled back and waited for what June 1888 would bring me. Chapter 35 June and July passed with few local or international happenings that caught my attention. I spent most of this time working on my flower beds, weeding them and ensuring they bloomed without hindrance. I was collecting an impressive number of wild blooms. This all changed in August. The world got busy. Even with the telegram office, he still took time for word of world events to travel from where they were happening to Crossway. It wasn''t until the middle of the month that I learned of Germany''s first successful motorised airship flight. I read that this had caused quite a stir in many circles, proving that transportation through airship of possibly goods and passengers was a real possibility. Many speculated on the possible disadvantages and advantages of such a mode of transportation. From my time, I knew of the possible explosive results of using airships filled with hydrogen. Tensions continued to build between France and Germany, but at the moment, it seemed like there would be no spark to trigger a war. That could all change quite quickly as I knew that it would generally come from a completely unexpected quarter, and when it kicked off, it would be a disaster for all involved. Locally, several farmers sold their smaller land holdings to several larger ones. The Rochester family was one of the largest recipients of these new land acquisitions. From what information I could glean from the paper, the land holdings had increased by a third, making them the fourth largest landholder in the area. The family had diversified, splitting their property between ranching and farming. Ranching was losing favour to agriculture in the area. August rolled into September, and I knew that autumn had started. The road at the forest edge continued to see traffic, but I saw more herds of animals being driven up and down it. The farmers were getting ready for the harvest and wintering of the animals, so they were fattening them up to survive or sending them to slaughter. At the start of September, a news article from London caught my attention, jogging my memory from my time as a human. At the end of August, a prostitute in London had been found murdered and mutilated. I realised it was about this time that a certain famous serial killer got his start in London, and his reign of terror was going to last for a little while. Just over a week later, a second body was found of a murdered prostitute who was equally as mutilated. This was causing quite a stir in London, and the rest of the world''s press was picking up on it and reporting all the gory details they could. I found out about it several days later, but on the 27th of September, another body was found, that of a prostitute who had been mutilated and murdered. They discovered a letter attached to this body, and on the same day, a copy was delivered to London''s central news agency. Both letters were compared and declared to be identical. They were signed by Jack the Ripper. This world''s Jack the Ripper did not let up in any way as three days later, the bodies of three prostitutes were found murdered and mutilated like the others. The news reports out of London indicated that the city was in the grip of fear and paranoia in the Whitechapel area. I was engrossed in rereading the story in the paper delivered the day before underground in the crypts below the church. I had many questions and thoughts as I realised that this Ripper''s murder pattern was different from the one in my world. [Six Challengers have entered your Dungeon.] "Shit!" I had not been paying attention as usual because the story had piqued my interest. I quickly dismissed my avatar and shifted my perspective to the gates. Walking up the northern pathway, there was a group of six youths. If I said the oldest was 18, I would call you a liar, while the youngest looked around 14. "What the hell are they doing here?" It was rather late in the day, and I looked back to the gates. Outside, we''re a collection of wagons filled with people. It''s clear that they''ve been travelling for many months, and we''re most likely pioneers from out east. Why they had not come in on the train, I did not know, but they were here at my gates, setting to stay the night. I counted eight wagons. That was roughly six people per waggon, meaning 46 men, women, and children were practically decamped at my gates. Six teenagers had wandered into the Dungeon, and things would get bloody. I looked at the sky and realised it was probably an hour at best before sunset. The six teenagers'' route would take them directly into the Spirit''s hunting grounds. It was dark enough now that she was partly active in some areas, and for the first time in many years, I was concerned about how this would all go down. My Hunters were stirring. As they were recognised as Challengers, my ability to influence what was happening was non-existent. I was now relegated to being an observer and nothing more. I looked over the six teenagers, noting that no one held a firearm, but all carried a blade. "This is ending badly, no matter what." I can see the endings to this day. The teenagers were going to die. I was sure of this, but there was a chance that one or two could get away. Then, the men would get involved and be seen as intruders. The battle would happen, and then the women and children would flee, or they would die. This is when things would become difficult to predict: how many would escape. Then, what would the pushback be? I was getting very concerned as they went deeper. This could be the catalyst for the local community to become violent and take¡­ A man stepped into the courtyard and shouted. "BOYS RETURN. DINNER TIME!" The youths stopped and turned