Overlord: Welcome the Birth of the King

Deep within the heart of the Small Fang Tribe, outside an ancient, moldy wooden hut, Lyle stood quietly, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Several large ceramic vats had been placed haphazardly around the entrance - some bubbling with plump, live fish, others reeking with pungent herbs, and one particularly strange vat filled to the brim with stones in every hue imaginable.

Lyle's gaze lingered on the colorful stones. "What's this? Looks like someone tried to pickle a rainbow."

The old lizardman priest, his dull eyes blinking slowly as if waking from a century-long nap, replied in a hoarse voice, "Colorstones."

"Creative name," Lyle muttered.

The priest elaborated, "We crush those and use the powder as pigment. For war paint, tribal totems, decorative squiggles… that sort of thing."

"Any special effects?" Lyle raised a brow, eyeing a bright red shard suspiciously.

"No." The priest shook his head with zero hesitation.

Lyle's interest instantly plummeted. With a shrug, he scanned the hut's surroundings one last time, then motioned lazily for the old priest to lead the way inside.

The old priest shuffled forward, leading him into the hut.

The wooden house was clearly ancient, its moss-covered beams crawling with vines. Lizardmen, being amphibious beastfolk, were fond of damp environments. Consequently, their houses were all built on stilts. The lower level was just a crude wooden foundation, while actual living quarters occupied the elevated upper floor.

The moment they stepped inside--

A foul stench assaulted Lyle's nostrils. Musty. Rotting. A bit like wet socks stored in a troll's armpit.

"Odorless."

Wrinkling his nose, Lyle cast the spell twice in quick succession. The glow of magic shimmered, and the odor slowly faded.

Surveying the room, he found it as underwhelming as the outside. No decorations - unless you counted grotesque necklaces made from unknown bones, and shields crafted from shells that looked more decorative than defensive. And ugly. Very ugly.

What did catch Lyle's eye, though, was a crude wooden shelf stacked with scrolls made from some kind of beast hide.

There weren't many - maybe a few dozen - but it was clear this was the tribe's entire collection of written knowledge.

"This is your entire library?" Lyle asked, raising a brow.

The old priest nodded stiffly.

All tribal knowledge was maintained by the elders, but this backwater swamp only had one priest left. So naturally, the burden fell on him.

Lyle walked over, picked up a scroll, and glanced at the dense scribbles. It looked like someone had tried to write while being electrocuted.

"Don't bother. Just pull out all the ones about magic and explain them to me," he said, tossing the scroll back onto the pile.

He couldn't be bothered decoding this mess. Sure, he could use [Language Decipher], but that spell wasn't omnipotent. As the great Vice President had once warned him back in E-Rantel: "Understanding symbols is not the same as understanding knowledge."

And indeed, it only translated surface meanings. Nuance, context, and technical accuracy were usually lost in translation. Not something you'd rely on for serious academic study.

Soon enough, the old priest laid out six scrolls.

Lyle leaned over, expecting something interesting.

One was about herb preparation. Another described rituals for faith-based magic. A third dealt with predicting the weather. There were even feeding schedules for fish.

"…This is what you call magic?" Lyle deadpanned.

The priest, unfazed, began explaining each one in turn, as if discussing arcane secrets of the universe. But to Lyle, most of it sounded like folk wisdom masquerading as sorcery.

Only the faith-based scrolls had any real magical merit. And even then, they were all basic Tier 1 or Tier 2 support spells. No offensive, no high-tier, and definitely no game-changers.

As for the herbal knowledge? Utterly forgettable. Human apprentice alchemists would've laughed them out of the swamp.

"No wonder your tribe's so weak…" Lyle muttered, genuinely disappointed.

He was about to mentally cross this place off his list when the old priest picked up the final scroll.

"This one… speaks of a method to enhance magic," the lizardman began slowly. "By using excessive mana, one can forcibly cast spells beyond one's usual capabilities. With the help of ritual magic, the enhancement becomes stronger - but also much more mana-intensive. It is… not considered practical."

The priest's tone suggested this scroll was nothing but an academic curiosity. He didn't seem to value it at all.

Lyle, however, froze.

His casual expression sharpened.

"Wait. Magic enhancement?" he echoed, eyes narrowing.

Now this was interesting.

To a layman, "Spell Enhancement" and "Enhancement Magic" might sound like synonyms. But for a true practitioner, they were vastly different.

"Enhancement Magic" referred to buffing spells - boosting strength, agility, resistance, and the like.

But Spell Enhancement? That was on an entirely different level. It meant amplifying the spell itself - doubling, tripling its casting, expanding its range, unleashing its full potential.

According to what Lyle knew, only a handful of individuals across the known world had mastered such a technique.

Even the Slane Theocracy had to create specialized professions like "Arcane Devotee" and "Adept of Surshana" just to harness it.

"Explain this spell enhancement in detail," Lyle said, his voice serious for the first time.

The old priest blinked, then began recounting what he knew. The language was clunky, full of cultural and linguistic inconsistencies, but Lyle listened carefully, parsing through the gaps.

"Spell Ascension," the priest called it.

Lyle frowned. "Spell Ascension? That doesn't sound familiar…"

It certainly hadn't existed in the YGGDRASIL game.

Wait…

"Could it be… Spell Tier Ascension?" he muttered.

He did recall something like that from the light novel records. Ainz had only used it twice.

Once, during his battle with Shalltear, he'd cast: Triple Magic · Tier Ascension · Magic Arrow.

And again, in the fight against the Elf King's Elemental Root, with: Triple Maxed · Tier Ascension · No-Chant · Magic Arrow.

Both cases had involved serious combat. Both times, Ainz had used multiple spell amplification techniques stacked together. And both had involved the humble [Magic Arrow] spell, taken to absurd levels.

In essence, "Tier Ascension" boosted a spell's tier - say, a 1st-tier spell becoming 10th-tier. No rituals. No fuss.

But the old priest's explanation of "Spell Ascension" was different.

This version allowed a caster to temporarily use spells they had not yet mastered, forcibly punching above their weight. For example, a 2nd-tier caster could use a 3rd-tier spell at the cost of immense mana.

And with a proper magical ritual, the user could push two tiers higher.

Which was… well, a bootleg version of true Tier Ascension.

Still, Lyle couldn't help being intrigued.

At first, he'd thought it was useless - why bother when every spell maxes out at the 10th Tier?

But this wasn't about pushing beyond Tier 10. This was about circumventing learning restrictions. Using spells you shouldn't be able to cast yet.

He tapped his chin, mind racing.

"Spell Ascension… Spell Ascension…"

Hold on.

Hadn't he seen this before?

Yes, during the Undead Legion's attack on the Lizardmen tribes!

One of the Lizardmen, the older brother of "Frozen Fang," had used something like this. And later, the five tribal priests had even used a magical ritual to summon a Wetlands Elemental Spirit - a fusion of multiple elemental types.

He turned to the priest, eyes glinting.

"You. You can cast this Spell Ascension, can't you?"

If memory served, this old fellow was likely one of the five tribal priests who appeared in the future.