They did get far before he revealed himself. They were deep in the graveyard, close to the church.

  The three men were walking in a triangle formation. Macduff was pale but looked ready. Johannson was out front, his eyes closely scanning the danger, gripping his baseball bat tightly. The third man, whose name I still did not know, looked as if he regretted all his life choices up to this point.

  Blackstone stepped out from behind a large statue just to the side of the path. The statue was so large that it could hide him, allowing him to go unnoticed. I was honestly surprised by that, but what can you say? I suspected that the near darkness from the sun's leaving could be a good indication of why this was missed.

  The third man was a little further back from the others, and Blackstone was behind him now. He moved forward with his usual surprising grace, crossing the distance to his prey. The man was still unaware of his presence, too focused on looking at the other two and occasionally muttering to himself.

  This all came to an end when Blackstone's hammer caved in his skull. He hit a man with such force that his skull didn't just collapse, but exploded. Brain and bone fragments were rejected in multiple directions.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill.]

  "No shit!"

  The other two reacted quickly, even as he was surprised by the attack. Blackstone was pulling his hammer back from the body as it slumped to the floor. Macduff and Johansson have both turned to face my Hunter. Johannson acted first, lashing out with his baseball bat and Blackstone. Blackstone blocked it with the handle of his hammer.

  With a grunt of pain, Macduff attacks as well, lashing out with his scythe, catching Blackstone along the side of his torso. His heavy jacket and newly reinforced body withstood most of the blade's slice. The scythe was razor sharp and drew a little blood.

  Blackstone twisted his body to prevent further strikes and to throw your hands off-balance as his baseball bat was not aside. This does not knock Johansson off-balance as he planned, and he lashed out with the top of the head of the hammer, catching your hands in the chest, knocking back. Johannson let out a grunt of pain as he staggered from the impact.

  Blackstone then twisted, looking to strike Macduff with the hammer as he swung in a great arc. Macduff collapsed to the floor to avoid it, but cried out in pain from the impact on the ground. It was now Blackstone who had overbalanced, expecting to hit the other man.

  This gave Johannson time to recover and attack again. He lashed out with a more controlled strike with his baseball bat, catching Blackstone on his back shoulder, which was now presented. There was a heavy smack of the impact, and Blackstone grunted slightly but seemed unharmed. Johannson's face paled at this lack of injury. He was expecting something far more serious to happen.

  Blackstone turned slightly and jumped to the side, elbowing Johannson in the face. The impact broke his nose and knocked him back.

  Macduff re-entered the fight, attacking from the ground. He had been unable to get up due to his injured arm, but was given an excellent target in the shape of one of Blackstone's knees.

  He struck out, catching Blackstone with a hook of the blade and ripping into his leg just above the knee. Blackstone gives a deep grunt in response to the wound to his leg. Like the other Hunters, he had developed a different blood, thicker and deeper red. It was flowing from the wound, but not as profusely as it should have. Macduff did not let up on hacking at him again.

  The attack on his knee was forcing Blackstone to turn away from Johannson and focus on the man on the ground. He lifted his hammer to smash down upon Macduff, but the man saw the blow coming. He turned and rolled away with the cry of pain as he went over his shoulder. It was that or take a hammer to the head or body. Blackstone's hammer hit the ground where he once was.

  Johannson had an opportunity now, striking at Blackstone's other knee. He ran forward but dropped, putting his full weight behind the strike. The impact was loud, and I heard a crack as Blackstone grunted deeply again. Blackstone backed up now, and I could see that he was not as steady as you once was. The injuries to both legs took their toll on him and his ability to fight.

  Johannson grabbed Macduff by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet. Macduff was almost delirious with pain, but Johannson was manhandling him. Johannson took off down the path, nearly dragging Macduff behind him. They were close to the church now, and he was making a break for it.

  The sun was gone now, and darkness had swept across the graveyard. The stars were out, and the night sky was relatively clear, with a half moon illuminating the graveyard.

  Blackstone was made to follow, but his injured knees prevented him from moving quickly. Johannson had the advantage in speed, but was dragging Macduff with him. Another strange race came into being. Would they manage to make it to the church in time, or would Blackstone catch them?

  Johannson Macduff entered the central ring where the church was located on the southern side and had to move around to reach the northern doors. Blackstone was following on the whole way, and I could hear them grunting every time he took a step. He was getting used to the pain now and starting to speed up, and Johannson realised it. Macduff had recovered somewhat and was more stable on his feet.

