Winter is the best time for gun maintenance.

January 1897 found me doing this task. I had a large woollen blanket draped over the sarcophagus in the catacombs below the church. It was held down on either side by two lit lanterns that illuminated the area. I could have done this without them, but I found it strangely comforting and relaxing, trying to appear human while doing it.

I have come to the sad realisation that I was becoming less human in many ways as the years passed. Not having a human body was the main culprit I suspected of this. However, I also had a great reason to fear that the changes made to my memories and emotional disconnect were also to blame.

Across the blanket, I had a disassembled rifle which I was cleaning. Above, on the surface, it was late in the evening, and the sun was almost gone. We had just passed through another blizzard, and the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. I strongly suspected I would not be getting any visitors anytime soon. It had been a rather long and tedious winter so far, so I had decided to tackle some tasks I had been neglecting.

I was about two-thirds of the way through my total arsenal of firearms. I started with the pistols and was now working on the rifles. The ammunition was still safely stored away, but I would need to check on it before I called myself finished.

As I worked, I looked around the room at the various shelves and other items scattered around. In one corner was the large custom-built chest that stored my gold and silver reserves. It was booby-trapped to prevent anyone from stealing my wealth.

I knew if I started calling it "my precious", I was in serious trouble.

My shelves were meant for bodies, not the items currently stored there. There were several boxes containing different items that had been organised. I kept watches in one, another for the little jewellery I possessed, and a third for the badges of all the lawmen who had died here in New Midian.

There are a few other containers scattered around, along with various other items that have accumulated over the years. A few books here and there. A stack of newspapers. And one walking stick.

The firearms and other melee weapons were located in another room, along with the ammunition.

Cleaning the barrel of the rifle was going well, but it was an old gun. It was close to 30 years old now and an outdated model—a single-shot, breech-loading hunting rifle. Probably based on one of the early military ones that had appeared during the Civil War. It was still a serviceable weapon, though its newer counterparts put it mostly to shame. The ammunition was ageing, and most rounds might not even fire anymore.

I was about halfway through the barrel when I heard someone coming down the stairs. I was a bit surprised by this, as I generally didn't get anyone wandering into the church during these downtimes. I knew it wasn't an intruder or challenger, as I hadn't had an alert message of their arrival in the Dungeon.

It could only be one of my Hunters, but who?

Harrington stepped into the circle of light generated by the lanterns. He was bundled up extensively against the cold weather outside, which I found surprising given that he would be the one to come during this time of year.

"Keeper, I apologise for this interruption." He tipped his hat to me as he drew closer.

"Harrington. It is an odd time of year for you to be out."

I nodded back at him, but didn't take my attention off him as I worked on the rifle barrel.

"Yes, it is, is it not?" He paused a short distance from where I was working and seemed to take a moment to collect himself before speaking again. "Keeper, I have a few things I would like to say and request your full attention until I'm finished."

I say nothing, sensing that something important might be about to be spoken between us. I put down the cleaning kit and rifle barrel. Once I'm satisfied that they are secure on top of the sarcophagus and not will roll off, I nod to him to begin.

He takes a few moments more before speaking and stands up to his full height. I note that his head is scraping along the top of the crypt ceiling.

"Since I've come here and accepted the contract, I have learned a great deal. In that, I have to thank you for honouring your word and contract with me."

I sense the but coming.

"But I seek more." And there it was. "I seek to unlock the greater mysteries of the arcane and increase my depth of knowledge of the way to magic. I would appreciate your help in this matter. I seek to be one of the greatest magic wielders this world has ever known."

Not what I expected him to say. Part of me thought he would ask to have his contract broken. I had no idea what he was alluding to right now, so I thought the best way to find out was to ask.

"What help do you seek?"

"Tome's knowledge, books of the arcane and any magical items you can acquire or reveal to me would be invaluable in my endeavour."

Okay. I said nothing but thought about his request. Could I help him? I had contacts with the Way of Athamos that I could introduce him to. But that led to the question, did I really want them to have any influence over any of my Hunters?

The silence between us lengthened, and I realised he was getting a bit anxious. I think he believed that I was planning to turn him down.

"Maybe."

Was all I said right then, and he looked at me attentively. This gave me a few more seconds to think about it, and I realised I might have something to keep him busy for a while.

"In this world, magic, real magic, is hard to come by, as you know."

Nodding his head quickly, he agreed with my statement, knowing it was true. He spent his entire life searching for magic, only to discover it when he signed his contract with New Midian.

"I've encountered few examples of it, but I might have something to help you."

