…. Until late January 1896.

I received a backlog of papers, but I did not have complete and regular correspondence restored until the end of February.

Across the nation and around the world, life continued.

Here in the United States, Utah had completed its entry into the union and was now a full state, with several others soon to follow behind. The only so-called state left outstanding was that of Cuba. The American press was reporting much from the islands, but the papers from Portland were telling a different story. There was a low-grade insurgency on the island that was opposing the US occupation and attempts to annexe it as the 48th state.

In Africa, the British were expanding their holdings with the British Army moving in and occupying the Transvaal Republic. Although I was not aware of other developments around the world during this time, they would have had different impacts globally over time. The two most significant achievements were the discovery of X-rays and the establishment of the Nobel Peace Prize.

One thing that caught my eye was a small article in the Portland Times about an increasing expansion of both Russian and Japanese influence and territorial claims in Manchuria.

"Trouble brewing there."

January passed into February—the month passed with more snow and no signs of winter letting up its hold. My Hunters had not emerged much during this period, which was normal for them.

March arrived, and the weather finally started to change. There was less snow and more rain. Within and around New Midian, the snow began to retreat slowly, but it was starting to melt. I started to see the first green shoots begin to appear as spring fought against the withdrawing winter.

Looking out across the world at the top of my special bubble, I noticed the rider coming up the path towards the gates.

"When it starts again. Let's see who we got today."

I moved to the gates as the rider dismounted. I watched as he prepared himself. The signs were clear: he was a Challenger.

I checked the sun's position in the sky. It was still pretty early in the day, not even close to midday yet. Turning my attention back to the Challenger, I spotted the lantern and a sack instead of a satchel. He pulled out a cavalry sword last. He put his guns away and strapped the blade and its scabbard to his waist.

He walked up to the gates. The sack had a rope that looped into a rough circle, which he placed diagonally across his torso, so he didn't have to worry about it falling off. He was young, in his early 20s at most, and he had a weak attempt at a beard. His hair was long, light brown and shoulder-length. He had taken his hat off and left it with his horse, which was attached to a saddle. He was dirty and travel-weary. His hazel eyes had a determined look to them.

He stopped at the threshold and looked into the surface part of my Dungeon. His eyes crossed the courtyard to the plinth and then beyond to the church. He stood there for a few moments deciding whether or not to cross the threshold.

With a deep breath, he stepped across and walked into the courtyard. He walked up to the plinth and read the inscription on it. I watched him solely trace out the words written there and suspected that the written language was not his strongest skill. He looked up and around again, this time at the two exits to the courtyard. He selected a northern one and set off.

[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

"I would never have guessed."

I've been shifting around the hunting grounds again over the winter, making them more evenly distributed between Hunters. Harrington was first up thanks to the new breakdown of the hunting grounds.

The arrival of the Challenger had stirred all of the Hunters. I knew that they would all be making their way to their hunting grounds to see if today's Challenger was successful in getting through to them. At the heart of the graveyard, Rigger held the northern side of the church while Rodriguez had the southern side. The other Hunters were scattered around.

As he walked along the northern path, only a few metres from the courtyard, he drew the cavalry sword from its scabbard. He was walking a fair space, constantly looking around for sources of danger. I could see that he was mentally working out the maze to reach the church. He could be one of the few who decided not to follow the path, but instead cut across the graveyard directly; however, that now carries more dangers of getting lost. The surface structures and graves of the cemetery were quite dense now.

The past, at least, had some space between them and the graves and trees around them, giving them at least a few seconds to spot dangers or ambushes.

He made a wrong turn within Harrington's hunting grounds, which led to a dead end, forcing him to double back. This gave Harrington the time he needed to find him. As the young man returned to the main path, he found Harrington standing in it before him.

The young man tensed up and assumed a basic stance with his sword, indicating that he had some knowledge of how to fight with the blade. This made Harrington smile, and he drew his blade from his cane.

I needed to discuss with Harrington the fact that he should have employed more ambush tactics instead of standing in the pathway, waiting for the Challenger to appear. Looking at their weapons, I also notice the danger to him as his sword's blade was not as sturdy as the cavalry sword his opponent wielded.

