I’m Not a Piece of Shit

Chapter 4: How Much Would It Hurt If It Hit?

BloSe is a game that adopts a linear structure where simply clearing the main quests naturally boosts your level as a bonus.

Although the game boasts a vast number of side quests, most of the rewards revolve around honorary achievements or consumable items. Many of these items become meaningless even as soon as you pass the leveling phase.

My current level is 16. Here’s what I’ve done so far:

I went to designated locations to defeat a set number of monsters or collect specific monster byproducts. 

I gathered quest items from collection objects scattered around the field. I escorted NPCs safely to their destinations.

Of course, all of this was wrapped in a semblance of a story for added immersion, but the essence of RPG story quests doesn’t deviate much from this formula.

At level 10, I gained the opportunity to unlock or enhance a new attribute.

Attributes are divided into two broad categories: elemental attributes and combat attributes.

Elemental attributes allow you to imbue your attacks with specific elements or acquire new skills suited to that element. 

Combat attributes, on the other hand, enhance your character’s abilities or concepts with unique options such as counterattacks or critical hits.

The most typical strategy is to strengthen an elemental attribute that complements your primary weapon up to level 3 and then pick up combat attributes for balance.

But who am I?

A promising rookie of the wandering mercenary group “Black Raven.”

A master of BloSe in my previous world.

And the strongest Dosa—well, with some dissenting opinions. But I, Seon Dajeong, know the truth.

After progressing through quests, I’ve become fairly accustomed to combat in this virtual reality. 

My memories of game knowledge from the original world are also resurfacing, almost as if by awakening.

The conclusion? The Dosa achieves maximum synergy by combining a variety of attributes.

No objections. Trust me, I know best.

Thus, after choosing the first attribute, Thunderbolt, I added the second: Frostbite.

This elemental attribute grants skills that unleash ice-based attacks, along with several utility techniques.

At level 16, I became eligible to enter the first 4-person party instance dungeon, the “Corrupted Den.”

Despite my relatively efficient pace—almost like a vanguard scout—there was already a sizable crowd at the dungeon entrance.

The competition during questing and gathering in the open world was one thing, but this flood of users during the game’s early launch period was immense.

The channels helped reduce the chaos somewhat, but the game’s popularity was undeniable.

There was no real need for me to form a party.

I needed to confirm if this dungeon aligned with my memories, and if it did, there wouldn’t be any mechanics requiring party members.

Weaving through the crowd, I reached the entrance and made a small hop inside.

Jumping into the entrance—this is a basic etiquette for raids. If you don’t know it, memorize it now.

As soon as I landed inside the instance dungeon, the murmuring noise outside vanished completely. 

Just one step in, and I felt entirely cut off from the world beyond. Of course, a quick backward step would throw me back into the swarm of players.

The Corrupted Den is a standard instance dungeon that drops level 15-restricted primary weapons. 

It features two named bosses and serves as a pseudo-tutorial for party play mechanics in the game.

I breezed past the so-called “mob zone.” There was no need to kill every single monster. I only dealt with those that persisted in trailing me, heading straight for the boss room.

Standing before me was a massive wolf, at least twice my height.

Its fur was tainted with a crimson glow from demonic corruption. Its eyes reflected only bloodthirst, devoid of intelligence, and its sharp fangs gleamed ominously.

This was the first named boss: the Corrupted Guardian Wolf.

From the hazy depths of my memory, I recalled the strategy. This dungeon, a party play tutorial, was designed to train players in aggro management and counterattack mechanics.

Since I was alone, there was no aggro to manage. The task at hand was to respond with precise counters to its attack patterns.

The boss wouldn’t initiate an attack unless I provoked it. That meant I could control the timing of the first strike. Of course, once I entered its detection range, it would engage.

The Curse Blade would hit easily given the wolf’s enormous size. I calculated the opening cycle. First, activate attack skills, then throw the projectile, ensuring the blade lands faster than the skill animation.

For every 10 levels, the number of talismans I could use simultaneously increased by one. At level 16, I could use six. I prepared five talismans: one for Repelling Talisman, two each for Thunderbolt Talisman and Frost Blossom Talisman.

Focusing my mind for a moment, I cautiously tossed the talismans upward. Without a target, they floated gently in the air. Now, I threw the Curse Blade directly at the wolf.

