Wilona slipped the ring onto her finger and felt... nothing. Well, that was a letdown. Whatever magic this thing held, it must be some kind of passive effect that didn’t make itself immediately obvious. She could try to figure it out, but honestly? She’d rather let it sit there and kick in when it mattered.

  She glanced down at her clothes—coated in mud, soaked through, and clinging to her like a second, much filthier skin. Should she laugh or cry? A bar of soap was buried somewhere in her bag, but then again, so was a pouch of charcoal dust. Why the hell did she even have that? The only thing that came to mind was... toothpaste? That didn’t make sense. Did it?

  Shaking away the thought, she slung her bag over her shoulder and eyed the murky water. No sign of fish. No sign of movement. The gar from earlier had probably left, which meant it was safe. Probably.

  Leeches, bacteria, parasites—all still very much a thing, though. Not exactly safe. But maybe that’s what the [Ring of Resistance] was for? The name sure sounded like it had some built-in immunity to the grossest parts of swamp life.

  Wading through waist-high water sucked. Wilona had never realized just how exhausting moving through a swamp could be. At least her satchel stayed dry. Silver linings. No sign of leeches yet, which was also a win, but she wasn’t about to get too hopeful.

  Then came the rocks. After the second time she nearly ate shit, she decided to stick to the walls. Now, every time she tripped, she grabbed an exposed tree root, steadied herself, and kept going. The water was still, no currents to fight against, which helped, but it was murky as hell. And probably teeming with disease.

  Something moved.

  Wilona’s grip on her spear tightened. Whatever was in there, she wouldn’t last long against it in the water. And in a fantasy world? Who even knew what kind of swamp horrors could exist?

  Not sticking around to find out.

  She hurled her satchel over the ledge, hoping it landed on solid ground, then grabbed the nearest root and hauled herself up. It was an effort and a half, but with adrenaline fueling her muscles and panic snapping at her heels, she scrambled onto dry land.

  A sharp sting shot through her palm. She hissed in pain, flipping her hand over to inspect the damage—a tiny drop of red against the brown mud coating her skin. Great. Just great. Infection was a death sentence out here. But the [Ring of Resistance] had to help, right?

  “It has to be that,” she muttered, needing to believe it. “Why else would it be given to me after I got the survivalist profession?” A single infection could be fatal out here. “Yeah. It makes sense. A magical ring that prevents that kinda thing. Totally logical. Yep.”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  She also had a swamp-themed recipe book from earlier, which seemed oddly specific. Everything she was getting pointed to survival in this godforsaken place.

  Wilona trudged forward through the drier parts of the swamp, cursing herself for not taking this route from the start. Sure, the plants were annoying, mosquitoes were everywhere, and sometimes the ground turned into a slippery mess of loose soil, but at least there weren’t water monsters trying to kill her.

  Naturally, she jinxed herself.

  Because of course she did.

  She froze. A massive snake slithered through the mud.

  Slithered? Crawled? Whatever. It was big. Too big. She couldn’t see its full length, but if she had to guess, it was at least twice as long as she was tall. Its head was an unsettling, malformed circle, and its jagged scales looked more like armor than skin. A forked tongue flickered out, trembling before vanishing behind lipless jaws.

  Wilona’s grip tightened on her spear. She’d seen videos of people grabbing snakes by the neck in the Everglades. She’d also seen videos of those same snakes thrashing violently, fangs bared. And looking at this one’s scales? Yeah. No.

  Detour it was.

  She backed away, keeping her eyes on the snake, praying it had no interest in her. Hopefully.

  Still, paranoia gnawed at her. Every few steps, she glanced back, half-expecting it to be silently stalking her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Nothing.

  Somehow, that was worse.

  The land split ahead, forcing her to cross another stretch of water. Great. Just great.

  No choice. Swallowing her fear, she stepped in, wading as fast as she could. Every ripple sent her heart hammering. Her mind spun with images of unseen creatures lunging from the depths, coiling around her legs, dragging her under.

  Nothing happened.

  Still, she stuck her tongue out at the water before moving on. Take that.

  Then she stopped.

  “…Why am I even walking?”

  She’d started moving to get away from the spot she woke up in, but now? “…Shelter. I should find shelter.”

  As if in response, a quest notification popped up.

  [New Quest! - Finding Shelter]

  [Quest Type: Encouragement]

  [Rewards: Cub Scout Survival Book]

  ["Your journey into this new world begins here! And unless you're a nomad who prefers to move from spot to spot, you're gonna need a place you can call home. Find something—a nook, a flat piece of land, or the hollow stump of a tree—and turn it into your house!"]

  “…Cub Scout Survival Book,” she muttered. It was giving her books from Earth?

  “Can I choose which books I get?” she asked the sky.

  …No answer.

  Well, that was an answer in itself. If she could pick, she would’ve been offered a choice back in her first quest. Sucked, but what could she do?

  She kept moving.

  The sun kept moving, too.

  Noon came, turning the air stifling, the humidity thick and oppressive. Birds sang. Frogs croaked. Time blurred.

  Afternoon rolled in, and Wilona was ready to scream. Just how big was this damn swamp? It felt like she’d been walking forever, and her legs ached with every step.

  As evening fell, panic settled in.

  She was losing sunlight. Still no shelter.

  Under the canopy of a massive tree, she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back frustrated tears. “No, no. Everything is fine,” she whispered. “I just need to… use magic? But how do I do that?”

  She inhaled deeply. Magic—what was it? On TV, it had systems, rules, but at its core… it just happened. A caster willed the elements to obey.

  Wilona opened her palm, picturing a sphere of light floating above it.

  Pain shot through her hand. She winced—oh. Right. The wound.

  With a sigh, she opened her status screen to check.

  She blinked.

  Tried again.

  This time, with open eyes.

  A tiny orb of light flickered to life above her palm.

  Holy shit.

  With that, she pressed forward through the night. Eventually, she found a hollow tree stump, wasted no time diving in, and ignored her quest bar. Rewards could wait.

  She summoned her light again to check her surroundings.

  A skeleton sat beside her.

  She screamed.