The next day, I observed my two Hunters tidying up the mess from the previous day. I was using my abilities to aid in this by the end of the day.

Hunter Name

Charles McGregor

Level

4

Kills

0/18

Skills

 

Loyalty

Neutral

Acting. IV

Blades. VI

Handguns. II

Rifles. II

Stealth. VI

Dark Traits

Sadistic Predator

Another increase in stealth.

His appearance had changed significantly. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent, and his blonde hair had also turned white. However, the irises of his eyes had become blood red. I was quite surprised he had developed the sun-bane trait like Rigger. He was now wearing his hat more frequently when he was out in daylight.

Roberson was almost the opposite in his changes.

Hunter Name

Atticus Roberson

Level

3

Kills

0/12

Skills

 

Loyalty

Good

Blades. V

 

Handguns. IV

 

Rifles. IV

 

Stealth. III

 

Tracking. II

 

Explosives. III

 

Corpse Harvesting. II

 

Dark Traits

 

Cannibal

 

He decided to improve his corpse harvesting.

I suspected it was related to what he was doing in his lair with some of his kills.

His appearance had not only become darker than a normal skin tone; it had become a deep, charcoal black. The whites of his eyes had also started to turn yellow. I briefly examined his teeth when I could and noticed they had also become sharper.

That proved I was right to worry. Neither of them was going to town anytime soon or ever, now that I think about it. I was going to have to rely on Herbert more. Amy was pregnant again, I had just discovered. His family continued to grow.

Life continued regardless of my wishes.

The month of May passed without any further issues or visitors.

June was summertime, and everything around me was alive, lush, and green. The local wildlife was out in force, as this was one of the few areas where hunters did not regularly appear. My reputation seemed to have some positive effects on the local area. The forest served as a sanctuary for the local fauna.

There were many long, hot days, broken up by occasional light showers. My flower beds were blooming very well, and I was proud of them. Sure, I will never win any prizes for them, but they are mine, and I care not what anyone else thinks. Not that I got criticism of them anyway.

In July, a story emerged regarding events that began at the end of June and escalated a few days later. In Homestead, Pennsylvania, local steel mill workers were up in arms and striking. This protest turned violent when private security agents attempted to break the strike. They employed various tactics but ultimately resorted to using force. Unfortunately, the local strikers had both superior numbers and better organisation. They decisively defeated the private security agents and sent them away with many wounded on both sides.

The steel mill owners complained to the governor, who declared a state of emergency and sent in the National Guard. The officers ordered them to break the strike, but not all deployed units complied with the order. This led to a crisis in the state as some elements of the National Guard failed to follow orders. The regular army arrived and broke up the strike, arresting those in the National Guard who refused orders.

I found that fascinating, as I couldn't remember any other instances of the United States National Guard disobeying orders in such a manner. Many decried it as a major blow against workers' rights. Over the next few days, the story of the disobedience of the National Guard units was also suppressed and pushed out of the main narrative.

"I wonder what that will bring in the future?"

The coalition government had fallen in Britain, and they were organising a fresh election.

Idaho was now a state. The congressional elections would take place in two years. The governor was still selecting the two senators assigned to Washington. This would be the first time the state's population voted in a presidential election. I noticed advertisements for the two candidates beginning to appear in the local paper.

There was considerable excitement about this.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Should I get registered to vote?"

I laughed at the absurdity of that idea. How would I even get registered?

August found me watching a trio of deer just outside the gates—a stag, a doe, and a fawn. Even after all these years, animals rarely approach as close to the walls as they once did. I spent close to an hour watching them.

They moved off, and I sighed. It was pleasant to have a peaceful view of the natural world from time to time.

The month passed, and the election was held in the United Kingdom. The result was a Liberal minority government.

Halfway through the month, a rider approached the gates.

Looking at the man, if I were a betting Dungeon Core, I would call him a Challenger.

I watched as he tied up his horse and pulled out the supplies I expected. His weapon of choice was a cavalry sword. He entered the graveyard, read the inscription on the plinth, and went south. He walked with his sword drawn, ready to be used.

[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

He travelled through the graveyard and met McGregor. He died quickly to an ambush halfway into McGregor's hunting ground. McGregor closed in fast and stabbed him multiple times in the back before he realised he was under attack. That was the result of improving his stealth.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Well, that was quick.

