Chapter 1 - Four Lives Four Worlds

“Who am I?”“Where am I?”

“What am I doing?”

Young Master Gaven, who had just opened his eyes, wore a blank expression.

His mind was void, and the scene in front of him was utterly unfamiliar, yet tinged with a hint of familiarity.

The next second, a flood of memories—of past and present lives—surged forth like a tide.

Zhang You, Gaven.

These two names tangled in his mind, like a chaotic mess of yarn, indistinguishable from one another.

In trendy terms, he was a time-traveler.

Having lived an ordinary twenty-five years on Earth, he had, on a whim, attempted a daring hero’s rescue, seeking a bit of glory.

But not only did he fail to win the beauty, he was instead stabbed to death by a few teenagers with knives.

Then he crossed over to Felen, into the body of Gaven.

It was a start straight from hell; at that time, Gaven had been schemed against by his own brother and had become a slave of the Santarin Association.

Leveraging the advantages of a time-traveler, he overcame myriad hardships and grew into a Legendary Warrior, ready to achieve great things—when the Arcane Catastrophe, unleashed by the strife of the gods, struck.

The collapsing Magic Network shattered the skies, rent the earth, and obliterated all that Gaven knew and loved.

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

For this, he was willing to devise a rebirth plan, convincing the Moon Goddess Suren to lend him the High-grade Divine Artifact, the Tears of Sulun, in an attempt to activate the Star Moon Gate and start its time-travel capability to return to the moment he arrived in this world.

It was unclear whether this traversal of time exceeded the capabilities of the Star Moon Gate, or if his origins were too unique.

The Star Moon Gate exploded on the spot, utterly disrupting the flow of time.

His Soul Consciousness wasn’t transported to Gaven’s youthful body, but rather back to his middle school days as Zhang You.

As a protective measure, the Tears of Sulun sealed away his overpoweringly strong soul, including most of his memories.

Even with his primary consciousness in a dormant state, the impact on his personality was significant.

He remained firm in his belief that this world contained Magic and wondrous powers, and that his self-taught fighting skills were proof of this.

Eventually, he became obsessed with Psychic Power, teaching himself Psychic Control and Psychic Blast.

Unfortunately, these talents awakened the dormant soul of the Legendary Warrior, exceeding the body’s capacity—after all, in that world, there was no Magic Power to reinforce the body with Harmony.

In the end, he succeeded—succeeded in performing a Psychic Blast that shook himself to death.

The Tears of Sulun, a High-Order Artifact of the Moon Goddess, adjusted itself after such a significant deviation, restoring order from chaos and pulling his soul back to Felen, returning it to Gaven’s body.

But it was unclear which year it was now.

“Nort Knight Cavalry!

Follow me into battle!” A spirited female voice pierced the sky, followed swiftly by the sound of thunderous galloping.

Gaven quickly rolled over and climbed to his feet, crouched at the top of the city wall, and saw a valiant figure, not her face, only her back, armored and with fiery red hair simply tied by a blue ribbon into a butterfly knot.

She led twelve Cavalry in a V-formation, charging fiercely toward three distant catapults.

Gaven’s earlier questions were now answered.

It was the Year of the Giant Serpent, the eighth day of the second ten days of deep winter.

In terms of Felen’s terminology—translated to Earth’s terms—it was January 18th, 1359, by the Valley Calendar.

The timing was neither good nor bad.

It was good compared to the last time he had been sold as a slave to the Santarin Association.

The bad part, of course, was compared to going back to his mother’s womb or a toddler’s age.

If he had returned to that time, he would have had much more time on his hands.

As Gaven was sorting out the timeline, the battlefield outside the city saw a new development.

Hundreds of small creatures, half the height of an adult, rose from the ground, chaotically rushing towards the Nort Castle gates.

These sharp-nosed, large-nosed creatures with red eyes were called Goblins, known as little fools—they were the most numerous and most annoying creatures in Felen.

They were selfish and vile, capable of reproduction and infesting every corner.

It was an open conspiracy by the Goblin Tribe.

While the Nort Castle Cavalry Squad was striking out, attempting to destroy their siege equipment, they took the chance to seize the gate.

With the Goblins’ stupid little brains, they couldn’t devise such a complex tactic—this was orchestrated by the Hobgoblin Chief behind them.

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

A catapult stone had just landed not far from him, and a piece of shrapnel heading his way was met by a wooden shield, which knocked him down and slammed him against the city wall, knocking him unconscious.

Aside from a slight concussion in his head, the most severe injury was to his left arm, which held the shield—likely a broken bone that hurt every time he moved.

The wooden shield had flown off somewhere.

He felt around his waist, where his Combat Belt was stuffed full.

He had at least three bottles of Healing Potion for minor injuries, which comforted him.

Taking out a bottle, he drank it down, and immediately, his wounds felt much better.

At least the piercing pain was gone, leaving only a tingling sensation—such were the wonders of Felen’s Healing Potions, not exactly a cure, but at least offering considerable on-the-spot relief.

He quickly wrapped and secured his broken arm with a long piece of cloth, grabbed a wooden shield, and strapped it to his left arm.

An abandoned hand axe.

A carelessly discarded Long Spear.

A Sharp Pig Slaughtering Knife.

Gaven armed himself with all of them in passing.

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

And there, a Nort Militia was lined up, ready for battle.

Everyone who saw the leader couldn’t help but silently praise his formidable stature.

