My vision swam with the energy flowing into me, then came back into focus as the translucent blue screen appeared. It was a bit surreal as I had not seen one in some time.

  As I finished, I received another alert message.

  [Hunter: John Rigger, Level up!]

  There is so much to unpack and deal with right now. The first thing I had to do was save my wounded Hunter.

  "Rigger, help me get Rodrigues back to his lair."

  My avatar was back in play. I ran over to Rodriguez, who was lying on his back. His legs were badly slashed far more brutally than I realised. Just picking up the gun had distracted me long enough to miss the savage injuries he had sustained in the fight.

  Rigger moved up beside us this time and helped me lift Rodriguez. He was groaning in pain as we got him. The others' bodies had disappeared already, and we were out the doors moving towards his lair. Rigger was almost vibrating with the need to go back to his lair.

  Between the two of us, we supported him as he could not put any weight on his legs. It didn't take long for us to reach his lair, as after Rigger, he was one of the closest to the church.

  "I can carry on the rest of the way."

  I told Rigger, and with a nod, he quickly ran off towards his own. This sudden weight shift made me stagger slightly, but I held him up and got to the doors, opening them.

  "Thanks." Rodriguez wheezed. His face was pale from blood loss, and there was a trail behind us leading back to the church.

  "Heal yourself. We will all need to speak when everyone's recovered."

  He said nothing else but pulled himself into his lair, closing the door behind him. The timer appeared above the building, but I ignored it. Instead, I returned to the church using my avatar.

  I could have returned much quicker, but I found walking very conducive to my mood. So much happened that I needed to understand, or at least try to factor into my plans, as things were radically changing.

  There were other monsters out there.

  That was the first thing that I had to deal with. It made sense to me, on some level, that the stories and tales of monsters and demons would have some basis in fact. Were they too men who had changed over time into monsters, or did other forces twist them?

  A Wendigo had attacked me. The blue screen had named it, and I had no reason to dismiss it or not believe the information. As I approached the church, I thought about everything I knew about the story surrounding the legend.

  I knew that a Wendigo was a Native American legend of a person, usually a man, who had consumed the flesh of others and had been changed by it. The more they killed, the more they hungered. It changed their spirit, mind and body until the hunger became all. I had heard vague references to other powers and abilities, but I knew little of the basic folklore and stories that made up the Wendigo's oral history. What did I not know?

  I returned to the church, thoughts echoing in my mind. I looked down at the body of the dead monster that had attacked my realm. Even in death, it was fearsome to look upon. Rodriguez's Tomahawk was on the floor next to the body, but it seems Rigger had reclaimed his Bowie knife from the skull. The head hung from the body, its spine and flesh still attached, but no longer as securely as before.

  His black blood had spread across the floor, reflecting the light like oil. I stepped closer, picking up one of its blades. The handle was made of bone, and a leather cord was wrapped around it and the blade's base. The blade itself was crude in every sense of the word. Yet it looks strong with a razor-sharp blade edge. The blade was speckled with rust and, I think, dried blood. It was easy to tell my Hunter's blood from the others on the blade.

  I turned my attention back to the body. Calling him a monstrous love child of Harrington and Rigger was still a very apt description. His skin was a sickly yellow, his eyes black. Its hair was greasy and matted, long and black. His eyes were looking at the ceiling, and his mouth was wide open. His teeth were like a shark's, but yellow and black. His loincloth was still tied around his waist, but I noticed a pouch attached to it.

  I had to step into the blood to reach the pouch and did so with some caution. I do not know how my avatar would react to this strange blood. My first footfall was hesitant, but I eventually made contact with the stone floor under the blood. I stood there momentarily, ready to jump back or dismiss my avatar, but nothing happened. No strange sensations or alerts.

  I went closer to the body and opened the pouch. There was more within it than I expected. First, I thought it was some form of jerky, which I really did not want to identify. Second, there was a necklace with several wooden attachments, each engraved with a different symbol. What it was or what they represented, I did not know.

  I walked away from the body, holding the necklace, after throwing the jerky back onto it. I inspected the different sections and engravings as I walked towards my altar. The large statue of the angel of death stood silent as always, observing everything.

