Demanding Promotion

If Duke had been somewhat lost before Medivh appeared, then at this very moment, Duke had undergone a complete transformation.

Perhaps it was because getting involved with Medivh, who had been possessed by Sargeras, had driven Duke into a corner that his thoughts had suddenly become so clear.

Since Medivh had been shot and his body taken over by Sargeras, just as in the game before Duke's transmigration, then judging by Azeroth's damned history, Duke no longer expected anything good to happen next.

Lordaeron, Dalaran, Alterac, Kul Tiras, Gilneas, Stromgarde, and Stormwind—of the world's seven greatest kingdoms, aside from the island nation of Kul Tiras, far from the mainland, the other six would all be reduced to rubble one after another in the years to come, either destroyed by the orcs or by the Scourge.

The only human realm that could repeatedly fall and rise again was Stormwind!

It was also humanity's last hope!

As a human, Duke was utterly certain that his own future lay in Stormwind. Thinking of the disasters that would soon befall Stormwind and the entire Stormwind Kingdom, Duke understood what he had to do—first, he needed to build up his strength, enough strength to influence the events surrounding the Dark Portal.

Right now, he stood no chance in a direct confrontation against Sargeras. Even if Sargeras only had his soul left, he was still a super boss who wielded Medivh's power as a Guardian.

As an outsider, Duke knew very well that no one would believe anything he said. On the contrary, the more he said, the faster he would die.

But siding with Medivh under Sargeras's control meant death, and facing a high-level boss so skilled at toying with souls meant that even death would bring no peace.

Duke was going all in. Truly, completely all in.

On the surface, Duke was challenging authority, but in truth, he was laying a trap for Sargeras. As long as Sargeras still wanted to maintain Medivh's identity, as long as he did not expose that false mask, he had to treat Duke fairly and openly. Besides, Duke was still only half-grown.

Medivh raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. The sounds in the hall seemed to be sucked away in an instant. People had their mouths wide open and their arms raised, their faces still animated, yet they could no longer make a single sound.

"Gentlemen of the Stormwind Royal Association of Magic, I only want to ask: where is your grace? Where is the magnanimity expected of nobles? A half-grown child is speaking of his great dream. Is that wrong? Did you really need to make such a serious issue of it?"

Why had everyone been so worked up just now? Wasn't it because that bastard Sargeras had secretly used some demonic trick similar to Frenzy Aura?

Yet now, Sargeras acted like a fair and wise sage, like some great man, earnestly admonishing every mage who had made extreme remarks.

At the sight of this, Duke felt like vomiting.

Duke remained silent, staring stubbornly at "Medivh"!

Sargeras smiled and walked over, seemingly intending to lightly pat Duke on the shoulder. Yet Duke darted backward as though he feared being infected by the plague.

"Heh... It seems you hold a deep prejudice against me."

"You could have stopped them from the very beginning," Duke said bluntly.

A trace of awkwardness appeared on "Medivh's" face. "Sorry, I was taken aback as well."

Duke continued to glare fixedly at "Medivh."

"Very well. This was indeed discourteous of the Stormwind Royal Academy of Arcane Arts. Duke, your dream is not excessive at all. The doors of both the Royal Academy of Arcane Arts and my own hall remain open to you. As compensation, you may choose any mage in the academy as your teacher. In my capacity as headmaster, I guarantee that no instructor will refuse you. So long as you join our academy, you will receive a twenty percent discount on all materials and spell formulas you exchange for."

The instant Medivh's words fell, the entire hall erupted.

Preferential treatment! This was far too preferential!

Unfortunately, Duke knew that Sargeras's words were almost complete bullshit.

Duke did not even give Medivh, the strongest mage, the time of day. Who else would dare become Duke's teacher? Wouldn't that be slapping Medivh in the face? Even if Duke forcibly took a teacher, who would dare truly teach him their real knowledge?

At that moment, even old Norton, who had the best relationship with Duke, seemed afraid that Duke might look toward him. He timidly took two quiet steps back, lowered his head, and hid behind the crowd.

The only useful thing was that twenty percent discount.

Of course, the prerequisite was that Duke had to become part of the academy.

A smile touched Duke's lips. In truth, he had a second option at that moment—abandon Stormwind and throw himself into the embrace of Dalaran, the sacred land of mages. Perhaps that would allow him to temporarily leave the center of this world-spanning storm, but it would also cost him a very important opportunity to rise.

"Fine. So long as I can consult the materials in the library according to your regulations, I agree to join the Stormwind Royal Academy of Arcane Arts. As for a teacher... I doubt anyone would be willing to become mine, so let us forget about that."

The moment he finished speaking, Duke could fully imagine what would happen next.

Sure enough, the next second, an uproar broke out all around him!

Arrogant! Too arrogant!

A mere apprentice not only claimed that he would surpass Medivh, the strongest mage in the world, but also openly declared that he did not need a teacher? Did he really think he was some super prodigy who could learn without a master?

Yet when everyone saw Medivh's downward pressing gesture, none of them dared utter another word. Still, it was inevitable that they mentally dumped every worst possible judgment onto Duke's head.

Medivh seemed somewhat troubled. "That is correct. Our public library is open to all members. However, the number and grade of magic books each rank is permitted to read differs. As an apprentice, there are not many books suitable for you. Usually, one begins with an Apprentice's Notebook provided by one's teacher..."

Duke took two steps forward and asked proudly, "Then may I ask, what is the standard for becoming a formal mage?"

Before Medivh could speak, Medivh's disciple Khadgar answered first. "Before three formal mages, if one can independently cast three Level 1 spells without relying on any magical items, one may be recognized as an entry-level mage."

Khadgar was extremely young at this time, probably about Duke's age, around thirteen or fourteen. His face still bore obvious childishness. The little mustache above his lip, which would later become familiar to everyone, was now only a faint outline.

With short black hair and a fairly pale face, aside from not looking like a farmer's son, he was no different from an ordinary Stormwind boy.

Khadgar had been sent by his family to Dalaran at the age of six to study all kinds of magical knowledge, and had only recently formally become Medivh's disciple. Even a talent as brilliant as Khadgar was still not an entry-level mage.

Yet at this moment, Duke's clear voice stunned the entire hall.

"Then I—Duke Marcus—hereby request to take the entry-level mage examination."