The moment Duke stepped into the trial field, his brain short-circuited like a goblin-engineered toaster dunked in swamp water.
Just like in World of Warcraft, there were recruitment booths for different professions... except this wasn't a cozy, pixelated menu with helpful tooltips. This was real. Gritty. Loud. Smelly. Very smelly.
The warrior trial was an absolute meat grinder of testosterone and biceps. Duke stared in horror at the applicants whose arms looked like they bench-pressed cows for breakfast. Were these even humans? Or were they ogres that had signed up by mistake?
"ANGER!" bellowed the instructor, who looked like he ate kettlebells for fun. "You must SENSE your anger! Not the 'my favorite bread is sold out' kind of anger! Real, soul-burning, FURY-FUELED RAGE!"
Duke blinked. He thought, Does chronic caffeine withdrawal count?
The hunter trial wasn't much better. Candidates had to hit an apple on a stick—thirty yards away. With a bow. No scope. No cheat codes.
"What am I, Legolas with astigmatism?" Duke muttered, watching an elf casually Robin Hood the apple on his first try.
Next up, the thief trial. It wasn't sneaking through shadows or picking pockets.
No, these lunatics had to jump across a river using three tiny, wobbling stones barely the size of a rat's lunch plate. Some succeeded.
Duke stared, aghast. Back on Earth, these guys would win TV game shows and cash prizes. Here, it just got you an entry-level pickpocket gig.
As he despaired, a sudden cheer erupted like someone had just scored a touchdown during a famine.
"SALUTE SIR BRANDO! SLAYER OF THE DREAD BOAR PRINCE!"
Duke felt like he had just stepped into a slapstick opera. The crowd surged like a tidal wave of fanboys. Four servants hoisted up a massive wild boar hide like it was the second coming of bacon.
Duke's jaw went slack.
Wait a minute... isn't that the exact same boar that tried to make me into ham nuggets? The very one Alleria stylishly skewered with her anime-level archery combo?
Then came the voice. Sharp, nasal, insufferably smug.
"Hahaha! One fireball! Just poof! Straight into its throat. Didn't even singe the fur!"
A lesser man might have fainted. Duke twitched like someone had smacked him with a frying pan full of injustice.
No scorch marks?! Are we seriously saying your magical napalm left this boar's coat showroom shiny? Duke's eye twitched. His internal screaming reached dolphin frequencies.
And then, the cherry on this chaos cake: a voice, very suspiciously similar to Duke's own, shouted over the crowd:
"Sir Brando's fireballs! Like arrows of divine judgment! Right in the eyes! One in the throat! Magnificent!"
The cheers froze. Necks cranked toward the boar hide in mechanical horror. Silence fell with the weight of an anvil.
Because the boar's skin—flawless. Not a single burn. As untouched as a collector's edition action figure.
SYSTEM MESSAGE: "You are being misled by a powerful mysterious person. All threat generated for Brando is now redirected to YOU."
Duke felt like someone had just punted his soul into low orbit.
Misled?! That's not misled, that's straight-up identity theft with magic! He started scanning the area for the nearest river to throw himself into.
Brando, now high on stolen valor and delusion, glared at him.
"You... commoner! Are you saying I, The Great Brando, didn't kill the beast? Me, heir to the bloodline of Emperor Thoradin?!"
Thoradin, my foot, Duke thought. You look like a blonde ferret that swallowed a thesaurus.
Then came the unexpected support. Vice Captain Wilhelm walked up, armor clinking, voice low.
"Careful, Duke. In this kingdom, commoners questioning nobles is like asking a wyvern if it flosses. Dangerous and mostly pointless."
Duke bit back a retort.
But then he felt it. That presence. The weight of an unseen gaze. Alleria.
That elf demoness... she's watching. Oh no. She totally set this up, didn't she?
Still, Duke made his choice.
He stepped forward, lips curling into a sarcastic smile that could melt glaciers.
"I'm just really curious, Sir Brando. How exactly did your magical, incinerating fireballs leave the boar's fur so... immaculate? Did the flames politely ask the follicles to step aside?"
Brando turned a rich shade of beet stew. "You insolent worm! You're not even a registered professional!"
Duke shrugged dramatically. "And yet, here I am. Still better at storytelling than you."
Somewhere high above in the trees, Alleria smirked, tossing her healing potion like it was popcorn.
The battle lines had been drawn. The game had begun.