They reached the gates and dismounted.

  I had shifted my focus to them as they approached. They were an odd group; now that I could see them more closely, four men were rough-and-ready frontier types, as I had expected. There were three others, and they stood out the most because of their distinctive attire. Each wore long black coats and hats, more like a uniform than everyday clothing. I was sure their trousers and shirts would match if I could see them.

  Their attitude and body language also spoke of a difference between the two groups of men. I noticed the side looks that the frontiersmen were giving the men in black. I would go as far as to say that there was an edge of fear as well.

  "Well, this is very strange."

  Watching them revealed their hierarchy. The men in black were in charge, and the tallest ordered everyone around. I settled in to watch them and decide how to deal with their actions.

  "Brother Jonas, enter through the gates and tell me what you see," he instructed one of the men dressed in black. The man, now identified as Brother Jonas, nodded to him and walked through the gates into the courtyard. He did not leave it but looked across the graveyard at both pathways. He stopped at the plinth and read the inscription, and here, his face turned from a passive look to a frown.

  He turned slightly and called over his shoulder. "Brother Michael, your attention, please."

  That old man, now identified as Brother Michael, left the third man, dressed in black, to oversee the frontiersmen as they unloaded several tools and shovels from the horses and mules. He then walked over to Brother Jonas, who was waiting for him.

  "What have you found, Brother Jonas?"

  Brother Jonas did not reply but pointed at the inscription on the plinth. Brother Michael also read the inscription and frowned slightly, like his colleague.

  "It appears the Elders were right. Go and inform Brother Harold we have much work to do here." Brother Jonas nodded at his instructions and quickly walked off to the third of the men in black. Brother Michael stood and looked out over the graveyard, his face thoughtful yet focused.

  This was getting weird now. Who were these three men, and what were they doing here? The frontiersmen were here for either manual labour or to be used as shields. The men in black all spoke with East Coast accents, and Brother Michael had a moustache, while the other two were clean-shaven.

  Brother Michael turned and returned to the men, prompting them to get moving. I looked at them all as they walked into the courtyard. I could see no weapons, but the long coats the brothers were wearing could easily hide some that I was unaware of.

  Brother Michael led them up the northern path, and they crossed out of the courtyard and into the Dungeon.

  [Alert! Cult members are not recognised as Challengers.]

  "Cult members? What the hell is going on here? I wonder…"

  "Damn it!"

  The blue message screen's appearance startled me. I reread it before it disappeared and was left with even more questions. Was it manipulating me to run this place? Could it be lying about this Cult? However, I was a cautious Core so that I would lean towards my protection. I reached out and informed my Hunters of what was happening, and there was a good chance that three of the seven men travelling through the Dungeon were armed.

  Not being recognised as Challengers had now opened up a whole raft of possible actions I could take. It was close to midday, and the sun was high in the sky but obscured by many clouds. Even the weak amount of sun getting through meant that the Spirit would be minimal if it chose to appear.

  The other Hunters were moving. Watching the men walk, I plotted the best place for an ambush and directed them there. Seven against four were not good odds, but these cult members were unknown to me, which concerned me. My ambush location was much deeper in the Dungeon, and I would have to rely on the speed and brutality of my Hunters to carry the day.

  I watched these intruders walk, and as soon as they reached the Spirit's hunting grounds, the three brothers who were leading them stopped dead. Each of them looked around in a concerned manner. It was as if they suddenly realised they were in a perilous situation, and we were trying to determine the source of the danger. The other four became deeply concerned with the sudden change in the attitude and body language of the three men before them.

  Brother Michael got them moving again but stayed behind as they passed him. When they had moved far enough away and almost out of sight, he reached into his coat and pulled out a crystal wrapped in a wire frame. The frame was organised into a cylinder shape with what appeared to be runic patterns running through it. It was attached to a silver chain, and the sight of it concerned me exceedingly; for some reason, I could not truly understand.

  He held it in his hand and muttered something under his breath that I couldn't understand or hear, with his eyes closed. The crystal glowed slightly, changing colour from transparent to pale white. He opened his eyes and looked at the crystal. He made no other reaction to the results as he put it away. He walked quickly to catch up with the rest, not mentioning anything that had happened.

  The group was making good time, and they were soon at the ambush point I had planned. I was eager to get rid of these intruders as fast as possible. I watched them closely as they approached and was keen to give the command.

