A blue box appeared in my vision.

  "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.

  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.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  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—luck, instinct, or something else.

  "I need to investigate this."