A weathered gunslinger stands atop a windswept hill, his face etched with determination. He gazes at a looming, impossibly tall dark tower in the distance, its obsidian surface shimmering with otherworldly energy. The tower pierces a sky where multiple worlds bleed together- a waning sun, two moons, and unfamiliar constellations vie for dominance. The gunslinger's shadow stretches behind him, morphing into silhouettes of his ka- tet: a young boy, a wheelchair- bound woman, and a man in a sharp suit. Surrounding the hill, reality fractures into a patchwork of diverse landscapes: a post- apocalyptic wasteland, a lush jungle, a gleaming city, and an ancient desert. In the foreground, a field of roses contrasts vibrant crimson against the muted tones of the hill. A single door stands ajar amidst the flowers, offering a glimpse of yet another world. Perched atop the door, a crimson- eyed raven watches the scene unfold. The gunslinger's hand rests on the sandalwood grip of an ancient revolver, its barrel forged from the metal of Excalibur. A horn hangs at his hip, hinting at a cycle renewed. In the distance, a monorail train snakes through the fragmenting realities, while a blood- red sun sets behind the tower, casting long shadows across all worlds