October 1889 was a very tense month for me.

  The Way of Athamos had withdrawn for now. The Drivers had returned home, and things were returning to their usual routine.

  I was not fooled.

  I knew that they would not give up that easily. They saw me as a critical resource and wanted to control me for their benefit. Trouble would come, in what manner or shape I did not know, but it was coming. Paranoia was a way of life, not a state of mind, when there were those out to get you.

  I had to start making my plans and put my contingencies into place.

  Herbert and his family were the first things I had to worry about. What would happen to their land rights if they were all killed? I had him establish a will that stated if his family were all dead, the land would become a park that could not be developed. It was not a perfect solution, but it was the best I could come up with now. I made sure that he used the lawyer in town who had arranged the original purchase of the land. There was precedent for such acts already in the United States.

  Amy sensed or guessed that they were possibly in danger. She began pressing for more guns at her home. I had an ample supply, so I willingly gave them what they wanted. Herbert also received several lessons on shooting from Roberson. He was surprisingly quite happy to do it. Of all my Hunters, he seemed the most affable. The others could barely contain their distaste for each other. It was at my order that they worked together at all, and that was with much hostile side-eying. I am willing to take the passive-aggressive attitudes over the violence that could take place any day.

  Herbert did some reconnaissance in town for me. It seems that the Way had bought a building and was in the process of setting up a few businesses around Crossway. They seem to have realised quite soon that their members stood out and began blending in more with the local population.

  My next visitors arrived near the end of October, and thankfully, they were not members of that bloody cult.

  Three men on horseback approached the gates. It had been raining hard, and the storm had broken for a moment, but I had seen another wave coming in. The three men were soaked.

  I had seen them coming along the path from the road and moved down to the gates to get a better look. I hoped they were not more grave robbers.

  They dismount and walk up to the gates after securing their horses.

  "Admitted it, Lloyd, we are lost."

  "We should have stopped at the house down the road." Another said.

  "Will you stop your bellyaching? We were turned around in the storm." The third snapped. "Look, in the distance is a church. We can shelter there until the storm passes. Or do you both want to ride through that next belt of rain approaching?"

  They did not and collected their horses.

  "Are we taking them in?"

  Lloyd looked at him. "Of course. We are not leaving them here to be stolen."

  The three men led their horses into the courtyard and turned north. They were walking single-file, as the pathways could handle two horses side by side, but they would not have any room to turn.

  [Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]

  It was about midday, so the spirit would not be out. The heavy rain clouds above made the day darker than it should have been, but the light levels were just too high at the moment. In the distance, I heard the rumbling of thunder, heralding the next wave of rain coming.

  I reached out to Rigger.

  "You don't have to participate in this if you don't want to. There are only three."

  I sensed his gratitude.

  "Reckon I won't then," he said over the connection I had established. I cut it and focused on the other three Hunters.

  Rodriguez had healed from the stab wound but was complaining that it still irritated him for some reason. I was planning to look at the blade longer to see if I could disturb anything else from it, but I've been procrastinating on other things. I followed behind the three men and their horses, just above them, to look at possible ambush locations.

  I chose the place and directed my Hunters to it. It wouldn't take long for them to reach it, as they were more used to the layout of my Dungeon. These intruders, however, were taking their time and had made a few wrong turns. Getting turned around with the horses gave my Hunters plenty of time to prepare.

  Once they reached the ambush point, I unleashed the Hunters.

  I did not even pay attention to what happened. These three men were armed, yes, but they were not ready for what resided here. If they put up any fight, I would be shocked.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  [A Hunter has made a Kill]

  The three men died quickly, and the horses bolted.

  "There is a lot of rain on the way again. Best get those horses and loot the dead. You can put them in that large mausoleum over there. Once you're done, I'll meet you back at the church to divide what we have gained."

  I had become desensitised to violence in many respects now. I would have observed the whole fight a few years ago, noting who did what and how they died. Now, they have no interest in me. I wandered away, heading towards the church and drifting over the graveyard. Here and there, I noticed things: a cracked tile here, some missing tiles there or things that needed to be repaired. They were never done, of course, as it was all part of the illusion of being an abandoned graveyard. For some reason, it just irked me today.