  "Any thoughts?"

  I asked the statue as I stood before my altar, not looking up. I received no answer, and I was unsurprised.

  I opened up my status screen.

  There it was. My kill count had gone up by 20, bringing me much closer to my next level requirement. Rigger had also gained 20 kills, taking him to his next level, which he was presently going through. What he would become on the other side, I did not know, but I still thought he was a ghoul. But then again, he could himself turn into a Wendigo. Or maybe Roberson might.

  Or maybe they might turn into something completely different. Perhaps they would become the foundations of new legends and of monsters stalking men's dreams and nightmares.

  I thought about the book I am Legend and its ending. The difference between monsters and heroes was simply the perspective of those who look upon them and their deeds.

  The blue screen had told me that this was the weakest of the monsters that could come to my gates. This brought out a whole new wave of paranoia and concern within me. If that thing was one of the weakest, what else was out there? If the magical energies of this world keep rising, I would most likely find out, and I was worried about what that would bring.

  Nearly all of my Hunters had taken a hit in their development. The Hateful Spirit and Rodriguez were unchanged, and Rigger had actually profited from the attack. The others had all been reduced, with their kill tallies now sitting at zero.

  Remembering how McGregor had reacted to his recent death, I hoped I didn't have to deal out any punishment to my Hunters. I knew I would have to watch McGregor, but I did not see how the other three would react to losing their kill tallies. I will just have to wait and find out.

  I took the necklace down to the crypt below the church and placed it on the sarcophagus. I would have to deal with that later on, with Harrington's help. I dismissed my avatar and travelled out into the graveyard, beginning to clean up the mess left by the incursion.

  Rodriguez was up and around the next day. He burnt the body of the Wendigo at my command. He seemed satisfied watching the body burn. He also urinated all over it before he set it alight. No hard feelings there then.

  He was still wearing the trousers from the day of the fight. The gashes and rips were still stained with his blood. I summoned my avatar next to him.

  "You need to repair your trousers."

  He turned and looked at me with a confused expression. "My what?"

  "Your pants."

  I have to correct myself, even after all these decades, I thought of them as trousers, the Americans call them pants.

  He looked down and nodded when he realised the extent of the damage to them, but he didn't seem to notice the cold either, either because of the fire or because he was used to it. I can see its legs through the rips, and they were far hairier than they should be. I wondered how much more hair covered his body beyond what was normal.

  "Sí, Se?or, I'm starting to run a bit low on clothes." He looked back into the flames of the prior as he spoke.

  "We'll need to fix that then."

  He didn't say anything else, just nodded. I had added the bear hide that the Wendigo had been wearing when it had arrived. I found it flea-ridden, and destroying it was the best thing for everyone. The wood was wet, which fuelled the pyre, and thick smoke was travelling into the sky. That might bring unwanted attention, but today I had other things on my mind.

  "Go to the gates, we need to inspect them."

  He turned and looked at me, confused. I decided to add a bit more context.

  "Something has changed there."

  He set off, and I dismissed my avatar. By the time he reached the gates, I summoned it again. I was inspecting the inner-facing sections, including the two pillars and the metal gates, for any changes.

  "Step outside and tell me what you see."

  He followed my instructions without comment, walking beyond the gates and turning around. He looked at the pillars on the other side and stopped.

  "There." He pointed to the right-hand pillar. "There's a face carved into the pillow now."

  "Describe it."

  "It looks a lot like the Wendigos snarling, and there is a word written under it."

  "What does it say?"

  He did recognise the word and spelt it out to me.

  "Vinco. That's Latin, I think."

  "What does it mean, Se?or?" Rodriguez asked as he stepped back through the gates.

  "If I remember correctly, it has several meanings all related to defeat."

  He nods at this explanation. "Sounds about right."

  Rigger was the next to emerge from his lair the next day. The others were a few hours away from completing their resurrections, and I was mentally preparing myself for the worst.

  I had not looked at his character sheet or image out of respect until he was ready to reveal himself to me. He had sent me a message through the bonds, saying he was ready. The words were broken but understandable.

  I shifted over to his lair and summoned forth my avatar.

