Overlord: The Last Player

Nifirea turned his head, confused by the voice coming from behind him.

The four adventurers standing nearby had already noticed Aron approaching them. At first, they thought he was just passing by, but to their surprise, Aron walked straight toward them.

All four of their gazes landed on Aron, their expressions calm but observant. Although it was rare for attacks on clients to occur within the Adventurer's Guild, maintaining vigilance was a professional habit.

"Is it you?"

Nifrea's bright blue eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Aron, the man he had encountered on the road earlier. Black hair was rare and hard to forget, making Aron's identity unmistakable.

"Thank you for the water pouch," Aron said softly, with a faint smile.

"No need to thank me. I'm glad it helped you."

Nfirea, noticing the water pouch now hanging from Aron's belt, scratched his head awkwardly.

Aron's gaze shifted toward the four adventurers as he spoke again. "I overheard your conversation just now. You're heading to E-Rantel, correct? Would it be possible for me to travel with you?"

His words left the group momentarily stunned.

Nfirea hesitated, an uncertain expression crossing his face. While he personally had no objections, such decisions required his grandmother's approval.

The four adventurers, however, maintained neutral expressions, offering no immediate response. Yet their silence was an answer in itself.

Aron anticipated this reaction. He had already observed that this four-person adventurer team had some obvious shortcomings in their composition.

"I apologize if my request seemed sudden," Aron continued calmly. Then, raising his hand slightly, he said, "But perhaps this will help, [Minor Healing]."

A warm, soft white glow emanated from Aron's palm, illuminating the space around him.

The four adventurers' eyes lit up simultaneously, surprise and delight flashing across their faces.

"A faith-based magic caster?" one of them murmured in astonishment.

Aron's sudden use of healing magic caught the attention of others in the guild hall as well.

In this world, professions generally fell into two main categories: warrior classes and caster classes. Caster classes were further divided into four subtypes—arcane, faith-based, spiritual, and others.

Faith-based magic casters, known for their ability to heal, were relatively rare compared to arcane casters. For adventurers, having a healer in the team was invaluable.

Injuries, no matter how minor, could lead to severe consequences if left untreated. While healing potions were available, they were prohibitively expensive.

A healer within the team not only saved money but also significantly increased survival rates. Consequently, faith-based magic casters were highly sought after, with stronger adventurer teams often vying for their support.

Aron seemed unfazed by the adventurers' excitement. After casting the spell, he calmly drew the short sword from his belt.

"In addition to my healing abilities, I've received some training in swordsmanship," Aron explained. "I won't be a burden."

With that, he deftly twirled the short sword in his hand, the blade spinning smoothly before coming to rest. The movements were practiced, fluid, and demonstrated skill.

This display of swordsmanship further impressed the adventurers.

After finishing the demonstration, Aron re-sheathed his sword and looked at Nfirea and the adventurers.

The four adventurers, now visibly intrigued, exchanged glances. Their initial skepticism was replaced with approval.

"That's amazing!" Nfirea exclaimed, his blue eyes sparkling with admiration. He hadn't expected the man he casually helped to possess such exceptional skills.

"Is this what talent looks like?" Nfirea muttered, his mind recalling his grandmother's advice: never judge someone by their appearance, much like how a rare herb could be hidden among ordinary weeds.

At this moment, the leader of the adventurer team, a golden-haired man, stepped forward.

The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with a cheerful demeanor. His chin and upper lip were adorned with lightly curled stubble, and his light armor gleamed under the guild's light.

Two long swords hung from his waist, hinting at his combat prowess.

"My name is Dosari," the leader said warmly, introducing himself. "These are my teammates and good friends."

"Bask," said a tall archer with a sturdy build.

"I'm Ler."

"And I'm Land," added the last, a man who bore a striking resemblance to Ler.

Aron nodded politely, taking note of their appearances. Ler and Land were clearly twins, with matching light gold hair and silver shields strapped to their arms. Bask carried a bow and quiver, identifying him as the team's ranged fighter.

"Our team is called 'Rock.' As the name suggests, we specialize in defensive battles," Dosari added with a friendly smile.

It was clear that Dosari's openness stemmed from Aron's healing abilities. After all, having a healer on their team was a rare opportunity, and they weren't about to pass it up.

"My name is Aron," he introduced himself briefly.

Dosari gave a satisfied nod. "No objections from our side. As long as the client agrees, we're happy to have you."

All eyes turned to Nfirea.