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 me 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 transformed into quirky, stick-figure caricatures. They looked less like deadly war pawns and more like something 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 slammed back into the full Karazhan chess nightmare from the game, in all its glory and grotesqueness.
On Duke's side, the front line was a pristine row of Stormwind guards. Their polished helmets shone like disco balls under a spotlight, their armor gleamed, and those blue-and-gold lion shields screamed, "I'm heroic! Bow before me!" 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 This wasn't some half-baked, outdated 3D game model this was next-level reality manipulation.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 remembered. 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 mentally dubbed them. Two per side again. The Alliance sent out icy spellcasters, shimmering with frost magic. The Horde answered with doom-wielding sorcerers, shrouded in dark mystery.
Fourth: The Healers—or "Warriors," but don't let the name 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 Medivh—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 hammer like he meant 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 me 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 game 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 meant "hidden traps" disguised as rewards.
Duke grinned slyly. "So you don't want me to play some boring, ordinary chess, huh? Got any mage-only special moves? Show me 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 doomed 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 message was crystal clear: when the hourglass runs out, the scroll closes. Time's ticking.
Duke immediately barked an order at the system AI: "System, analyze and record now!"
"Understood, my host," the AI chimed obediently. "Ding! Preliminary test complete. Simplified models for Intelligence Enhancement, Frost Arrow, and Blizzard spells located. Copying spell models... Formula reversal in progress."
Duke's eyes lit up. Jackpot.
This wasn't just a game 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 time, 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 Enhancement: 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 summer? Level 1 Blizzard is your frosty nightmare."
Duke blinked. "What the hell is this? Please don't explain spells like a late-night infomercial!"
"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.