"Who am I?"

"Where am I?"

"What am I doing?"

Young Master Gaven, who had just opened his eyes, looked at his surroundings with a vacant expression, his mind a blank slate. Everything seemed incredibly foreign, yet somehow faintly familiar.

The next second, a flood of memories surged forth, those of his past life and this one.

Zhang You, Gaven.

These two names tangled in his mind, intertwining like a knotted mess, indistinguishable from one another.

In fashionable terms, he was a traveler through time.

After spending twenty-five ordinary years on Earth, he yearned for some excitement, hoping to be the hero who saves the damsel in distress.

Instead of winning the fair maiden's heart, however, he was stabbed to death by a group of knife-wielding teenagers, not even out of their mid-teens.

Then, he traversed to Felen, into Gaven's body.

The starting point was hellish. At that time, Gaven had been plotted against by his own brother and had become a slave of the Santarin Association.

Utilizing the traveler's advantages and enduring hardships, he grew into a Legendary Warrior. Just as he was prepared to make his mark, the Arcane Catastrophe brought about by the gods' strife descended upon him.

The collapsing Magic Network tore through the sky, split the earth, and shattered everything Gaven was familiar with, everything he held dear.

From that moment on, Gaven decided to wager everything to prevent this calamity.

For this purpose, he did not hesitate to devise a rebirth plan, persuading the Moon Goddess Sulun to borrow the high-level Divine Artifact, the Tears of Sulun, in an attempt to activate the Star Moon Gate and start its time-travel ability, to return to the moment he arrived in this world.

Whether it was because the time travel surpassed the capabilities of the Star Moon Gate or because his own origins were too special was unknown.

The Star Moon Gate exploded on the spot, and the flow of time was completely disrupted.

His Soul Consciousness was not sent back to young Gaven's body, but to Zhang You as a middle school student. Due to its protective function, the Tears of Sulun sealed his powerful soul, including most of his memories.

Even with the main consciousness steeped in slumber, the impact on his personality was substantial. He maintained a firm belief that this world contained Magic and miraculous Strength, and his self-taught fighting abilities were the evident proof.

Eventually, he developed an irresistible obsession with Psychic Powers, teaching himself Psychic Control and Psychic Blast. This prematurely awakened the Legendary Warrior's slumbering soul, which was too much for his body to handle, especially since that world offered no Magic Power to support his physiological tuning.

Ultimately, he succeeded, executing a Psychic Blast that ended up killing himself.

The Tears of Sulun lived up to its reputation as a high-order Divine Artifact of the Moon Goddess. Even with such a significant deviation, it managed to adjust itself, putting things right by pulling his soul back to Felen and into Gaven's body once again.

He just didn't know what year it was now.

"Nort Knight Cavalry! Follow me into battle!" A vigorous female voice thundered across the sky, followed by the intense sound of galloping horses approaching.

Gaven hurried to his feet, scrambling to the top of the castle wall, and saw a figure of bold grace. He couldn't see her face, only her back—a silhouette that was as familiar as ever. Only her visor was visible, her fiery red hair modestly tied with a blue ribbon into a butterfly knot at the end.

Behind her rode twelve knights in an arrowhead formation, charging fiercely toward three distant trebuchets.

Gaven's earlier questions had now been answered.

The Year of the Giant Serpent, the eighth day of the second set of ten days in deep winter.

That's according to Felen's way of saying it, but in terms of Earth, it's the Valley Calendar year 1359, January 18th.

The timing was neither good nor bad.

Good, because relative to the last time he had traveled through time, he had already been sold as a slave to the Santarin Association.

Bad, of course, compared to a return to the womb, or to infancy. If it had been back to that time, he would have had plenty of time.

It was while Gaven was sorting out the timeline.

A new change occurred in the battle outside the city.

Hundreds of small creatures, only half the height of an adult, crawled up from the ground, rushing towards the gates of Nort Castle in a disorganized swarm.

These pointy-faced, big-nosed, red-eyed creatures were known as Goblins, nicknamed "little fools," and were the most numerous and annoying monsters in Felen.

They were selfish and malicious, with an uncanny ability to breed and thrive nearly everywhere.

This was an overt scheme by the Goblin Tribe, taking advantage of the Nort Knight Cavalry's sortie to attempt to destroy their siege engines, to seize the opportunity to capture the gate.

With their simple-minded little brains, the Goblins couldn't have come up with such a complex tactic on their own; this was the handiwork of the bigger Goblin Chief behind them.

As Gaven ran toward the city gate, he checked his physical condition.

A trebuchet shot had just landed not far from him, and a stray piece of shrapnel had struck toward him.

Although he had blocked it with his wooden shield, he was knocked down and hit his head against the city wall, which knocked him out.

Besides a slight concussion, the most severe injury was to his shield-bearing left arm, probably a fractured bone; moving it caused pain, and the wooden shield had long since flown out of grasp, whereabouts unknown.

Reaching to his waist, he felt his combat belt stuffed full. At least three bottles of Healing Minor Injuries potions were present, which gave him considerable reassurance.

He immediately drank one bottle of the Healing Minor Injuries potion, and his injuries felt much better; at least the agonizing pain disappeared, leaving only a tingling sensation—this was the miraculous aspect of Felen's healing potions. They might not cure instantly, but they could restore a person considerably on the spot.

He pulled off a strip of cloth and wrapped and reinforced the fracture site. Then he picked up another wooden shield and strapped it to his left arm.

An abandoned hand ax.

A long spear carelessly tossed aside.

A sharp pig slaughtering knife.

All were quickly scooped up by Gaven.

By the time he reached the gate, he was already thoroughly armed to the teeth.

