Northshire Erupts

What was the result?

No fiends were anywhere to be seen. All they saw were two soot-blackened people, while the straw dummies that had been placed in the open space as symbolic targets had all been reduced to dust.

Not far away, Vice-Captain Viri stood dumbfounded, his gaping mouth wide enough to fit an egg.

Farther away, Sir Brando and several of his servants had been so frightened that they had collapsed to the ground.

"Oh, my heavens, what did I just see?" Viri could not believe his eyes.

The captain before his previous captain had once told him that a promising mage could use that crystal ball to cast a Fireball and blast a single straw dummy to pieces.

What had he just seen?

A whole row of ten straw dummies had vanished. The ground was covered in black ash and a small amount of straw that had not completely burned away.

"cough, cough, cough..." The old man and the young man both coughed desperately, choked by the thick smoke from the blaze.

"Sasha." The old mage called to his assistant, unable to conceal the wild delight in his voice. "Tell Old Mike to bring me that bottle of wine I've been saving! I've found a treasure!"

"A treasure!? What treasure?" The mage assistant who had rushed over from elsewhere looked rather bewildered.

Old Norton grabbed Duke, who was still in a daze, and pulled him over. "He—he's a once-in-a-thousand-years, no, once-in-ten-thousand-years Archmage prospect!"

"Whoa—" In an instant, the entire Northshire Abbey testing grounds exploded into an uproar.

In any era, ordinary soldiers who needed no talent and relied solely on muscle were always the most numerous. By contrast, professionals who required skill and talent were far rarer. Spellcasters of any kind were exceedingly scarce, as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.

Almost the instant the old man made the announcement, Duke could feel that everyone's gaze upon him had changed.

Most were envious, a few were jealous, but there was also... awe!

The noise around Duke's ears was a chaotic mess, but he generally understood it. Once he became an official mage, his status would be equivalent to that of a noble. In the future, he might even have his own fief and mage tower.

The two guards who had once looked down on him were dragged over by Vice-Captain Viri, one in each hand, and begged Duke for forgiveness like dogs.

Of course, the most stunned person was Brando.

After his initial shock, his face immediately turned livid because he heard a sentence.

"Kid, from this moment onward, you are a ninth-grade mage apprentice, the highest grade at Stormwind Royal Academy of Arcane Arts. Hmm, I'll apply for special treatment for you. That way, you can enjoy benefits equivalent to those of a knight."

What!? Impossible!

To Brando, Duke's fairly handsome face looked even more hateful and hideous than the most vicious ghoul. Brando simply could not believe his ears.

Ninth-grade aptitude!

What did ninth-grade aptitude mean!?

Since the founding of the Stormwind Kingdom, one and only one person had ever received a ninth-grade aptitude rating! That person was Lord Medivh, the current Royal Court Archmage of Stormwind, a legendary man hailed as the next Guardian of the world!

Who was Medivh's mother?

The famed Guardian of Azeroth, Aegwynn.

Why did some poor brat of unknown origin possess such terrifying aptitude?

Brando was practically going mad!

He knew he had lost!

Although no wager had been made, Brando knew he had lost.

The reason he had been able to brazenly claim the credit was, first, his noble status, and second, the fact that he had earned the qualification of a fifth-grade apprentice in the mage trial arranged in advance.

Among ordinary people, fifth grade already represented excellence.

There was only one Medivh in the world, and mage prospects more outstanding than him had long since been recruited into Dalaran, the holy city of human mages. Thus, being a fifth-grade apprentice was enough to let Brando swagger through Stormwind.

Unfortunately, compared to Duke, the ninth-grade aptitude apprentice who had appeared out of nowhere, he was nothing.

"Little fellow, what is your name?" The old man gripped Duke's hand tightly, as though this treasure would run away the moment he let go.

"Duke."

"Duke? What is your family name?"

Duke froze. Right, this was a Western-style fantasy world.

To everyone else, Duke was merely a given name, not a surname. He could hardly tell the old man that his surname was Du and his given name was Ke, and that he was theoretically the nth-generation distant relative of the great poet Du Fu.

At that moment, a surname suddenly surfaced in Duke's mind. It was the surname of a winner in life from World of Warcraft who made every man envious, jealous, and resentful.

As if possessed, Duke blurted it out. "Marcus... Duke Marcus!"

The old man seized Duke's left hand in his right and raised it high. "The king of this year's new mage apprentice trial talents has been born! He is Duke Marcus!"

The moment this result was announced, the entire crowd was stunned. More than a thousand people stood there with mouths gaping wide enough to fit duck eggs inside, staring foolishly at the scene.

Silence fell.

Before anyone realized it, everyone's gaze had converged once more on the young noble, Brando.

Facing one malicious, hostile, and even contemptuous gaze after another, Brando's face burned as if it were on fire.

Apologize? How could that be possible!

A noble would only ever apologize to another noble!

Even knowing he was wrong, a noble would never bow to a commoner. Status equivalent to a knight? True, mages possessed extraordinary status, but no matter how gifted Duke was, he was still only a mage apprentice.

Apologizing was not something he needed to consider at all before becoming a court mage!

"Hmph!" With a livid face, Brando stamped his foot and fled in disgrace with his servants.

A long while later, after Brando's figure had vanished completely into the distance.

Boom!

The entire crowd erupted.

Only then did the wave of excitement explode in full force.

Every commoner discussed it madly, whispering descriptions of what had just happened to their companions and triggering wave after wave of shrieks.

"I... I... I didn't hear wrong, did I? That young man named Duke won the bet?"

"You heard right! Duke crushed that boy from the Brando family in the mage apprentice trial. Ninth-grade aptitude! That completely surpassed Brando's fifth-grade aptitude!"

"That's right. A commoner's child defeated Brando, a noble by birth. It's simply unbelievable!"

"So that means Brother Duke is entering Stormwind's Royal Academy of Arcane Arts?"

"Wow, now that you mention it, I just realized—Duke seems to be the first person since the founding of the Stormwind Kingdom to enter the mage academy as a commoner!"

A muscular young man said excitedly, "Duke is incredible! No, once he graduates from the mage academy, I want to become his follower!"

"Wait until Lord Duke graduates? I suggest you make contact early. Ninth-grade aptitude! Maybe he'll become the next Royal Court Archmage of Stormwind."

"Tsk, tsk, look at the glowing eyes of all those girls around us. They look like they want to swallow Duke whole."

A large group of young men shouted freely, venting the excitement in their hearts to their fill.