Reforged: Chapter 21: My Name is Duke, and I'm the Best

Genius! Absolute genius!

Without a doubt, a once-in-a-millennium prodigy!

Even Medivh's apprentice, Khadgar, had never shown such a shocking talent at the tender age of 13 or 14!

The only one who could rival Duke in terms of talent was probably the Guardian of Tirisfal, Medivh, himself!

But who was Medivh?

His mother was Aegwynn – the most powerful Guardian of Tirisfal in a thousand years, appointed by the joint secret councils of Dalaran and the Quel'Thalas. Even his lesser-known father, Nielas Aran, was a renowned court mage of Stormwind City.

Talk about a pedigree!

Yet, Duke, this little brat from who knows where, also possessed such an astonishing gift, driving the mages mad with envy.

In the world of mages, apart from the mage families that have produced mages for generations, most mages are categorized by the school of magic they belong to. For the Royal Academy of Magic in Stormwind City, which recruited apprentices from all over the human world and even the high elven kingdom of Quel'Thalas, lineage was not important – there were too few talented human mages.

If they could become Duke's mentor, wouldn't they have the chance to cultivate a Grand Mage?

A mage was never a solitary entity.

Every mage usually had their followers, their own territories, and their own forces to ensure they had access to the necessary resources for advancement and the funds required for magical experiments.

Originally, several mages who had good relations with the Brand family, upon witnessing Duke's performance, immediately disregarded the Brand family's requests.

They had to get Duke!

Whoever managed to make Duke their apprentice would have a chance at soaring to greatness.

Duke's performance in the seventh trial was even more stimulating, leaving the mages' eyes red with envy!

What did Duke do?

He dared to navigate the outer edge of the opponent's Blizzard spell, taking advantage of the hailstones falling from the sky, and striking his opponent down with a single Frostbolt between the gaps in the ice.

He passed all seven trials!

And he won without any delays or setbacks.

Just as a large group of mages in the observation room stood up, intending to meet with Duke, the once-in-a-millennium prodigy, they suddenly realized that Duke had entered the eighth trial.

"What!? Isn't there supposed to be only seven trials?" Each mage was stunned, and the next second, they all simultaneously thought of one possibility...

The change in scenery left Duke a bit dumbfounded.

After seven consecutive one-on-one duels, he had almost forgotten about the game of Karazhan Chess.

But the chessboard was no longer a chessboard.

What Duke saw was a vast grassland at dusk.

Two armies faced off, with the heavy breathing of human soldiers, neighing of horses, and deep growls of giant black-furred wolves filling the air.

The two sides were like two titanic beasts confronting each other on the plains, and the tense atmosphere alone was enough to frighten any greenhorn on their first battlefield into wetting their pants.

The setting sun cast its light over the rolling hills in the distance, spilling its warmth onto the grassland. The orange and red hues filled the sky as if anticipating the blood that would soon be shed on this land!

Not far from Duke, the golden ear-length hair of Stormwind's King Llane Wrynn shone brilliantly in the sunset.

Llane – he was the center of this battlefield!

If Llane were to be slain, the Horde would achieve complete victory. Conversely, if the Horde's Warchief Blackhand were killed, the Alliance would be victorious!

Duke's gaze followed Llane's line of sight towards the opposing forces, reflecting the battlefield in his eyes.

No longer a monotonous chessboard, this was a real battleground.

The voice of Stormwind's Marshal, Lothar, echoed in Duke's ears.

Standing next to Llane, Lothar raised his hand, and his powerful roar resounded through the battlefield: "Prepare for battle! First line, form a shield wall! Baros, Jiajia Sha, rally the cavalry on both wings and prepare to counter the wolf riders!"

Stormwind's nobility might be rotten, but under the great leadership of Lothar, the Stormwind Guard was considered a formidable army among the human kingdoms. Their soldiers' performance was impeccable.

Facing the orc soldiers who towered over them, they maintained their composure. In a matter of moments, they sprang into action. The first row of soldiers firmly planted their shields into the ground, and the second row placed their shields atop the first.

The third and fourth rows of pikemen leveled their spears, and with a series of metallic clangs, two rows of gleaming spear points appeared outside the shield wall.

Any who dared assault such a formation would undoubtedly pay a heavy price.

Five minutes! Only five minutes!

In Duke's line of sight, a meticulously organized battle line appeared before him.

"Warriors!" King Llane raised his warhammer high: "Do you wish to allow filthy enemies to trample upon the lands of Stormwind? War is inevitable with their arrival—behind you lies your home, Stormwind City! Many of you may fall here, but your families and comrades will live on because of your struggle! Once we are victorious, our names will be passed down through generations on the Eastern Kingdoms, in every tavern, and on the lips of every elder."

"For the Alliance—fight!"

As Llane cried out, the soldiers' morale reached its peak.

"Fight—"

Thousands of voices and wills united. Even knowing this scene was illusory, Duke couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion.

At that moment, Duke realized Anduin Lothar was approaching. This exceedingly handsome marshal of the Alliance, with his charming mustache and strong features, patted Duke's shoulder and smiled: "The magical support strike is up to you. I believe that with you here, Stormwind won't fall behind in the battle of spells."

With you here...

With you here...

With you here...

For some reason, a warmth swelled in Duke's heart. Even knowing this was an illusion and that this Lothar wasn't real, Duke couldn't help but feel needed and acknowledged.

"Alright! Leave it to me!"

Behind Duke, a young mage of high rank stepped forward and addressed him: "Esteemed Archmage, the Stormwind Mage Corps will follow your instructions completely. Wherever your spells strike, the Mage Corps' attacks will surely follow."

Oh? This was akin to leading an archer battalion?

Duke smiled.

But soon, the Stormwind forces stopped smiling. They were at an absolute disadvantage in the magical confrontation. The Horde's Warlock Corps bombarded Stormwind's soldiers with [Meteor Showers], teaching them a harsh lesson. Duke's Mage Corps, on the other hand, fought like drunken men, striking randomly and aimlessly.

To be continued