around, moving fast down the path to the courtyard and leaving the Dungeon. "Oh! Thank you! Thank you!" I was relieved that they were gone. As soon as they left, the restrictions on me were lifted. I contacted my confused Hunters and informed them of the situation. "We''ve got a large group of pioneers sitting outside the Dungeon. Around six families made up of men, women, and children. Stay hidden, and do not leave your lairs even if they enter the Dungeon unless I tell you otherwise." My rules were strict regarding how I could control my Hunters under certain conditions. I shrink their hunting grounds to limit the danger of exposure. The Spirit was the hardest to maintain, as I could move its grounds but not its size. Outside, the families had created several fires and sat around eating and talking. I watched them, hoping they would not enter. The sun had set, and they settled down to sleep. Over the night, I was a nervous wreck, terrified that some foolish children would dare themselves to go into the Dungeon. The sun rose, and the families got up and ate again. They packed up and set off back to the road, and I eventually saw them crossing the ford at the river and heading up the ridge to Crossway. "That was close." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. October came, and the world around the Dungeon was changing. Reds, yellows, and browns spread through the forest, and the local wildlife was moving or preparing for the approaching winter. Two stories were prominent in the first ten days of the month. The first came from London and was part of the ongoing Jack the Ripper saga. The dismembered body of a woman was found at the construction site of the new police headquarters at New Scotland Yard. The words "Jack walks without fear" were written on the wall in blood. Many within the United Kingdom called this a direct challenge to the Metropolitan Police force. The second was the public opening of the Washington Monument. Reports indicated that 10,000 people were waiting to gain access to the new monument on the first day of its opening. I only read the paper now at night. I spent the days mainly at the top of the bubble above the Dungeon. The near disaster that could have been that pioneer group was still fresh in my memory. I nervously watched each day''s traffic, but nothing seemed amiss. As the month passed, I endured the boredom and tedium of my constant vigil. In the distance, the snow line was again progressing down the mountains. It was slow, but my daily observations tracked it. 1888 was an election year, and the national results were known in November. President Windborne narrowly lost the popular vote to the Democratic contender Samuel Fredrickson. In London, the seventh victim was discovered in a mutilated state. December arrived and brought the snow with it. Communications became sporadic and then non-existent. I settled in to wait out the winter and minimise damage to the church from the elements. It was not until February 1889 that I had reliable communication with the outside world again. President Windborne used his remaining time in office to significant effect. In January, he signed a presidential order calling upon Congress to establish a Naval War College for the United States Navy. February had him signing a bill and itching North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, and Idaho into the Union as full States. The snows retreated over February; by the start of March, there was more green than white in the world around me. Only two days into the month, a rider approached the gates late in the day. I shifted my view to the gates to better see my new visitor. Over the next ten minutes, the white man prepared to enter the Dungeon. It was clear from what he was doing that he was a Challenger. He put away his guns and made sure that several knives were attached to his belt. What appeared to be his primary weapon was a hatchet¡ªslightly larger than a tomahawk but not as much as a complete two-handed axe. His clothes were thick and sturdy. He carried a satchel with a lantern. Looking into the sky, I think there were just two hours of light left. The sun was heading towards the mountains in the West, and darkness was starting to spread across the Dungeon. I watched him walk into the courtyard, up to the plinth, and read the inscription. He turned, looking at both the northern and southern pathways. He pulled a coin from his pocket and flipped it into the air. He caught it and slapped it hard on the back of his other hand. He lifted the top one and nodded to himself at the result. He took the northern path. [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.] "Here we go." Watching him walk up the pathway gave me a little time to think about this Challenger. Over the years, I have noticed that the challenges usually come prepared for the Dungeon. They always have supplies and a light source, along with their weapons. It was like how the hunters always used to go to the altar in the church and what to do to initiate the contract request. It always made me wonder what the dreams told them and how the knowledge was communicated. I had resigned to not knowing this either, as I was ignorant of what involved me. I found it frustrating, but there was nothing I could do, so I just learned to live with it. I hoped I would find out one day, but that was not likely. This Challenger was walking at a brisk speed. He was in Roberson''s hunting grounds, but I didn''t think my Hunter would reach him before he crossed into the Spirits. I spotted my Hunter in the distance, but he was too slow, and this Challenger crossed into another''s hunting grounds. There was enough darkness now for the Spirit to be active. This Challenger had the unfortunate honour of