"Who the hell has come at such a late hour?"

  I shifted over to the gates, trying to find the Challenger.

  It was very dark, as dense cloud cover blocked what little moonlight was available. Thankfully, this did not bother me much, and I could see quite clearly. I looked around as soon as I reached the gates.

  The northern and southern pathways were clear. I can see anyone walking along them or even sneaking. There was no movement at all.

  I moved higher and looked around. The courtyard was empty, as that would trigger the message in the first place. There was no one outside of the gates, but over in the trees, I saw a horse tucked away. That proved someone was here.

  Rigger and McGregor were hurrying over. I cannot see them just yet, but I knew they were coming.

  "Where are you?"

  I asked myself as I continued to look around. I caught a flicker of movement out to the West amongst the gravestones. I shifted over to that area and took a closer look around. It was here that I found the Challenger.

  The figure was bundled up and crouched low as they moved. They were shifting quickly from one hiding place to another. They were heading directly towards the church, ignoring the pathways.

  I could not alert the Hunters, so I had to watch.

  As I got closer, I tried to get a better idea of who this Challenger was.

  It was a white woman. She was carrying a hatchet, a satchel, and a lantern. She was short but broad with her hair tied in a single braid. A bandana was wrapped around her lower face.

  I stayed with her but moved higher to get a better look around. No sign of the Hunters yet. She was moving more slowly than she could be, as she was using the terrain to her advantage in hiding. She was looking around, gripping her hatchet tight in her gloved hand. She was dressed in a man's clothing. She seemed comfortable in them.

  As time passed, I wondered where the Hunters were. She was in Riggers' hunting grounds, but was close to passing into McGregor's if she drifted southward a bit more.

  I had to respect her tactics here. She had seemingly interpreted her dreams as a warning to keep off the paths and move more directly towards the church. This is to give her a slight advantage in making it harder for her to be found. The downside was that it would take longer to reach the church, even though the most direct route ran through the graveyard. The deeper you go, the denser the graves and mausoleums become. Eventually, when she reached the second ring before the church itself, she would be forced onto the paths.

  Movement to the north caught my attention. Rigger was close by. He had realised that the Challenger was not on the paths and was actively hunting them through the graveyard. I looked to the south and couldn't see any sign of McGregor.

  Rigger was moving in a zigzag pattern, stopping regularly to check for any sign of movement. The Challenger was keeping lower, moving cautiously, which was working in her favour at the moment. The graves and other structures are blocking my Hunter's view of her.

  Unfortunately, her luck was not holding up any longer as she moved between two small tombs, and Rigger spotted her. I knew this because he suddenly angled his direction towards her and crouched as he moved. I could see that he had drawn his Bowie knife and was moving for a quick kill.

  The Challenger was unaware of his approach as far as I can tell. I had been wrong before, so I did not take this as a guarantee. Rigger has a strong odour that has alerted others before.

  She was still some distance from the next hunting ground, which gave Rigger time to get behind her. He moved up slowly, matching her pace, but was fast enough to close the distance.

  I watch this all unfold passively. Once, I would have been horrified — or maybe even excited — knowing that a kill was soon to happen. But these days it had become routine and monotonous in many ways. I reflected on this as Rigger approached the Challenger.

  The last nearly thirty years had worn me mentally. I knew I had become desensitised to the violence, even with the emotional distance created by my new existence. But as the years passed, it became increasingly pronounced to me. Some Challengers caught my attention for their uniqueness or skill. But the majority were as uninteresting as the bulk of the intruders.

  They were becoming tallies now as I sought new levels. I remember that, first, each death came with its own emotional baggage and story, but these days they do not. Rigger is my oldest Hunter, and he was the furthest along his path. He was also the most changed. I had withheld attaching any labels to my Hunters as they changed, but I was getting confident enough to call some of them what they were or what they were becoming.

  Rigger was a ghoul. That was the arctype feel I got from him.

  He reflected everything I could remember about this type of monster. He was not entirely there yet, but he was damn close. Maybe another level, and he would be wholly changed. Or shift in an unexpected direction.

  I turned my attention back to him from the Challenger as I mused about him. He was really close now, as she was not aware of it, to the best of what I could tell. The body language or posture hadn't changed at all. Watching her as she moved, I realised she had made a fatal mistake in not checking behind her often enough. She looked left and right, turning her head regularly, but didn't check behind. That blind spot allowed Rigger to get in close now.

  He was preparing to strike. Unless she became aware of his presence or hid the fact that she was, this would be over soon.