  Almost there. Almost there. Almost….

  "Go."

  My Hunters moved. I had chosen this location to minimise the distance between the pathway and where my Hunters would be hiding. My Hunters were fast and competent, but whoever these men dressed in black were, they were just as good. As soon as the Hunters revealed themselves, the men reacted. They put aside their coats, drawing out long, curved blades. The other four shouted out in fear and confusion.

  The battle was soon joined. Rodriguez, McGregor, and Roberson soon squared off against the men in black, while Rigger was against the other four.

  The fight devolved into a chaotic melee of strikes and counterstrikes. The black men had training, which worked out in their favour. The four frontiersmen dropped their packs and tools, though they used some as improvised weapons.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  The first of the four died, but I was more focused on what the men in black were doing. They had moved away from the four frontiersmen and worked together in a rough circle. They covered and protected each other as my Hunters sought to bring them down.

  Rigger was outnumbered, but he was in close proximity, which worked to his advantage. One of the men hit him with a shovel, but he was able to block the blow on his forearm. He granted him pain but gripped the handle as his attacker pulled back. Holding him there for a moment, he stepped in and stabbed his knife into the man's neck.

  He collapsed to the floor, desperately clutching on his neck the stem off the bleeding.

  The sight of the second man collapsing to the floor, clearly dying, was enough to break them. The remaining two turn to run, but Rigger is not letting up.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  The Brothers dressed in black were doing far better, but two of them now sported wounds. My Hunters were not unscathed, and I did not know how this fight would end.

  Rodriguez decided to do something to bring this to an end. He ran forward several steps and jumped. Brother Jonas thought he would jump at him and braced, ready to meet him. Instead, he changed direction at the last moment as he went into the air, hitting Brother Harold instead with a clothesline combined with a shoulder barge. Knocking both men to the floor but with Rodriguez on top. As soon as he saw this, Roberson ran forward, too, trying to get to Brother Jonas's vulnerable site.

  Brother Jonas was just as quick and turned to defend himself. The brawl on the floor was vicious and nasty.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  Rodriguez was victorious. Brother Michael held McGregor off and could keep track of the fight simultaneously. Brother Jonas's death seemed to shift the dynamic between the remaining two.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  Rigger was chasing the last of the frontiersmen now.

  "Go." He came from his brother Harold, who reached into his pocket. I never saw what he pulled out, but he threw something at the ground, and there was a sudden flash and a loud bang. We were all disoriented by it, and as soon as my vision cleared, I saw Brother Michael running through the gravestones and the mausoleums. Brother Harold was staying behind to protect him as he got out.

  "Take him down fast, and don't let the other one escape."

  McGregor chased after Brother Michael as the other two jumped and took down Brother Harold. Rigger caught the last of the frontiersmen and brought him down.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  I didn't see who made the kills as I was too focused on watching McGregor chase Brother Michael.

  "If you must kill him outside the Dungeon, do it."

  McGregor didn't answer, as he was too focused on running. Brother Michael had a slight advantage in distance, but he didn't know the Dungeon as well as my Hunter. The distance was slowly closing. Brother Michael made it to the courtyard by jumping over a series of gravestones like a hurdler on a racing track. As Brother Michael reached the gates, McGregor was close behind and entered the courtyard.

  Brother Michael threw something from his pocket behind him onto the ground, and there was another intense flash and bang. He had thrown it right before McGregor and taken the full brunt of it. By the time he recovered, Brother Michael had reached his horse and was riding away.

  "Do I go after him?" McGregor asked. I looked over my Hunter before answering.

  "No, you're wounded. We lost that one."

  I got them to clear up the ambush site and collect what they could use from the horses. In the back of my mind, I knew this would be trouble, but I did not know what form it would take.

  [Hunter: John Rigger, Level up! Hunter: Hector Rodriguez, Level up!]

  This alert reminded me that I had tasks to attend to. Once everything was done, we reconvened in the church. All of them were sporting some form of injury, but none was life-threatening, and they were treated when required.

  "Let's take a look."

  I made sure to have the loot split slightly differently this time. Everything from Brother Jonas and Harold's packs is set aside. The Hunters weren't interested in them as there was nothing that they desired. The frontiersmen, however, had a good stash of alcohol and tobacco, which was claimed and divided. I also considered keeping the tools, but there was nothing there that I didn't already have multiple examples of. I sent it all down to the Driver household with instructions to keep what he wanted and dispose of the rest, along with the horses.

