Overlord: Welcome the Birth of the King-Chapter 152: Four Caster Tiers and Major Wound Recovery

"Can you cast it?" Lyle asked, raising a brow at the elderly lizardman priest before him.

The old Lizardfolk priest gave his head a slow shake. "No."

Lyle blinked. "No?"

"I can draw the magic circle for it," the priest clarified, his tone as flat as a mudflat.

Lyle's expression twitched.

"Then what are you waiting for? Get started," he said, face blank but tone tight.

He kept his voice as calm as possible, but the tightness around his jaw betrayed his growing impatience.

Of course. Just his luck. He finally stumbles on a potentially game-changing magical enhancement ritual - and the one lizardfolk who knows about it is essentially a glorified lizard with crayons.

Still, he remembered something important.

Back in the YGGDRASIL days, this kind of magic-enhancement spell didn't exist. Even Cocytus had looked surprised when the lizardfolk used it during the swamp campaign. That said enough about how unusual it was.

Upon receiving the command, the old priest immediately began shuffling around the room, gathering an odd assortment of magical materials- beast bones, thick blackish dyes, and other vaguely magical bits and bobs that looked like they were scavenged from a failed potions class.

Lyle stood back and gave the old lizard some room.

"What do you need for the ritual?" he asked, using the opportunity to gather information.

He did have one magical ritual scroll tucked away - something involving Druidic shapeshifting - but he'd never really studied ritual theory. Now seemed like a good time to learn.

As the old priest worked, Lyle asked questions and pieced together the structure behind the spell.

Magical rituals, as it turned out, varied widely. But two key elements were always critical: the magic circle itself, and the materials used to construct it.

For the "Magic Enhancement" ritual currently being drawn, the material requirements weren't too extreme. Anything with magical properties would do. The real limiter wasn't the materials, it was the magic itself. The ritual could bypass certain casting restrictions, but only within specific boundaries.

Time ticked on.

As the spell circle slowly took shape, Lyle frowned. The formation was far more complex than expected. Intricate glyphs twisted across the floor in loops and spirals. And the materials? They weren't exactly helping the ambiance. The stench of mixed blood, rot, and magical herbs was quickly filling the room again.

He briefly considered casting [Odorless] again, but decided against it. Last thing he needed was disrupting a delicate ritual because he couldn't handle a bit of swamp perfume.

"Unghhh…"

A soft groan interrupted his thoughts.

Lyle turned toward the doorway.

There, lying half-conscious and chewed up like a toy bone, was Sukyu Juju, the chieftain who had so valiantly tried and failed to kill him earlier.

Apparently, the hound guarding the door had dragged him back here rather than finishing him off. Not out of mercy, of course. Lyle just needed a tour guide through this scaly backwater.

Sukyu's reptilian eyes fluttered open, blinking against the sunlight trickling in through the hut's cracked roof. Disoriented for a moment, his gaze locked onto Lyle and filled with rage.

"You!"

With a roar, the chieftain sprang to his feet and charged.

Lyle didn't move.

Then, in a blink, he vanished - reappearing directly in front of the charging lizardman, so fast that Sukyu barely registered the shift.

"Huh?!"

Sukyu's pupils shrank.

Speed was supposed to be his edge. With classes like [Skirmisher] and [Light Cavalry], he was among the swiftest warriors of his tribe.

And yet this… this human spellcaster had just outpaced him without even chanting a spell.

Thud!

A whip-like roundhouse kick smashed into his chest.

Lyle didn't even use his full strength - but even held back, the blow cracked several ribs and sent Sukyu flying like a ragdoll, straight through the wooden doorway.

His limp body crashed into the hut opposite with a bang, leaving behind a lizard-shaped hole in the wall.

"Bring him back," Lyle ordered his barghest, deadpan.

With a quick bark and blur of motion, the hound darted off and returned moments later, casually dragging the unconscious chieftain back like a sack of potatoes.

Confirming that Skirmisher was still alive, Lyle lost all further interest in him and turned back to the ritual.

Faith Caster Branch:

Cleric Initiate → Priest → Forest Priest → High Priest

Level: 40

Mind Arts Branch:

Wizard

Level: 10

Miscellaneous:

Shaman

Level: 10

Theoretically, at Level 40, he could cast up to 6th-tier spells.

Theoretically.

In practice? Very few casters in this world could actually use 6th-tier spells, those who could were monsters he'd rather not cross.

Some spells, like [Summon Angel], bypassed caster level and used player level instead. Those were exceptions.

"If this ritual lets me push two tiers higher... that means I could use 8th-tier spells."

Lyle arched a brow. That… was surprising. Even he hadn't expected the leap to be that steep.

Still, there were limitations. The old priest himself had never cast the spell, and didn't know all the caveats.

So he'd have to test it himself.

"Start small," Lyle muttered.

He didn't want to blow himself up on the first try.

"Fireball," he intoned.

He selected the 3rd-tier [Fireball] a spell he knew very well and had seen cast hundreds of times.

The moment the words left his mouth, the ritual flared briefly… then dimmed.

Effect: Allows casting of a spell one tier higher than user's current limit. (When used with special ritual, allows casting of two tiers higher. Mana cost doubles each time.)