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—that 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…..

  "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—blood 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 lair."

  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!"