  I was in a strange mood. When the Hunters were finished and the horses were rounded up, the rain had come again. It was coming down hard on the church floor, which was wet from the smashed and broken windows. I said to myself, knowing that was another job I needed to take care of. I had been doing my best to maintain the church, but it was a losing battle. My kill count was nowhere near what I needed for my next level, and I had the whole building repaired.

  They came in all wet, dripping everywhere, but I ignored it. There was quite a bit of alcohol and tobacco to be split up, which made them happy. The horses and what little money these men had would be sent to Herbert. I kept the guns and ammunition they had, along with one or two items of jewellery and a quite nice pocket watch.

  They quickly departed to head back to their lairs in a vain effort to escape the rain. If I took another few levels of crypts, would the subterranean areas eventually merge, allowing Hunters to move around the Dungeon more covertly?

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  "OK, let's stop procrastinating and do it."

  I summoned my avatar and picked up the guns.

  I went through the church to the stairs that led down into the crypt. I added the guns and ammunition to the stockpile and then walked over to where I had placed Brother Michael's dagger. Picking up, I walked back upstairs to the church's main room and put a dagger on the altar.

  Like his first one, its design was very reminiscent of Middle Eastern or Arabic style—long and curved. This blade was more decorative on its handle and sheath, with the style again reminding me of the Middle East. The sheath and handle were leather-dyed red. The metal that made up the guard, the decorations on the sheath, and the pommel were silver.

  I lifted it and pulled the plate from the sheath, putting it back onto the altar. The plate was pointed away from me towards the statue of the Angel of Death. As I had seen before, the plate was inscribed with lettering that was almost runic. I could still not identify the language, but I was sure it was not Arabic or Hebrew. To at least give myself a reference point, I gripped the handle and lifted the blade, tilting it in the weak light.

  The strange, pale blue tint ran the length of the metal when the light struck it at a certain angle. I sensed it was more than just a decorative feature; something about this blade was not mundane. I was willing to say magical until it had evidence to say otherwise.

  I spent several hours contemplating the blades, inspecting the handle, pommel, and sheath. No insights were revealed to me, and I felt frustrated at my lack of progress in understanding them. The sun was setting, and the sky was still heavily overcast, accelerating the darkness across the Dungeon.

  Signing, I returned the blade to the sheath and stored it underground.

  I dismissed my avatar and returned to the top of the bubble. Looking out across the forest, it was clear that the seasons had changed.

  "Winter will be here again soon."

  November proved to be quite an interesting month.

  The snow line was moving down the mountains now, and we were getting quite a lot of rain. Herbert was still making the trip between Crossway and New Midian. He did his best to keep an idea of what the cult was up to, but he was no master spy. He thought he was doing quite well, and I did not have the heart to tell him that they already knew he worked for me and were monitoring everything he was doing better than they were. I suspected his wife knew.

  The first thing that interests me is that all the new states created recently were fully admitted into the union. That meant I was no longer in the Idaho territories but in the state of Idaho.

  So, yay me?

  A pair of American journalists inspired by Jules Verne's book try to travel around the world in less than 80 days. The man and woman left New York, heading east towards Europe. They finished the trip in 74 days, three hours and six minutes.

  In Brazil, there was an attempt to overthrow the emperor and replace the monarchy with a Republic. It failed when the emperor's guards gunned down the coup leader while he made his declaration to the emperor. The attempted overthrow sort of fell apart then.

  The bulk of the forest is without leaves, with a few evergreens here holding on. The Hunters rarely emerged now, and I was getting myself ready to settle in for winter. I knew it was going to be another long one, and I was going to have to constantly work to slow the rate of weather damage to the church.

  I was prepared to let the last part 1889 pass me by, but fate had other ideas.

  At the start of December, two very strange things happened.

  No snow yet, just a lot of rain. There's nothing odd in that.

  The single rider outside of my gates was bundled up against the weather. Again, nothing odd. Either a challenger or an intruder.

  He tied his horse up and walked into the courtyard. He turned South and started walking along the path. What was different was that he was holding a crucifix out in front of him as if he were warding away something. As he walked, he recited prayers and verses from the Bible.

