"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.

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  "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.

  “Sí, 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.