While I was still thinking about how some quests clearly took more out of a person than others, I let my attention drift back to Rowan. There was a particular kind of weariness in the way she stood, not sloppy or careless, but the sort that came from long stretches of focus without rest. It made me think about how uneven the cost of different paths could be.

  “That quest you just finished,” I said at last. “The reward was four Iron cores?”

  “Yeah,” she replied easily. “Special request. Special reward.”

  I nodded, then hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been circling in my head since she mentioned it. “Are there any quests like that for Tin cores?”

  She stared at me for half a second.

  Then she laughed.

  “You’re a Tin core?” she said, disbelief and amusement mixing together. “That’s impressive on its own.” Her smile faded slightly as she looked me over more carefully, eyes sharper now. “But you don’t have the rest of the cores you need to upgrade it yet, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “That tracks.” She crossed her arms and leaned back a little. “Most people never choose Tin unless they’re rich or stubborn. Copper cores are easier to get, stronger right out of the gate, and way more practical for most builds. Tin only really pays off later, once you grind it up into Copper.”

  She glanced at me again. “Ten cores to move up a tier. You already know that part.”

  I did, but hearing it stated so plainly made the scale of it sit heavier in my chest.

  “The real problem isn’t demand,” she continued. “It’s supply, and who actually wants them.” She shifted her weight slightly. “Tin cores only come from Tin?ranked mini?boss monsters. Dungeons almost never spawn those on purpose. They’re weak, inefficient, and not worth designing encounters around. When they do show up, it’s usually by accident.”

  She spread her hands. “So, you end up with something stupidly rare that almost no one farms.”

  “And that makes them valuable,” I said.

  “Valuable to the right people,” she corrected. “Not everyone wants Tin. Only people who already committed to a Tin core, or parents planning ahead for their kids. And even then, you need eleven of them. One to start, ten more to upgrade it.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not cheap. Most people can’t afford to buy that many even if they wanted to.”

  “So, I’m out of luck,” I said.

  “Not exactly,” she replied. “Just don’t expect people to hand them over.”

  Greta cut in before I could say more, her voice gentler than Rowan’s had been. “Azolo,” she said, “you’re going to be here for a long time. More time than most people ever get.”

  She met my eyes and didn’t rush her words. “That’s why I suggested Tin in the first place. You have the patience for it, and you have the years. Tin isn’t weak, not really. It just starts behind.”

  She gestured lightly with one hand. “You can train alongside Copper cores even while you’re still Tin. You’ll be at the bottom of Copper, sure, but you can keep up. You’re already strong enough for that.”

  Her expression softened. “And the moment you do upgrade, the moment that Tin becomes Copper, you won’t be struggling at the bottom anymore. You’ll be right at the front again. Everything you put in early will pay off all at once.”

  She nodded once, as if reassuring both of us. “You chose the hardest road, not a bad one. And you don’t have to walk it alone.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Rowan nodded slowly. “They’re worth good money,” she said. “But I make more doing normal quests. Tin cores aren’t worth hunting on purpose.”

  She studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “Still. I’d rather help someone who actually needs it than hoard them. Fellow reincarnator and all.”

  Her mouth twitched. “Plus, you’re kind of adorable.”

  I frowned, though I could feel the heat creeping up my ears again.

  “And your name is absolutely going to stick,” she added, unapologetic. “Runt is terrible. Which means everyone is going to use it.”

  I let that go, mostly because fighting it felt pointless. Instead, I looked back at Rowan and asked, “So how many more Iron cores do you need for your next upgrade, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  She shook her head. “None. I’m not short on cores. I’m waiting.”

  “Waiting?”

  “On myself,” she said. “I need to settle my foundations first. Get more comfortable in my body, refine how I move, how I breathe, how I react. I’ve got more than enough Iron cores to upgrade three times over, but rushing it would be stupid.”

  She tapped a finger lightly against her belt. “I’m saving them. I want to make a growth bow.”

