Rodriguez was waiting for the Challenger and watched him from a vantage point on the roof of a mausoleum annexe.

This was becoming his favourite method of ambushing Challengers.

The Challenger was in sight of the church now, holding the lantern in one hand and the short sword in the other. He was moving faster, and he could now see the church. As soon as he was past the mausoleums, he would be in the church's central ring.

Rodriguez was getting ready to jump as he approached.

The Challenger was now where Rodriguez needed him to be.

He rose and prepared to leap, tomahawk in hand.

He jumped, but moonlight reflected off the tomahawk blade as he did, alerting the Challenger to the danger.

He acted in the few seconds he had.

Swinging his lantern at the approaching form, the collision was chaotic.

Both went to the ground in a tangled heap. The Challenger had borne the brunt of the impact and was under Rodriguez. Another factor made it difficult to determine if either of their blades had made contact in the collision.

They were both on fire.

The lantern had connected with Rodrigues as he was coming down on the Challenger. This was no miner's lantern but a far cheaper model that had broken on impact and then, it seemed, been partly crushed when they hit the ground. The oil inside had spilt out, and the flame had not been extinguished.

Ergo, both men are on fire.

They leapt apart, desperately trying to douse the flames with their hands. The flames that covered them were not excessive, as it seemed not much oil had escaped, but they had to deal with it, or it would become an issue.

Watching them try to put out the flames made me realise I would have to instruct my Hunters on the drop and roll technique to put out flames.

The Challenger abandoned his attempt to put out the flames and tore off his coat and satchel, casting them aside. Rodriguez foolishly kept on trying to put the fire out and was distracted enough not to realise the danger he was in.

He was still burning when the Challenger attacked him. He caught the attack out of the corner of his eye and could move aside, but not enough. The blade sliced across his arm, cutting through his coat and wounding him.

Rodriguez was forced to defend himself now while his coat was still burning, putting him at a grave disadvantage. The dull clang of metal-on-metal impacts as he blocked the blows raining on him, which he could not dodge now, rang out. Like McGregor before him, he found that this Challenger was no easy pushover and was competent with the blade.

The Challenger realised he could not give up the advantage and continued to push it. He caught another glancing blow and wounded Rodriguez again. This time, however, it was a wound that Rodrigues had planned to lure his attacker in closer.

He splashed out with his tomahawk, catching the Challenger across his upper chest. The heavy coat he was once wearing would have helped reduce the injury, but now the shirt was sliced straight through.

I heard a cry of pain through gritted teeth as he backed up. Rodriguez could not press the advantage right now as he was still on fire, and the fire was spreading.

Like the Challenger, he was forced to try to discard his coat, but in doing this, he left himself open to a renewed attack, which the Challenger took full advantage of. Rodriguez had one arm out of the coat when the Challenger hit him again with a sword strike to the shoulder. He moved just enough to stop it from being a wound that might have crippled his use of that arm. But it still was a deep and nasty cut.

He was now fighting with his coat still half on his body and on fire.

I was not optimistic about the outcome of this fight. My Hunter was at too significant a disadvantage against the competent opponent.

Rodriguez took another cut to the other arm again, not a deep one, but his injuries were adding up. I already knew he was making the calculations in his head, whether he would win this one or run.

Rodrigues was a far nastier and more competent fighter than McGregor. It had only been a few minutes since the jump, and he was in serious trouble. The ambush turned against him quite clearly, and I suspected he would try to withdraw from the fight.

He freed his arm from the burning coat, which was now thrown at the Challenger, forcing him to dodge away or be impacted by the burning clothing. This broke them apart, and I got a good look at them. The burning coat added to the illumination of the area.

It seemed during the impact that the Challenger was wounded as he had a blood stain on his left-hand side just above his hip. I could tell the cut was not bad, but it was another injury to add to the total. Rodriguez, on the other hand, was in a bad way. He was far tougher than a normal human now, but the injuries you sustained started to kick in and hamper his ability to fight. He could press through and had a chance of winning this one, but it would be a much more closely run thing than I would have liked. He had four separate injuries, and all were still bleeding. Two were minor, but the other two were quite nasty.

During the fight and the subsequent manoeuvring, they were now on the cusp of the central ring around the church. The Challenger's back was to the building while Rodrigues was deeper into the graveyard. The mausoleum is on either side, hemming them both in and limiting their ability to move around.

Rodrigues looked around quickly, trying to understand where he was. I could see in his features that he had made a decision.

He took a slight step back and used it to spring forward. The fight was back on.

The Challenger was quickly pushed back into the central ring, towards my flower beds at the back of the church, and I would be very annoyed if they got trampled. Again, both men danced the steps in their unique duel, blocking and dodging, striking when they had opportunities.

