Winnie, Greta, and I made our way deeper into the Tin Zone, leaving Myrda and the rest of the trainee class to finish their easier quests. The air grew heavier the farther we went, dense with the smell of wet soil and rotting leaves. The trees leaned in over us as if they wanted to watch where we stepped. The ground squelched under my boots, soaked through from the constant mist that drifted through this part of the dungeon. When we reached the bog, the humidity clung to my skin like a second shirt.

  Greta glanced around, boots sinking a little into the mud. "Okay, you two are both the shortest in my class. This is a bog. I'm not really worried about the monsters in here. Don't drown. Because I can't swim."

  I blinked at her. "Why would you need to be able to swim? You're taller than, like, everything in here."

  She looked down at me and nodded once. "Good point, runt. Okay, I can probably save you if you're drowning. But just don't. Seriously, do not. This place looks shallow until it isn't."

  Winnie grimaced as she tapped the ground with her boot and sank an inch. "Dwarves sink. I'm staying along the edge. I'm not going into that. It's too... well, wet for me." She lifted her shield from her back and kept it tucked close, as if even the wood might decide to jump into the mud without her permission.

  I nodded. "That's probably a good idea. We're not looking for anything in the swamp itself. We're looking for waterlogged trees, hollows, or pools where the snails might hide." I followed along the edge too, stepping on the firmer patches of moss so my whole foot wouldn’t disappear.

  The bog made soft glugging noises with each step we took. Little bubbles rose where the mud shifted, popping with faint sucking sounds. Something somewhere croaked, long and low, and the rippling water carried it back to us.

  Winnie asked, "So, how'd you know to headbutt me?"

  "Reincarnator," I said, watching the water for movement.

  She paused mid-step. "Oh, that's why you're so small."

  "Yeah, I wanted to start as soon as I could." I hopped over a twisted root sticking out of the mud. "What about you?"

  "I'ma first timer," Winnie said proudly. "But my clan is big into the adventuring. Me da and me uncle were very, very excited to get me in here. They spent time in the Sea of Trees and said it was one of the most spectacular dungeons in the whole wide world. Proper massive trees, monsters the size of barns, pools deep enough to drown a damn giant. So, they got me a ticket to this training class. Said if I was gonna start anywhere, it oughta be here."

  She grinned at me, wide and earnest. Her teeth flashed bright tin when she did. Dwarven adventurers liked to coat their teeth in the metal of whatever rank they held. It wasn't fashion, it was identity. A quiet, shining declaration of who they were. I had known quite a few dwarves in my last life, and I always loved that about them.

  Winnie beamed, adding, "And I also heard Greta was a great teacher. Turns out, they were right. It's been awesome!"

  Greta pretended she wasn’t listening but kept smiling to herself as she walked ahead, boot tapping the mud lightly as if testing the ground, even though she didn’t actually need to.

  I remembered why I liked dwarves so much. Even when they were rude, the kindness underneath stayed solid. Honor meant more to them than politeness. Family meant more than pride. Not every dwarf fit that mold, sure, but most did, and most dwarves were generous souls who liked you if you showed them yourself honestly.

  The bog stretched endlessly in front of us, mist rolling like soft breath over the stagnant pools. Somewhere under the surface, tiny bubbles rose where creatures hid. The whole place felt like it was waiting, quietly, for us to take one wrong step.

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  Winnie glanced at me again as we walked. "So, runt, what'd you do in other life?"

  "I was a wizard," I said.

  She stopped for half a second, eyes widening. "Really now? And you thought punching things was a better idea?"

  "Yeah," I said. "I think punching things is the way I want to go in this life."

  Greta overheard that and barked out a laugh. "You were a wizard, runt? That's laughable. But honestly, you seem like you're more... well... runt-shaped for the martial path anyway."

  She slowed down a little and glanced back at me. "What do you know about the martial path versus the magic path?"

