August 1898 started quietly.

Eleanor had come back, and we had finished the conversation that was interrupted. I ensured she would focus her sisters on the emerging mass media industry. I told her that information was the key to controlling society, and she seemed to quickly understand what I was explaining to her.

She promised that her sisters would quickly look to what I had told her and vowed to help suppress any rumours of my existence and the treasure hidden within. I watched her right away with a sense of minor accomplishment. It would take many years for them to establish themselves in the various media outlets, but I hope to see results within a few years. I was no fool who daydreamed that getting them on board and moving would suddenly make the rumours and stories disappear. Now this would take time.

The days were passing as they usually did, and I was in my usual position at the top of the spatial bubble, watching the world go by. I was feeling quite happy knowing that the few plans I had in motion beyond my walls were progressing as well as I could make them.

It was late in the month when this all changed.

The rider looked haggard as he approached the gates.

The horse he was riding looked exhausted and close to collapse.

He was carrying a large pack, which got in his way as he dismounted, causing him to stumble and fall from the saddle. He got up, cursing, and quickly began approaching the gates.

"This is another good."

Over the years, I have developed quite a knack for evaluating those approaching my gates. In this case, this man screamed of problems coming my way. His clothes were covered in grime and dust from travelling hard and fast. He was holding the bag that caused him to fall as if it were his only child. His face was pale, and he was constantly looking around, expecting trouble to find them at any moment.

I could close the gates, but I knew I had to play this out and find out what was happening. It could be some benefit to me, but I doubt it. So I allowed him to continue.

[Alert! Intruder is not recognised as a Challenger.]

I was unsurprised by the message as I watched him stagger through the courtyard, constantly looking over his shoulder, fearful that someone was behind him. He was definitely hunted for whatever was in that bag, I suspected.

He went north, moving quickly and not paying attention to his surroundings. It was late in the day, but still a few hours from sunset. It didn't take long for McGregor to find him.

The man proved to be no challenge to my Hunter. McGregor, in his usual sadistic style, did not bother to kill him outright but instead crippled him by slashing his legs out from under him. As he tried to drag himself away, crying and blubbering some prayer, my Hunter moved in for the kill.

All that was what I thought.

What happened instead was that the man was tied to a nearby large gravestone in the shape of a Celtic cross. It was one of the more unique gravestones in the graveyard, as there were only a few like it. The intruder was crucified to the cross using a rope that held in place firmly. It was then that McGregor began working on him.

He stripped him of his clothing, slicing it off with his blade. Once his flesh was exposed, McGregor began to carve into it symbols and designs, causing the man to scream in pain. My Hunter, of course, relished every moment of agony was inflicting and was making sure not to hit anything vital that would cause this poor man to bleed out.

Even with my emotional disconnect, this was disturbing.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

McGregor managed to keep the man alive for around half an hour before he succumbed to his wounds. My Hunter looked disappointed, and I suspected that his next victim would spend a lot longer in his tender care. The bloody wreck of a man was still tied up to the cross. I summoned my avatar to the scene and pointed to the body.

"Take care of that."

I turned my attention to the bag that McGregor had ignored. Whatever was in it was heavy and quite bulky. The bag was securely tied with numerous straps, and it took me a few minutes to unravel them all.

I opened up the top of the pack and pulled out a bound stack of United States dollars. They were a mixture of donor nominations I found while flicking through them. Looking into the bag, I found more of these bound stacks and at the bottom, two large bags of coins. Opening one of the bags, I saw the silver dollars.

"Shit."

I was happy for the money, but I knew it would bring trouble. My use of the profanity caused McGregor to look towards me in surprise. I turned my attention back to him.

"Get rid of that body quickly. I suspect we will have more visitors very soon."

It turned out to be less than two hours.

Ten riders came thundering up to the gates. The last intruder's horse was gone, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they tracked it to Herbert's house. They had been tracking him for several days, based on the state of their clothing and horses. What concerned me the most was that the man at the head of the group had a U.S. Marshal star, and two others had similar ones that indicated that they were Deputy Marshals.

The sun was now setting in the West, and darkness was beginning to cover the land. The Marshals were seasoned trackers, but the growing darkness was preventing them from fully understanding the tracks before them. They recognised that the man they were hunting had entered the graveyard before them, but it seemed that his horse had wandered off.

I silently thanked Roberson for being so diligent at hiding his own tracks.

"Why is this graveyard not recorded on any maps?" One of the Deputy Marshals was saying to the others.

The group was not local, as evidenced by the reactions I received when they discovered the gates and what lay beyond. A few of them looked uncertainly at each other, expecting they might be from nearby communities that had heard similar stories about New Midian. The Marshals definitely weren't from around here.

"Are we going in, as the hour is getting late, Marshal Stone?" One of the men, giving the others looks, asked out loud.

Marshal Stone walked right up to the thresholds of the gates and looked out into the graveyard beyond. I could see the look of confusion about the existence of my domain, but I could also see the desire for justice warring with his continued pursuit.

