"Are we really worthy of Lord Edmund doing all this?" they thought, jaws slack with disbelief and eyes misty with guilt. "He's a wizard, yet he has the heart of a warrior! Heaven's gates are on the left, Valhalla on the right, and this guy just punched his way through both wearing a wizard robe! He's not brave. He's batshit divine!"
Amid the seething swarm of snarling gnolls, Duke only had time to shout out one glorious, flaming Pyroblast before—splat—he got flattened like a pancake under a bear in plate mail.
But then...
He stood up again.
"HOGG, YOU SON OF A JACKAL-SNIFFING MUTT!"
Pyroblast!
Thunk! An axe to the face. Duke got cleaved in two like a loaf of stale bread.
He stood up again.
"I'LL ROAST YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY TREE AND SEASON IT WITH GNOLL TEARS!"
Over and over again—like a cursed clown in an arcane horror show—Duke fell to Hogg's monstrous blows, only to rise again, hurling fiery insults and even hotter fireballs. Even the dumbest gnoll could see it: Hogg was starting to show wear. The fur was singed. The roars less enthusiastic. The snarls? A bit wheezy.
Even in its half-crazed state, Hogg realized something was terribly, terribly wrong.
And Duke? Oh, he was leveling up mid-fight like a loot-hungry speedrunner. After a few more fiery tantrums, he actually managed to cast a full Pyroblast, followed by an instant-cast bonus fireball, before being unceremoniously yeeted into a tree.
The mercenaries watching were emotionally shattered. All cried out of tears.
They felt tricked, and yet... honored?
Was this all just a ruse to buy them time? Duke, with all these extra lives, could've just fled and left them to their barbecue-flavored fate. But no, the madman chose to tank a boss fight solo.
By now, even the dumbest gnolls had stopped cheering. They huddled behind rocks and logs, peeking out like scared schoolkids watching a haunted puppet show.
Makaro, still bloodied from the fight, pulled his companions aside.
"Listen carefully," he whispered. "Not a word of this leaves your lips. I swear by every god and devil, we take this to the grave. We're witnesses to something huge. If we play this right, we're Lord Edmund's retainers for life."
The mercenaries nodded as if their necks were on hinges made of fear.
Then—BOOM!—another explosion lit up the night.
Duke, battle-worn but burning with that special brand of arcane madness, stood atop Hogg like a rockstar riding a dying kaiju.
"MAGIC LIGHT CANNON!!!"
Nobody understood what it meant, but it sounded cool as hell.
He vaulted up, using Hogg's massive arm as a springboard, planted a foot on the beast's hairy shoulder, and jammed two fingers into its eye sockets like a kid poking cake.
Zero-distance Pyroblast!
"GRAAAHH—"
Hogg's scream turned into a wet, sizzling gargle as his head combusted from the inside out.
Pop!
The back of his skull exploded in a glorious firework of blood, brain, and vengeance.
The remaining gnolls ran like hell had just installed an express lane.
Bathed in blood and victory, Duke stood victorious atop the smoldering corpse, less like a man and more like a furious phoenix who got dumped at prom.
But instead of feeling victorious... Duke sighed.
"Tch. This was just a level 11 elite monster in the game... Why the hell did I have to die eleven times just to kill it once!?"
Then came the system prompt.
Congratulations! You have slain the demonized elite monster Hogger! You have thwarted a demonic assassination attempt! Return Hogg's demon-infested noggin to a Stormwind priest for a bonus reward!
Loot gained: [Skinning Axe] Blueprint - Usable even by semi-literate creatures!
Soul Power: 87
Moral Integrity: 72%
Current Rank: Adept Wizard
Duke blinked.
"EXCUSE ME!? Why do I only have 72% of my moral integrity left?!"
Answer: You were killed by a demon. Demonic deaths lower moral integrity faster. It's a bonus feature!
Duke almost inhaled his own tongue in disbelief.
"I HATE DEMONS!"
Back on the battlefield, Makaro and the others watched Duke's face twist like he'd just bitten into a lemon of existential horror.
Taking no chances, they all dropped to their knees.
Makaro, solemn and quivering: "Lord Edmund, we owe you our lives. Please allow us to devote our pitiful existences to your mighty cause."
Duke, still caught between frustration and confusion: "Oh? Why?"
Makaro misinterpreted the question as a threat and panicked.
"Because we know your secret, my Lord! We know of your terrifying immortality! Please, let us serve rather than perish!"
Duke stared blankly. Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter. It reminded him of Alleria, that time she convinced herself he'd kidnapped her.
"Very well! Thank you for your loyalty!"
The mercenaries looked like prisoners pardoned from the gallows—until Duke added:
"But I can't accept your allegiance... for that reason."
Their blood ran cold.
Makaro: "M-My lord, we—"
Swoosh!
A half-dead gnoll lunged out of nowhere, swung a crude stone axe, and whack!—Duke's head flew.
"AAHH!"
The mercenaries screamed in unison, only for Duke's body to vanish in a flash of light... and reappear two steps to the right, fully intact.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Getting killed by a boss is one thing, but you?! You flea-bitten turd?!"
Furious and humiliated, Duke vaporized the gnoll with a fireball so aggressive it probably exploded in the afterlife too.
After a deep breath, Duke adjusted his robe and adopted his usual calm, wise-guy wizard face.
"What you just saw... is merely an ancient magical technique: the family-inherited Mirror Image talent. Many magic families have their own specialties, mine just happens to involve fooling enemies into wasting their killing blows. Not a secret that needs... silencing. But kindly keep it on the down low."
The mercenaries blinked.
"Ahh! So it's a magic thing! Wizards, man. Totally normal. Yep. Nothing weird here!"
Duke smiled.
Inside, he wept.
He could almost feel the moral integrity trickling out like leaky bathwater.
72%...
And falling.