As the blade struck the wolf, it let out a piercing howl, signaling the start of combat. 

Simultaneously, flashes of lightning, bursts of electricity, and icy flowers surged toward the wolf, dealing significant damage.

Enraged, the wolf locked its gaze on me and initiated its first fixed pattern: a charge.

The sight of the massive wolf lunging to tear me apart was undeniably intimidating. If this were real life, I’d probably collapse on the spot, wetting myself in fear.

But here, being bitten wouldn’t kill me—just annoy me a bit.

With steady legs and a calm mind, I calculated the timing: three seconds, two seconds, one second—now!

The Dosa’s counter skill, Shield Talisman, activated just as the wolf’s fangs came surging toward me.

A distinct sound effect signaled the success of my counter. The wolf staggered slightly as it was pushed back a bit.

By now, the talismans I had used earlier were ready to recover. Stacking two of them together, I activated Binding Formation. 

Massive chains, scaled to the size of the monster, sprang from the floating talismans in the air and tightly restrained the wolf’s body.

For a brief moment, I wondered—would this feel oddly suggestive if used in PvP? I shook off the frivolous thought and began chaining combos again. 

Another round of Thunderbolt Talisman and Frost Blossom Talisman.

As the binding effect wore off, the wolf charged at me again. I intercepted it once more with Shield Talisman, whose cooldown had just refreshed, and preemptively threw a talisman behind the wolf for good measure.

I couldn’t block its wide forepaw swing. Instead, I stepped back just enough to narrowly dodge it, and as soon as my attack skills came off cooldown, I unleashed them. 

However, when both Binding Formation and Shield Talisman were on cooldown—

I activated Phantom Shift on the pre-thrown talisman, teleporting behind the wolf.

Counter when possible, dodge by moving, and when all else fails, use mobility or resistance skills.

It was harder than I thought to execute these familiar combat patterns with my own body.

In the past, targeting with a mouse, moving with WASD, and activating skills with 1234 were tasks confined to my hands. 

No matter how intricate the tactics, everything ultimately boiled down to inputs on a keyboard and mouse.

Now, even though my movements were more intense, the breath correction system ensured I wouldn’t get physically tired, and my awareness that this was a game helped keep me calm.

Yet, the sensation of my breath quickening, the exhilarating thrill in my chest—it was undeniable. My brain felt alive, flooded with dopamine and adrenaline.

Attack, counter, attack, bind, attack, dodge—again and again.

At first, my movements felt a little awkward, but before I knew it, they began to flow as naturally as water. 

I could now skillfully dodge even the wolf’s sweeping paw strike by leaning my face back slightly just before it connected. It was a simple maneuver, but one that came with practice.

Mastering this sense of spatial awareness could determine whether I’d later dodge or fail to dodge larger attack patterns.

The wolf’s health was now down to about 5%. Its patterns were predictable: charge, forepaw swipe, and hind-leg cat punch. Against such a repetitive rhythm, there was no chance I’d be hit.

Suddenly, curiosity struck me.

What would it feel like to get hit? How much would it hurt?

I could finish the fight in one more cycle, so I decided to indulge my curiosity a little.

I used Phantom Shift to put some distance between us and stood still.

When the aggro target is far away, the wolf always uses the same pattern. It lowered its massive head and charged straight at me.

And then—its head collided squarely with my stomach.

“Ugh—!”

With an embarrassingly loud cry, I tumbled backward.

It hurts!

My soft, squishy belly wasn’t built to withstand a proper attack!

I quickly regained my senses and rolled to the side, narrowly dodging another charge by a hair’s breadth. Frustration welled up inside me.

“Binding Formation!“

Shouting the skill name with indignation, I chained my attacks to finish off the wolf. With a low groan, it collapsed onto the ground, lifeless.

Revenge for my poor, battered belly.

My remaining health was at about 60%. I’d lost roughly 40% of my HP from taking the charge head-on. 

Of course, the charge pattern was designed to give players ample time to avoid it, but this incident made me acutely aware of the Dosa’s subpar defensive capabilities.

Thus, the first named boss was cleared—with the lingering ache in my stomach as a souvenir.

It wasn’t until later that I learned I could adjust the pain sensitivity settings.