Pretending To Be God

Chapter 12: Academy Inquiry Part 2

"They conquered continents, defeated the First Council of Wizards, and held the power that shaped the outcome of wars for centuries. While they might not have been known for their wit, their immense strength, capable of lifting the earth itself, more than made up for it.

The Barbarians, renowned for their unrivaled might, surpassed every other race on the planet in terms of sheer power. Elves, Dwarves, and even the various human races couldn't come close to matching their strength.

In the world of non-magic fighting sports, the Barbarians dominated as World Champions. Out of the 89 former World Champions, a mere two were Elves, five were Dwarves, thirteen were humans, and the rest were all proud Barbarians.

And the reigning champion, Drothgar Angmar, remained undefeated in every fight. Having been a former academy student, he shattered every record set by the Barbarian champions before him."

"All right, all right! Enough with the History Channel documentary!" George exclaimed, interrupting Michael.

Michael coughed, regaining his composure. "Sorry, I got carried away."

"Let's just skip over that stuff... Now, what were we talking about?" George asked, hoping to move on.

"Uh, barbarians?" Michael ventured, trying to recollect the discussion.

"No, not that! Before that!" George reminded him, growing impatient.

"Right, right..." Michael scratched his head, struggling to remember. "Oh, you were asking if I could get you into one of the higher classes at the academy."

"Yeah, can you do it?" George inquired eagerly.

"Hmm, speaking of the higher classes, did you know that most of the top-ranking students in those classes are Barba-"

"I don't want to hear any more about barbarians," George cut him off, exasperated.

"Oh, right, got it... Well, the answer is no," Michael responded, confusing George.

"Why not? You're like the second most powerful guy here, right after Ozzy?" George questioned, trying to understand.

"Technically, yes," Michael confirmed.

"And didn't Oz start the academy?" George pointed out.

"Yep," Michael acknowledged.

"So why can't you just convince the instructors to put me in Class A?" George pressed further.

Michael shook his head. "It's not that I can't do it, it's a matter of whether I should do it."

"I don't get what you're saying," George admitted, growing frustrated.

"Ozzy tried the same thing as you. He failed, and it made people suspicious of his other identity. He became a target for other students, seen as too weak. Trust me, you won't survive if that happens to you," Michael explained, his tone serious.

George sighed, deflated. "Fine, then what do you suggest I do?"

"Just enter the academy like everyone else does. I'll do my best to prevent any unfair situations, but beyond that, if I intervene too much, it'll only make you a bigger target," Michael advised cautiously.

George nodded, accepting the advice.

"So, are you good at fighting?" Michael asked, trying to gauge George's expertise.

An awkward smile spread across Michael's face. "Well, I've been in the military before..."

George's eyes widened, intrigued. "Wow, that's impressive."

"Yeah, no, I actually got kicked out. I ran away from my first mission," George confessed, the smile fading from his face.

Michael chuckled, looking slightly worried. "Well, I guess we won't know if you qualify for the lowest class unless you try."

"Hey, that's not all... I did some wrestling in high school and college," George added, hoping to salvage his fighting credentials.

Ignoring George's comment, Michael handed him a document. "Here's your new identity."

George glanced at it skeptically. "Wait, are you seriously giving me a fake identity with my real name on it?"

"Wouldn't it be easier for you? Besides, Sterlinguard is one of the fallen noble families. You'll be their supposed last son. Since there are no surviving members, I don't think you'll get caught," Michael assured him.

#

"Donovan!" the Chief Guard called out.

"Yes, Chief?" Donovan responded, turning to face him and bowing his head slightly.

"You spoke with Defective John Sterling?"

"Don't you mean 'Detective'?" Donovan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Bah! I couldn't care less!" The Chief slapped Donovan on the back. "I want to know what the Defective said."

"He was just asking some questions about the academy... And I'm pretty sure he said 'Detective,'" Donovan replied.

"Really? That's it?" The Chief seemed suspicious.

Why would a new title suddenly be created in the castle, and the first thing the person holding that title investigates is such a minor matter?

Something didn't add up.

"Come on, you can tell me," the Chief pressed, his curiosity piqued.

Donovan could sense that many eyes were on him, though he couldn't see who. The guards had limited sources of entertainment, and idle gossip and rumors were their main source of diversion.

And the information he possessed would surely be excellent fodder for their conversations.

His hunch proved correct when guards emerged from their hiding spots, looking disappointed with the conclusion of the conversation.

"Hey, I swear that was all we talked about!" Donovan shouted, feeling the weight of their disappointment.

Mason Wolfe, the most accomplished academy graduate turned Emerald City guard, approached Donovan causing him to smile. If there was someone who wouldn't be entertained by rumors, it was Mason. Whatever he was about to say must be important.

"So, what did that guy really ask you?" Mason inquired mischievously.

"Holy crap! I told everyone already! He only asked me about the academy! If you don't believe me, go ask Detective John yourself!" Donovan exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice.

Mason took a step back, surprised by his colleague's outburst. "I was just asking. Who knows, maybe the Great Wizard has gotten tired of your insults."

Donovan took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself before feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find the Chief standing there. "Uh, Chief, I..."

"We'll talk later. The Defective called for you," the Chief interrupted, his voice stern.

"Yes, sir," Donovan replied, mentally correcting the Chief's use of the word 'Defective.' He made his way toward the cafeteria, his mind filled with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

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