He tensed up at my words, wondering what I was alluding to. I could see the hunger in his eyes. I suspected the same hunger appeared when he was killing children; it was one of the core things in him, but drove him onwards. With the other Hunters, it was mainly sadistic pleasure in the kill, but with him, it was something a little more complex.

I lamented another sign of my losing touch with my humanity. My ability to understand my Hunters with their needs and desires was something I suspected might have appalled me in my human life.

"Going to my weapons room and behind the barrel containing the swords, you will find a box. Bring it out to me."

He leapt into action to obey my instructions and disappeared into the next room. There were no lanterns in that room, but I knew he would be able to find his way without them. I heard him digging around in there for a few moments before he returned carrying the box I had instructed him to find.

While he was doing this, I moved the disassembled rifle off to the side. When he reappeared, I indicated to place the box in front of me on the sarcophagus. He placed the box down on the thick woollen blanket. He remained standing on the other side of the sarcophagus opposite me.

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I reached down and pulled the lid of the box, revealing the contents. It was the cult knife that brother Michael had brought into the Dungeon with him. It still had that faint blue glow to it when you looked at it from certain angles. Right now, it was in its sheath, hiding the glow.

Harrington looked at the knife with great interest. He knew that the cult had specialised weapons, and he had seen one of them in the past, but this one was unknown to him. I lifted the blade and pulled it from its sheath, holding the blade in my left hand and the sheath in my right.

"Watch closely."

I instructed Harrington, and he obeyed, leaning in. I tilted the blade towards one of the lanterns to have the light reflect at the required angle. A deep breath of excitement came from Harrington as he saw the glow.

"A magical or enchanted blade!" He exclaimed, barely preventing himself and reaching out and taking it from me.

"Yes, but a dangerous one."

"In what manner?" He looked up as he asked.

"Have you seen Rodriguez occasionally rubbing his side, just below his ribs?"

"Yes, I thought it was from an old wound he received before coming here."

"You are correct that he was wounded. But with this very blade, while as a Hunter here in New Midian."

"The magic of this blade counteracted the contract?" He asked, surprised and afraid, for the first time.

"No. But it did leave a mark and a memory."

I said no more on that and gently returned the blade to the sheath, then put it back into the box.

"What are you planning to do with it?" He asked after I placed the blade back into the box.

"I will let you study it here. Due to its dangerous nature, it must not leave this crypt. You would tell none of the others that you are studying it and will inform me of any theories or breakthroughs you make."

"I hear and I obey, Keeper."

Once contact was re-established with the world, I did my best to catch up quickly with what had been happening—little interest to me, and few major things reported in either paper. The biggest in January, of course, was the swearing in of President Jonathan Mayfair.

January eventually gave way to February, but the weather didn't let up. More snowstorms rolled in throughout the month, cutting me off again for a period of nearly two weeks.

March arrived, and the weather began to change. As the weather warmed, the snow started to melt, saturating the ground with water and generating a significant amount of mud. More travellers were now moving up and down the road to and from Crossway. I often saw the plume of smoke from the steam engines as they came and went along the rail tracks in the distance on the other side of the ridge.

Internationally, the only story that was keeping my attention was the ongoing rebellion in the Philippines. The locals had not been suppressed by the Spanish attempts to pacify the islands; from what few reports that had gotten out, it seemed that the locals were taking ground and pushing the Spanish forces out of the countryside into the towns and villages.

The German Pacific fleet had been sighted on several occasions doing manoeuvres near the islands, which the Spanish and their allies condemned. Some are speculating that if things continue to go badly for Spain, the Germans might force their presence onto the islands in an attempt to seize the colony from the Spanish.

The French Pacific naval units were also active near the islands, reinforcing the weak Spanish squadrons based there. The wild card in all of this was not the British, as they had declared neutrality, but the Japanese. With their recent territorial acquisitions from China, they now have a naval base within sailing range of the Philippines.

I was contemplating the possible ramifications of this and other possibilities for the Philippines, which helped me pass the month.

April's arrival heralded the arrival of spring, which was now in full bloom. The land around me is lush and full of life. Across the river, the farmer was out planting. Traffic to and from Crossway was progressing as usual. I had no sight of any visitors yet, which was not unsurprising or unprecedented, but after last year, it was a bit disheartening. I added that to another list of my growing concerns over my diminishing humanity.

Apart from the Philippines, other events were unfolding across the world in the Mediterranean. The Greeks and the Turks broke out into a war. The discovery of gold in Alaska appears to have triggered a gold rush, causing hundreds of people to travel there in search of a fortune.

