1892 came with snow and a few sunny days.

Most were overcast and grey.

It was late January by the time contact was re-established with the world. I received nearly two months' worth of papers all at once and spent almost a whole week reviewing them.

Internationally, nationally, and locally, things were quiet.

Reading the papers took me back to February, and February again was quiet, as there was still a lot of snow on the ground, and traffic on the roads was minimal. I watched the world go by from the top of the spatial bubble during the days, and slowly, the traffic increased along the road.

One of the things I picked up from the papers was that Crossway was going through a bit of a change. The cattlemen were leaving, and farms now dominated the area. This change had been happening for a few years, but it seemed that the last of the cattlemen were selling up and heading to other states. This made sense to me, as I recall that Idaho was more of an agricultural state than a herding one.

I went from one story that the Rochester family was becoming one of the primary movers and shakers in the county. Augustus had grown up and was becoming quite an influential man. His family continued to expand, and he now had four children. Two boys and two girls with a fifth on the way, it seems.

In mid-March, I was going through a period of self-reflection. I found it quite amusing that most stories involving dungeons or places where evil things reside never explore what happens when people aren't visiting them. I wonder how entertaining the stories would be if they had to explain the long and tedious gaps between brutal and explosive violence.

Spring kicked into full force in April, and the world around me started to turn green again.

It was in the second week of April that the first visitors arrived.

A single rider came up the pathway from the road. I only caught sight of them as they were entering the open space in front of the gates. I quickly shifted down to get a better look at them.

A man in his late 20s or early 30s was dismounting and tying up his horse. A white man with a broad build and a neat beard. Both beard and hair were black, and he had a weather-beaten face. His blue eyes were striking. I noticed the items attached to his saddle and was willing to bet money that this was a Challenger.

While he was preparing to enter, I looked over the area and the path leading back to the road. I was going to have to get the Hunters out there to start clearing the vegetation away again. The area was beginning to get overgrown again.

As I thought about this, the man got himself ready and he started walking towards the gates. This brings it back to his attention. He left his firearms on his saddle and was carrying many of the items I expected him to have—a backpack with a lantern, several knives, and a hand axe.

The hand axe was the new touch I had not seen before.

I moved slightly above the courtyard, looking down as he entered. He walked up to the plinth and read the inscription upon it. Looking around, he chose the southern path and set off.

[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

"Here we go."

McGregor would be the first one to take a run at him. Over the last few months, I've been considering reorganising the Hunters' territories to give them all a fairer chance at Challenges that enter the Dungeon.

I had come to the opinion that the biggest downside to this was that Hunters like Rigger and Rodrigues were far more experienced. This would put the Challenger at a disadvantage in many ways. I approached the Dungeon like a video game, with the less experienced Hunters on the outside and the more dangerous ones near the centre.

I still have been thinking about it, but at the moment, I have decided not to make a change. This could change in the future if I felt that the older hunters were starting to lose out.

The Challenger was making good time. The paths in the Dungeon had no more snow on them, as it had all melted. The vegetation in the Dungeon was now coming back to life as well and growing aggressively everywhere. The pathway was also showing signs of wear, as well as the elements and vegetation trying to reclaim the space it occupied. Here and there, the cobblestones were broken up by tufts of grass growing out through them.

This was more pronounced further into the Dungeon, as that part was now 22 years old. The place was showing its age, as nature was relentless in trying to reclaim the area with no humans to maintain the space.

As he walked, I spotted McGregor. He had found him when I wasn't paying attention, and he was stalking the Challenger.

McGregor didn't like stand-up fights and preferred ambushing opponents. Well, to be honest, most Hunters didn't like stand-up fights. McGregor really did like them. He was a competent killer, but preferred to be in a position of power over his prey so he could torment them.

He had let the Challenger pass and was now moving behind him. The angle of his approach meant that he would be arranged to attack shortly. He was taking his time and not rushing, making sure that when he did attack, it would be overwhelming and fatal.

It was late in the day, and the shadows were growing in the Dungeon as the sun started to set. This was being used to my Hunter's advantage as he had become accustomed to operating within the graveyard. He had learned from previous experience not to rush into these things and to maximise every advantage he had.

They were approaching the limits of its hunting ground; he needed to act soon, or he would lose his chance to Rodriguez.

I think he sensed it and made his move.