We did not gain much from his possessions. Most of the alcohol was supplied to McGregor, and the money and horse went to Herbert.

The month rolled into September. I regularly checked the snow line on the distant mountains. It was still early, but the snow line would soon start moving down the mountains, which usually heralded a bad winter coming.

The Crossway Chronicle printed reports of one of the last remaining criminal gangs, which was attempting to rob a bank in Coffeyville, Kansas. The Dolton gang entered the town with four members and was regarded as one of the last prolific gangs in the country. The locals took great offence to the attempt and gunned the four men down, with the loss of three of their own.

Two days later, another rider came to the gates.

The weather was wet and overcast.

Everything was soaked. The trail and area outside the gates were waterlogged and muddy. The horse came up the trail with difficulty, as its hooves sank into the ground under the combined weight of its own and its rider's weight.

I believe the rider himself was bundled up against the weather, but was soaked through anyway. He wore an oilskin coat that had protected him from most of the elements, but the rain had been driving recently, and even if he had been riding through it, he still would have become drenched in the end.

It was not raining now, but had been less than an hour ago.

He dismounted and tied up his horse. He was arming himself in a manner that suggested he was a Challenger. His primary weapon was a wooden stick with nails driven through at various angles.

A weapon made at home. Most come with blades. He might have a few under the heavy coat that were hidden at the moment.

He crossed the threshold into the courtyard, not glancing at the plinth. Instead, he turned north and walked into the graveyard.

[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

I am now restricted to being an observer.

It was late in the day, and the clouds loomed dark and heavy. The graveyard appeared darker than usual. The time of year was bringing the sunset earlier each day.

He walked briskly along the path, crossing the graveyard steadily. He left Roberson's hunting grounds before the Hunter could catch up to him and was now in the Spirit's territory.

The darkness allowed the Spirit to become active in much of her territory. She noticed him before he noticed her and began moving toward him. He became aware of her presence as she approached. Her powers washed over him, leaving him confused and consumed with desire.

He approached her with his guard down.

He recognised the danger she posed far too late. He was within range when she turned and unleashed her deafening scream. He raised his weapon to block the first talon strike as he backed away. His weapon did not survive; it was cut in half. He then turned to flee, but she was upon him.

His screams did not last long as she went to work.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

"Another lacklustre Challenger. When will someone with a little skill or talent show up?"

The time of year indicated I would not see any more, as the nights were significantly longer. A clever challenger would come during the summer months when the nights were shortest, allowing for a faster escape from the Dungeon.

McGregor drew the short straw for the cleanup task. I escorted him through the Spirits' territory to collect the remains. I had to discipline her twice. She did not like McGregor, it seemed. Additionally, the little money the Challenger had was sent with the horse again down to Herbert. There was little alcohol and tobacco, which were divided among the rest of the Hunters.

I left McGregor to bury the body.

I returned to the top of a spatial bubble, looking out across the world.

The results of the presidential election will be announced soon.

In most polls and news reports, incumbent President Samuel Fredrickson was widely regarded as the favourite to win and retain the White House.

The previous night, I'd been reading through the Crossway Chronicle, and although I lamented the lack of political discord or reporting, I'd come to this conclusion. Early November was quite a dry and cold time for the local area. In the distance, the snow line on the mountains was now moving fast towards me. I half expected snow to start any day now.

We were on the cusp of winter, as October was nearly over. Around me, the forest was bare, with all the trees having shed their leaves except for the ever-stubborn evergreens. The local wildlife had also changed, as the migrating animals headed south while the others prepared for winter.

It was close to midday, and the sun was high in a surprisingly cloudless sky. Even with the sun out, a heavy layer of frost covered everything.

I noticed the riders coming up the pathway, and from their attire, I knew exactly who they were. The Way of Athamos was coming to pay me a visit.

"Well, that's great, and my day is pretty much ruined."

I went down to the gates to await their arrival. Senior Ahmed was leading six riders towards the gates. The frozen ground was much easier to navigate than the mud a few days ago. He dismounted just before the gates and walked up to them.

"I wish to speak to the Keeper of this place," he called out into the graveyard. As he spoke, I could see his breath; it must have been far colder than I had realised. He was also heavily bundled up against the elements. None of my Hunters had been active in the past few days, so I was unaware of how cold it was. The frost on the ground was a giveaway, but the day could have warmed the overall temperature. It was another reminder of how disconnected I was becoming from the world and humanity in some ways.

