I was so focused on the chunk of red gemstone, roughly the size and length of one of my arms, that sweat had begun to drip down my brow. I could feel it there, but I was far too focused on the task at hand to wipe it off.

The slightest mistake at this stage of the cutting process could ruin everything. All it would take was one slip of my diamond-tipped chisel, and the shape I had been trying so hard to carve would be ruined.

Working with gems, while difficult and often infuriating, had become part of my everyday life since moving out to the Scorch, but creating something from scratch was much more difficult than my usual work coating regular swords and spears with crystal edges. I had never even attempted crafting a dagger out of pure gemstone before, let alone a firearm.

Despite this, I had promised the kid I would try my best. I owed his family.

It had been decades since I last saw his parents but I was deeply saddened to hear of what had happened to them. The mourning would have to wait for both of us.

When he showed up at my workshop to call in the long overdue favour I could tell things were urgent. He was barely an adult, but the fear in his eyes made him look a lot younger.

His body was battered and bruised all over, and from what he told me he had barely made it to my shop alive. I offered to take him to someone who could better treat his wounds, but he refused me outright, looking jumpy at the mere thought of talking to anyone else.

He wouldn’t share the whole story with me right then, but I understood the basics. I had known his family for a long time, and they always talked of the possibility that a day like this may come.

Didn’t make it any easier for the kid though, anywhere outside of the Scorch had just become deeply dangerous for him. As an escape plan, it was a pretty bad choice, but it was the only one that would work with the kind of people who would be hunting him down.

He wouldn’t survive long out here without quite a few friends and a good weapon however, so he had come to me for the latter under orders from his parents.

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I wasn’t following any blueprint or plan as I carved the gemstone into a slim circular shape that would form the barrel of the gun. It was my own design, so fresh that I hadn’t even had time to jot it down yet.

I could have made the kid something simple, something tried and tested, but out here only the truly strong could survive. This was his best shot, and if he could learn to use it well he wouldn’t only survive out here, but thrive.

Hours flew by as I worked on the ruby, carving and chipping the tough surface into shape. I don’t know what it was, but even then I could tell I was creating a true masterpiece.

I hadn’t been so lucky as to be born with any magical talent, but I had practised my craft for decades and the state I entered into while working on my first crystal firearm I can only describe as supernatural.

The tough gemstone was like clay. I could easily shape it without creating any cracks or faults. It almost felt like it was responding to the mental image I had. I had never experienced it before and had never been able to recreate it.

Once I was finished carving the ruby into a long slender barrel, I felt like crying. I kept a strong front for the kid who had been waiting patiently, watching me work from a seat in the corner.

“Is it ready?” the kid asked from the corner of the room.

I had been so focused on my work that I had almost forgotten he was there, but I turned to face him, holding up the ruby barrel so he could see.

He seemed to have calmed down a bit since his sudden arrival. I could see the faintest smile flicker across his bruised face as he saw my masterpiece before him.

“Should be. Just need the frame and some ammunition, then we can take it out for a test.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

I took in a deep breath and stared the young, dark-haired kid down for a few long moments.

He squirmed uncomfortably under my hard gaze, so I let up and gave the best attempt at a warm smile I could muster.

I wasn’t used to dealing with people too often out here. The Scorch could easily force you into a solitary life by way of necessity.

“Just make sure you look after it, you hear? It can be hell out here, and this is your one and only lifeline. You go out there expecting to be a hero, you won’t last a week. You need to become something else if you want to live long in the Scorch.”

It was harsh, but the best advice I could give.

The kid had likely never left his home city before. Now he was going to be trying to make a living in the most dangerous place on the entire continent.

His journey would be tough, and there wasn’t much I could do but give him a gun and some advice. I couldn’t afford to babysit him more than that.

I was trying to survive out here on my own too after all.

“W-what do I need to become?” the kid was dead serious despite how nervous he sounded.

I patted him on the shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“A professional.”