  I summoned my avatar and got to work on the cult members' bags.

  I started with their blades. Their style was odd. It was more similar to an Arabic or Middle Eastern weapon than a Western one. The blades were long and curved and lacked any form of embarrassment. They were well-made and practical but did not mention the organisation that used them.

  Roberson Had killed brother Harold, and he had claimed the body. I had them strip the bodies and bring the clothes to me, as well as everything else. I went through the clothes, looking for hidden pockets or any marks that might indicate a previous owner. Again, they were well-made and practical but gave nothing away.

  I found three items that interested me in their possessions. Before I examined them, I went through everything else. They are well-made and of decent quality, featuring pocket watches, some money, and a few other essentials for travel. There is no alcohol, tobacco, or other luxury of any type and no books or papers.

  Each man wore a necklace—a silver chain with a strange pendant. The pendant was a silver triangle connected to the base chain, with the point facing down. Inside the triangle was a circle, and within the circle was an eye. There was lettering around the circle, but I could not translate it as it was not in English and did not use the Latin alphabet.

  The last thing was a black marble-sized stone. This could be that strange flash-bang weapon they used, but I couldn't be sure. I lifted and inspected it from all angles but learned nothing from it. I couldn't figure out if it had a way to trigger it.

  I put the necklaces on the strange marble away in the crypts. When Herbert next showed up, I would give him the loose change and paper money. They had twelve silver dollars, which I decided to keep. They were added to my extensive pile.

  I waited out the rest of the day.

  The next day, as soon as dawn came, I decided to investigate what my hunters had chosen to do with their level-ups.

  "Another increase in his stealth skill. I can respect that."

  Looking at the picture to the side, I see the changes are more pronounced. He seems hairier and more feral. He was taken to resemble an animal more than a man. The one change that did stand out the most was that his eyes had changed colour. They were once a deep, almost black brown, but now the irises have changed to a golden yellow.

  "I wonder what that means?"

  I decided to ask him when I told him next. Now, on to Rigger.

  "Stealth again... Wait, what's Sun Bane?"

  I need you to know what this was, so I opened the information prompt when it was offered. This was the first time my Hunters had or gained a second dark trait.

  "He had been complaining about the sun for the last few years."

  However, that was not the most shocking thing about my original Hunter. His features had changed dramatically. His grey skin had become even more pronounced. It was once a light shade, but now it was a much darker and more pronounced colour. His eyes had no white in them anymore. Both were now sickly yellow, and his irises had changed to black. Not a deep brown, a solid jet black. His hair was now mostly gone. He still had some, and it was long and greasy where it remained, but the rest of his head was now completely bald. His teeth had become sharper, and his beard disappeared as the hair fell. Finally, as I had imagined, he seemed a bit hunched in appearance. I must confirm that he will be out of his lair the next time I see him.

  John Rigger would never have won any beauty contests. Now, he was well on his way to being a nightmare. His appearance alone would terrify most people as he was no longer precisely human.

  1889 was fast shaping up to be one of the strangest years I had experienced since my arrival nearly nineteen years prior.

  Nineteen years.

  Realising that I had been here for a certain period caused me to stop. Had it been that long? I had to admit it didn't seem like I had been here that long. Sure, the winters were terrible, and the summer seemed to pass too quickly, but nineteen years?

  Should I do something to mark my 20th anniversary next year?

  I gave myself a mental shake and got back to work.

  I ensured that everything stored downstairs under the church was placed in its designated location. I had put all my money into one of the stone caskets down there. All the weapons were placed into another room, cleaned, and stored as best I could.

  I've assembled a collection of jewellery, watches, and other items inlaid or made from precious metals. This was mainly made up of cigarette cases and a few alcohol flasks. These were typically silver.

  Looking over it all, I reasoned I was the wealthy Dungeon Keeper. Could I have more? If I hadn't paid the Driver family to help me, I could have had them convert all the notes and coins into precious metals, but I thought that might raise a few more suspicions than I was willing to tolerate. Anyway, I owned a lot of land.

  "I need to think about what to do with all that land in the long term."

  That was a problem that I would have to deal with in the future. My most pressing concern was maintaining the church and its damaged state, as the elements were getting in through the shattered windows.