  [A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

  I could see no other weapons. As she was recognised as a Challenger, my options were now minimal. I can't explain why, but something was just off here. He had gone far when a second group arrived.

  There were ten of them riding toward my gate with a cart. The first man doubled back to the courtyard. The writers acknowledged him as soon as they saw he was standing there.

  "What's going on?"

  It was early in the morning, no later than 10 am. As the new riders approached, I saw they were all dressed for the weather. The cart they had brought with them was covered. It was turned around in the space before my gates, and its back section was opened.

  The second strange thing inside was a coffin.

  "Did you find it?" One of the second group asked the first man.

  "Not yet. I was delayed getting here. This place is much larger than the stories told of it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's about two miles in diameter and is densely packed with mausoleums and gravestones."

  "Two miles! How are we supposed to find it in all that?"

  "I think we should start at the church. I will go in and start looking there. If anything happens, we will have to abandon her desire and bury her in the church cemetery, not this cursed place."

  All right, I am now completely confused. The first man was walking back into the courtyard, and I was wondering who the hell would want to be buried….

  It only took me a few seconds to decide.

  "Yes."

  The first man went into the graveyard again and navigated the maze until he reached the church. He held the crucifix out in front of him again and constantly recited prayers and Bible passages as if he were going to protect himself. My Hunters never stirred as he stayed away from their lairs.

  Once he reached the central part of the maze with the church, he began going around all the graves, and I realised he was reading the names of those buried here. It didn't take him long before he stopped at one. From his expression, this was the one he was looking for, and he returned the way he came.

  The others were waiting outside the graveyard, and once he returned, they lifted a coffin from the cart. Six men carried the coffin while the others carried shovels. I noted that they were armed.

  It took them some time, but they eventually reached the grave that he had spent time finding. The first man led again, holding the crucifix and reciting prayers. It was at first funny, but it was getting a bit tedious now. All the men were tense as they walked and constantly looked around, expecting to be attacked at any moment. I think the fact that they weren't only made it worse for them.

  Once they had reached the grave they were looking for, they put down the coffin, and the four men with the shovels started digging.

  I read the name on the gravestone and realised it was the first sheriff who had come here and died nearly 20 years ago. The ground was hard but not as hard as it could be, as it had been a mild winter. They dug down and soon discovered the bones of the deceased man.

  Once they discovered enough to realise that it was his body, the men stepped away from the hole, and the first man who came started praying. He had opened his coat and revealed a dog collar, which made him a priest of some denomination. He was blessing the body in the grave and praying to God that his soul found peace in the afterlife.

  He nodded to the other men, and they put the coffin into the grave on top of the first body there. The priest continued praying, and I learned that the coffin contained the sheriff's wife, who had recently died. The priest commended her soul to the Lord and Saviour and prayed that both would find each other again in God's eternal heaven.

  Once he was finished, the hole was quickly filled back in. The men moved with great speed, motivated by the fact that the sun was starting to set, and they did not want to be here when it became dark.

  Once they had finished, I followed them back to the gates. The priest led them again with his crucifix and prayers. I watched them all remount their horses right away, without a single one looking back.

  What I found odd and quite impressive was that during the whole event, only the priest talked; everyone else was silent and observant of the area. They were afraid. I could see that clearly, but it showed a certain level of discipline and trust in the priest that they did all this without complaint.

  "A strange day indeed."

  I returned to the grave that had been added to. A large mound of earth protruded now, but I knew the weather would flatten it out within a few weeks, and grass would eventually regrow over it.

  I did find a difference that I was not expecting. The gravestone now had two names and two sets of dates, with "beloved husband and wife" engraved onto the stone. It seems that altering the grave also altered the headstone. I knew whoever was buried in the grave or mausoleum had their names added. I had now discovered that you could even change that if you put another body into the grave.

  I wondered what made her want to be buried here.

  Then, there was the influence she needed to make it happen. Being respected enough by the community to have eleven of them come out to one of the most dangerous places they know and bury you, there was a clear sign of that respect.

  That was another story I would probably never know.

  It was evening, and the snow had started.

  I returned to the church, knowing I still had more work to do, cleaning up. If I didn't get rid of as much water as possible, it would all freeze over, making my job far worse.