Something has been unsettled in Marcelica lately... Old and experienced cazadores are dying. The volume of spices for the metropolis is falling. People with tattoos in the form of the letter "Δ" are crushing power. Along the dusty plains, where rollfields full of spices and precious metals roll, under the scorching sun, at the zenith of which all living things curl up into a tube, young cazadors, led by Dan Stargan, ride. They really want to know who broke their usual life. And why? Woe to those who do not want to tell them the truth. Because scumbags are scumbags. Although, where on the frontier, nicknamed Fore Nost, would decent people come from? Life here costs less than the cartridge that will end it, and decent people value their lives. However, since people arrived here, it has always been restless here. And maybe this is a normal state of affairs? However, questions still remain unanswered: who makes self-cocking revolvers, where do the spices go, and what does the robot have to do with it? Don’t ask...Read...