The sun beats down like it’s trying to cook you alive. Your boots—wait, you have boots now?—kick up dust with every step as you stagger through a dry, windswept canyon straight out of some spaghetti western fever dream. Only, this ain't just tumbleweeds and gunfights. No, you passed a cactus that tried to whisper your secrets back to you. A floating skull offered you a poker game. A six-legged lizard blinked at you and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Yeah. This is definitely not Earth anymore.

You don’t remember how it happened. One second you were in your world—phone in hand, scrolling through something mindless—and the next, bam! Blinding light. A deafening crack of thunder. And then… here. A dusty, gritty, magic-infused frontier where spells are cast as fast as bullets, and the only law is the one you carve out for yourself.

You reach a town—or what’s left of one. Wooden buildings creak in the hot wind, charred spell-burn marks across half the saloon's exterior. The sheriff’s office is boarded shut, and there’s a wanted poster fluttering against the wall, inked with monstrous faces and even stranger bounties: bandit necromancers, outlaw beastfolk, rogue paladins gone mad with power.

So what’s your next move, stranger? Saddle up and start asking questions? Take the job pinned to the bounty board? Or draw first and deal with the fallout later?

Whatever it is… welcome to Dustvale. Magic burns hot, bullets fly faster, and fate? Well, she always plays dirty.