New Midian

New Midian avoided the worst of the storm that heralded the arrival of April.

The land was soaked, but the lightning never arrived overhead.

Every day, I watched the world from the top of the spatial bubble as I usually did. A few days into the month, the next visitors arrived at my gates. I shifted to the gates to see who had come to New Midian.

Four riders dismounted and looked around at the gates.

They had been travelling for some time. They were covered with dust and mud from the road. The horses were also covered with more dirt and dust. It was late in the day, and the afternoon was drawing to a close. We were still several hours from sunset, but evening was approaching.

Each rider was dressed in rugged and sturdy clothing. They were preparing to enter the gates, but something was different about them. As I watched them, they disarmed themselves, which was the first thing they did. I expected them to be treasure hunters or grave robbers. This was not usual behaviour.

They gathered together just outside my hearing range.

I continued watching as they returned the horses and pulled out close combat weapons. Knives, axes, and other custom-made armaments were now being carried, while the guns were left behind. One was even holding a hand scythe and seemed to be the leader. Each then pulled a satchel and a lantern from their saddlebags.

"A group of Challengers?"

I said it to myself, just feeling the idea out in words. In the past, when I first started, I remember the young couple that triggered the system alerting me that they were Challengers, even though they were not. Here I was looking at an organised group, which was quite different.

I watched them approach the gates, losing some of their bravado and confidence, but still progressing forward. They stepped in, and the man with a scythe walked up to the plinth with the instructions on it.

"Here it is. As promised, we will gain great power if we fulfil the requirements listed here." He turned and spoke to the others, running his hand along the writing as he did so. The others came closer and read the words.

Interesting. I think he was the real Challenger and had enlisted these three to help him, which was not against the rules. It might violate their spirit, but the actual written ones no. In some ways, it was actually quite an impressive idea. Promise the same opportunities to others, and perhaps use them to help you reach your goal. But then, how would that affect what you received?

I might actually get the answer to some questions now.

I watched them take the southern route and enter the graveyard.

[Four Challengers have entered your Dungeon.]

As usual, my options were limited, but this was going to be a fascinating visit. How would my hunters approach the Challengers now, instead of the usual way? McGregor would be the first up. In many ways, he was the most cowardly of my Hunters, so his reaction would be one of the most interesting.

The four men were now walking with purpose. The church steeple in the distance was their destination, and they were not hesitating to reach it. They believed in the vague promise of power being offered and were willing to follow the lead man. The lack of conversation amongst them was another very unusual thing. Each man was looking around, taking stock of the graveyard, searching for any dangers or threats. The sun was still high enough in the sky to provide ample illumination of the area, but there were still many patches of darkness and shadow.

The group's leader quickly revealed himself to be the true Challenger. He was making his way through the graveyard with a certain level of confidence. I wondered what their dreams revealed to the Challengers. They always seem to have a good idea of where they are going. Occasionally, they made wrong turns, but they were not often.

I had positioned myself above the group, looking around, wondering where McGregor was. He had to engage anyone in his hunting grounds, especially if they were a Challenger. Beyond him, Rodriguez would be preparing himself to hunt.

They were over halfway through his territory when I spotted him. He was now shadowing the group, looking for a way to attack them. Against one, he was confident, especially when ambushing, but against four, I could almost see his hesitation as he moved.

"Well, are you going to make a move?"

I knew he could not hear me, but I said it for my own benefit. It was ironic because it was almost like you heard me and began to close in. He was moving behind them now, aiming to start with the one at the back.

He was a tall, broad man, well, for the time, just over 6 feet tall and carrying what looked to be a baseball bat. The end of the bat had nails driven into it and was wrapped in barbed wire. For an improvised weapon, it was actually quite nasty-looking. What sort of physical damage could it do? It's hard to say, but it will do something if he hits you with it.

He had been walking slightly behind the others and had said a word since they had entered the graveyard; he had honestly spoken since they had arrived at the gates. The others had asked a few questions here and there, but he remained silent, constantly scanning the area. Out of the four, I suspected he was maybe second or the deadliest. He always had to watch the quiet ones.

McGregor was coming in slow and low. He was making sure to approach with as little sound as possible. I couldn't fault him for wanting a blitz attack aimed at killing one of the Challengers. I suspect if he were able to pull it off, you would retreat straight away.