turning a corner and walking directly into her. No, that wasn''t correct. He walked through her. He collapsed to his knees, shivering and covered in frost. It took a few seconds for the Spirit to reconstitute itself as he had separated partly like a mist. When it did, the screaming started. The Challenger never stood a chance. [A Hunter has made a Kill] "Damn it, I need someone to clean up this mess." The Spirit had done its usual excessive overkill and dismemberment of the corpse. Roberson was the Hunter on the schedule to come in to clear up this mess. The others went to the horse while he brought the wheelbarrow and started stacking the body parts into it. He was uninterested in taking any of the remains. I was forced to discipline the Spirit a few times to remind her who was in charge. I had to use [Hide the Crime!] over several days to get rid of the blood. March continued, and in international news, something quite surprising took place in the Pacific. German and French warships were involved in a standoff in Apia Harbour. Things escalated fast, and they almost opened fire on each other, but the crisis ended when a cyclone blew in, catching all the ships close to the shore and sinking them. The Royal Navy arrived a few days later and collected survivors, reinforcing their claim to the island. April brought another Challenger to the Dungeon. He fared no better but die to McGregor this time. McGregor got behind him and was oblivious to its presence until it was too late. McGregor killed him but took his time making sure that his prey suffered. [A Hunter has made a Kill] There was a bit more loot this time because the body had been ripped to pieces, and what could be recovered from the horse was also added to the pot. It wasn''t much, and it was split up amongst the hunters or kept by me. The horse was sent down to the Driver''s homestead. Amy was close to giving birth and had returned to the town to be close to the doctor. The start of April was a busy time in Europe. First, France completed the Eiffel Tower and opened it to the public. Hailed as the tallest structure in the world, it was called an engineering masterpiece, but the local French critics regarded it as an eyesore. On the 1st of April, the French defence minister was forced to try to flee the country after attempting to overthrow the government. He made it to the border of Spain but was arrested there by the French authorities, who took him back to Paris to be tried for treason. The day after, in London, the Ripper claimed another victim. This was the first this year as he had gone quiet over the winter. The US Government opened the Oklahoma territory in late April to a massive land rush. Within one day, two new cities, Oklahoma City and Guthrie, existed. Each had a population of over ten thousand by the end of that day. Amy gave birth to a daughter they named Mary on the same day. The start of May brought the third visitor of the year. A single writer came to the gates. He dismounted and strolled in, ignoring the plinth and choosing to walk the southern pathway. He was recognised as an intruder, and my Hunters started to stalk him. I watched him and wondered why he was there. He was well-armed but had no tools or other means to identify the reason for his visit. He walked purposefully through the Dungeon, making several wrong turns and being forced to double back. "Why are you here?" I ran through the possibilities. Treasure hunter? If you want, he didn''t have any gear with him, so it was doubtful. The same goes for grave robbers. Was he a Lawman? Again, I was unsure but doubtful, as there was no reason for one to be here. I was pretty perplexed by this one. Rodriguez took care of this one. The fight was fast and brutal as he jumped from the top of a building onto him as he passed. The intruder was knocked to the ground and quickly beaten to death with a tomahawk. Rodriguez was left covered in a bloody mess but victorious. [A Hunter has made a Kill] Searching for the intruder''s belongings provided no more clue as to why he was there, and I was forced to chalk this one up to an unknown. Rodriguez was happy, as he was now one kill away from his next level. I wondered what changes this would bring him and what skills he would improve or acquire. Rigger and Roberson started to become more active as well¡ªRigger was active during the night, and Roberson was active when the sun was up. Both were hunting and gathering firewood, and I regularly found smoke from both chimneys. Different game types were collected, and as neither affected the Dungeon, I let them be. The Ripper struck again in London on the 10th. On the next day, the US Army paymaster in the Arizona territory was robbed with nearly $30,000 stolen. According to the reports that came through a few days later, when it was discovered, the escort was killed, but most of the bandits were also gunned down. The survivors were on the run with the money, and the US cavalry was in hot pursuit. May ended with the Naval Defence Act in Britain, which I did not find out about until a few days later. It dictated that the Royal Navy must be equal to the strength of the following two navies combined. In my time, this act had been one of the driving forces that caused tensions between Britain and Germany, but I couldn''t tell what would happen in this timeline as there were many treaties already placed between the two that I''m not sure existed in mine. It was the 9th of June when I noticed a large group of men approaching the gates of the Dungeon. They were on horseback with several pack mules trailing along with them. They were loaded with different packs, and I could make out shovels and picks strapped to the donkeys. "Miners or Grave robbers? Which one are you, or maybe both?"