I waited a few seconds before summoning my avatar into the courtyard a few metres from him. He had grown used to my appearances and did not comment on it, but the riders behind him were less sanguine.

"Senior Ahmed. My time is limited today, so why have you called upon me?"

I had all the time in the world, but I didn't want to tell him that. I was hoping to conclude whatever he wanted and then have him go.

"Keeper, I appreciate your patience and willingness to speak with me." He was being diplomatic and could have been a very successful diplomat in another life. His voice and body language remained polite and neutral. "The elders have asked that I approach you with an offer of exchange."

"What are you offering?"

I doubted they had anything I would want, but I was willing to hear him out.

"We have four members of our group who have requested to face your trials. They will be coming next year to test themselves." He was building to something. "Regarding the offer, we propose to exchange books on magic for your knowledge of the art."

I made a show of thinking about what he offered. Magic books are tempting. But I knew squat about it.

"No."

He blinked at my response, not expecting that response. He was left speechless but recovered.

"I am sorry to hear that, as we believed such an exchange would greatly benefit both of us." He presented a faintly disappointed and sad façade. "Would there be anything that you are willing to entertain an exchange of?"

This time, I considered what he might provide me. I needed to focus on the long-term survival of my Dungeon. I had taken action by purchasing the land around me, but that was always subject to the whims of federal and state governments, should they choose to exercise eminent domain. It was a risk, but having an ally, even a dubious one as the Way, was better than nothing.

"How much influence do you have on the state government?"

Again, he was slightly taken aback by my question and answered very carefully. "Little, we are a group of like-minded explorers of the arcane."

Rrrriiigghht. Here, I would call it a cult, but that's just me.

"I asked because I seek to secure the land rights around my Dungeon. I own the land through a proxy, but I am aware of the risks associated with eminent domain claims. Let me know if your group of 'like-minded explorers of the arcane' decide to get into politics."

The silence was a bit longer this time. "What would you offer in return if we became more active in state-level politics?"

"I know that politics costs money as well as exploring the arcane. I can help your organisation generate a lot more of it. If you step into the arena of politics openly or covertly and make sure that my lands are never claimed or endangered, I will help make your organisation incredibly wealthy."

"Do you offer us material wealth, then?" He was intrigued by the offer, but I knew he would not make any commitments unless the elders agreed to it.

"No. I offer you knowledge of what is to come."

Now he was interested. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, but he may know I would see this change in his demeanour and be acting. Material wealth was good to a group that craved the arcane, but knowledge was far more precious.

"An interesting offer. I must take it to the elders to see what they say."

"I suspected you would. I must be away, for I have tasks to deal with."

With that, I dismissed my avatar. I didn't leave the courtyard but watched as senior Ahmed returned to the horses and mounted his. He was soon away with his guards, heading back to Crossway.

President Samuel Fredrickson won re-election with a significant majority.

His election occurred during a turbulent period in the country. Several gunfights took place between the last significant gangs in the southwestern states and the US marshals. It looked like the Wild West was finally being tamed.

In New Orleans, a general strike characterised by various outbreaks of violence endured for nearly eight days. The strikers were the working class of all the racial groups in the city. Given their racial attitudes, they somehow maintained a united front through it all. Other general strikes and confrontations with private security forces reflected this situation.

"Labour and Capital fighting again."

I read a transcript of his inauguration speech and noticed several odd things.

First, he committed to a small naval buildup to help strengthen the US Navy in the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific coast. He was the first prominent US politician to call for a major buildup since the Civil War. From what I can tell, the US Navy was lagging significantly behind most of the other powers in the world, including the secondary ones.

The second was that he had entered into negotiations with representatives of the Cuban people to join a union.

"Way to bury the lead."

This was massive. Cuba, which had recently gained independence from the British Empire, was actively petitioning to join the United States of America. This was quite a surprise to me, as I had not seen a single mention of this anywhere in any of the news publications I had been reading.

The American press lauded the negotiations, while the British and Canadian press were somewhat perplexed. From what I could learn of the Cuban people, they were just as confused as I and all the international commentators. Exactly who had asked for his?

"Something fishy is going on here."

Snow had started falling now. It was early, but I had to start getting ready to be cut off from the world again with winter's arrival. I settled in to see the year out and welcome the new one in.

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