Thankfully, they stayed on the path and had not yet trampled on my flower beds.

The Challenger was still tired from his last fight, and his reaction times slowed. Rodriguez was tiring faster due to his injuries. The sun had disappeared some time ago, and the full moon was out. Light clouds covered the sky, illuminating the scene by pale moonlight. This would work in Rodriguez's favour as he had better night vision than normal.

The tone of the fight had now started to change in its favour as the Challenger received another cut. It was not deep, but to his forearm, adding to the ones he had already received.

Rodriguez grinned and pushed in for the kill.

He misjudged his opponent and was to pay for it. His opponent was weakening, but he was not yet out of the fight. He stepped past Rodriguez's guard as he brought down his tomahawk to cut him with an upper-hand strike. The short sword slashed across his chest, cutting deep, causing him to fall back and snarling in pain.

He was even coughing up blood now. He would have to retreat or take the chance and kill opponents before he died. If you left now, you could make it to his lair. I could not take any action to support him as long as the Challenger was still alive.

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He let out an almost inhuman snarling, both pain and frustration, and broke off from the fight. He quickly made her retreat at his best speed back the way they came. The Challenger was following a safe distance in case this was another trap.

Rodriguez passed where the initial ambush took place and kept moving. The Challenger stopped here and retrieved a satchel. His coat was now fully ablaze and would be destroyed shortly by the fire.

He made no move to follow Rodrigues, allowing my Hunter to disappear into the darkness. The Challenger turned and ran around the church, looking for the doors. The last two Hunters were now active and in the game. They were close by, hearing the fight and trying to angle on the Challenger. His sprinting for the church surprised them, and they could not catch him before he made it to the building.

Roberson was to the north, and Rigger was to the south. Both settled in to wait.

With the Challenger entering the church, the same expected sensation of peace and the cessation of violence swept over me.

He was breathing hard as he walked down the church's central aisle after closing the doors. He was favouring the arm that had recently been injured and was not moving as fast as he was. As he walked, I picked out the blood he was tracking from the trailer through the church.

His eyes were fixated on the altar, ignoring the state of the building around him.

When he reached the altar, he placed his satchel on it. Using only one hand while holding the other against his chest, he opened it up and pulled out a folded piece of material. He placed it onto the altar and opened it, revealing a pocket watch.

The pocket watch was good quality, with a gold case and chain. He flicked it open, and on the inside was a picture of a woman, faded but still visible. She was dressed in a fashion that indicated the photograph was taken 30 years ago.

He gently placed the watch onto the altar with a slightly shaky hand, and I was flooded with images.

I got the impression that someone was watching the woman, and I saw a young boy running through the tall grass. I recognise the young boy as the Challenger standing before the altar. I think this watch belonged to his father.

[Challenger's offering has been accepted.]

The images faded as fast as they came, and I found the Challenger now picking up the satchel from the altar and walking to one of the closest pews. Once seated, he began treating his wounds. He had to remove his shirt to treat several of them. This was a time-consuming and painful process as he was unable to use one arm and had two injuries to his torso already.

Eventually, he managed to treat wounds using supplies from a satchel, including bandages and a bottle of something he poured on the injuries. He also had alcohol, which he drank, but only a mouthful and no more. His hands burned from his attempts to put out the flames on his coat. This only added to the difficulty he was facing. He still had both of his weapons, and his injuries were treated now.

He pulled another pocket watch from his satchel and checked the time. I watched as he stretched out on the pew and went to sleep. He dozed off with the watch sitting on his chest.

I double-checked that my Hunters were waiting for him and found them where I expected them.

I returned to the church and waited for the hours to pass, the Challenger snoring softly on the pews.

He woke up several hours later with a start. He quickly sat up, looked around, and then checked the pocket watch he had caught before it fell off his chest. He had to angle the dial slightly to see the numbers as the church was dark. He had slept through most of the night; dawn was close.

He ate, drank, and mentally prepared for the trip back to the gates. He moved very stiffly, and getting up from sitting took a few minutes. With his injuries, he went through several stretches to loosen up as much as he could.

He packed up and picked up his short sword. He looked around the church, and his eyes fell on the gold pocket watch on the altar. I could tell he wanted to take it with him, but he knew what was required to fulfil the trial of my dungeon. With a pained expression, he left it there, turning and walking towards the doors.

At the start of the night, the fights had caused him to lose his hat. His shirt was torn and bloodstained. I could see the bruises forming across his face and suspected there were far more on his body.

Outside, I had two fresh hunters ready to fight him.

At this moment, I couldn't tell if he would make it or not.

