Overlord: The Last Player

Suppressing the excitement in his heart, Aron turned his attention to the ability panel on his status screen:

[Ability Panel]

Innate Ability: [Player]

Overall Level: 1 Lv

XP Bar: 0/100

Base Class: Genius 1 Lv

Skill Points: 3

Passive Skill: Item Box

Active Skills: None

........

Having taken up the "Genius" Class, Aron's overall level had risen from 0 to 1. In addition to this, he had gained three skill points.

This caused Aron's heart to skip a beat.

As expected, his innate ability, [Player], differed in some respects from the players in "YGGDRASIL."

In the game, players would gain three skills from their respective profession's skill tree with each level-up, and by level 100, a typical player would have around 300 skills.

Of course, exceptions existed.

Take the Overlord, for example. His mastery of 718 skills was unparalleled even among the game's elite players.

Furthermore, thanks to the unique skill "Dark Wisdom", the Overlord could theoretically continue learning new magic indefinitely.

"Only receiving skill points, but no skill tree? That's bad news," Aron muttered under his breath.

"It means acquiring skills must involve some other method."

Though his expression remained neutral, his mind was racing. Now, at least, the path forward was becoming clearer.

........

Crunch!

The sound of Aron's teeth biting into the tough black bread was sharp and distinct. Taking large bites, he quickly devoured more than half the loaf in under a minute.

"Cough!"

His throat felt dry.

Eating this kind of bread too quickly was a surefire way to choke.

Grabbing the black water pouch Nfirea had just handed him, Aron tilted it back and took a long drink, letting out a satisfied sigh as he lowered it.

If anyone other than Nfirea had given him this water pouch, he wouldn't have dared drink from it.

......

Standing up, Aron attached the black pouch to his waist and headed out onto the bustling streets, moving with the flow of the crowd toward the capital's center.

With so many eyes around, it wasn't the right time to put the pouch into his "Item Box."

"Well then, since I'm here, I might as well witness this legendary showdown."

A glimmer of anticipation appeared on Aron's face.

Although the Great Tomb would descend in just over four years, there was still time. Enough, at least, for him to take a break and observe this fight.

Sharpening the blade before chopping wood—this would be a valuable opportunity.

While their strength now wouldn't compare to their future power, Aron estimated both combatants had already surpassed level 20, the threshold for strong human fighters in this world.

Watching their duel would provide both valuable information and inspiration for his own skill progression.

........

The duel between Gazef and Brain was a historical event, even years later, celebrated by many as a legendary clash of titans.

Aron recalled that Brain possessed a similar talent to his: the Warrior (Prodigy).

Among the crowd, conversations about the duel buzzed nonstop.

Most discussions revolved around who would emerge victorious in this battle. The lively atmosphere and passionate debates brought a faint smile to Aron's lips.

While the spectators couldn't predict the winner, Aron already knew.

This kind of high-profile event, attracting the entire kingdom's attention, would surely have underground betting.

If he could bet on Gazef, even with low odds, he could make some quick money.

......

Turning to a nearby young man in light armor who seemed to be an adventurer, Aron spoke in a calm, straightforward tone.

"Excuse me, do you know where the betting rings are?"

The young man, startled by the direct question, glanced at Aron with mild suspicion before letting out a chuckle.

"An outsider, huh?"

Despite Aron's practical attire—gray and black clothes, a short sword at his left hip, and the water pouch on his right—his appearance and black hair marked him as a foreigner.

"Yes, I arrived just yesterday," Aron replied, keeping his tone polite and unbothered by the man's condescending attitude.

"Hah, thought so."

"There's no betting ring," the man said, waving dismissively and tilting his head upward with a smirk.

"No betting?" Aron raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Such an event, with so many people gathering in the capital, seemed like a perfect opportunity for the greedy nobles to profit.

"Of course not, thanks to Princess Renner's foresight," the young man replied smugly, as if he had just revealed a grand truth.

Seeing Aron's confused expression, the man elaborated with pride:

"Even if you're an outsider, you must've heard of Princess Renner—the Jewel of the Kingdom, known for her brilliance and compassion!"

"At the start of this duel, Princess Renner proposed to the king that such a noble contest, representing the kingdom's honor, should not be tainted by gambling."

"She argued that betting would disrespect not only the fighters but also the kingdom itself. Her proposal faced opposition from some nobles but was ultimately approved by the king."

"Princess Renner is wise, gentle, and kind…"

Aron watched as the man continued his fanatical praise, then quietly stepped back and melted into the crowd.

........

"Princess Renner, huh?" Aron mused as he walked.

He couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the adventurer's glowing description.

While Renner appeared to be the epitome of grace and benevolence, Aron knew better.

She was no ordinary human—her mind operated on a level incomprehensible to most, earning her the moniker "psychological heteromorph" from none other than Albedo.

Even the Bloody Emperor (Jircniv) , who loathed the Dragon Queen's (Draudillon Oriculus) childish antics, reserved a special place of disdain for Renner.

Renner's manipulation of her golden reputation masked a mind that thrived on chaos and control, making her a figure both revered and feared in equal measure.