I was watching his approach from the target's over-the-shoulder view. It was from this angle that I could see the Challenger's face, and I noticed a slight shift in it. His eyes darted to the left and right without moving his head too much. He had tilted his head slightly as if listening to what was coming up behind him, and I realised my Hunter had been made.

The Challenger was given nothing away, but I could see him gripping the bat tighter now. His shoulders had become more tense as well. McGregor wasn't aware of the danger he was approaching and continued onwards.

This wasn't good.

McGregor made his move, and the Challenger counted it straight away. He sprang forward with his blade ready to stab him in the back, but as he did so, the Challenger spun around, lashing out with the bat. From the angle of the swing, he didn't know how close or how tall my Hunter was and was aiming for a mid blow to the torso. Due to the crouched stance McGregor had taken on, he was caught directly in the face.

Even I winced at the impact.

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The bat collided with his right cheek, ripping the flesh apart with the force of the impact due to the metal additions. I saw blood explode from his mouth as his head turned violently, and I was pretty sure I saw teeth or at least parts of them, leaving them at the same time. The force of the impact sent him sideways and onto the ground. He rolled and was eventually brought to a halt by a gravestone.

The other three were now aware of the danger behind them, and they turned.

"It's one of the denizens of this place. Kill him!" The leader of the group shouted. The three men surged forward to put an end to my Hunter.

McGregor had a finely tuned survival instinct and was now a Hunter with several levels to his name. He was moving even now, but his movements were sluggish as the impact had rattled him. I could see his jaw was hanging at an odd angle, indicating it was broken at best. His face was truly a mess.

He tried to defend himself, but against four and wounded, it wasn't looking good.

The Challengers didn't hesitate and went at him with gusto. I watched him as he was stabbed and beaten and broken. But his natural savagery came out, and he lashed out whenever he could and didn't go quickly or easily.

But he went.

[Hunter: Charles McGregor. He has died and will be resurrected in 92:00:00.]

The timer had not started, but I looked at the number and winced. His beaten, broken form was lying on the ground, and the four men were standing around it. One of them had received a nasty cut on the leg in the fight. The fourth man with a baseball bat had one across his arm, but it didn't seem to be too deep.

"What in God's name is that MacDuff?" One exclaimed, looking at the body before them.

"I warned you this place had defenders. Nothing comes without a price." MacDuff said. He was the one with the scythe, leading the group.

"Dear God, man, look at it. Even if blood is wrong." The first man said, crossing himself now.

"We've got to carry on. We need to reach the church before it gets too dark." MacDuff reminded the others. They checked themselves over and treated any injuries that needed attention. They turned from the broken body of my Hunter, continuing onwards with one of them limping. I looked at the other three men, and two of them looked back again at the broken body behind them.

Hesitation and fear.

They came in confident, but now they were beginning to understand the danger they were in. Would this work in my Hunter's favour? I did not know. MacDuff and the fourth man were more focused on the goal.

The four men continue to push deeper into the graveyard. MacDuff was leading them along most of the correct pathways, but made a few missed turns along the way. They are now passed into Rodriguez's hunting grounds with the death of McGregor; his had merged with Rodriguez's.

Rodriguez was far more aggressive, and I was interested to see what he would do. His aggression was not frenzied or wild, but I had noticed the change over the last few years, especially since his previous levelling. With his new dark trait, he was becoming more feral, but that did not mean stupid.

He was close to what would have been the edge of his hunting ground when McGregor died. He moved into the expanded area quickly and found the four men. He didn't attack straight away but watched, gauging his prey. He watched them for about five minutes before deciding and moving ahead of them.

I spotted him not long after on top of one of the mausoleum wings, knowing he would be coming from above in his attack. I could see that he had drawn his Tomahawk and positioned himself to see his shadow, which was not a giveaway position. The four men continued without realising he was there.

I have seen this manoeuvre many times before, and I was pretty sure where he would jump from when they got to where he wanted them.

When he leapt, it was almost exactly where I predicted it would be. What I did not anticipate was that when he did so, he would throw his Tomahawk. The Tomahawk, through the air, caught MacDuff in the shoulder, causing him to collapse with a pained scream. Rodriguez fell upon one of the other men, knocking him to the floor.