He came up fast behind the Challenge of moving with grace and practised silence. From the way he was moving, I suspected that he was planning to make a final charge at him when he was only a few steps away.

Unfortunately, the Challenger had other ideas.

I don't know when or how he became aware of my Hunter, but he was. As soon as McGregor got close, the Challenger spun around and threw his hand axe at him in a manner that suggested he knew how to use it effectively.

This surprised McGregor, and he was unable to avoid it in time. The axe buried into a shoulder blade first caused him to cry out in pain. Such an injury would incapacitate a normal man, but McGregor was no longer such. He was far tougher than he had been before.

The Challenger did not rely on this alone; he pulled out a blade from his waist belt. As soon as the blade was clear of the sheath, he was on the offensive. McGregor had pulled the axe playfully, shoulder, and dropped it to the floor, but was now on the defensive.

McGregor ducked and weaved as the Challenger struck at him with his blade in controlled strikes. He was able to parry several of the attacks with his blade, but his wounded shoulder was slowing him down.

Stolen story; please report.

His face was twisted in pain and focus as he tried not to get wounded again.

It was here that the Challenger made his big mistake. He thought that my Hunter's wound would be enough to win this fight, not realising that he wasn't fighting a man anymore.

He became overconfident and stepped in to strike at my Hunter, but McGregor was a canny opponent with a sadistic streak a mile wide.

McGregor saw him stepping in and did the same, closing the distance between them and allowing him to deflect the arm holding the knife and stab into the chest of the Challenger. The man was shocked by the sudden introduction of a large blade into his chest. McGregor knew that he had the advantage and did not let up, rapidly striking again and again as the man fell back. McGregor jumped onto him, knocking him to the ground and continuing his relentless stabbing.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

"You were lucky with this one."

I spoke to McGregor as he rolled off the now-dead man onto his back. He was breathing hard, his wounded shoulder bleeding excessively.

"He surprised me, but I knew I could take him." He said through deep breathing.

"The axe wound in your shoulder says otherwise to me."

"That was the surprise." I decided not to continue this conversation and got him to return to his lair. He can deal with the body tomorrow.

I had Roberson deal with a horse outside while I searched the body. I have decided to become more proactive in addressing the aftermath of a failed challenger or a group massacre of intruders.

By rights, I could leave it to the Hunters, but I had the time.

Outside the supplies that I found that most challengers carried, he had little else. Even if saddlebags had very little, there was some money, but that was sent down to the Driver household with the horse.

Things return to their usual patterns after this. April passed with little else of note happening.

May came, and it seemed like this month would be just like most others.

That was until the six riders arrived at the gates.

I had seen them riding up through the trees and moving down to the gates to see what was going on. Another group of treasure hunters, it seemed. They were dismounted and stood at the gates, looking in and around the graveyard.

This was not a good day for them to come. The skies overhead were darkening fast as a storm was rolling in. By the time they had set off from wherever they came from, the day was coming to an end, as the sun was now setting behind the mountains to the west. The wind was also picking up, heralding the approaching storm.

They were debating whether or not to turn back and leave their exploration for another day. One of them was egging on the others and encouraging them to come into the graveyard and wait out the storm. He reminded them that there would be a slight right turn back to Crossway. They could enter the graveyard and travel to the church in the distance, which would be a better place to wait out the storm, as it was much closer.

The rain now in the air convinced them to risk the church.

They decide to bring the horses into the graveyard and move as fast as they can to the church. It was darkening rapidly, but they moved quickly because they would be able to reach the church before the sun fully set, and it would become dangerous to travel in the storm.

[Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]

They took the northern route into the Dungeon. I sensed my Hunter stirring, and I reached out to them, telling them what was transpiring. The group was not as heavily armed as those that had come in the past, but each man sported at least one firearm.

Roberson was shadowing them. I had told my Hunters to allow them to get to the church, and they would take them there.

They walked in a single line, their horses following behind. The animals grew increasingly agitated as they heard the distant thunder. This slowed the men down, and unfortunately, they found themselves in the designated territory of a certain Hunter.

With the sun setting and the heavy, overcast sky, she was active.

"Shit! The Hateful Spirit is awake, and they are in her territory. This is going to cause panic amongst the riders and horses."

This got my Hunters moving as they knew this was going to turn into a bloodbath quickly, especially with horses. Speaking of which, the horses had become far more agitated, sensing the Spirit's presence before their dismounted riders knew she was there.

