Three hours later, the Den was alive with sound.
Hammers clanged. Forges roared. The low hum of mana conduits pulsed through the air like a heartbeat. Sparks danced off the metal floor, glowing briefly before fading to ash. The scent of molten quartz and scorched steel clung to the air, thick enough to taste.
Rex stood over one of the side forges, sweat tracing paths down his temple. His coat hung from a pipe nearby, forgotten. The pale blue flame from the forge reflected in his eyes as he worked, shaping the molten Gueazz metal with careful precision. Every motion carried purpose — he was far beyond his usual reckless rhythm now.
The molten Gueazz hissed and shimmered, glowing faintly gold as it stabilized under the mana regulators. The process was painstakingly slow, but it had to be perfect. A single misstep and the entire batch could explode.
Fuzzy hovered close by, projecting the holographic blueprint in front of him.
> "Keep the temperature stable at nine hundred and twenty degrees. That's your sweet spot!"
"Already on it," Rex muttered, adjusting the furnace valve with a gloved hand.
He dipped a slender brush of quartz-tipped steel into a bucket of liquefied crystal. The material glowed like liquid lightning — this was the conductive ink he would use to form the Arcane Stems.
The blueprint hovered before him in glowing blue light, lines of mana flowing through the design like veins. The weapon he was creating wasn't just a gun; it was a living conduit between his system and the world around him.
He began tracing the Arcane Stem symbols with steady, deliberate strokes. Each symbol pulsed faintly once completed, locking into the weapon's growing mana circuit. The air around him thickened with energy as the forge resonated with his work.
He'd chosen a high-output quartz crystal — risky, unstable, but powerful. It was his first real weapon, and he wanted something that could make a difference. Something that wouldn't break when things got rough.
By the time the second hour rolled around, Genya had joined him, drawn by the unnatural glow from Rex's workstation.
"Damn, you're still alive?" Genya said, grinning as he wiped his hands on a rag. "Half the guys thought you'd blown yourself up by now."
"Not yet," Rex muttered, not looking up. "Need a hand with the stabilizer chamber."
Genya whistled, impressed. "You're serious about this, huh? Alright then. Let's see what you've got."
Together, they worked. Rex molded the Gueazz alloy into a compact frame while Genya helped refine the quartz housing that would serve as the mana core. The crystal had to be perfectly centered and aligned — even a degree off and the weapon would either drain all its mana instantly or implode.
By the final hour, the Den had grown quieter around them. Curiosity spread like wildfire; engineers and apprentices who'd come in for their morning shifts were now gathered in a rough half-circle, watching in fascination.
Whispers ran through the crowd.
> "Did he really use Gueazz stones?"
"Those things are too volatile without a stabilizer!"
"He's either a genius… or suicidal."
Genya shoved through the cluster of onlookers, holding a new set of quartz tools. "Move it, move it! If it blows, I don't want to be scraping you lot off the walls."
Rex exhaled, his hands steady as he made the final adjustments to the mana flow conduits. The weapon was almost done.
The room seemed to hold its breath as he fused the quartz chamber to the frame. The veins of light running along the weapon pulsed gold, then deepened to a bright orange. A hum filled the air — low and resonant, like a heartbeat syncing with his own.
When the final piece clicked into place, Rex stepped back and let out a long breath. "I think… it's done."
Genya leaned over, eyes wide. The weapon gleamed under the forge light — a sleek hybrid between a handgun and an arcane conduit. Matte black steel reinforced with golden mana veins. The quartz crystal at its core glowed faintly with restrained energy, giving off a low rhythmic thrum.
"'Think'?" Genya echoed, arching a brow. "Either it's done, or it's about to explode."
And then—
> DING!
The sound echoed in his head, sharp and distinct. His system interface flickered to life before his eyes.
---
[System Notice]
Arcane Stem Weapon Creation Complete!
> Weapon: Stone Gun – Arcane Stem Type
Grade: High-Output Prototype
Efficiency: 56%
Mana Cost per Shot: 60
Danger Rating: Experimental – Handle With Care
---
Rex blinked, hardly daring to breathe.
Another string of notifications rolled in.
---
[Skill Advancement Detected]
Title Updated: Mediocre Newbie Blacksmith → Newbie Blacksmith
> Luck +2
Intelligence +2
---
[Passive Bonus Unlocked]
> Chance to create High-Grade Weapons: +43%
Chance to dodge critical attacks: +0.34%
Chance to land critical attacks: +0.72%
---
"It… worked," Rex breathed. His voice trembled with disbelief. Then louder — "It worked!"
For a heartbeat, silence. Then cheers erupted across the Den.
Dozens of engineers and apprentices hollered, clapping and pounding each other on the back. Someone whistled. Another shouted something about "buying the kid a drink!" The noise filled every corner of the Den, the kind of thunderous joy only hard work and danger could birth.
Genya smirked, shaking his head. "Guess the newbie pulled it off after all."
Rex barely heard him. A strange warmth was blooming in his chest — something he hadn't felt in a long time.
He had spent his whole life running, surviving from one gang to another, never staying long enough to build anything. Resting meant weakness. Weakness meant being left behind.
But here, surrounded by people who cheered for him — who actually smiled at his success — something cracked open inside him. His chest felt tight. He blinked quickly, but the tears still threatened to fall.
He wiped his eyes quickly and forced a smile. "Heh… must be the smoke," he muttered.
Before anyone noticed, he slipped away from the group, weaving through the crowd and back toward the small room the Den had given him.
It wasn't much — just a cot, a desk, and a small window that looked out into the sprawling machinery of Caldrath's underbelly — but it felt like something he hadn't known in years.
A place he could belong.
Maybe… it wasn't so bad here.
---
Meanwhile — Sector E-92
Far across the city, chaos burned.
Sector E-92, once loud with the sounds of traders and smugglers, now echoed with screams and gunfire. The Inquisitors had arrived.
Their black-armored platoons swept through the streets with brutal efficiency. Entire buildings were being raided, doors kicked in, crews dragged out one by one.
The first to clash with them were the Spinebreakers — Kragg's crew. The confrontation had been short but devastating. Kragg himself had destroyed an entire Inquisitor platoon before being driven back.
Word spread fast. By the next day, the Inquisitors' Head Supervisor had descended upon the sector with his personal army. The alleys of the Undersprawls ran red.
Everyone knew what had caused it. Everyone knew who they were looking for.
Rex.
The name passed from crew to crew, whispered with hatred and envy alike. Not because they cared about justice — no. They wanted the bounty. They wanted revenge.
The Undersprawls were built on silence. Normally, no one ever snitched. But these weren't normal times. Crews were being wiped out. Friends dragged off in chains. Even the toughest of them started to break.
Three major gangs — the Spinebreakers, DustSnitches, and RougeSplinters — formed a reluctant alliance. Each of them had suffered losses because of Rex's actions.
And then, one of Kragg's men stepped forward.
He had been among the group that had chased Rex and Nyra the day they escaped. He was scarred, half-burned, but alive. He told them everything — about the woman in the ski mask who'd ambushed them, about how she'd taken Rex's side, about where they might have gone.
That was all they needed.
The city's underbelly was about to burn again.
The war for Sector E-92 had just begun.