Just then, the system AI abruptly cut in, like an overly polite but totally uninvited assistant interrupting a tense movie scene.
"Dear host, harmless hallucinations and unknown laws detected in your vicinity. Would you like to filter them out for you?"
Harmless hallucinations? Duke blinked. Harmless? What were they, sparkly unicorns or invisible tax collectors?
"Filter!" Duke barked with zero hesitation. No way was he signing up for the full psychedelic special.
In an instant, the surreal, chaotic scene warped and twisted, snapping back into a more manageable form. The chessboard remained—but the giant, intimidating chess pieces transford into quirky, stick-figure caricatures. They looked less like deadly war pawns and more like sothing a bored kid doodled on a napkin.
Curious, Duke dared to ask, "What if I don't filter?"
The scene blinked again—and BAM! He was slamd back into the full Karazhan chess nightmare from the ga, in all its glory and grotesqueness.
On Duke's side, the front line was a pristine row of Stormwind guards. Their polished helts shone like disco balls under a spotlight, their armor glead, and those blue-and-gold lion shields scread, "I'm heroic! Bow before !" The sheer absurd heroism was almost enough to make Duke laugh out loud.
"Wow. It changes with my imagination?" Duke's mind reeled. This wasn't so half-baked, outdated 3D ga model this was next-level reality manipulation.
His initial shock faded. Instead, a gleeful curiosity took hold. The chess pieces were split into the classic Alliance vs. Horde sides, but the lineup was off compared to the Karazhan level he rembered. This was different. Better. More... real.
Duke scanned the six types of pieces carefully:
First: The Soldiers. A full front line. Alliance soldiers were Stormwind regulars, shields up, faces grim. Opposite them, the Horde infantry wore battered, intimidating armor.
Second: The Knights—two on each side. Alliance knights sat atop armored warhorses, shining and proud; the Horde mounted fierce wolf riders, clutching brutal maces that looked like they could mash boulders.
Third: The Mages—or "Phases," as Duke ntally dubbed them. Two per side again. The Alliance sent out icy spellcasters, shimring with frost magic. The Horde answered with doom-wielding sorcerers, shrouded in dark mystery.
Fourth: The Healers—or "Warriors," but don't let the na fool you. Alliance priests glowed with soothing light; their Horde counterparts were shamans, primal and unpredictable.
Fifth: A strange one. The backline. On the Alliance side stood divh—the legendary Guardian of Azeroth himself, his robes billowing and eyes blazing with power. The Horde's wizard was a blurred, shadowy figure, faceless and ominous.
Sixth: The Kings. On one throne, King Llane, clad in gleaming silver armor and gripping a giant hamr like he ant business. On the other, Chieftain Blackhand, hulking and grim, axe raised high.
Suddenly, the administrator "Nick" piped up, his voice dripping with amused mockery:
"Hey, hey, hey! Little guy, don't tell you're scared?"
Duke's lip curled into a sardonic smile. "Nope. I'm already scared."
Nick chuckled darkly. "You don't look scared. Good. Don't take this little ga too seriously. It's just my twisted idea of fun. But heads up—how you perform here directly affects your status and living conditions at the Royal School of Magic. So yeah, no pressure, but do try not to embarrass yourself."
Nick's words sounded like a promise of perks for doing well, but Duke knew better: "perks" here ant "hidden traps" disguised as rewards.
Duke grinned slyly. "So you don't want to play so boring, ordinary chess, huh? Got any mage-only special moves? Show what you got!"
Nick's face disappeared into the shadows of his hood, only his knowing smile visible.
"This is the School of Magic, kid. If you're the kind of idiot who plays normal chess with my friends, you'll be bunking next to the latrines for the next year."
Duke pretended to wipe a single tear. "Oh, the tragedy."
A brief, dramatic silence followed, during which Duke silently toasted all the poor souls dood to live in toilet-adjacent dorms.
Nick clapped his hands. "Okay, what you're seeing now is the final version. But first? You gotta prove you're worthy of being a chess piece."
A colossal golden scroll unfurled before Duke's eyes, glowing with magical runes written in plain common language. Hovering above it, a giant hourglass appeared, sand trickling steadily down.
The ssage was crystal clear: when the hourglass runs out, the scroll closes. Ti's ticking.
Duke imdiately barked an order at the system AI: "System, analyze and record now!"
"Understood, my host," the AI chid obediently. "Ding! Preliminary test complete. Simplified models for Intelligence Enhancent, Frost Arrow, and Blizzard spells located. Copying spell models... Formula reversal in progress."
Duke's eyes lit up. Jackpot.
This wasn't just a ga it was an admission test.
The testers didn't care about raw power or how many spells you already knew. They wanted to see how fast you adapted, how creatively you could wield what you were given.
It was like handing a gun to a rookie and seeing not just if they could pull the trigger, but if they could actually hit the target. And hit it precisely, at the right ti, with style.
How to use magic, how to mix and match spells, how to respond to surprises this was a full-spectrum magical trial.
For most apprentices, the sand in that hourglass was worth more than all the gold in Azeroth combined. Many eyed the scroll greedily, eager to snatch the simplified spells for free a cheat code for their magical futures.
Except Duke was... different.
He barely glanced at the half-man-high scroll before dropping his gaze and sinking into "deep thought."
Of course, deep thought was a polite cover. Really, Duke's mind was being bombarded with a flood of data straight from the system elves.
"I've decoded Intelligence Enhancent: temporarily boosts your ancient, rusty IQ so your poor brain can store more spell models. Two points of intelligence translates to 20 mana. Minimum threshold unlocked for mastering Blizzard. Cheers!"
"Frost Arrow: Wanna freeze your opponent solid with the icy power of foot-wash water? Level 1 Frost Arrow delivers exactly that."
"Blizzard: Want your enemies to get wrecked in a freezing storm—even during sumr? Level 1 Blizzard is your frosty nightmare."
Duke blinked. "What the hell is this? Please don't explain spells like a late-night inforcial!"
"Oh, that's just your own brain talking. This style accounts for 70% of your daily conversations. I thought you'd love it. Why complain now?" the AI replied, deadpan.
Well. Duke was utterly defeated.
User Comments
0 comments from readers