Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God

"You know how to use this thing?" Zalanda's gaze pointed to the Gnome Fire Emitter attached to Gaven's left waist.

"I played with it as a child with my father, quite simple, just aim at the enemy and pull the trigger, similar to a handheld crossbow." Gaven was deliberately vague, influenced by Zhang You from that other world, he had a particular fondness for such devices, and having seen it on the collection shelf, he instinctively pocketed it.

"Don't use it recklessly unless it's absolutely necessary. Gnomish contraptions are notoriously quirky. I've only seen Old Master Tessen use it once, and then he never touched it again." Zalanda advised earnestly, she had a lot on her plate and couldn't spare much attention for Gaven.

"Remember to leave a warhorse for me," Gaven called out to Zalanda's departing figure.

"Got it." Zalanda waved her hand to indicate she heard.

Zalanda wasn't the only one swamped with work; Gaven had his fair share of tasks too.

Taking the opportunity to sort out his equipment, Gaven found a spacious corner and started running and jumping around, occasionally throwing punches, swinging his sword, and stretching.

Getting familiar with his gear was only part of it.

The most important thing was to assess his current physical condition and determine how much combat strength he could exert.

While combat skills and experience were certainly important, so was physical fitness.

Without a sufficiently strong body to sustain them, executing powerful combat skills like Whirlwind Strike or Heavy Cleaving Slash was nothing but a pipe dream.

Fortunately, he had the foundation of an eight-year training with the Nort Militia under Zalanda. Although he appeared somewhat thin and frail, beneath his clothes were solid muscles, and his strength, constitution, and dexterity were all far greater than they seemed.

By rough estimate, his strength was between 12 and 13, a bit stronger than the average person, and roughly the same as most of the Nort Militia, placing him in the middle to lower tier.

His constitution should be over 13, barely reaching the upper-middle standard among the Nort Militia.

The best aspect was his dexterity, which was at least 15. In this area, he was outstanding among the Nort Militia, able to rank in the top five, which was related to the Elf Bloodline of the Silver Elves flowing through his veins. Those few who surpassed him were Half-Elves with purer bloodlines.

Combat techniques that were too physically demanding were off the table, but he could deftly manage subtler combat skills given his current level of fitness.

Such as the quick backstep, the left-and-right sway dodge, or the butterfly step, among others.

Many were not even from the Legendary Warrior's arsenal, but rather Zhang You the Second's Sanda fighting techniques.

In comparison to the Legendary Warrior's era, Zhang You the Second definitely couldn't match up in terms of physical fitness—without the support of the Magic Network and Magic Power enhancement, the limits of physical fitness were all too apparent and not to be breached. Forcing a breakthrough could easily cost him his life, and he especially couldn't afford to get hurt, internal injuries in particular.

The previous severe injuries he suffered, which had him up and bouncing around within minutes after chugging down a Healing Minor Injuries potion, would have required rest and potentially left lasting issues had it happened on Earth.

On Earth, martial artists generally focused their efforts on refining their techniques, especially in grappling and evasive maneuvers, with many aspects worth learning, particularly now that his physical abilities were constrained.

"Young Master Gaven, practicing alone can be so dull. Why not let me join you for a sparring session?" came the unrelenting voice of Oster from not far away.

At this moment, Oster had already donned a full suit of plate armor yet moved with remarkable agility, displaying his formidable strength.

"Not interested," Gaven replied without turning his head.

"Could it be that Young Master Gaven is afraid?" Oster's attempt to goad was so transparent that even a fool could see through it.

Being made a fool was not an enjoyable experience, especially for someone who was known to hold grudges.

Gaven stopped in his tracks, turned around, and said to Oster with all seriousness, "It's not like I can kill you with so many people around; there's no fun in that. If you really want to spar, wait until we both have time. We can find a deserted place, preferably outdoors where we can fight freely, to the death. Wouldn't that be more thrilling?"

"You…" Oster, utterly stifled by Gaven's audacious response, had seen the arrogant, but never someone this audacious, "Do you believe I could punch you to death with just one fist?"

"Do you dare to throw a punch at me here?" Gaven scoffed coldly, his face full of arrogance.

"Alright, alright, alright, I'll give you a chance to fight to the death later!" Oster ground his teeth in anger and no longer sought to embarrass himself. He turned and walked away, as it was impossible for him to lay a finger on Gaven with so many people around.

Having seen off the unwelcome visitor who had only embarrassed himself, Gaven lost interest in continuing his practice.

These techniques, whether of the Legendary Warrior or of Zhang You, were already ingrained in his soul and bones. A brief acclimation was all he needed to get back into form; the rest would come naturally on the battlefield.

He had more important things to plan—how to approach the path ahead, since his original plans were now all disrupted.

Now, he faced a very awkward problem. In his previous life, he had been schemed against by Rogan and Oster, captured by monsters, and sold as a slave to the Santarin Association. The opportunities to return to Thacel were few and far between; his main activities were in the Northern Lands and Hartland.

Of those places, the information in his hands was firsthand, full of opportunities for a prophet to act. In Thacel, despite wracking his brain, aside from the future Queen Zalanda before him, he truly had no other strategic advantage to exploit.

By aligning with Zalanda's considerable influence, Gaven believed he had an innate advantage. As long as he ensured he was not plotted against by Rogan and Oster again, even if he did nothing and merely followed Zalanda's lead, in less than a decade, he would at the very least be able to hold a dukedom in Thacel.

But to stop the conspiracy of the Goddess of the Night, Shar, to prevent the death of the Magic Goddess, Midnight, and thereby stop the Arcane Catastrophe—such thoughts were out of the question.

Therefore, he had to race against time, hastening to the Northern Lands. There, he would leverage his foresight to build his own advantages; because only with sufficient power and influence could he do what he desired.

He had already thought of an excellent destination—the Rocklands of Komeer.

That place, vast and sparsely populated, offered enough space and resources for him to flex his muscles.

Having cleared up this point, Gaven felt much more relaxed. He glanced coldly at Rogan not far away, who strutted proudly with five heavily armed guards.

Even if he had to leave, he couldn't just sneak away without a word. He owed Zalanda a debt of gratitude and intended to clear the first obstacle for her future path by removing this hindrance. Without this dead weight, Gaven believed that with Zalanda's abilities, she would be able to progress much more smoothly in the initial phase.