Gaven, now sixteen, stood at 1.7 meters, exceptional among peers.

But in the presence of the other, he was undoubtedly diminutive, barely reaching his chest and having to crane his neck to look up.

“Young Master Gaven, why have you come down?

Quickly, go back to the city wall—the Goblins will be upon us any moment.”

The fully armored figure added to his impression of solidity, making him seem like a mountain, though when he spoke, it gave off a jarringly earth-shattering tone.

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

If one were to only hear the voice, they might assume it was a girl of seventeen or eighteen.

Yet Gaven was accustomed to this because he knew full well that not only did she have the voice of a young girl, she looked the part too—more delicate than most and with even more perfect features.

An internet term used to describe her couldn’t be more fitting—Vajra Barbie.

“Don’t forget, I’m a member of the Nort Militia too!” Gaven exclaimed passionately, looking every bit the inspired and fervent youth.

But with a shield in one hand and a long spear in the other, he adopted a stance that couldn’t be more quintessential of preparation to meet the charge.

The people around him automatically made space for him.

Just because he was the first in line to inherit this castle, the current owner of Nort Castle, Rogan Nort, was his half-brother from the same father.

Vajra Barbie Nola had no time to concern herself with Gaven because the Goblins were almost upon them, clenched giant battle axes in their grasp, taking up a posture to receive a charge as well, and she shouted high, “Don’t be scared, everyone.

These are just some dumb Goblins, and we just need to keep jabbing like we do in training.”

Amidst a cacophony of clamor, those little green-skinned creatures surged through the wide-open gates.

When outnumbered, Goblins were notoriously cowardly, a little intimidation and they’d turn tail and flee.

But when they had sheer numbers on their side, they were infamous for their ferocity, willing to throw themselves at enemies several times their size without hesitation.

The current situation was the latter.

Behind the castle gates, only a dozen or so militia stood, but outside was a crushing crowd, packing the entire gate to the brim.

“Loose arrows.”

Three or four dozen Nort Militia rose to their feet on the battlements, raining volleys of arrows down.

The Goblins hemmed outside the gates became living targets, with a good dozen or more falling instantly.

The Goblins behind them, heedless, continued their advance, trampling over their fallen brethren; the ones not yet dead would probably not survive under the relentless stomping of heavy feet.

“Raise shields, jab spears.”

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

At this moment, he was neither a Legendary Warrior nor a world fighting champion but simply a member of the Nort Militia, doing his job.

“Pull back your spears, and stab again.”

The militia hiding behind their shields couldn’t see their targets; they merely followed the command, repetitively pulling back their spears and jabbing forward.

Compared to a regular Nort Militiaman, Gaven had an additional twist before pulling back his spear.

It seemed like an inconsequential action, but it was deceptive in its complexity.

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

The Goblins pouring into the gate were pushed towards the center, where Nola stood.

At least two body widths cleared on either side of this Vajra Barbie, she appeared to create a narrow entrance.

But when the Goblins charged close, they realized they had made a fatal mistake.

This was indeed the site’s deadliest killer; when her giant axe swung into action, even the Nort Militia beside her were terrified.

The Goblins could be bundled two or three together, and still wouldn’t match a single blow of her axe.

Vajra Barbie’s agility also far surpassed the Goblins’ expectations.

Several that tried to slip by her got a swift kick for their troubles, flying back into their companions, all collapsing and struggling to stand.

Those treated like soccer balls met with instant death.

Hundreds of Goblins simply couldn’t break through the defense of a dozen or so Nort Militia.

The Militia archers on the towers sent arrows flying down as fast as possible, maximizing the carnage.

Eliminating this wave of Goblins was only a matter of time.

Wuu wuu wu!!

With a series of resounding wolf howls, The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the N(o)vᴇl(F)ire.nᴇt

two or three dozen wild wolves leapt out from the Goblin troops.

They had been crouching low, mixing in with the rest, using the Goblins as shields, only revealing themselves near the Militia lines to launch their attack.

Leveraging their impressive leaping ability, they bounded clear over the Militia’s heads and attacked from behind.

Goblins were renowned for their wolf-taming, an innate talent they possessed.

All kinds of Wolf Class beasts would hunt with them, some even serving as mounts, forming the formidable Goblin Wolf Cavalry.

Faced with enemies from behind, the previously disciplined Militia lines quickly devolved into chaos.

Some continued to confront the Goblins while others turned to deal with the wolves.

The moment the wolf howls rang out, Gaven had cocked his spear at an angle.

A wild wolf happened to pick him as a leapfrog target.

Tragedy struck.

The wolf used its momentum in a jump to impale itself, gut ripped open upon impact.

Rancid blood splattered all over Gaven.

Undeterred, Gaven dropped the spear, drew his sword, and with a swift motion, struck down toward his ankle.

Before the blade fully descended, a massive head lunged forth, its jaws agape, clearly intent on clamping down on Gaven’s ankle and pulling him down.

But its move was anticipated, thus it met the same fate as its brethren.

Half its head was chopped off by the sword, dying instantly.

A swift sidestep followed, and Gaven’s right leg shot out like lightning.

A wolf that had just gripped an ankle and was about to exert force yelped, released its bite, and collapsed, unable to move.

Gaven’s kick was no trivial matter; he aimed right for the wolf’s most vulnerable spot, its spine, shattering it with his kick.