  I stood outside his mausoleum and waited a few seconds as the door opened. The sun had almost completely dipped behind the mountains to the west, and the sky was still a fiery red. The area around his layer was dark because the door faced east, and what little light remained cast a long shadow from the building.

  The door opened, and he stepped out. I could sense and see his nervousness.

  He was dressed in a shirt and trousers. He wasn't wearing any shoes and was without his heavy coat and hat.

  He had significantly changed.

  He was now completely bald, and his skin was firm, sickly yellow, almost the colour of pea soup. His ears were now slightly pointed. His eyes were pus-yellow with black irises. His jaw was thrust more forward than before and looked like it was able to break bone if he bit anything. He was hunched far more, and his shoulders seemed broader. His arms were longer, the shift cuffs set back over an inch from the wrists. His fingers were longer with thick, yellow nails. His knees were bent slightly as well. His feet were wider, with the same nails.

  "How are you feeling?"

  He doesn't answer straight away, taking a few seconds to ponder my question.

  "Stronger. Light hurts more. Hungry." He was speaking, but it was costing him. His new jaw and mouth setup didn't seem to help with speech. His voice had also dropped a few octaves and become much more guttural.

  "Okay. Let's see what's going on then."

  I opened up his status sheet.

  "Cannibal?"

  I looked at him and raised my eyebrow when I noticed the new dark trait.

  He said nothing but grinned at me. His teeth were shark-like and very similar to the Wendigo's, and his addition of the cannibal dark trait might lead him down that path.

  "From what you said about the light, I take it your [Sunbane] has become worse as well."

  He nodded before speaking again. "Hurts a lot now."

  "Very well. All intruders and Challengers outside of night-time, I will give you the right to choose to join in unless it's an emergency."

  He smiled at me again, happy with my decision. It seemed that sunlight was now a serious problem for him beyond the uncomfortable sensation he had experienced in the past.

  "It looks like you're needing new clothes as well."

  I looked over, realising how many patches there were on the clothes he was wearing. He looked down and nodded in understanding. It seemed that all of my Hunters were running out of clothing due to age and abuse.

  "I need to look into fixing that problem then."

  I said more to myself than to him. I bid my farewells and return to the church after dismissing my avatar. I had only a few hundred dollars in cash. My silver and gold records were out of the question. The few items of jewellery and watches were earmarked for Herbert to take to Bosie. I needed to think about how to spend it wisely. My hunters had been looting clothing from the intruders and the challenges they had killed in the past, but it was proving insufficient now because of their numbers and the sizes of a few of them.

  I would ask the Hunters for any advice once they were all back.

  The others' resurrection was a tense time.

  They all emerged roughly within an hour of each other, and none of them was happy. I could sense and hear the grumbles of frustration and annoyance from all of them. McGregor was, of course, the loudest, but the others were equally unhappy but far more in control of themselves.

  I had warned Rigger not to mention how he gained his new level. I hope the others will see it as a natural progression. The others seem not to notice, as they are more focused on their own grievances over the loss of their kill tallies.

  In response, Rigger kept a low profile for the next few days. This, of course, was because the Hunters rarely interacted with one another outside certain events and requirements.

  I distracted Harrington from his woes with the revelation of the necklace, which he found very interesting. He claimed that there was some form of mystical energy attached to it, but he wasn't sure what purpose it served or what its effects were.

  He instantly started pestering me about more books, but I pointed out that I was more focused on clothes right now. He looked down at his own wardrobe and realised that maybe I was focused on the more important thing right now.

  It took a few days, but I managed to get the rough measurements of all my Hunters. When Herbert reestablished contact in March, I gave him most of my cash on hand and told him to seek out clothing that could be used. He came back a few days later and said to me that Amy had seen the measurement and pointed out that many of the hunters would now need specialised clothing.

  I arranged to pay for her services, and later I learned that her daughter had also started helping there. By the end of the month, new clothing began to arrive for the Hunters, more in line with what they needed. Harrington, of course, added many new requirements for his wardrobe, as he was the most fashion-conscious.

  His demands were far more elaborate and expensive than the others. When he complained about the lack of quality work, I pointed out that if you wanted it, he would have to pay for it himself.

  He quickly fell quiet after that.