He seemed to be about to say something, but was interrupted by the young man attacking him. Harrington was able to dodge and parry, but it was clear that both had quite some skill with their respective swords. This only increased my commitment to speak to Harrington later to stop him from trying to fight honour duels. I usually would not influence my Hunters' methods, but this seemed counterproductive.

The dull clang of metal on metal echoed as the two fought. Harrington, for his lanky size, was surprisingly fast on his feet, and his arms gave him an advantage over his opponent in terms of reach. The young man, however, was almost as fast and seemed to be hungrier for the kill. The irony of that was not lost on me.

Harrington had shadow magic, but it was useless in this situation as his opponent saw him. His shadow magic lent more to ambushing. What it would become later, I did not know, but right now, he was ignoring a critical ability.

The two continued their dance, Harrington being pushed back, but so far not wounded. His opponent was sweating but not winded, and he, too, was uninjured.

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I had no idea how this fight would turn out.

The back-and-forth continues for a few more moments as each tries to find an opening in the other's defences. It was Harrington who overreached, allowing the young man to get close and use the handguard of the sword as a crude knuckle duster to punch him in the face. The blow staggered him and knocked him back into a grave.

It was here that I saw something interesting.

Harrington was a child killer. He was a monster because he was here. The whole time he had been at New Midian and the fights he had been in, I'd only seen some savagely sadistic tendencies now and again. He did his best always to present a façade of culture and elegance. Today I saw what was underneath.

His face contorted with rage, and there was a trickle of blood from his nose. he pushed off the grave and went on the offensive. His attacks became faster but less coordinated. The young man was forced back, desperately defending against the renewed onslaught.

This gave Harrington a brief advantage, but the problem was that he lacked the endurance of my other Hunters. As they walked further along their path and levelled, revealing more of their monstrous natures, they became hardier and more sturdy, with their endurance also increasing. Harrington had only made it to its first level so far and was still pretty close to human. He was reaching the end of his second wind.

The young man took advantage of an opening and slashed across the chest. Blood oozed from the wound, and a small spray hit the stone of the pathway. Harrington fell back, clutching his chest, crying in pain. I see hatred on his face now.

At his level, that wound was nasty. He could continue, or he could retreat. He had to make a decision fast.

He chose retreat.

He struck at the young man once more, and they locked blades. Harrington used the opportunity to push him back, knocking him slightly off balance, and then turned and ran. The young man followed for a few steps but realised that he was withdrawing from the fight. I think he knew he had to pace himself to reach the church. He quickly moved along the path, keeping his eye on the retreating figure of Harrington until he was outside his ability to track.

This took him into the Hateful Spirits' territory. It was far too light for her to make an appearance, so he had this part of the Dungeon as a mini safe spot for the moment. He was now turning down deeper into the maze of the graveyard and would soon enter McGregor's hunting territory.

The young man was pacing himself, using the time to recover as best he could. The problem was that you could not go into a fight and emerge fresh for the next one, even if you won. He was no longer sweating as hard as he had been, but his breathing was controlled, and his face was flushed with the look of victory. Knowing who's coming up next, I wondered if he would be so eager to fight again.

The young man had made it about halfway through McGregor's hunting territory when he struck. Unlike Harrington, he came at him from just behind, aiming for a fast and brutal ambush.

He came in very close, ready for the kill strike, but his opponent reacted to his presence faster than he realised. The young man flung himself backwards, using his alternate elbow as a weapon, colliding with McGregor—the blow from the elbow hit in the face, knocking him back, causing him to snarl in pain.

This gave the young man an opportunity to prepare himself for the new opponent he was facing. He was now turned to face McGregor, but I noticed he was shaking his arm. I think you might have injured yourself with that manoeuvre.

McGregor recovered quickly, but he was now at a disadvantage, as his weapon lacked the reach of his opponents. The young man did not wait for McGregor to take the initiative; instead, he launched an attack on him.

McGregor was forced to dodge and weave to avoid strikes from the blades the young man carried. The young man's skill was still evident in the way he attacked, never overbalancing and leaving himself open for a counter. I wondered where he had got his training from as I watched him.

The young man had skill and determination, but McGregor had experience and brutality. He blocked a thrust from the young man with the flat of his shorter blade, and the two made a screeching sound as he stepped towards him, running the flat of the blades along the edge of his opponent's.