The men thought the storm was causing the agitation and tried to calm their horses.

They had not seen her yet, but she knew where they were.

I had moved to a position slightly above them, and I saw her approach.

"She saw them. Get ready, this is going to become bloody very quickly."

Not all my Hunters were in position yet, and they were running as fast as they could to get there. The Spirit arrived first.

Her hateful scream caused the horses to panic. All but one of them lost control of their horse, which bolted in any direction they could. One poor man had his hands caught in the horse's reins and was dragged along with it. Above them, the storm broke as it began.

The first man closest to her turned in fright to see who had screamed. This, he was promptly disembowelled. Her talons ripped through his heavy coat, causing his intestines to spill out onto the ground.

He screamed in terror and pain as he collapsed to his knees, trying to pull himself back together again.

The second was trying to pull his gun out of its holster. He was shaking in terror, which does not help in this endeavour. The Spirit was in front of him before he could blink, and he started screaming as she tore out his lungs.

That ended the screaming quite effectively.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Two of the men are already running at the sight of the first man's disembowelling.

The third didn't get a chance to run. He turned and tried, but she was then right behind him and sliced across the back of his leg muscles to shreds. He collapsed to the floor in a scream of pain, and she was on him.

She began to savage him, ripping through his flesh, bone, and meat. Blood was flying in every direction as she began dismantling the body aggressively.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Organs and bones were added to the mess around the corpse. The first man was trying to escape while still pulling in his intestines. I did not think he was going to get far.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

My other Hunters were also engaging now. I cannot see that the deaths were suspected they be the two runners. This got me wondering what had happened to the man whom the horse dragged off.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

While I've been looking around, the Spirit has moved on to the man trying to escape. This, she was as brutal with his body as the one she had only just left.

[Hunter: Atticus Roberson, Level up!]

Something to deal with later.

Moving slightly higher, I looked around. I could still make out several horses running in panicked terror around the Dungeon.

"What a mess."

I wasn't only referring to the expanding sight of carnage below me.

"Does anyone know where the horse dragging its rider is going?"

There were a few moments of silence.

"I'm taking care of that one, Keeper." Came from McGregor.

All right, that means the sixth man was now dealt with or about to be.

"Keeper. Got our injured horse near the church." This came from Rigger.

"Dammit! Is it bad?"

"Reckon so. Got busted leg."

"All right, put it down. The rest of you, pursue those horses if they haven't already fled the Dungeon. Get them down to the Driver family when the storm clears."

I heard a shot a few seconds later and suspected that it was Rigger.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

And that made six.

[Hunter: Charles McGregor, Level up!]

Again later.

By now, the rain was coming down heavily, soaking everything. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed around the spatial bubble. I was somewhat concerned about the possibility of further strikes. They were visually imposing but they scared the living crap out of me. I wanted to add lightning strike damage to the buildings surrounding the graveyard, which would increase my workload, already keeping the church in decent condition.

There was a strong wind with the storm, which did not put my Hunters in a good mood as they chased the horses. None of them liked to be wet.

I checked their status screens. McGregor Rodrigues and Roberson got the other three kills, split between them. To level ups to deal with. This was a good sign for the future, as it made those two Hunters more formidable and dangerous.

What physical changes they would trigger was anyone's guess. But I had a feeling that this would be enough to make both men unable to now go to town if required.

Eventually, the horses that were running around were rounded up and released outside the Dungeon, minus their saddles and bags. I decided not to have them sent down to the Driver household as my Hunters were entirely soaked by now.

Looking at them, I decided again to be a bit more merciful and had them drop everything in the church. We would deal with the cleanup tomorrow after the storm.

They quickly disappeared, two more eagerly, as they were getting ready for bed and going through their belongings.

Rigger, on the other hand, did something a bit different. I was watching them all lead from the top of the church, but he didn't go straight back to his lair like the others did. He stopped at the corpse of the horse and began stripping the body. He worked through the night, dismantling the corpse. He travelled to and from his lair with the body parts.

Thinking about it, I wondered if Roberson had also absconded with his kill. He seemed only to be interested in those he killed, not anyone else. Thankfully, I could see in the dark, and I was able to search the surface of the graveyard. I counted five bodies, and one was missing.

I settled in to watch the storm pass by.

Tomorrow was going to be a lot of work.

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