With this position of dominance, he tore into his throat with his mouth, ripping it out messily, and the man tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgling sound. The third man jumped back in horror and collapsed to the ground in shock. The fourth, however, reacted quickly.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Rodriguez looked up, his mouth bloody and chin covered in blood, as a baseball bat was swung at him. His reflexes were good enough to keep his left arm up and take the impact. I heard a sickening crack and the snarl of pain. If Rodriguez's arm weren't broken, I would be shocked even with his enhanced endurance.

The force of the impact caused them to roll backwards, allowing them to stabilise and resume functioning. He was next to MacDuff, who was trying to deal with the Tomahawk on his shoulder. Rodriguez helped him by pulling it clean out of his body, which caused him to scream in pain more.

His left arm wasn't working correctly, but he was gripping the Tomahawk firmly in his right hand and set forth to meet the fourth man. He was at a disadvantage due to range, but he had experience with that.

He lashed out with his Tomahawk, causing the fourth man to block the blade with his bat. He was forced to step back as well and slipped on the pooling blood behind him. It is pressed to get close enough to Rodriguez to attack again; he had stepped over the savaged remains of his companion. He fell back onto the body, opening him up. Rodriguez was grinning as he pushed forward.

He lifted the Tomahawk to strike down, but was forced to deal with a hatchet head digging into his leg. The third man who had fallen over in surprise had recovered far faster than expected. He had gone to his knees and swung out with the hatchet he was carrying. When he entered the graveyard, I thought it was an axe, but I realised the blade was too small, but the handle was far longer than it should have been.

Rodriguez, snarling in pain, was forced to back up. The third man had managed to keep hold of his weapon, and Rodriguez was bleeding from a nasty wound on his leg now. His blood was different, so it was not flowing as freely as it should have been, and he seemed to be still able to put his weight somewhat on the leg.

The fourth man was back to his feet, and this time was attacking. Rodriguez was backing up fast, giving himself space, but his leg was slowing him down. His broken arm was also factoring into his lacklustre defence.

The third man had gotten over to MacDuff and was doing what he could to help treat his injury. The Tomahawk had sliced through the strap of the satchel he was carrying and was on the floor.

I turned my attention back to Rodriguez, and I could see he was doing the math. He was wounded and outnumbered. There were still two combatants available to fight, and a third was wounded.

I could see it come to a decision.

The fourth man had swung with his bat, forcing him to dodge back, snarling in pain from putting too much weight on the bleeding leg. As the man tried to rebalance himself, Rodriguez pushed forward, punching the fourth man in the face, knocking him back.

The third man was on his feet and was moving to attack, but was too far away when Rodriguez turned on and ran off as fast as he could. It was a heavily limping run, but he was doing his best. The other two realised he was running but didn't go after him; instead, they went to help MacDuff.

The third man continued to help treat his wounds while the force guarded them.

I got a good look at MacDuff's wounds now. He had a deep, nasty gash in his shoulder and was pretty sure his collarbone was broken. His face had gone white from the pain and blood loss. The third man, who seemed to have some medical knowledge, was binding the wound.

"You live, MacDuff. When your collarbone and shoulder are broken, I can patch you up, but you will be using this arm any time soon." The third man told him.

"Good… Enough." MacDuff eventually said through the pain. "Johannson will need to rely on you more."

"I understand." Johannson was the fourth man, and he spoke with an accent. I think he was from Scandinavia, from what I can make out.

Johannson stayed regarding them as the third continued to bind up MacDuff's wounds. MacDuff drank extensively from a bottle of whiskey they had brought with them. He wasn't drinking enough to make him inebriated, but was deftly dulling the pain.

They salvaged what they could from the dead man and continued on the way. There was never any question of their turning back. The sky above them was now starting to darken as the sun was setting in the west. The skyline with the mountains was aflame with colour, which was reflecting off the clouds. The setting sun was now a fiery red. To the east, the sky had turned purple, and then eventually I could start making out the black of night. The stars would begin to appear soon.

Blackstone was the next Hunter up.

The three men had paused here long enough for him to at least be close by now. They made no move to show their fallen comrade any respect and left his body when they began walking. The third man looked back several times at the body but stayed with the others. MacDuff and Johansson did not seem to pay him any more mind.

MacDuff was injured, but his primary hands were still working. Johannson had a slight cut on his arm, but that was bound and treated. The third man was wounded. I looked at the three men walking through the graveyard, wondering about how Blackstone would handle them.

"I think he's got a good chance here."