  Johannson was looking back constantly, with fear now evident on his face. Blackstone was relentless and continued after them, slowly beginning to gain ground. Macduff was still unsure of what was happening due to the pain of his wounds following Johannson's lead.

  Johannson Macduff won the race, making it to the doors before Blackstone could catch them. Johannson went through the doors, pushing Macduff ahead of him and slamming them shut behind him.

  The feeling of peace swept over me, and I knew that hostilities had been suspended for now.

  I followed them into the church and was unsure of what Blackstone was doing outside. I cannot communicate with him right now, but I needed to stay with these two Challengers to find out what they would be doing next.

  Both men had collapsed behind the doors and were breathing hard. I could tell that the wound on Macduff's shoulder had opened up again, as there was more fresh blood dripping onto the floor. Johannson was in a better condition, but his nose was crushed, and his lower face was covered in blood.

  If Macduff's injury were not treated soon, he would bleed out.

  Johannson gathered his wits and looked around. He could not see much of the room, which was pretty dark. A little moonlight was coming through the windows, but it was not enough to even illuminate a tenth of what the space contained. He pulled his satchel around and retrieved his lantern. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline rush of the fight and the relief from tension and fear. Eventually got it sparked a life and moved over to Macduff. He quickly checked his injuries, swearing at what he had seen.

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  He looked up and around the room. Seeing the altar in the distance, he nodded to himself. He put his arm under Macduff's uninjured one and helped him to his feet. He always carried the other man down the central aisle towards the altar. Macduff was no longer fully conscious as blood loss was taking its toll on him.

  Johannson sat him down on one of the pews in front of the altar. He pulled off the satchel he was holding. Macduff had lost his along the way, and Johannson was using what medical supplies he had from his own.

  He pulled off Macduff's jacket and was forced to cut away his shirt. The bandage below was soaked through with blood. I was no doctor, but I think that wound was now past the point of Macduff surviving. The man had gone deathly pale from blood loss, and I was pretty sure he had collapsed into a state of unconsciousness due to shock.

  Johannson tried to save him, but within a few minutes, he gave out one final rattling breath, and his body became still.

  The third Challenger was now dead.

  Johannson stood up, his hands covered in Macduff's blood, and swore again in another language I was not sure of. It sounded Scandinavian, and from the man's accent, I suspect it was either Swedish or Norwegian.

  His lantern was on the pew next to the now-dead Macduff. He did pick it up, but stood there for a few months looking at the body. Then he turned in a slow arc, taking in the statue and altar behind him. He looked at the statue for several minutes; his face was unreadable.

  He then began walking forward and stood before the altar.

  He opened up the heavy coat he was wearing and reached into an inner pocket. He pulled out a silver flask and placed it onto the altar.

  [Challenger's offering has been accepted.]

  A wave of emotions and flickers of memories swept across my mind. I saw an older man, possibly his father or grandfather, using the flask through the good and bad days of his life.

  As quickly as they had come, they disappeared, leaving me disoriented. I recovered and looked down at the flask. It was silver and engraved. There was writing on it, but I couldn't understand what it said. There was also a carved image of a stag looking out across a valley.

  Johannson was walking away from the altar back to the dead body of Macduff. He sat next to it and began to inspect his own injuries. He had come off the best out of the four men as he was still alive. But it was not unscathed.

  He gently touched his broken nose and then put two fingers on either side of it, and had a sickly crunch. He grunted in pain. I saw he had done his best to rectify the damage to it. It was still wrong, but it now looks more like a nose.

  He had other scrapes and cuts, but nothing serious. He took several long swigs from a bottle he pulled from his pack. He offered a silent toast to the body of Macduff next to him on the second swig. He did seem drunk after the fourth and final one; he put the bottle back and pulled out some food. He sat there eating for several minutes.

  He was munching on some black bread that looked pretty tough. It didn't seem to bother him much, as he just tore into it and chewed. He winced regularly as his nose was still bothering him. But over time, as the alcohol's effect began to settle over him, he chewed with more vigour. As he ate, he stared at the flask upon the altar.

  I wondered what he was thinking. I couldn't just appear and ask him. There were rules I had to follow.

  I looked beyond the church for Blackstone. He was not around anymore. I could not go far to look for him. I was not going to leave the Challenger alone. He was still sitting, eating the last chunks of the black bread. He was looking around more now at the rest of the church space.

