The priest's tale concluded.
"I'm not joking!" he said, embarrassed. "Why don't you...?"
"Why aren't we scared?” Murphy replied earnestly. “Sure, with the world being so vast, anything can happen, right?"
"Your story is intriguing,” he said, extending a hand toward the priest. "If you don’t mind, I invite you to join our crew for some grand adventures. Rest assured, I can offer you protection."
The priest looked incredulous. "But I am a heret—"
"It's fine," Murphy assured. “I’ve been thinking about putting together a team of special talents like yours. Let’s call it ‘The Avengers’... wait, no, it's ‘Team Normal People’."
"I'll join!" the priest griped Murphy’s hand. "Just ensure I’m fed and sheltered. I’d rather not hang or starve."
"Great, you're one of us now. Let me introduce the rest of the team: a reliable adult male (Byron), a regular girl (Pepe), and a normal dog (Buster). Hopefully, we’ll all get along, eh?"
After a modest initiation, Murphy helped the man up. "City of Gath’s a bit unstable lately. You can disguise yourself as a gardener at our place."
"Okay, okay," the ex-priest nodded eagerly. "As long as I live."
Exiting the mine, Lambert squinted in the sunlight he hadn't seen for days.
Despite being level fifty, Lambert's physique wasn't as robust as that of a fighting cleric or paladin given his pure faith-based occupation.
Divine magic required devotion points, akin to a mage's mana.
So now, Lambert was a tragic meat shield with a “mana bar” but no skills.
Short-distance flying was trivial for a mid-tier mage, allowing Murphy to return to City of Gath with his companions following some brief rests on the way.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
City of Gath's north gate was usually quiet. The guards had grown familiar with Murphy's face and let them pass without much fuss.
Back at Number 2 Clyster Street, Lambert quickly adapted to his new role.
He changed into servant’s attire and burned the clothes he escaped the church in.
The dusty holy emblem was his last reminder, now worn inside his clothes on a hemp string around his neck.
Thus, an earnest but inexperienced gardener joined the staff at Number 2 Clyster Street.
---
After settling Lambert, the Overlord and his discount apprentice ate supper, one burying himself in homework and the other retreating to the bedroom.
Murphy took out Little River Village’s finest staff and the “massive” sapphire, starting the customization work.
The oak staff was light in Murphy's hands – like a large feather duster.
Murphy dissipated the remaining magic, severed the power circuits carefully, and removed the barely-gem-like top stone with the ever-persistent Hand of the Mage.
The stone was more flawed than any usual gemstone.
Now, the staff’s stat panel was as gray as Lambert's - marked “incomplete” in red.
Tucking the removed stone into a pouch, Murphy held up the sapphire but found it too big to fit.
“Darn, it won’t attach,” he muttered.
Abandoning brute force and not wanting to destroy a collectible, Murphy refined the flawed gem and put it back, then reopened the panel:
[Weapon: Little River Village’s Finest Staff (+1)
Quality: Fine- (Blue)
Stats: Attack +12 Mana Cap +100 Casting Speed +5%
---
Cheap Materials: Reduces staff weight by 20%
Authentic Flavor: Users from Little River Village get an additional +5 Attack (Unique Passive)
Refined Gem: Attack +8 Mana Cap +50 Casting Speed +3%
---
A gift from an aged mage who wishes to remain nameless.
Refined by an unnamed mage.]
"Ha! Done. Maybe one day I’ll upgrade it to +20," Murphy yawned, considering how to enhance it while preserving its authentic charm.
The next night, Murphy and Pepe transported via the basement circle to the Lightless Tomb. They handed scripts to self-aware skeletons, roughly platoon leaders under a lord, so they could pass Murphy's orders down accurately.
After hearing the plan, one skeleton asked, “Your Majesty, what if, by accident, we win? The humans sound rather weak."
"Dummy, can't you act? Swap your weapons for broken ones, try to hit them, then when it breaks, run. Simple," lectured Murphy, patting the bare-boned skull.
"You," Murphy said, turning to another skeleton, "gather Slime. Each combatant needs a same-level Slime hidden inside its skull—must be undetectable."
To the third, "Get unworn clothes and armor from the Goblins. We can’t have our warriors going into battle all skin and bones."
"And you," he addressed the last high-level skeleton, "vet the fighters. Exactly ten thousand. Any more will scare them off."
"Understood." The skeletons knelt, then dispersed.