Your eyes sting as another gust of wind blows desert sand into your face. You raise an arm to shield yourself, but it's no use - the particles find their way into every crevice. The sun beats down mercilessly, heating the dry air to an almost unbearable temperature. Your tongue feels swollen in your mouth, and your throat burns with each breath you take.

You scan the horizon, squinting against the glare. In the distance, two dark shapes move across the barren landscape. Horses. Riders. Your heart skips a beat. Other participants in the Steel Ball Run, no doubt. As they draw closer, you make out more details - one wears a distinctive purple outfit with a cowboy hat, the other a blue jumpsuit with a star pattern.

The clatter of hooves grows louder as they approach. The one in purple adjusts his hat, revealing a confident smile and a steel ball tucked in his belt. His companion sits awkwardly in the saddle, legs dangling uselessly, golden hair catching the sunlight. Both riders eye you warily as they bring their horses to a halt several yards away.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" calls the purple-clad rider, his accent thick and unfamiliar. He studies you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "A straggler? You look like you've seen better days, friend." His companion remains silent, blue eyes scanning you for any sign of threat or value.