If Duke had been a little foggy-headed before divh showed up, now? Now he was undergoing a ntal earthquake the size of Mount Hyjal.
Maybe it was the sheer desperation of offending divh—the great Guardian himself—who was now puppeteered by the demonic Sargeras, that snapped Duke's mind into razor-sharp clarity. Like a warrior waking from a coma, suddenly aware of a knife at his throat.
Because, just like in the ga before his ti travel hiccup, divh had been possessed by Sargeras, and Azeroth's grim history was crystal clear: nothing good was coming next.
Lordaeron, Dalaran, Alterac, Kul Tiras, Gilneas, Stromgarde, and Stormwind City—the seven giants of humanity—would fall one by one like dominoes. Except Kul Tiras, safely marooned on its island fortress, the other six would be reduced to ashes, whether by ravenous orcs or the rciless Scourge.
Stormwind alone would rise from the ashes again and again—like the stubborn cockroach of kingdoms—and remain the last glimr of hope for mankind.
As a human himself, Duke was dead certain his fate was tied to that battered city. And as Stormwind faced its inevitable apocalypse, he knew what he had to do: build strength. Real strength. Enough to make a difference before the Dark Portal incident rocked the world.
A head-on fight with Sargeras? Not a chance. Even a fragnt of that demon's soul, rged with divh's powers, was a cosmic-level boss fight.
Duke, the outsider, knew no one would believe a word he said. Talking more would just fast-track him to a premature death.
But divh,the vessel of Sargeras's cruel puppetry,would never truly rest. The big boss played with souls like a cat with mice, and even death wouldn't bring peace.
So Duke went all in. No half-asures. No retreat.
On the surface, he was throwing down a challenge at authority itself.
In reality? He was laying a trap for Sargeras.
As long as divh kept up his hypocritical masquerade,cloaked in the Guardian's identity,he had to tolerate Duke. After all, Duke was just a half-grown kid poking the bear.
divh raised his right hand high and snapped his fingers. The snap echoed like a thunderclap, and instantly, the roaring hall went dead silent. Mouths hung open, arms raised mid-gesture,frozen like wax figures in a museum. Excitent still painted their faces, but no sound escaped their lips.
"Stormwind Royal Magic Association!" divh's voice bood, calm and grave. "Where is your dignity? Your nobility? What happened to the magnanimity that should define you? Is it wrong for a re child to dare speak of great dreams? Must every bold word beco a death sentence?"
The mages had been whipped into a frenzy monts ago—thanks to that sneaky devil Sargeras and his insidious Rage Aura trick—but now the demon in divh was playing the stern, fair, wise elder, scolding his unruly flock.
Watching this fake fatherly act, Duke felt bile rise in his throat.
He kept silent, eyes locked stubbornly on divh.
Sargeras, smirking behind the mask, stepped forward, as if to pat Duke gently on the shoulder,but Duke recoiled, as if dodging a plague.
"Heh... you really don't like , do you?" Sargeras chuckled.
"You could have stopped this whole ss earlier," Duke said bluntly.
divh's expression twitched, embarrassed: "Sorry... I was montarily stunned."
Duke's gaze remained unyielding.
"Well then," divh continued, voice smooth as silk, "this is a failure on Stormwind's Royal School of Magic's part. Duke, your dream is not excessive. The doors of the Royal School and I remain open to you. As an apology, choose any wizard here as your master, I guarantee, in the dean's na, no ntor will refuse you. And, as a welco gift, enjoy a 20% discount on all materials and spell scrolls!"
The hall erupted.
Great perks! Fantastic offer!
But Duke knew better, Sargeras's honeyed words were just empty promises.
He didn't care about divh's strength, so who else would want to claim him as a student? It would be a slap in the Grand Wizard's face. And even if Duke forced his way in, who'd dare teach him real magic? No one.
Even old man Norton, Duke's closest ally, shrank back, avoiding eye contact, clearly hoping the boy wouldn't drag him into this ss.
The only genuine perk was the 20% discount.
Provided Duke actually joined the school.
Duke smiled inwardly. There was a tempting alternative, flee Stormwind's storm and take refuge in Dalaran, the legendary mage city. Safer, holier ground. But that ant giving up a crucial chance to rise and shape history.
"Fine," Duke declared. "As long as I can access the library archives on your terms, I'll join the Stormwind Royal School of Magic. As for a ntor... I doubt anyone will volunteer, so let's skip that."
He barely finished speaking before a fresh uproar ignited.
Arrogant! Too arrogant!
A re apprentice not only dread of eclipsing divh, the greatest wizard alive, but also dared reject a ntor? Did Duke think he was so super prodigy who swallowed magic books whole?
But when divh flicked his hand downward, silence fell. No one dared speak—but every soul in the room seethed, ready to cast the worst judgnts.
divh looked caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Yes," he said hesitantly, "our public library is open to all mbers. But the quantity and quality of books you can access depend on your rank. Apprentices usually start with the Apprentice's Notebook from their ntor..."
Duke strode forward with pride.
"Then, what are the criteria to beco a formal wizard?"
Before divh could answer, his apprentice Khadgar piped up, voice young but clear:
"Under the witness of three certified wizards, if you can cast three level-1 spells without magic items, you're recognized as a beginner wizard."
Khadgar was about Duke's age, thirteen or fourteen,his face still boyish, the faint outline of the mustache that would later beco famous barely visible.
Sent to Dalaran at six, trained in the arcane arts for years, and recently made divh's apprentice, Khadgar was talented but not yet a full-fledged wizard.
The entire hall was stunned again when Duke's clear voice cut through:
"Then I, Edmund Duke, formally request to take the preliminary wizard examination."
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