I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The sun was already beginning to sink over the horizon when Officer Steele emerged from Malachi Vex's mansion, his face impassive beneath the brim of his wide-brimmed hat. A crowd of enforcers had gathered outside, their faces a mix of anticipation and trepidation as they awaited Steele's report.

Steele took a long, deliberate drag from his cigar, savoring the moment as all eyes fixed on him. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around him like a ethereal cloak.

"Gentlemen," he drawled, his voice low and gravelly. "We have... a situation."

The enforcers leaned in, hanging on his every word. Steele's lips curled into a small, knowing smirk.

"Two... suspects," he continued, punctuating each revelation with a pause. "Male... and female. Left... not long ago."

He gestured towards the street with his cigar. "Trail... ends there. They took... a cart."

One of the younger officers couldn't contain his curiosity. "But sir, how can you possibly know all this?"

Steele fixed the young man with a piercing stare, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I know... because I know," he replied cryptically.

The officer shrunk back, thoroughly chastised. 'How does he do it?' the young man wondered, a mixture of awe and skepticism swirling in his mind.

Steele turned his gaze skyward, taking another puff of his cigar. A low chuckle escaped his lips, barely audible to those around him.

"Mount... a manhunt," he ordered, his voice suddenly sharp and commanding. "Any cart... leaving the city. Especially... those heading to Lumina."

The enforcers snapped to attention, their earlier bewilderment replaced by a sense of urgency. As they scrambled to carry out his orders, Steele strode towards his personal cart, a sleek, arcane-powered vehicle that stood apart from the standard issue models.

'He's doing it again,' one of the senior officers thought, watching Steele's retreating form. 'Solving cases with barely a word. It's almost... unnatural.'

Steele settled into the plush leather seat of his cart, a stark contrast to the chaos he'd left behind. With a flick of his wrist, the vehicle hummed to life, rising smoothly into the air.

As the cart glided through the late afternoon sky, Steele allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. His face, usually an impassive mask, softened ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a ghost of a smile.

The station came into view, a sprawling complex that served as the heart of Drakoria's law enforcement. Steele's cart touched down with barely a whisper, the arcane engines powering down as he stepped out.

He made his way to his office, ignoring the awed stares and hushed whispers that followed in his wake. The door closed behind him with a soft click, shutting out the world beyond.

Steele sank into his chair, propping his feet up on the ornate desk. He lit a fresh cigar, the familiar ritual bringing a sense of calm. As he exhaled, he closed his eyes, letting the tension of the morning's events slowly ebb away.

'Another job... done,' he thought, a sense of smug satisfaction washing over him. 'By the time I wake... precisely an hour from now... the suspect will be in custody.'

A small chuckle escaped his lips. "Justice... served," he murmured aloud, savoring the words like a fine wine.

His thoughts drifted to the substantial reward that would undoubtedly come with this case. "And what's sweeter... than justice?" he mused, a rare grin spreading across his face. "The kind that comes... with a whole load... of money."

Steele could almost feel the weight of the Thalens in his pocket, a tangible reminder of his success. He took another long drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl lazily around him.

'Time for... a good rest,' he thought, his eyelids growing heavy. 'The capable officer... deserves it.'

As Steele drifted off, the bustle of the station faded away. Outside his office, officers and administrators alike went about their business, their voices hushed whenever they passed his door.

"Is he... sleeping?" one rookie whispered, peering through the frosted glass of Steele's office door.

A seasoned detective shook his head, a mixture of admiration and exasperation in his eyes. "That's how he works," he explained in a low voice. "Sleeps for exactly an hour after cracking a case. When he wakes up, the suspect's always in custody."

The rookie's eyes widened. "Always?" he asked, incredulous.

The detective nodded solemnly. "Always."

As they moved away, the rookie couldn't help but glance back at the door. 'How does he do it?' he wondered, echoing the thoughts of countless others before him. 'It's like he's not even human.'

Inside the office, oblivious to the speculation swirling around him, Steele slept. His face, usually set in hard lines, was relaxed in repose. For this brief moment, he looked almost... normal.

But normal was the last word anyone would use to describe Officer Steele. As he slumbered, the machinery of justice he had set in motion continued to grind forward. Somewhere out there, his quarry was being hunted, unaware that their fate had been sealed the moment Steele had set foot in that blood-soaked mansion.

In exactly one hour, Steele would wake, ready to close another case and add another notch to his already impressive belt. And Drakoria would sleep a little easier, knowing that their mysterious protector was on the job.

Such was the legend of Officer Steele - a mystery wrapped in an enigma, served with a side of cigar smoke and a chaser of cold, hard justice.

***

The cart soared through the sky, leaving the sprawling expanse of Drakoria behind. Zafron and Matilda sat in tense silence, the weight of recent events hanging heavily between them. The vast emptiness around them mirrored the hollowness in their hearts.

Zafron's eyes were fixed on the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. 'Mara... gone,' he thought, the pain of loss stabbing through him anew. His mind wandered back to Astoria, to the life he'd left behind, and now to Drakoria – another chapter closed, another home lost.

'They had so much trust in me. Mara, she trsuted me. Left her life, followed me to this ...unplanned, reckless life. And now she's gone. Worst part is, I got to see the real her. Did she ever get to truly know me?

I've kept so much away from them. Cassie, Mara...her...' he thought, his gaze drifting to Matilda who had her arms crossed around her bossom, obvious still distraught about what had happened.

'I've kept too many secrets,' he realized, guilt gnawing at him. 'It's time to come clean.'

Taking a deep breath, Zafron broke the silence. "Matilda... I died."

Matilda didn't react, her eyes still fixed on the empty sky ahead. No signs of life yet, houses were now long gone, disappeared even. Everything there was was no more, it was eerily quiet, perhaps too quiet. It offered the perfect room to think but perhaps that was the thing. The vastness of their surroundings offered little comfort to begin with.

Zafron cleared his throat and tried again, his voice stronger this time. "The night Gustavo attacked us in Astoria... I died."

At this, Matilda's head snapped towards him, her brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and concern. "Are you... are you being serious right now?" Her voice was tinged with disbelief. "Of all times, you choose now to joke around?"

She opened her mouth to say more, but Zafron pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I went to a place called Limbo. I met a goddess – Aphrodite. She made me face tests, and when I passed, I woke up. She gave me a gift... a system.

The Eros Vitality System."

Matilda's eyes widened comically, and she brought a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "Zafron, listen to me," she said, her voice a mixture of concern and frustration. "It's okay to grieve. You don't have to be stoic. But this... this is madness.

We're far from any alchemist who could help you, and we're in the sky, for gods' sake. Could you maybe dial down the crazy talk?"

Zafron sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. He turned to face Matilda fully, his eyes intense. "Think about it, Matilda. You saw my wounds heal faster than humanly possible after the robbery. You've seen me use magic. Did I have those abilities before?"

Matilda's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, her mind racing. 'He has a point,' she thought, recalling those inexplicable moments. Her eyes widened as realization dawned.

"Wait..." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you actually ser-"

BOOM!

A deafening explosion rocked the air, violently shaking their cart. Matilda yelped, grabbing onto the sides for dear life as the vehicle lurched dangerously.

Zafron whipped around, his heart pounding. Through the dissipating smoke, his blood ran cold at the sight that greeted him. A fleet of red and white carts – the unmistakable colors of the Enforcers – were rapidly closing in on them.

'Of all the rotten luck,' Zafron thought, his mind racing. He turned back to Matilda, whose face had drained of all color.