Chapter 1: A New World Begins by the Side of the Villain Boss

"Sir Knight, are you awake?"

Cyril Adrian lay flat on the cold, hard wooden bed, his eyes weary as he gazed at the dimly visible dark brown spruce ceiling in the dim light.

He clearly remembered that he should have been in the game "Path of Radiance," lying in the elven catacombs, with a magic stone slab engraved with ancient elven script above his head, glowing with a soft blue light like a river of stars in the night sky.

How did he end up in such a place after just a brief nap?

His body ached in waves, and he felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat, gasping for breath in small, shallow breaths, as if he were truly suffering from a fever. His mind was a muddled mess, making him want to close his eyes and sleep deeply.

But a doubt arose: although "Path of Radiance" was known for its realism, it still took great care of the player's experience, reducing pain to just one percent and representing negative states like illness and poisoning with data rather than affecting the senses.

He shouldn't be feeling this real weakness.

"Sir Knight, Mr. Adrian, may the starlight shine upon you, you have finally awakened!"

In his daze, the soft female voice sounded again, this time accompanied by the sound of a towel being wrung out, followed by a cool towel landing on his face and wiping back and forth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't dare to start a fire to heat water, so I could only do this."

Cyril turned his head with great effort, and in the pale morning light seeping through the curtains, he finally saw the face of the voice's owner—

It was a girl, about fourteen or fifteen years old, with short silver hair that was as icy and clean as the snow on the endless ice plains of the northern border, though it seemed she hadn't washed it properly for a few days, making it messy and occasionally covering her eyes. Her long, dense eyelashes were slightly lowered, unable to hide her almond-shaped eyes that resembled a cat's. Her eyes were narrow, and her eye sockets were sunken, indicating she hadn't slept well for days. Her small, upturned nose twitched as she spoke with a nasal tone:

"Mr. Adrian, do you know what happened in the town?"

Adrian, is she calling me? Not my in-game ID?

At this moment, he finally realized, extracting some information from the incredibly realistic environment and sensations that far exceeded the "virtual reality" of the game—

He had been transported to the world of the game he had immersed himself in for years, "Path of Radiance."

His mind was a chaotic mess, but Cyril tried to calm down. As a top-tier wanderer among gamers, observing the surroundings and collecting useful information was second nature to him. The main building material of the house was dark brown spruce. Where would such an unattractive material be used?

An answer came to mind, and combined with the cold air that made his body even colder with each breath, Cyril was even more certain of his current location—

The northern part of the Kingdom of La Rochelle, in winter.

This realization made Cyril's already grim expression even darker. He struggled to sit up a bit, instinctively feeling for his trusted dagger, "Raven's Cry," but found it missing.

"What year is it now?"

Cyril spoke to the girl beside him, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Ah? Mr. Adrian, it's the year 1440 of the Continental Calendar, the Year of the Dragon's Roar."

"1440? The Year of the Dragon's Roar?" This time period stunned Cyril. The game's timeline should have been 1466. Ignoring the fact that he had been transported back nearly thirty years, the year 1440 held significant meaning for every player, especially those who started in the Kingdom of La Rochelle—

It was the year "Path of Radiance" launched, and the beginning of the long struggle for La Rochelle players.

The girl, seemingly unaware of Cyril's turmoil, spoke as if she had been holding it in for a long time, pouring out everything she wanted to say to Cyril: "Uncles and aunts were lying on the ground, and when I tried to wake them up, they ignored me and even tried to bite me. I was so scared, but you, Mr. Adrian, helped me fend them off a few times..."

"Stop for a moment." Cyril couldn't help but interrupt her. The more she spoke, the more information he had to process. "Slow down, give me a moment—"

The girl obediently stopped, looking at Cyril quietly, as if she understood that the man who had just awakened needed time to process.

"Thank you."

Cyril took a deep breath.

1440, the beginning of the thirteen years of turmoil in the Kingdom of La Rochelle, which started in the northern part of the kingdom, where he now found himself. In his previous life as a player, he could only watch as La Rochelle struggled and ultimately fell, annexed by a neighboring country that had long coveted it.

He had died countless times in that long war, even though he was at the forefront of the players, he could not save La Rochelle from its fate.

He remembered the new recruits' panicked yet determined faces as the city walls crumbled, the last knight of the knightly order charging forward with a limp, shouting as he met his end, the gentle and elegant priests weeping as they prayed for the soldiers, the poets' impassioned speeches, the soldiers' sobs with their arms severed, the defeated general kneeling in defeat, the old man's eyes wide open in death, the civilians protecting their children from the undead, the wealthy donating their wealth to the military, the green fields trampled by bones, the misty air that should have been clear and blue, the bustling trade cities, the prosperous ports with noisy taverns and busy ships, and the NPCs who had shared drinks and fought alongside him, seeming so real.

That familiar, once beautiful La Rochelle, which he had spent years trying to protect, was back.

He never thought he would be transported into the game. He knew the game's historical progression and had returned with complete memories to the beginning of the turmoil, with the opportunity to grow at a pace that surpassed the game's version—

Did he now have the chance to prevent La Rochelle from repeating the tragic fate in the game?

He didn't know.

But it was 1440, the beginning of all the turmoil, and he had plenty of time and opportunities to try—

"Cyril Adrian." He couldn't help but softly repeat the name of the body he now inhabited, "You will have the honor of becoming the brightest new star on this continent—"

At that moment, Cyril felt a moment of dizziness, as if he had heard his name somewhere before. But he quickly ran through the famous generals of La Rochelle from his previous life and found no mention of his name.

Just a coincidence?

He turned his head again, and the white-haired girl had been quiet for a while. In the silence, she seemed to relax, her eyelids drooping.

"What... should I call you?" He hesitated, realizing he didn't even know the girl's name.

"Mr. Adrian, I'm the daughter of the town's blacksmith. You can call me Caroline." The girl was extremely tired, sitting on a small stool, leaning forward and resting her head on the edge of the bed. "It's so good, I'm not alone anymore..."

The moment she said her name, it rang like a thunderclap in Cyril's ears, sending shivers down his spine—

Caroline? Which Caroline? The "Twilight Shadow" Caroline of the northern dark creature alliance, the one who single-handedly shattered La Rochelle's last hope in the later stages of the turmoil?

Before he could process the information that the villain boss was sitting beside him, a guess about his new body's background made him laugh bitterly—

"Could I, Cyril Adrian, be the chief of the three knights under Caroline, the Breaker of Formations, Adrian?"

In other words, after fighting dark creatures for over a decade, he had been transported into a minor boss of the villains?

New author, new book, please be kind and offer guidance.