And a squad of the Nort Militia was already there, waiting in strict formation.

The one leading them, upon seeing whom, anyone couldn't help but silently praise the figure's commendable stature.

Now at sixteen, Gaven stood 1.7 meters tall, rather uncommon for his age, but in front of the other person, he was undoubtedly a little shorty, only barely reaching their chest and having to tilt his neck to look up at them.

"Young Master Gaven, why have you come down here? Hurry to the city wall," the valiant figure said, "those Goblins will be upon us any moment."

The full suit of heavy armor only added to the imposing sense, making the person seem as unmovable as a mountain, but there was a discordant feeling as seismic as when mountains crumble when they spoke.

Because it was her, not him, and her voice was as crisp as that of an oriole.

If you only heard her voice, you might think she was a young girl of seventeen or eighteen.

But Gaven was used to it, because he knew that not only did she sound like a young girl, she also looked like one, even more delicate and perfect than most girls. A certain internet term suited her perfectly — Golden Barbie.

"Don't forget, I am also a member of the Nort Militia!" Gaven exclaimed passionately, looking every bit the inspired and hot-blooded youth.

But with a shield in one hand and a long spear in the other, he adopted the most standard pose to brace for impact.

People around him automatically made space for him.

Only because he was the primary heir to the castle, the current lord of the castle, Rogan Nuote, was his half-brother from the same father.

Golden Barbie Nola had no time to worry about Gaven now because the Goblins were already within striking distance, clutching their huge battle axes and assuming a defensive posture, shouting loudly, "Don't be afraid, everyone! They're just a bunch of foolish Goblins; just keep thrusting like we do in training, non-stop."

In the midst of the cacophony, those green-skinned little ones flooded in through the wide-open gates.

When they didn't have the advantage in numbers, Goblins were known for their cowardice, and the slightest scare would make them turn tail and run.

But when they had an overwhelming numerical advantage, they were notoriously vicious and would hesitate at nothing to throw themselves into the fray, even if they faced an enemy several times their size.

The latter was now the case.

Behind the castle gates stood only a dozen or so militiamen, whereas the Goblins formed a dense mass that packed the entire gate.

"Fire arrows."

Three or four dozen Nort Militia stood up on the castle walls and sent volleys of arrows raining down.

The Goblins crowded outside the gate became living targets, with more than a dozen falling instantaneously.

The Goblins behind, ignoring everything else, continued to surge forward, stepping on their fallen comrades. Even those who weren't dead were unlikely to survive under the trample of so many large feet.

"Raise shields, thrust spears."

At the command, the Nort Militia at the gate sprang into action, including Gaven.

He was neither a Legendary Warrior nor a world champion fighter now; he was just a member of the Nort Militia, and doing his job was all that mattered.

"Retrieve spears, and thrust again."

The shield-bearing Nort Militia couldn't see their targets; they simply had to follow commands, repeatedly retracting and thrusting their spears.

Gaven, unlike the ordinary Nort Militia, added a twisting move before retracting his spear.

It might have seemed like an insignificant action, but it was profound.

It not only inflicted rending damage to the target but also made it easier to withdraw the spear.

The Goblins that surged into the gate were forced to swarm towards the middle, where Nola stood.

This Golden Barbie had at least two people's width of space to either side, almost like a miniature gate.

But it was a grave mistake for the Goblins to charge her, assuming she was an easy pass.

She was the greatest killer in the area, and when her giant axe swung into action, even the Nort Militia beside her grew fearful.

Bundling two or three Goblins together wasn't enough to withstand a single swing of her axe.

The agility of Golden Barbie also exceeded the Goblins' expectations.

Several who tried to sneak past her were kicked back by her firm foot, one by one.

They crashed into their comrades, falling to the ground, unable to get up for quite some time.

The one used as a football even died on the spot.

The hundreds of Goblins couldn't break through the defensive line formed by just a dozen Nort Militiamen.

The archers on the castle walls were racing against time, continuously firing arrows to inflict more casualties.

It was only a matter of time before this wave of Goblins was wiped out here.

Wuu wuu wuu!!!

Accompanied by waves of wolf howls.

Twenty or thirty wild wolves leapt out from the Goblin Troops, crouching low, mixed in, using the Goblins as shields against the arrows, only revealing themselves when they were close to the Militia's defensive line, striking unexpectedly.

With their astonishing leaping power, they vaulted right over the heads of the Militia and attacked from behind.

Goblins were renowned as wolf tamers, a natural talent they possessed from birth.

Various types of wolves would hunt in packs with them, and some even became Goblin mounts, forming the Goblin Wolf Cavalry.

With the enemy at their backs, the previously orderly Militia line instantly fell into disarray.

Some continued their assault on the Goblins, while others circled back to deal with the wild wolves.

The moment the wolf howls sounded, Gaven had tilted his long spear diagonally.

A wild wolf had chosen to leap over him.

Tragedy ensued.

The wolf impaled itself upon its own momentum, gutting itself open.

Stinking blood poured all over Gaven.

Gaven, as if unfeeling, discarded his spear, drew the sword at his side, and stabbed it into the ground near his ankle.

The longsword hadn't even fully descended when a huge head lunged forward, its gaping maw clearly aiming to bite Gaven's ankle and pull him to the ground.

But the attack had been anticipated, so it followed in its kin's footsteps.

With half its head chopped off by the sword, it died on the spot.

Gaven then sidestepped half a step and kicked out with lightning speed.

A wolf that had just bitten another Militiaman's ankle and had not yet exerted force, howled pitifully as it released its grip and lay immobile on the ground.

Gaven's kick was not haphazard; he aimed precisely for the wolf's most vulnerable spine, breaking it with a single kick.