  He was getting interested in the two side doors behind the statue and altar. With a grunt, he got up from the pew, lifting his lantern with him. Clearly stiff and sore, he walked with great patience towards the door on the left. I was not concerned about that door; it was the other one. It led underground. He was carrying his baseball bat ready in case he ran into trouble.

  He slowly walked over to the door and opened it using his lantern to bring light to the space. The room was being used as a storeroom for some minor items, but nothing in there caught the eye. He closed the door and headed over to the other. Mentally, I was sweating as he approached it.

  He gripped the handle and opened it. There were some boxes and a few trunks in the room. They were there to make it look like another disused space, but unfortunately, I hadn't been able to hide the stairs going down. He walked into the room, flipping open a few of the boxes and trunks. They mainly contained useless items or were empty.

  He stood at the threshold of the stairs going down, leaning with the lantern to get a better view. The stairs curved, blocking any view of the crypt below. He was still gripping his baseball bat with the other hand. He started down the stairs, and mentally, I was screaming every obscenity I could think of now.

  He moved slowly down the stairs, partly out of caution and partly out of respect for his injuries. But he eventually emerged into the crypt. He looked around the space, noting the two doorways, the sarcophagus and the chest on the other side of the room.

  Calling it a chest was actually a misdescription. It was more like a coffin, only heavily reinforced and sitting higher off the ground. It was locked with a heavy padlock, and I knew any attempts to force it open would trigger the surprise built into its base. Over the winter, I moved all my precious belongings into the new place.

  This Johannson moved around the sarcophagus, checked the stone lid, and found it secure. He went into the other two rooms. The first contained a few books and the table. This was where Harrington had been working under my supervision with the enchanted blade.

  Moving back, he went to the next room, and his eyes were wide and surprised when he looked at the contents. The room was my armoury, with numerous guns and close-combat weapons stored there. Several boxes containing ammunition were against the wall, along with other items.

  He let out a low whistle as he inspected the guns. He picked up several, checked them over, and found them all serviceable. He placed each back carefully and circled the room. Every box, every gun, and every weapon was inspected. He took nothing, putting everything back where he found it.

  He returned to the main room and went over to the chest. He bent over slightly, wrapping his hand around the padlock, lifting it to get a better look. It was firmly secured, and the key was hidden. He might be able to find it, but it would take time. I could see that they were thinking about the problem with the lock. He turned his head slightly back to my Arsenal.

  He went back to the other room looking for something to use to lever the padlock. Several items may help break the lock. He lifted several items, from gun barrels to the sword. Inspected each item, looking back at the lock. Most were instantly disregarded and returned to where they had been. He picked up a hatchet and seemed to decide that this was going to be his best bet.

  He walked back to the chest and placed his lantern on the top of the lid. He went over slightly and began angling the blade of the hatchet to strike at the lock. He was aiming for the two metal bars above the primary locking mechanism. He pulled back in with a grunt and then swung down.

  A loud clang echoed through the crypt, and there were even a few sparks of the metal striking metal.

  He reached back and struck down again. And again. Grunting each time from the exertion and pain of his injuries. The lock showed signs of damage but was holding firm. He paused and took a breath.

  He inspected the lock again before relaunching his assault. Three more rapid strikes hit the lock, and the damage was becoming more visible. He paused again, breathing deeply and sweating from his exertions.

  Looked at the lock again and muttered something before attacking again. Four more strikes came down on the lock before it gave way.

  There was a loud clang, and the lock was broken. It was still hanging off the chest, but it could be removed now. Johannson stopped and stood up, breathing hard. He took a few moments to collect himself before reaching over and flipping the lid open after removing the lantern.

  He got a brief look at the gold and silver within, reflecting the weak light, and his eyes widened with greed.

  There was suddenly a snapping sound and a shriek of metal on metal. Before he could react, a blade swung out from the bottom of the chest, slicing across his legs at ankle height. The blade was razor sharp and propelled with a great deal of tension force, now released.

  He had no time to react and screamed in pain as the blades cut through his legs and bones.

  He collapsed to the floor, still screaming, as he realised he was now separated from his feet. His legs ended in stubs, pumping blood quickly. He was flailing on the ground, trying to understand what was going on.

  There's nothing more I could do but watch and wait.

  The injuries were fatal, and he was going into shock quickly from blood loss. His actions became less extreme as he bled out.

  The rules told me I had to wait as he bled out there in the crypt, and I gained nothing from his death towards my next level. But at least I got to loot the body.