  "I know you can choose the martial path if you're born with magic," I said. "But you can't choose the magic path if you're born without it."

  "Yeah," Greta said, "but if you choose to go martial with magic still in your body, you're gonna wake up to a rude awakening. You gotta cut out your magic. Doesn't matter if you like it or not. You can't have both."

  I nodded. "I know that. Luckily for me, I was born without magic in this life."

  Greta gave a low whistle. "That's unbelievably rare. I think I've only ever heard of, like, four magic users who reincarnated without magic. And that includes you. Makes sense why you're on this path if you got no choice but still want to be an adventurer."

  "Yeah," I said softly. "I think it's the path for me. Adventure and knowledge is what I seek, so..."

  My words trailed off, and I slipped into my thoughts.

  In my mind, I said to myself, Good job, past Azolo. You did a good thing without even realizing it. You set up a vault the way all those paranoid idiots in the past did, because there was a chance you'd end up without magic. Yes, you made it an extreme death trap, but at least it's there, and you know how to get into it. Probably.

  I paused in my thoughts. Did I remember all of those traps? That would be another problem entirely. I knew where the vault was, but I wasn't sure if it had been buried under civilization or swallowed by the passing of time.

  Still, I was pretty certain I remembered most of the traps. It was one of those projects from my more paranoid years in my past life, when I decided I needed a vault to access my other vaults if I was reincarnated without magic. Then I realized that meant it needed to be the most secure vault of them all.

  So, I trapped it until even dragons would have complained. I’d gotten into a few dragon hoards before, and honestly, those were easier.

  I frowned a little. She was probably still around. I should probably go see her in the future… but she might still be upset about the incident.

  Greta pushed ahead, waving us onward. We left the thicker mud and moved toward the trees, checking every hollow, rot-pocket, and downed trunk we passed. I knelt beside one messy pool, stuck my hand into the dark water, and felt around until my fingers brushed something slimy. I pulled up a snail the size of my palm, its shell mottled brown and wet.

  It looked at me with the slow, offended rage only a snail could manage. Then it bit me. Hard. Or… hard for a Tin ranked snail. It barely even dented my skin.

  "Really?" I asked it.

  It tried again. I crushed it between my fingers and tossed it aside. "Biter Snail."

  Winnie was elbow-deep in another hollow, muttering, "If something bites me in here, I'm burning the whole bog down. Not that I care about the bites, biter snails suck. I crushed like seven of them already." She yanked her arm free, shaking off muck. "False alarm. Just mud and a bug the size of my thumb."

  We checked another three hollows, two puddles, and a sagging log that smelled aggressively like rot. Nothing.

  Then, from a little ways off, Winnie shouted, "Runt! I found one!"

  I turned as she held something up triumphantly. A tiny snail, acorn-sized and pale green, wriggled between her fingers. As it struggled, it left behind a faint shimmering purple trail.

  She grinned wide enough to flash every bit of tin in her teeth. "See? It's purple. It's a purple snail. I win, runt!"

  "We weren't competing," I said. "I thought we were doing our own quests."

  "We are always competing!" she declared. "I'm a dwarf and me name is Winnie! I'm always here to win!"

  Winnie was right. She was a dwarf through and through, and they took their names seriously. And I did lose. I didn’t realize that was what was going to happen today, but she was right.

  She jogged over to me, practically bouncing. "All right, Runt, I'll help you find yours."

  "Really?" I asked.

  "Yeah, of course," she said. "That's what friends are for."

  "We're friends?" I asked.

  "Of course we are Runt!" she said, and then she headbutted me.

  My vision flashed white as I fell backward, grabbing the side of my head where she'd hit me. "Thanks, Winnie. Appreciate it," I groaned. I tried to stand, wobbled, then just sat back down.

  Greta laughed from ahead. "You're the one who chose to be friends with a dwarf. You should have been prepared for that."

  "You're right," I answered, still rubbing my head.