  Rigger was tensing up, ready to charge.

  The Challenger was moving close to a mausoleum when he made his move.

  With a sudden burst of speed, he ran forward, making more noise, causing the Challenger to turn slightly, but it was far too late. He collided with a knockdown on the ground, with him on top, and the arm with the Bowie knife was free, moving aggressively, stabbing into her. There was a scream of pain, but it was soon turned into a gurgling sound.

  I passively watched all of it.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill.]

  And there it was.

  With the death of the Challenger, my ability to interact with my Dungeon was restored. I summoned my avatar next to Rigger, who was straddling the deceased Challenger.

  As I brought my physical form into being, he had pulled the blade from the body and was licking the blade clean with his tongue—another change I had noted.

  "Well, this Challenger was disappointing."

  I spoke, expressing my disappointment at both the Challenger and my own lack of malaise at her death.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Easy kill. The way I like, um," Rigger was in a good mood. He turned and looked at me as he spoke, and I could see the blood running down his chin. He returned to the blade with his tongue.

  "Quite."

  All of my Hunters enjoy easy kills. From my perspective, the more difficult ones were the more satisfying as they tested them. But I can understand their desire for easier kills because they lack the danger of injury or death.

  "Are you keeping the body?"

  He paused, licking the blade at my question. He looked down at the body he was straddling, and he realised it was a woman after pulling down the bandanna.

  "Look at that!" He exclaimed. "I reckoned it was a small man!"

  He stood up and turned the body over to get a better look at her. After a few moments of inspection, he turned and looked at me.

  "Reckon not my type." He spoke with confidence.

  "Fine. I will leave you to bury the body. Whatever you can find belongs to you as usual, outside of my usual claims. Also, a horse is hidden in the trees just outside the gates. You'll need to take it down to Herbert."

  He nodded at my instructions, knowing that they were normal.

  "I'll bring anything to ya." He promised.

  I knew he would fulfil his obligations to me. The idea of material wealth had left all of my Hunters as soon as they took their contracts. If they had any, they willingly gave them to me or asked me to use them to acquire more of the few luxuries they desired. Tobacco and alcohol were the most common, but some of the others had more unusual tastes.

  Rigger was the least demanding of all of them. As long as he got a new 'wife' every so often, he was a happy Hunter. That didn't mean he did not enjoy alcohol and tobacco, which were occasionally acquired.

  He bent down and picked up the body of the Challenger with the great heave he heaved over his shoulder. It seemed like he wanted to bury her further into the Dungeon. Before he set off, a thought came to me.

  "Check with Roberson. He might take her off your hands."

  Rigger paused at my words. Interactions among the Hunters were never pleasant. The tension between them was always thick and heavy, but they knew my rules and followed them. Blackstone was the only one who got any decent interactions; normally, they were after what he could build for them.

  "I was thinkin I might keep the body." He said.

  "Oh? You said you didn't want her as a wife?"

  "Ya. Got other ideas." He said.

  "Very well."

  I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, and I quickly realised I didn't want to know. But part of me was wondering what he needed a body for. He was a necrophiliac, yet he showed no interest in the body. I had noticed he was adopting more cannibalistic tendencies. Could that be it?

  I dismissed my avatar as he walked away carrying the body. I looked at the bloodstain on the ground where the Challenger had died. I would need to use [Hide the Crime!]. Looking at the stain, I will need to activate the skill at least twice. I triggered it for the first time and watched as the blood stain was softened.

  I could sense my Hunters were now almost entirely returned to their lairs. The night's excitement over, they returned to their own distractions. So, did I.

  I went back to the church, still thinking about my lack of interest in the death of the Challenger. I summoned my avatar before the altar and walked around the church's central space. I ran my hand over the wood of a few of the pews and looked around for any signs of anything I had missed that would indicate previous visitors. I had done a good cleanup after the last group, so I found nothing.

  My restless wanderings led me to the Invicta's board. Five names were listed on that board, and I remember each one vividly. They had come to be tested and found themselves not wanting. Then each walked away, different from when they had first arrived, but I only knew part of the stories of two of them. Only the Rochester family has stayed in the area, and I was able to keep track of them through the press and the stories Herbert brought me.

  The others were unknown.

  Five in thirty years. Was that good or bad? I had no point of reference for my new existence to know this. I knew from the books I had read and the stories that, in the fantasy worlds they depicted, far more people cleared the dungeons. But I wasn't in a fantasy novel; I was in an alternate reality to my own.

