In the heart of the scorching desert, where golden sands stretch endlessly beneath a sun that never sleeps, a silent city stood cradled by ancient dunes. The man and woman, cloaked in desert robes, lived as guardians of the temple—its domed silhouette rising like a mirage from the earth. Every morning, the Lamassu—a living relic of forgotten gods—awoke from its sandstone perch, pacing the city’s edge with celestial eyes scanning the horizon. But peace was never promised. Strange footprints had been found near the oasis—clawed, deliberate. That’s when the Kangaroo Detective arrived, trench coat fluttering in the hot breeze, magnifying glass tucked in his pouch, and instincts sharper than any blade. Just as dusk bled into night, the last to arrive was the Vampire Hunter—dressed in all black leather, sunglasses unshaken by the glare. Wordless, he nodded to the kangaroo. Something was coming. And when it did, it would find the desert ready.