"Swish——" The ice arrow flew from Duke's fingers with a quiet, almost polite whistle. To any seasoned mage, it looked as ordinary as a butter knife at a dragon's banquet. No explosions, no ear-splitting booms, no fireworks worthy of a festival—just a neat, precise shot.
No magic power was wasted, and there wasn't a shred of earth-shattering might behind it. It was basically the magical equivalent of a polite tap on the shoulder.
The arrow aimed squarely at Medivh.
If a wizard in any standard wizarding company fired this ice arrow on a battlefield, they'd probably get a nod of approval and a "Not bad, keep it up!" Maybe it wouldn't pierce a fully armored knight's plate, but hey—an unarmed peasant soldier? Dead as a doornail.
That was its entire power scale.
If some random mid-level wizard shot this arrow, nobody would bat an eyelash.
But Duke? That ridiculously baby-faced kid who looked like he should be learning to tie his boots, not bending elemental forces to his will? His performance sent shockwaves crashing through every mage's soul like a gnome dropped a prank bomb in the middle of their tea party.
"Holy arcane circuits, how old is this kid?!" whispered the murmurs.
Two—count 'em, two—flawless, textbook level 1 spells. Simple? Sure. Ordinary? Maybe to an old-timer. But given that Duke was barely out of diapers and had been inside this brutal trial space for less than an hour, the gathered wizards couldn't contain the growing storm of panic mixed with awe.
The ability to deduce complex magic formulas just by observing enchanted items was a talent so rare, only legendary enchanters could claim mastery.
And here Duke was, casually juggling it like a street performer.
The arrogant mages who had earlier surrounded Duke like a pack of wolves now felt a sting of regret so sharp, it could split a mana crystal. They'd insulted a dragon without realizing it had claws.
Everyone could see Duke's magical reserves were dangerously low. His body—still apprentice-level fragile—was pushed to the absolute brink.
Casting a third spell? That would be straight-up reckless. But no one doubted he could do it.
The real question was when.
Suddenly, Duke lifted his trembling hand. His fingers twitched in a seemingly random dance, carving invisible sigils in the air. As his index finger traced the patterns, a faint blue arcane stream condensed along its path, shimmering like a restless river of light.
Intelligence Enhancement Technique?
An old wizard nearby snorted softly, shaking his head with a half-amused, half-exasperated smile. "A rookie, through and through."
See, Intelligence Enhancement was the classic beginner's crutch—an essential buff that temporarily boosted wisdom, expanded mana limits, and gave a modest increase to spell power. Every fledgling wizard flunking their first trial pulled this trick out of the spellbook at least once.
No one laughed or scoffed. To the veteran eyes, Duke was just making the classic rookie mistake of needing to lean on a crutch even when he looked like he could bench-press a gnome.
For all his prodigious talent, Duke was still a mere mortal with mortal limits.
And boy, was he looking rough.
Old man Norton, who had been watching the drama unfold like a spectator at a gladiator fight, finally pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled, "Don't be stubborn, boy. Rest now, or you'll fry your magic circuits. That'd be a mess."
Magic circuits: the body's arcane plumbing system. A novice or seasoned wizard could expand them through meditation, hard training, and sometimes a painful dash of luck—allowing more magic to flow and stronger spells to be cast.
But magic circuits were fragile—damage meant downtime or worse.
And Duke? He was forcibly squeezing every last drop of mana out of his apprentice's frail vessel for one last, desperate spell.
Medivh, whose calm demeanor hid the deadly serious will of Sargeras himself, gave a knowing nod and said with a tone part sage, part disapproving mentor: "Duke, I strongly advise you to reconsider rushing forward. But... maybe... just maybe, we might all witness a miracle."
His eyes sparkled, catching the faint tremor of Duke's plan.
Duke's strategy was as brutal as it was brilliant. He drained his mana with Pyroblast and Frost Arrow on purpose—like a man giving himself a blood transfusion with a syringe the size of a tree branch. His internal energy was crashing like a floodgate opened wide.
Yet, even with his reserves bleeding dry, he wasn't done.
If he passed out, the system spirit would seize control, finishing the spell. If he died, well... resurrection wasn't exactly off the table. For most apprentices, this was a death sentence.
For Duke, it was just another Monday.
He intended to complete this alchemical transformation in front of everyone. Nail this ultimate breakthrough publicly and future miracles would be dismissed as "par for the course," keeping his strange system existence under the radar.
Arcane runes blinked and swirled like mathematical fireworks inside Duke's spiritual sea.
He deliberately slowed the system commands, cross-referencing every mystical scribble with his raw intuition.
Explaining Intelligence Enhancement in layman's terms? Imagine being stuck at the base of a cliff with no way up—then suddenly, a grappling hook appears in your hand, letting you scale impossible heights.
This spell added an extra magic circuit. But Duke was doing something borderline insane: he was using that newly gained circuit to probe his body, hunting for more spots that could become magic circuits, and forcibly transforming his own flesh and soul with raw arcane energy.
Normally, Azeroth's magic theory demanded years of patient meditation, elemental communion, and gentle arcane infusion to open new circuits.
Duke was taking a shortcut through a nuclear explosion.
His consciousness blurred, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.
But then—a membrane in his spiritual world appeared, thin as a breath but endless.
On the other side lay a faint mental force—his own power—waiting.
Suddenly, Duke shattered that membrane.
A robotic voice buzzed inside his head: "Host mana limit increasing detected."
Duke ignored the system's robotic chirps. His mind locked onto the breakthrough, clutching the sensation of something utterly alien yet breathtakingly sublime bursting from within.
No longer just blood and bodily fluids, this was real magic power, generated by the new magic circuits absorbing external arcane energy.
It was faint, like a morning mist on a desert wanderer's face—but oh, how it nourished him.
Level 1 Intelligence Enhancement Technique: complete.
But the moment all the assembled mages really noticed was the soft glow flickering along Duke's skin—the unmistakable signature of a certified, official wizard.
That pale, shimmering arcane light was the ultimate mic drop.