Transmigrating into a WorldBuilding Game.

So that's how it's done.

Imfrim approached the door of a dwarven house. A square building with plastered walls and a triangular roof.

"Can I really do what I was entrusted to do?" he questioned himself before knocking on the wooden door for a while before he heard the sound of wood being pulled out of it before the door opened.

An old gray bearded dwarf holding a stick looked at him from the door.
"You ran away from home again? Have you finished loathing yourself?" The dwarf said.

Not being able to face him, Imfrim replied with one word "Yes"
A sigh escaped the old dwarf's lips as he felt the need to say something but decided to not.

"Come in,"
"Thank you Father."

Imfrim walked through the door and immediately started walking towards a certain direction. A certain direction that his father knew all too well.

It wasn't long before the door to the house was closed and locked.

"Will you not even eat?" he said with a serious tone.

This tone of voice made Imfrim stop in his footsteps.
His father asked again with the same serious tone "Did you not hear me? I said, "Will you not even eat?"

"How long have you been starving from your runaway and refusal to return home after every lose,"

"Every year, your mother and I are always so worried about how you will pass the annual contest so I ask you"

"Are you not tired at all?!"

"You always work towards being the best smith in the clan yet you keep going and going to the smithery and work yourself without a care for your health,"

"Are you not tired at all?!"

He could still smell the sadness that had enveloped his son, whom he had watched lose time and time again. Though he had always wanted to stop him. He knew that there was nothing else but to keep on encouraging.

But there was a saying in dwarven culture, "A child picks up a hammer and a nail and after he learns how to use it, he becomes a sculptor. If he picks a hammer and an anvil, a smith he is," 

Why did this saying exist? Because dwarves picked up their skill from young and once they had begun their journey with their skill, to convert to another one was close to impossible.

If his son were a rare talent like the legendary craftsman who learnt both the art of crafting and the art of smithing from young then he would have no problem pushing him to pick another part.

"Even if you want to enjoy your craft, can you do so without hurting yourself? Without causing yourself anguish and the feeling of failure?" Tears began to run from  his eyes but they were quickly stopped when he realized that his son had now wrapped his hands around him.

"I'm sorry father, I've always wanted to make you and mother proud but every year, it seems that I only bring disappointment every year so that's why I run, ashamed of bringing nothing else but pity to you,"

Imfrim poured out his inner thoughts while fighting the urge to cry. He then made a zeal in his heart.
"Father, I promise you that this time I'll make sure that you are proud of my achievements,"

It wasn't long when Imfrim had pulled away from his father that the latter said "If that is what you want to do then go and do it,"

"You will be knocked down and broken yes, but what is important is too keep trying until you can get what you want"

Keeping those words in mind, Imfrim did not hesitate to continue walking on the path he was walking before and when he came to the edge of one of the walls, he raised the tile only to reveal a ladder leading to the room underground.