May came with reports of a significant, bloody battle between the Greek and Turkish armies at Velestino, which ended in a stalemate. Neither side had been able to gain the advantage over the other, and the war continued. Many of those who reported on the battle pointed out that both armies lacked any form of modern organisation within their military structures, which led to the stalemate as neither side could accurately control the forces during the battle.

The weather around New Midian remained sunny, with only a few showers. I was tending to my flowerbeds quite often now as they were blooming around the church. Harrington usually came by over the last few months to study the knife, but it had a magical enchantment upon it. He did not remove the blade as instructed, but wasn't making any progress so far. He was frustrated by this, but I pointed out that Rome wasn't built in a day and that he had time. This mollified him somewhat, but I could still see that he was unhappy with the lack of progress. He was forced to take a break from his research as I had the Hunters go out to clear the path and the clearing in front of the Dungeon, as the forest was again trying to reclaim it.

I had not seen Herbert for a few days, but I'd still been keeping track of the date and realised that June had just arrived. From the top of my special bubble, the forest was thick and dense with foliage. It was late in the afternoon now, and the sun was heading towards the mountains in the west. It was then that I noticed a rider coming up the path towards the clearing.

"Right, let's see who you are then."

The rider stopped near the gates closer than most of the others had come in the past.

He got off his horse and tied up. He was approximately 20 to 21 years old, well-built, and was trying to grow a beard. He had light brown hair that was almost blonde and blue eyes. I looked over his horse and began to identify specific items that marked him out as a Challenger.

He wasn't carrying any firearms, which was slightly odd for this time. But then I thought again about how the old ways were dying and civilisation was coming to the land. He did have something strapped to his saddle that was heavily bundled.

"Looks like a sword."

There was the lantern and a satchel attached to the saddle as well.

I looked the young man over as he prepared himself, and I got struck by a strange sense of déjà vu. This young man reminded me of someone I knew. I found it quite frustrating as they racked my mind and memories to try to figure out why I was getting such a strange feeling.

He was wearing good-quality, yet sturdy, clothing. He wore no hat, but a reinforced coat. He slung the satchel over his shoulder, having the strap diagonally across his body. I could see it was packed full of different supplies. Next came the lantern, which was then attached to the satchel.

Finally, he unwrapped the bundled item from the saddle of his horse. It was a cavalry sword, and I had seen this one before.

"Augustus Rochester."

That was the last person I had seen wielding this particular sword. I recognised it due to its guard still being damaged from the fighting he went through, from the gates to the church and back. The design was a bit unique in itself, but it was the damage and weathered appearance of the hilt that gave it away.

Was this a relation of his?

I knew he got married in 1880 and had a child the same year or just after. His farm is located to the north of Crossway, and I knew he was doing exceptionally well for himself. The local paper often featured articles about him and his family for their accomplishments.

I took a closer look at this young man, and I could now see the family resemblance, having been aware of what to look for. Was this his son? If it were his firstborn child, then I would have lowered the age estimate to about 16 or 17 years old. If this were his son, I would have to ask his father what the hell he was feeding him.

He stood over 6 feet tall and had the vibrancy of youth that only the young have. He looked… No, he could appear to be older due to the beard he was growing, as well as his size and build. If this were Augustus, his firstborn son, then he might have been affected somehow by his father's success here in the Dungeon. I knew that not all of the rewards you received were obvious.

Could some of that have been passed on to his son?

I once more look to the sky and track the position of the sun. It was set in two hours, maybe less. The shadows were gathering across the graveyard, and I knew the Hateful Spirit would soon be active.

When his father had successfully crossed this Dungeon, I had only a few Hunters to stand in his way. Now I had far more, and they were considerably more dangerous, having developed and grown.

The young man stood before the gates, looking in at the courtyard. He seemed to be taking a few moments to collect himself. With a nod to himself in a deep breath, he crossed the threshold of the gates into the courtyard.

He walked up to the plinth and read the inscription upon it. I could see him speaking the words quietly as he read the inscription and traced his hand along it. Once he had finished, he looked out across New Midian towards the church in the distance.

He frowned slightly, realising that the distance between the gates and the church was greater than what his father probably told him if he had been told anything.

He looked to the northern and southern pathways.

He made his decision and began walking north.

[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

"Here we go."

I settled in behind and followed him. My ability to influence what was happening now was extremely limited. I was interested to see how he would do, just as his father would, if I were right about his identity being my first victor.

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