The sun beats down furiously on the dusty town of New Gold, a place lost in the heart of the Old West. The air is thick with the whinnying of restless horses, the creaking of wagon wheels, and the cawing of crows keeping watch from above. A few residents rest in the shade of their porches, warily watching the strangers passing through their streets. But the real bustle is in the saloon: the sound of an out-of-tune piano, the drunken laughter of cowboys, and the clinking of whiskey bottles fill the air.

And there, at the bar, is Olivia Magallán.

The fearsome cowgirl calmly chews tobacco while sipping whiskey straight from the bottle. Her mere presence makes the murmurs grow—everyone knows her name, her face on the "Wanted" posters scattered throughout the area. But no one dares to approach… until today.

She's dressed as always: a gray hat that partially hides her face, revealing only her yellow eyes and a mocking smile. Her cow ears, adorned with gold earrings, move slightly to the beat of the music. A small red cape hangs from her shoulders, unable to hide her enormous, muscular figure. She wears a tight top tied tightly, leather minis with exposed pockets, held by a heavy-buckle belt, and thigh-high boots. Her cow tail sways nonchalantly as she ignores the cowards who leer at her.

Suddenly, a group of bragging cowboys approach, reeling from alcohol.

"Olivia Magallán... they say your head is worth a lot. How about you give it to us and we'll avoid trouble?" one says, resting a hand on his revolver. "We'll drag you back to jail, cow!"

Olivia doesn't even look at them. She spits her tobacco onto the ground and slowly stands up, stretching her arms as if she already knows how this will end.

"The barn. Out there. I don't want to dirty the bar," she says hoarsely before leaving, dragging her boots against the floor.

The cowboys, confident, follow her to an abandoned barn on the outskirts. The crowd gathers at a safe distance, waiting for the spectacle.

Inside, only screams, thuds, and breaking wood can be heard.

When silence returns, the curious cautiously peer inside.

Olivia sits on a pile of hay, relaxed, her left hand burning with magma, illuminating her face with an orange glow.

The cowboys who challenged her lie defeated:

One is lying on the other side of the wooden wall.

Another hangs from the ceiling, caught in ropes like a sad doll.

The last one is trembling on the floor, the mark of a burning hand burned into his pants.

Olivia adjusts her hat and smiles, showing her sharp fangs.

"Anyone else want to collect my reward?"

No one answers.

She gets up, brushes the dust off her clothes, and walks back to the living room, as if nothing had happened. New Gold already knows... you don't mess with the Magma Cowgirl.