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The sun beats down as you trek across endless dunes, your eyes locked on the glint of gold buried in the sand. Every shovelful risks a venomous strike—scorpions lurk under rocks, snakes coil in the shadows. Your canteen grows lighter with each mile. Thirst kills faster than poison here. Scavenge wisely: abandoned dynamite crates, rusted lockboxes, sun-bleached skeletons clutching supplies. When the dust storms roll in, follow the flickering lanterns of the Saloon. Its weathered doors creak open to a haven of grit and gun oil. Spend hard-won coins on water that tastes like salvation, medkits stitched with desperation, and bullets that promise another sunrise. Survive long enough, and the desert whispers your fate. Leave rich, and the world bows. Leave broke, and the vultures feast. Leave wounded, and the sands claim another ghost. Leave with enemies at your heels, and the night answers with gunfire. The gold? It’s just a means. The real treasure’s crawling out alive.
