The clearing had grown louder as the minutes ticked down. Five minutes before the spawn of the final phase of today's raid.

Everyone was suddenly the best friend of everyone else, like French, German, and British men on Christmas.

Parties were huddled in tight circles, players patting shoulders, trading potions, giving pre-emptive buffs, tossing encouragements like confetti at a parade.

"You're gonna crit, I can feel it!"

"Don't die this time, idiot."

"Let's clear this and get to sleep!"

Even the shy newbies were chiming in, their timid voices weaving through the air like little sparks of light. It was the strange, feverish energy of people who knew they were about to die horribly, but wanted to go out smiling.

Raid were… Not this serious or intimate in the PC version.

As if being here, knowing that they can feel every inch of pain before having to create an entirely different character had put something in their heart.

I sat hunched on my log, longsword dug into the dirt like a flagpole, watching them all with half-lidded eyes. My stomach was still tight from earlier in the night, but I tried to focus on the familiar rhythm of the raid preamble, compliments, nerves, nake bravado… Sounds all the same after a few hundreds of 'em.

Then I noticed them.

A crowd… No, a whole battalion, about thirty people, moving formation through the scattered camps. And at their head, a woman who looked like she had just stepped out of a fantasy novel.

First, she was tall, like, ridiculously mommyesque.

Short, flame-red hair chopped unevenly like she'd cut it herself with a dagger. Her armor dented and scarred, a trophy collection of hits that would've crushed the spirits of those who saw it on the opposite end of the battlefield.

A shaggy pelt of some animal draped over her shoulders, swinging with every step. And in her hand… Or rather, dragged casually along the ground behind her, was a massive greatsword glowing with runes, the blade so oversized it left a furrow in the dirt as it scraped, deep enough to see the stone beneath.

She was tall, broad-shouldered, flesh full of scars and battlewounds, just cosmetic in this game and can be obtained via ingame mechanics of course, but it fits her aesthetic so much… In ways that made my stomach flutter.

Beautiful, in the kind of way you couldn't put into words, like a storm at sea or a forest fire.

I'd imagine if this woman spank me, I would cum right away… God damn it Cory, why do your mind keep going this way?

I realized, belatedly, that I was staring and drooling. Uh, indeed, yes, ahem, literally drooling with thick bubbly liquids drooping down my shirt. I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve and tried not to look like a hungry stray.

That's when I heard it, one of her party members calling out:

"Olga! Everyone's ready!"

My spine went stiff.

Did he just call her… Olga?

As in that Olga that half the community knows about.

The famous… Infamous? Russian player who'd once made an entire forum thread implode by bashing at three guild leaders in a single comment chain and got her forum account banned.

I had similar controversies, but people despice me because I am politically racist and toxic as an online troll, but she… She was just unfiltered and straight-forward. Which, a lot of people loved her for.

She was the all-time top #20 player worldwide… Nicknamed Heavy Loudmouth, how fitting.

In the PC version, her username was Eolga, because apparently capitalizing an E in front of "Olga" made it intimidating… And to avoid using the same nickname as other people, I see.

She had a reputation like a thunderstorm: destructive, loud, unforgettable.

And her signature? Cursing, she laced "fuck" and "shit" into every other sentence like punctuation, and the word she used most often?

"Let's get this fucking bastard, people, ooraah!"

"Ooraah!"

It was bastard.

She said it so much it was like her personal brand.

I could still remember that clip where she led an assault on a dungeon boss while screaming, "Come at me, you bastard! Die, bastard! God damn bastard, stupid bastard, shitass bastard!" thirty times in a row.

You know that joke about how young people try to flex that they learned a fun fact by randomly telling it with no context? Like how every planet can fit between the moon and Earth, and how only 5% of the ocean is mapped? Yeah, this felt like it, but Olga was genuinely just… Love English swear words, I think.

And now here she was, first time I see her in VR, and she actually looks the part of her personality…

She could call me a bastard any time she wants though, teehee.

Ahem.

I swallowed hard, my hands tightening around my sword hilt. Should I… talk to her? Try to approach? As in like, asking to join her raid party, and maybe get a connection because we never really crosspathed before.

Or would that just get me crushed under her massive sword and a barrage of Russian-accented swears?

Before I could decide, the ground beneath us shuddered.

The forest went silent, the air tightening with a pressure I could feel even through the headset.

The Titan of Ashen Bark was waking.

And Olga—Heavy Loudmouth herself—grinned like she'd been waiting her whole life for this. She swung her shoulders, adjusted the pelt on her back, and with a guttural growl she dragged that colossal greatsword into a charge.

"ALRIGHT!" she roared. "LET'S FUCKING GO!"

Her thirty warriors roared with her, surging forward like a tide of steel and fire, they led the charge as the largest party in the raid, with most other just consisting of 3~8 people at best, even when co-oping together, largest one was only ~20.

I sat frozen for half a second longer, heart pounding, before stumbling to my feet. Oh god, oh hot damn… I was really about to raid alongside her, this oughta be interesting.

I wonder if I can "Help players in need" to work towards my Apprentice Knight thingy here?

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