The bartender nearly dropped a bottle when I slammed my hand on the counter and yelled for another round. To her credit, she scrambled quick, fumbling with corks and mugs until three sloshing pints of amber landed in front of us, one for me, two for my favorite ugly old man dwarf.

"For my uncle!" I declared, sliding one toward Gimsen with all the flourish of a stage magician.

He picked it up, sniffed it, and muttered something in that thick, rolling Nordic accent of his, vowels deep and chewy. It felt warm just hearing it again.

Meanwhile, I looked at the non-English speaking girl and was already pointing at Gimsen like explaining pearl before a swine.

"Listen, you know who this is, ya fresh meat lookin' jest?" I told the bartender girl, words spilling out too fast, too heavy, too soaked in ale. "This guy, burp, this dwarf… Is ze number nine, you hear me? Rank #9 on the All-Time Top 50 Players back in PC days, you read the forum post that guy made a few weeks back? They've been calling him 'The Roots of Bloodshed' because he's the one leading the most dangerous guild to their prime."

The girl blinked at me, nodded like she'd heard a hundred such declarations, "Ah… very good player."

Three words, barely strung together, her accent wasn't even close to English.

I didn't stop.

"Username's GimsenTheDwarf, look on the minimap, you'll see, we're in the same guild, burp, and guess what? He always, and I mean always plays dwarf. Every year, every expansion, every update, even when the race was nerfed down to the ground and every playstyle has a better fitting race, my unc's committed."

Another nod followed by one more tiny reply.

"Yes, loyal small man."

I slammed my fist down like I'd won an argument with no one.

"See? Even she knows! You're such a legend."

Gimsen chuckled into his mug, foam sticking to his beard.

"Speaking of," I said, leaning in close and sniffing him, "You got the dwarf race change already, huh? You're at least level 40 to have finished that questline, right? Niceeeeeeeeeee, you're fast."

My innocent explanation of my action was: Dwarves have an distinctive earthy smell by nature, quite similar to the dirt after rain but metallic.

He gave me a knowing squint and loud laughter as I was already spiraling into my own thoughts.

Level 40 was the level threshold when the game opened the door and said, congratulations, you've been through enough, now you can stop being a boring human and its minor speed stat boost.

You could do questlines to unlock Dwarves or Beastmen, small and sturdy, or big and wild. Then, at level 85, Elves and Dark Elves.

And beyond that? So many locked races with different roleplays and perks in so many situations and terrain, so many promises from the devs after years of development, at least that's the PC version, I honestly haven't touched on much of that during the VR Early Access.

But here was the truth: At this level? When everyone's around level 40~50, most people couldn't be bothered to do the questline to change.

Not because the races weren't cool, they were… Dwarves got natural resistance and less sustenance needed, Beastmen had extra sense boost, Elves got mana and terrain-specific tracking perks, bla bla.

But effort didn't always equal reward. Currently, as aforementioned, at at our level, there were still an abundance of contents that will boost your character in way more impactful ways, so the buffs of races were small compared to just grinding levels of classes.

Also… I heard that currently, a lot of players stayed human just to avoid confusion, a guildmate in wolf-ears could look way too much like an NPC in the wrong light, accidental friendly fire happened, a pain in the ass.

So… Main reason's cosmetics, that's why most people did it. For the look, and for the bragging rights, Gimsen's reasoning was branding and personal preference.

"Yash, I'm level 40." That's when he finally leaned back, eyes twinkling, and said in his thick drawl, "If I'm around here, lass, then someone like you, CJS69, ought to be around 80, aye? You've always been good at grinding."

My throat tightened, and he went on before I could fake a cough.

"Saw your name on the raid board yesterday. Surprised me, I never thought you'd make such public noise, showing folk you're a woman, I thought you were real against mixing real identity with game."

The words stuck in my chest.

I managed a weak chuckle, scratching my cheek. I couldn't exactly tell him I'd been stuck at forty-two, babysitting the Sonder girl with her pitiful two-hour sessions, And I definitely couldn't tell him about Tanya squatting my username and fucked me silly when I tried prying her out about it.

So I laughed again, brittle.

"That wasn't me, that's some username squatter. My accounts CJS69Real, the one on the raid board wasn't me… If I find out who it is, I'm going to strangle him or her alive." I emphasized the 'real' like I was proud of it, didn't mention Tanya at all.

He just shook his head, beard rippling, and didn't push.

"So… Uncle." I leaned in, desperate to change the subject. "You were the leader of Destiny, literally the greatest guild ever who could delete any other guild in a month. The legendary GimsenTheDwarf that everyone respect and fear. What happened? Why'd you step down? Who's leading now? You're still here, still playing, so don't tell me it's nothing."

But he did, he shrugged those broad shoulders like it weighed nothing. "It's not that deep."

Then he tilted his head. "You remember my daughter, Tarnisha, aye? You held her on calls once. Wee little thing, you two even waved at each other through video chat."

The memory slapped me warm and fast. Her tiny hands reaching for the webcam, my awkward waving, his laugh echoing through my headset. I nodded hard, grinning despite the alcohol haze.

"Them squishy puffy cheeks on the girl's face…" I giggled.

"Well," he said softly. "A baby boy is coming this time. Name's Evan, expecting him to be 'ere just two months shy of Christmas."

For half a second, I went silent. Then the scream ripped out of me.

"NO WAY!" I slammed my hands on the bar, almost knocking the mugs over, the bartender jumped, exclaiming, "Too excited!" but I didn't notice her.

"You're… oh my god, you're having a son! A baby boy! Evan!" I shrieked again, throwing my arms around him. "I can't believe it! This is insane!"

He just laughed, that booming, deep laugh that made the wood under us feel steady.

"Aye, ynd you'll be at our table for Christmas dinner. Mark it, me wife's taken a likin' to ya as you know, so you could call the little things your cousins."

I shrieked again. I didn't even realize I was crying like an ugly bastard bawling her eyes out, until the awkward twin-tails bartender shoved a rag toward me like I was making a mess.

And for a moment, just one moment, the kind man made me forgot all about Anshur.

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