He opened the doors and looked across the graveyard that he could see. The moon was lower in the sky, but the light remained constant. He was looking around for dangers.

He took a deep breath and left the church.

I wondered which direction he would take, north or south.

He went east on a direct route through the graveyard. I was surprised, as he was moving as fast as he could. He was trying to avoid the remaining Hunters and get out fast.

I could respect that strategy.

The problem was that Roberson had been watching the doors and had seen him leave. The hunt was on.

The Challenger was making good time, even in his wounded condition, weaving through the gravestones and around the mausoleums. The inner ring outside the church was quite dense with gravestones and mausoleums, which made his progress slower. Roberson was tracking him now, but he, too, was being slowed by the number of obstacles in his way. He was also trying to remain quiet so he could sneak up on his opponent.

I quickly shifted my point of view.

Rigger was aware that the Challenger was in the graveyard again. The Hunters are aware the minute the Challenger leaves the church sanctuary. He looked along the southern path, trying to see if he was coming this way.

He might be out of this one. I quickly went back to find the Roberson and the Challenger.

In the East, I could see the sky changing colour as dawn approached.

I found the Challenger moving to the gates, making good time. Roberson was now closing on him from behind. He didn't seem aware that he was being followed. I think he was focused more on the pain he was pushing down on and reaching the gates.

Roberson had his cleaver blade out and was focused on closing the distance now. He was still trying his best to remain stealthy so as not to alert the Challenger. Out of all my Hunters, he was the most practical when it came to kills. He enjoyed inflicting pain on his prey but was always focused on winning quickly and efficiently.

He was close to the Challenger and appeared to be getting ready to rush him.

Unfortunately, fate had another idea in store. He was passing under a tree that would give him the angle he needed to run at the Challenger. As he was getting ready, he stood on a twig that snapped loudly in the quiet night. He had been too focused on his target and missed it.

This instantly alerted the Challenger to the danger, and he turned to face the direction from which he had heard the sound. He spotted Roberson straight away, his body posture indicating that he was ready for a fight.

I suspect Roberson was cursing like there was no tomorrow under his breath. He was committed now and advanced on his opponent. The Challenger recognised that he could not outrun this Hunter in his present condition; he had to fight.

He too advanced.

It was only a few short steps for both of them to cross the distance, allowing them to strike out at each other. The Challenger was on the defensive from the start. Roberson pressed the advantage he had, striking out with his large, heavy blade, forcing the Challenger to either dodge or block.

The dull echo of metal-on-metal strikes sounded in the quiet night.

The Challenger was being pushed back. Roberson was trying to position himself against some close-by gravestones to prevent himself from being able to manoeuvre. I was sure that the Challenger was aware of what was happening and was desperately trying to reposition himself to prevent it from happening.

This fight was similar to the one the Challenger had against Rodriguez.

His condition, however, was far worse, and this was starting to come into play. He was slowing as he was getting tired. Sleeping those few hours had been a great boon to him, but it had not healed his injuries. I could see fresh bloodstains starting to appear on his shirt.

The Challenger was not yet out of the fight. He had managed to pull his knife from its sheath on his belt. His off-hand was now holding it, but the arm was injured, and the movement of it was a source of great pain.

Roberson had been dominating the fight so far, but as he went to strike again, the Challenger stepped in, blocking the blade with his short sword. There was a dull screech as the two blades connected and ran along each other. The Challenger hadn't stopped and kept pushing forward, striking out with his knife. His face was twisted in pain, but he pushed through it.

This allowed him to close the distance between himself and Roberson. The knife did its work well, slicing through my Hunter's abdomen. The wound was nasty and would have been fatal to anyone but one of my Hunters. Roberson fell back with a great snarl of pain, dropping his own blade to try and hold his intestines in. The Challenger now had the advantage.

To the East, the sun was rising above the trees. Dawn was here, and the light would soon reach the gates.

The Challenger decided the injury was enough to stop the Hunter from following him, and he turned and moved as fast as he could to the gates.

Roberson was in no condition to follow. He was too busy trying to get back to his lair while holding his internal organs in his body. Rigger was looking for the Challenger but had not seen him yet.

I watched as the Challenger had a free run at the gates.

He continued eastward, moving through the mausoleums and gravestones. He was making the best time possible with his condition. By the time he reached the courtyard, the sun was over the trees, and the gates were fully illuminated. He was staggering now as the toll of the night and his injuries were adding up. Fresh bloodstains were across all of the injuries he had sustained.

With one last push, he got across the courtyard and fell through the gates onto the ground.

From behind me came the church bell ringing, announcing to the world that the Challenger had succeeded.

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