McGregor got too close too fast for the young man to reposition himself and received the thunderous uppercut. This caused the young man's head to step back and, indeed, stagger back a few steps, almost dropping his sword. McGregor took advantage of his current position and pressed his attack.

The young man recovered, but not fast enough, receiving a nasty cut along the top of his arm as he backed up. McGregor pressed the advantage, his sadistic smile showing that he was enjoying the fight now that he was in control of it.

I expected that he thought he was going to stab his opponent a few more times, wound him so severely that he would be able to take his time in killing him. At one time, I would have thought the same, but I've seen enough of these fights to know that you should never underestimate the Challenger.

This point was reinforced again when McGregor stepped in after a series of rapid strikes at the Challenger. The young man had successfully deflected most of them but had received a shallow cut along his chest that had sliced through his coat. McGregor was looking to do more damage, but his overconfidence had left him open. The Challenger mirrored him, stepping in to close the distance between them, surprising McGregor.

The bigger surprise was the Challenger's knee colliding with his groin. The impact almost took his feet off, and his eyes bulged. He could even scream in pain as the air was knocked from his lungs, and he collapsed. The Challenger had not come away unscathed from this encounter, however, with McGregor's blade cutting across the forearm. Again, his heavy coat saved him from the worst of it, but I could see blood dripping down his hand.

The Challenger fell back to inspect his wound, which was a mistake. He had the advantage and should have pressed it. This gave McGregor time to recover, but he chose not to continue the fight. As the Challenger prepared to engage again, McGregor turned and ran.

The Challenger didn't hesitate and moved off quickly, not looking to continue the fight or track down his attacker. He was more aware of his surroundings, taking time to identify potential ambush spots.

He briefly paused to treat his wounds, applying what first-aid measures he could to stem the blood loss. He drank from a canteen that he produced from his sack, and as soon as he had refreshed himself, he began moving again.

He was now pretty deep into the Dungeon. He was already past the third ring in the maze and was making decent time towards the church.

He had gone through the Hateful Spirits' territory before running into McGregor. Due to the high position of the sun, she was not out. Rigger was out, but he was suffering and doing his best to stay out of the sunlight. Thankfully, being in the central ring allowed him to do this quite effectively. Everything was far denser here, from trees to statues and the mausoleums. This created large areas of shade that block the sun's rays from beating down.

I didn't know where he was right now, but I knew he was somewhere in that area. I was still following the Challenger, who was now passing into the fifth ring area. As soon as he exited this area, he would make it to the church. The problem was that the pathways here were far fewer, limiting the ways you could approach the church.

I was wondering where Rigger was when he exploded from behind a tree.

He was only a short distance from the Challenger when he revealed himself, and the young man didn't have an opportunity to react before Rigger was on him. He was dressed in his large hat and heavy coat to protect himself from the sun, but I can still see that he was suffering. He had also taken to wearing gloves and a scarf around his face to minimise the amount of skin he was exposing.

The young man tried to turn to get his sword up to protect himself, but Rigger was too close and his bowie knife disembowelled the young man. He screamed in pain, but Rigger wanted this to be over quickly, so he didn't make him suffer using his knife, now withdrawn from the Challenger's body, to slash his throat.

The young man collapsed to the floor, and his death came several seconds later.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Rigger didn't wait around to saver his kill, or loot the body as he darted away, heading back to the lair as fast as he could. I didn't comment on that, but I knew I had to deal with the body.

"Rodriguez head north with a shovel. I have a body to loot and bury. Roberson head outside and deal with the horse."

Rodriguez grumbled somewhat but did as he was instructed. Roberson went to deal with the horse, and I think Blackstone went back to his lair.

The now deceased Challenger did not have a lot on him, what little was gathered together. The majority was kept for Rigger; the rest was split among those who desired what little was left.

I had used [Hide the Crime!] to deal with the bloodstains. Looking at the results, I knew I would have to use it again tomorrow.

"Well, this is an odd start to the year."

I returned to the top of the special bubble, looking out across the landscape around me. The day was ending now, and the sun was heading towards the mountains in the west. The sky was a fiery red, illuminating the broken clouds across the sky.

I expected to see Herbert and his son soon with my next delivery of papers. Tonight, I will read the last few sections of the ones I already possess and await the new ones.

In the East, the first stars started to appear.

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