"We go in. We will create some torches that aid with the search." I could see that he was now looking towards the sky, and the fact that the sun was setting fast in the West. It will be night shortly.

The men didn't seem happy with this, but they set about work establishing a fire to create the torches that they would need to search the area. Marshal Stone instructed them to prepare several torches for each man, as he suspected I might take several hours to traverse the area successfully.

"Dammit!"

This was precisely what I had been trying to avoid. I was going to have to deal with this group of 10 men, but that, in turn, would bring unwanted attention to me. Or could we ignore them?

That was an idea that suddenly sprang to mind, but I was compelled to consider it and then let it go. If they went north, the Hateful Spirit would see to that. I quickly rallied my hunters from their lairs and informed them of the situation. This was one of the first days that I had to hope that a group would take the northern route.

Nine men carrying torches and guns entered the courtyard. One man was left behind to guard the horses and ensure that the fugitive they were hunting did not pass them and attempt to escape.

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[Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]

Nine was better than ten. Watching them, I almost cried out in relief as he decided to take the northern route. I quickly instructed my Hunters but one to stay out of the way, but to surround the Hateful Spirit's hunting grounds. Roberson was the one I had not gone to; instead, I trusted him to deal with a man outside the gates. He had only recently returned from Herbert's house, where he had taken the fugitive's horse.

"Let the Spirit do the bulk of the lifting on this one. The rest of you deal with any survivors who get out of her hunting grounds. Roberson, the man outside the gates, is yours. If you can kill him within the bounds of New Midian, great; if not, I understand."

This got the Hunters moving. The location of the lawmen and their posse was easily identifiable due to the flaming torches each man carried. They were moving steadily along the northern pathway heading towards the Hateful Spirit.

I moved ahead and checked on her present location. It was now dark enough that she was actively moving around her hunting grounds. It wouldn't be long before she spotted the group approaching, or they spotted her.

I knew out in the darkness, the rest of my Hunters were gathering, ready to deal with any survivors who escaped her initial assault.

I had dealt with large groups before, but I was still tense. There was so much that could go wrong, but I forced myself to trust in my plan and my Hunters.

The men were on the verge of crossing the boundary now into the spirit territory. A sudden alert message startled me for a second.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The nine men had not been harassed in any manner, yet still I realised it was Roberson eliminating the guards outside the gates. I reached out and connected with him quickly.

"Hide the body. And then position yourself outside the gates and hide near the horses. If any get out of New Midian, kill them."

I waited for a response and then turned my attention back to the group of nine. The Spirit was aware of them now.

She appeared before them as a figure gracefully walking through the tombs and gravestones. Her appearance was a shock to the men as they did not expect to see a woman out here in the graveyard this time of night. The men had tensed up, and all were holding their weapons ready. Marshal Stone called out to her and attempted to ascertain her condition.

In response, she slowly walked towards them.

I could see the changes in the appearance of many men as they realised how, for the time, she was severely underdressed. I suspected that [Seduction] was now affecting most of them as they started to lower their weapons.

Marshal Stone seemed unaffected, yet grew more concerned as she drew closer. They were pretty far into her territory, but not near the centre of it. The chances of several of them running were extremely high, but in their panic, I had no clue which direction they might take.

Marshal Stone became more concerned as she approached.

"Madam, I must ask you to stop and answer my questions." He called out again. She did not answer but continued to smile as she walked towards them. I could see that something in the back of his mind was telling me, and that there was something terribly wrong here.

"Madam, please stop!" He now pointed his gun in her direction. The other men were being affected by her ability and were not focused any more, concentrating on her with lustful intentions.

He cocked the hammer back on his pistol, but it was too late.

She screamed and turned.

Many of the men screamed and panicked at the effects of her ability ending.

Marshal Stone fired his gun.

The bullet was propelled from his gun and passed right through the Spirit as she charged towards him. He was now quickly backing up, realising that his weapon had no effect.

She slashed out with her talons. The hand holding the pistol was forced to drop it as it was detached from his arm. There was an explosion of blood from the wound, and the man screamed in agonising pain, which was quickly silenced. A second swipe of a talon tore out his throat, and the man died, drowning in his own blood. His face twisted in pain as he collapsed.

The rest of the men panicked and scattered, many firing wildly and blindly in the Spirit's direction.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

She now moved with terrifying speed.

A white blur, enhanced with an ethereal glow, tears through the men. Screams of terror and blood were all that could be made out.

Men were falling left and right. All of them showed the signs of terrible wounds. Limbs hanging barely attached out of the bodies or men completely disembowelled with a single swipe, desperately trying to hold their intestines, which began to litter the ground.

This was carnage on a scale that I had rarely seen even from her.