  I blinked. “You can do that with cores?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You could enchant a weapon the wizard way, or the enchanter way, carving circuits and pouring mana into it. Core craft is different. It’s more personal. You bind the cores into the weapon itself, and then you bond to it. It grows with you, the same way you do.”

  I stared at her for a moment, letting that settle. “I had no idea.”

  “In my past life,” I continued slowly, “I mostly ignored cores. They drained mana constantly, and I didn’t need them except in very specific situations.”

  She snorted. “That’s why martial weapons use them, not staffs and wands and whatever other doohickeys you wizards like to wave around.”

  “That actually makes a lot of sense,” I admitted. “Can you explain the process? Making armor, weapons, anything with cores?”

  She opened her mouth, then paused and glanced past me. “I could,” she said, “but I think Myrda’s back, and she’d be better at explaining it than I am.”

  She smirked. “Also, your little dwarf friend looks like she’s about to blow a circuit if she has to wait any longer.”

  Rowan snorted. “I think Myrda said it was a log,” she added, sounding faintly incredulous.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Winnie found a log in the bog after she beat the muck monkey that gave me my Tin core. Then she demanded Myrda turn it into her weapon.”

  Winnie puffed up proudly. “I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna make my log into a growth weapon too.”

  Rowan burst into laughter.

  Meka and Greta joined in a moment later, followed by the rest of the class. A few of them clapped Winnie on the back, encouragement mixed with amusement.

  Even I smiled, because I knew, without a single doubt, that she was absolutely serious. Dwarves did not lie when they made declarations like that.

  Myrda walked up and came to a stop in front of Rowan, Winnie, and me. She gave Winnie a small wave in greeting. “Oh. You’re back,” she said, as if she had only just noticed that the hall had refilled.

  Then she turned to Rowan and held out a small sack. “Here you are.”

  I was fairly certain the cores were inside. Rowan did not bother to check. She took the sack, looped it onto her belt with practiced ease, and nodded once. “All right,” she said. “I’m going to check the quest board, get something to eat, maybe take a bath, and then a nap. I might head out again tonight.”

  Myrda’s expression hardened instantly. “Absolutely not.”

  Rowan froze.

  “You are staying the full night,” Myrda said, voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “You look like you haven't rested since the last time I saw you. If you keep pushing like this, you are going to die.”

  Rowan threw her hands up. “Okay, okay. I hear you.” She sighed. “I’ll look at the board, then I’ll eat and sleep. Happy?”

  Myrda nodded. “Good.”

  Rowan turned back toward us. “Well, Runt,” she said lightly, “it was good meeting you.” She glanced at Greta. “You’re still amazing, as always.” Then she looked at Meka. “Apprentice Meka, you are extremely quiet, and I am just going to walk around you.”

  She carefully edged past Meka, then pointed at Winnie. “And you, dwarf, are hilarious. Do not change. Ever.”

  Then she was gone.

  The rest of the martial class dispersed with her, drifting off toward their own plans. Before long, only Winnie, Meka, Greta, Myrda, and I remained.

  Myrda handed me a small carrier with two vials of blue liquid sloshing gently inside. My heart started pounding immediately. I knew exactly what they were.

  “Thank you,” I said, meaning far more than the words could carry. With those in hand, my future plans could start sooner than expected. At the same time, the weight of them settled in. Having them meant I now had to choose what to do with that much potential.

  Winnie bounced in place. “Greta, where’s my log?” She paused, then corrected herself. “I mean, Myrda. Where’s my log?”

  Myrda ducked behind the counter and pulled it out from where it had been set aside. The moment Winnie saw it, her eyes went wide.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s even still got that little lumpy part I liked best.”

  I laughed. Winnie was genuinely attached to the thing.

  And honestly, if I could help it, I would make that log into something legendary for her. If only for the sheer absurdity of a dwarf beating giants or demons to death with a log.

  My thoughts drifted to my own staff.

  Maybe I would do the same. Maybe I would build something worthy of this new future, the way Rowan planned to, and the way Winnie already had, even if she did not quite realize it yet.