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.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  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—another 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.