But this was also a demonstration of sadism. The wounds she was inflicting were terrible and ultimately fatal, but death was coming slowly to each man she was cutting down.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The strikes were crippling, but she was ensuring that they died in suffering.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The screams of pain and suffering were echoing now throughout the area. Those not cut down were already running in every direction, many abandoning their guns and torches.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

And she stalked after them.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Her endless screaming announces their doom.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The area was becoming decorated with the most macabre scenes of dismembered bodies and bloody sprays across the local gravestones.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The death of the sixth man marked her last kill as the others escaped beyond her hunting grounds. They were still running; however, in the darkness of this graveyard, there were other dangers. Each man was hunted down and killed by the Hunters that spotted them.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The first died running headfirst into a hammer strike from Blackstone.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

What was disembowelled by Harrington as he ran past the tree and did not see the sword swinging for his gut.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

The last was brought down by Rigger, who jumped out from behind a large gravestone, taking the man to the ground and gutting him with his Bowie knife.

I looked around at the aftermath, somewhat surprised at how quickly it all went down. I had expected a more brutal engagement with the possibility of several of the Hunters being wounded. The only notification I got from the fight in the end was that Blackstone had levelled.

[Hunter: John Blackstone, Level up!]

"Right, clean this up."

I left the Hunters in the area to deal with most of the aftermath. McGregor pulled the short straw and had to accompany me into the Spirit's hunting ground to clean up the other bodies.

She had turned her attention to the dead men, and it took us quite some time to actually find them all. But eventually we did, and I got out of there as quickly as possible, being slowed by a wheelbarrow full of body parts.

I moved over to the gates to see what Roberson was doing. The hour was now well on the way to midnight, but still not there yet. I didn't have a watch, so I had to take a rough guess.

Once back at the gates, I looked around for Roberson. I knew he was hiding in the area, and I was about to tell him it was okay to deal with the horses when I noticed a light through the trees.

"What's this?"

The source of the light turned out to be a lantern being held up by a man riding through the trees. There were two others with him, and I recognised one straightaway as Herbert. The other two I was not familiar with.

The problem was with Roberson outside of New Midian; I am unable to communicate with him directly. I watched the riders approach and noticed the silver stars on the coats of the two men escorting Herbert. From the way they positioned it, it was apparent they were bringing him to the gates. These men were not marshals, and their badges clearly identified them as members of the local sheriff's office.

They were close enough now that I could hear the conversation.

"Sheriff, you have raised me from my bed. What do you think I can do here?" Herbert was saying to one of them. Good, he was remembering the script I had been coaching him on for years: ignorance, ignorance, ignorance.

"Silence, Driver, we all know that you have got some connection to this place." The man, identified as the sheriff, snapped back at him. This caused Herbert to fall silent, and I could see that he was concerned.

Okay, that's not good.

"A Marshall and his posse have just ridden into this damned place, and we are going to find out what's really going on here." The sheriff indicated to the horses tied up. The burning fire was something that drew his attention, and he frowned. If there was a fire burning here, I suspect he wondered where the men were.

"I know nothing of a Marshall and a posse Sheriff Smith." Herbert tried again.

"I know. I received a telegram that they were pursuing a fugitive who was part of a train robbery crew through the area. As soon as I realised they had ridden up this way, I knew there would be trouble."

Herbert looked like he was about to say something when the sheriff cut him off.

"Say nothing, Driver. Tonight, we are going to find the truth."

I knew that wasn't going to happen. The Marsh and his posse, whom Sheriff Smith was relying on, were now a pile of corpses within the graveyard being buried.

The three men dismounted and left their horses with the others. The lantern was being held by what I presumed was a deputy, and they walked up to the gates.

"Tonight, your crimes will be exposed, and we will finally be able to deal with this infernal light upon the land." Smith continued.

This was bad. I was quickly thinking, trying to decide on a plan of action. Behind them, I caught a shadow moving and noticed that Roberson was moving up behind them. I had options.

But I needed a distraction.

I summoned forth my avatar. The deputy always dropped the lantern, and Sheriff Smith tried to sound the panic alarm.

"Good evening, gentlemen. What brings you to my domain at this time of night?"

Damn, I make a good distraction.

Herbert was looking around, worried, but Sheriff Smith seemed to gather himself and pulled his gun.

"Demon! Tonight we will bring the Lord's justice to you!" He snarled at me. "I know righteous men have entered your evil place, and they will burn you from it."

"Actually, no."

I delivered my reply calmly without a hint of concern. That threw Sheriff Smith.

"Marshall Stone and those who rode with him have alas left this mortal plane."

I pointed to Sheriff Smith. I hoped that Roberson would understand what I was doing with this jester. He was the one I wanted killed first. The deputy was on the verge of pissing himself and was shaking in fear.

"You lie foul Demon!" I could see that he was uncertain, but was building himself back up with his righteous rhetoric. "You should be cleansed this night, and we will be finally free of you."

"I'm afraid not."

"You will…" Whatever it was about to say was ended with Roberson pulling his head back and slashing his throat open. This made him spasm and pull the trigger of his gun. The bullet impacted me and was unpleasant, but I was able to hold the form for now.

The deputy collapsed in panic, falling to the ground, as none of them had noticed the approach of my Hunter. The lantern had fallen with him and was rolling away, and I could see he was going for his gun. His fear was making them shake visibly.

"Roberson. Please stop that deputy from pulling his gun, but don't kill him. I would like to have a word with him if you please."

I had an idea.

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