  There was little magic here. So that meant there were no healing potions or resurrection spells or any other tricks that could extend the life of those who crossed through the gates. It was more akin to the horror films I had seen growing up.

  You do, or you die.

  It was a simple premise, which part of me, strangely, found reassuring, given how much I respected it. A Challenger came and was tested. Those found wanting died, and those strong or lucky enough claimed the reward.

  Simple.

  So why do so few succeed? Was I too dangerous? Are my Hunters too skilled? Or were the people of this world just not up for the task?

  Questions without answers. The normal state of being for me.

  This world was on the cusp of a new century. It was going to be one of significant change, even if it was half as chaotic as my own. I had put not one but two plans into motion through the two organisations that had roughly aligned with me. Would they succeed or fail? I did not know. What effects they would have was also another thing I could not foresee.

  Everything I did was to hide New Midian from those who did not dream of it.

  I wondered what had brought about this melancholy. Was I depressed?

  I thought about it for a few moments and realised I wasn't. I was tired. Yes, that was the best way to describe it. Tired.

  It was not a physical weariness, or even mental weariness. It was the sort of spiritual one. I never got physically tired, and mentally I was as sharp as ever. But something within me was just… weary.

  I snorted to myself, thinking if I was like this after thirty years, what would I be like if I made it a hundred?

  I looked back at the list of names.

  "When will the next one succeed?"

  I spoke, my voice echoing through the space. I got no reply. If I did, I might start to panic.

  Dawn was still many hours away, and I still had a paper to read. I walked through the doorway into the room with the stairs down to the crypt. I walked down the stairs and paused at the entryway to the crypts. Looking at the entrance, I realise I could have a door placed here.

  "A project for Blackstone, then."

  I became more excited as I considered the possibility of actually securing the doorway to keep unwelcome visitors out. That would also lay an extra level of security for my money.

  I walked into the main crypt and lit a lantern perched atop the sarcophagus. I had quite a selection of lanterns left over from all the hallengers who had come. Some of the Hunters claimed them for themselves, but the rest were in my possession. I also had a substantial supply of oil for them, allowing me to be somewhat liberal with their use.

  I didn't need the light as I saw everything clearly, but I liked the nod to my old human form. The paper was still next to the lantern, open to where I had been reading. I quickly found my bearings and started again.

  It was growing increasingly evident that the separation between my world's timeline and this one was becoming more pronounced. I can still see the storm of a global war coming. The two power blocs in Europe, with the British being neutral, were the most obvious. But Japan was growing increasingly pinned between Germany and Russia. China was losing control of Manchuria as both Russia and Japan extended their influence there. The Philippines was divided between Japan and Germany and was still enduring a rebellion against both.

  The British refusal to join any alliance was a fascinating departure from my timeline. The Empire kept its distance from entanglements but remained on good terms with both power blocs. The naval treaty with Germany was a significant factor in this, as there were no signs of a naval arms race. That might change if the Dreadnought were ever produced in this timeline, but from the moment it was not, the maritime treaty acted as a pressure release.

  Another nation I was keeping an eye on was acting differently from what I remembered China to be. In my timeline, the Chinese Empire was collapsing at this time, heading toward warlords and civil wars, before being reunited by the Chinese communists. I could see the defeat of the Western powers and the loss of territory that happened over the last three decades. I also saw reports indicating that the nation was undergoing internal reform and industrialisation. What the effects of this would be, I did not know.

  I was sure Germany and France would ultimately go to war. The Franco-Prussian War had left too many unresolved issues. That would pull in their allies and trigger the first global war. Japan was now cosying up to France as a counterbalance to the growing Russian and German influence in the Pacific. The British Empire was expanding as it had in my timeline, with a few additional gains.

  Would they join a global conflict?

  Germany and its allies would dominate any land war due to their sheer numbers. France had to acknowledge this and, along with its allies, was building up a strong line and fortifications. At sea, the French and their allies had the advantage. But how much of an advantage?

  Who would win such a conflict?

  I was unsure—there were too many variables and unknowns.

  I strongly suspected that the United States of America would stay out of any such conflict. I would need to position the Way of Athamos to profit greatly from any conflict.

  Oil would be the driving force of the next century. They were now starting to exploit the deposits in Texas.

  Considering the growing use of zeppelins in both Germany and, now, France, I wondered whether helium might be another promising investment.

  "It would cost me nothing to check."

  Having them investigate the helium deposits on the American mainland and sell it to the Germans and French could help boost their profits.

  "I wonder how easy it is to access and extract?"