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

Matilda's boots thudded softly against the uneven ground as she moved swiftly away from the scene. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the distant hum of the siren. 'I can't wait for Cassandra,' she thought, glancing back toward the path she had come from.

The search parade had split, and another group was cutting across the corridor where she had been waiting. Her breath hitched. 'I'll only get cornered if I stay.'

Without another glance back, she slipped into a narrower alley, her sharp eyes scanning the area frantically. The harsh light of the sun glinted off metallic surfaces and the muted bustle of the market beyond.

She knew this place like the back of her hand but had rarely had to navigate it under such pressure.

The moment she reached the crowded side of the market, Matilda slowed her pace, forcing herself to blend in. Her hood was pulled low, obscuring her face. She kept her movements measured, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder despite the siren growing louder behind her.

The market here was alive with activity—vendors bartering, buyers haggling, and workers moving crates of goods. The air smelled of spices and stale sweat, and the noise was deafening. Matilda felt exposed, a lone figure trying to disappear into the chaos.

'Have they been here yet?' she wondered, her eyes darting toward a group of workers unloading supplies. 'Maybe they already searched this side and left.' But she couldn't trust that thought for long.

As she moved further into the market, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

She heard the siren's pitch shift—it was getting closer.

Matilda's heart sank as she realized she was halfway between any known exit paths. If the search parade came here, there would be no way out.

Her mind raced as she scanned her surroundings, looking for somewhere to hide. A narrow stall with a low-hanging tarp caught her eye. It was cramped and unassuming, tucked between two larger vendor setups.

Without hesitation, she altered her trajectory, weaving through the crowd toward the stall. Her thoughts raced as she walked.

'They're everywhere. How does Raxus have this many men? He must have doubled his forces.' Her chest tightened at the thought. 'They're not just looking for Zafron. He's making sure no one escapes. He wants to drag us all back to his pit.'

Matilda clenched her jaw. Memories of the pit—the harsh lights, the roaring crowd, the bloodstained sand—flashed through her mind. She shook them off, her focus returning to the present as she neared the stall.

But before she could duck into the shelter, a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder. Her entire body went rigid.

Matilda turned her head slowly, her breath caught in her throat. A pair of cold, piercing blue eyes met hers. Recognition hit her like a punch to the gut. Draco. His expression was one of grim satisfaction as he tightened his grip, his fingers digging into her shoulder.

"Well, well," Draco said, his voice low but audible over the market's noise. "Look who we have here. The runaway queen herself."

'Draco?'

Matilda's heart pounded, but her expression remained stone cold. "uhmm," she said evenly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I don't understand... How may I help you?"

Draco smirked. "Stop playing dumb here. I saw you with Zafron the day he fought me in the fighting pit. So I guess you're the one these guys are looking for."

Before she could respond, Draco raised his voice, shouting for the rest of the search party. "She's here! Over here!"

Matilda's stomach dropped as heads turned toward her, and she saw Raxus's men begin converging on her position. She clenched her fists, her instincts screaming at her to act.

Matilda didn't know where the surge of energy came from, but before Draco could call out again, she drove her knee hard into his groin. The force made him grunt and loosen his grip just enough for her to slip free.

"You'll regret that," he growled, doubling over, but Matilda was already moving.

She shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring the angry shouts of bystanders. Her legs carried her faster than she thought possible, but her heart sank when she saw another group of Raxus's men blocking her path ahead.

Matilda turned sharply, trying to find an alternate route, but she was too late. The men closed in, their weapons drawn but not raised. She skidded to a stop, panting, as they surrounded her.

One of the men, taller and bulkier than the rest, stepped forward. His voice was calm but menacing. "No one lays a hand on her. Raxus's orders. Not a single hair harmed."

Matilda glared at him, her breathing labored. "What a gentleman."

Two of the men grabbed her arms, their grips firm but not rough. "Take her," the leader ordered. "And make sure she doesn't try anything stupid."

*****

Far from the market's center, Cassandra crouched behind a cluster of crates, her eyes scanning for Matilda. Her gaze froze when she spotted a commotion in the distance. She squinted, her blood running cold as she saw Matilda being dragged out by Raxus's men.

'No,' Cassandra thought, anger flaring in her chest. Her hands balled into fists, green slime forming instinctively around her fingers. She stepped out of her hiding spot, the weight of her anger driving her forward. 'They're not taking her.'

The crowd began to scatter as Cassandra moved with purpose, her sharp eyes locked on the group dragging Matilda away. The slime around her hand solidified into a jagged weapon. She was ready to charge, her mind set on tearing through anyone who stood in her way.

Just as Cassandra was about to launch herself into the fray, something hard and metallic grabbed her arm, yanking her back with surprising force.

She turned, her weaponized hand raised, but before she could strike, she found herself staring at the smooth, featureless face of a humanoid robot.

The machine's grip tightened, pinning her arm down and forcing her to the ground. Cassandra struggled, her movements wild and desperate, but the robot's strength was overwhelming.

"Let me go!" she snarled, green slime seeping from her other hand as she tried to pry herself free.

A calm voice cut through her fury. "I'd suggest you stop fighting. You should be thanking me, not trying to destroy my property."

Cassandra froze at the sound, her head snapping toward the source. A figure emerged from the shadows, his movements deliberate and confident. His face was partially obscured by a hood, but the glint of a cybernetic eye caught the light as he stepped closer.

"And who are you?," Cassandra asked, her voice low and filled with suspicion.

The man smirked, his mechanical eye whirring faintly as it focused on her. "you can call me Hector and her, ARIA."