The Prophet

Night fell.

Elune cast Her benevolent power across the land, bringing light to all living things amid the darkness.

The scorching Fire Plume Ridge.

Tonatiuh, a lone troll carrying a dagger, advanced through the valleys.

"This place is filled with the scent of elements. Those slaves make fine slaves, but they are far too chaotic to be qualified soldiers."

"That idiot Ragnaros listened to the orders of the weakest among us back then. He got beaten terribly!"

"That bloated rock listened most to me and C'Thun. But C'Thun betrayed me. I was sold out by it!"

"I'm curious, troll. Why have you come here at this time? What do you want to do?"

"..."

Focused on completing his task, Tonatiuh listened to Xal'atath's incessant chatter the entire way.

He could now somewhat understand Big Jaw's predicament back then. Neltharion's office had been underground, the place closest to the Old Gods. As the Black Dragon King was also a jailer, he could not avoid them and could only face them directly. No wonder he had eventually been driven mad and fallen into corruption.

If possible.

He wanted the young lady to shut up.

But he could not use a rough method. If he forcibly invaded with unreasonable power, Xal'atath would certainly obey. But she would respond with passive resistance, and sometimes Tonatiuh felt that listening to her nagging was not so bad.

It was contradictory.

But that was simply how it was.

At that moment.

A Living Flame spotted Tonatiuh. It froze for a moment, seemingly unable to believe that a creature of flesh and blood would dare appear here at such a time.

But in the end.

Its chaotic nature made it cast aside all doubts, and it charged forward with a roar.

"Oh! One of Ragnaros's little brats. How do you plan to deal with it? With that strange power of yours?!"

The young lady said.

Tonatiuh did not answer.

He lifted a stone from the ground. Light shimmered in his hand, a power mixed with gold and silver that made one want to kneel in worship at first sight.

That power flowed into the ordinary stone, making it shine brilliantly. Then Tonatiuh threw the stone at the Living Flame with all his strength.

Boom!

The stone struck the fearless, charging Living Flame with perfect accuracy. With a thunderous crash, the Living Flame's core shattered. "Roar!" It let out an unwilling wail and dissipated into the air, its core reduced to fragments.

"What do you think of this power, dear Old God? Take a guess at what kind of power it is?"

Tonatiuh said to the Old God in his sea of consciousness, feeling a little pained.

Of course he was pained.

That one attack had consumed two units of faith power, strengthening that ordinary pebble and turning it into a powerful ranged weapon.

Combined with the force of his own throw, it had effortlessly killed the Living Flame in an instant.

Two units of faith power!

Zangar, his most devout and strongest believer, could provide at most around two or three units of faith power a month. In other words, that single throw had cost him a month's worth of Zangar...

Tonatiuh was desperately short on faith power. If he could help it, he did not want to waste even a tiny bit.

Yet he had just spent it like that.

He only wanted to make the Old God young lady shut up, to find something that would draw her attention so she would stop pestering him with endless chatter.

After witnessing his spectacular "magic attack," Xal'atath seemed to fall into thought and remained silent for quite some time.

Tonatiuh relaxed.

He searched the desolate Fire Plume Ridge for his target.

At the same time.

In the distant Zandalar Islands.

Within an enormous temple, candles made from the fat of the mightiest beasts burned along the walls.

Beneath the candlelit shadows.

Zandalar's God-King Rastakhan's right-hand man, the leader of the witch doctors, the Dark Prophet Zul, was receiving a fellow tribesman from the great desert in southern Kalimdor.

"Mighty Zul, please accept greetings from Zul'Farrak. I am Zem'lan. His Majesty the God-King sent me to find you. He said Zandalar would provide aid to Zul'Farrak."

A desert troll wearing a mask and hunched at the waist spoke to the young Zul.

"Of course."

"Zandalar will help all trolls."

Zul nodded.

"But I would like to know more about Zul'Farrak's plans. You have only told Zandalar that you intend to expand northward. That is good. The world belongs to trolls in the first place. But what exactly will the desert trolls do? Do you have a plan?"

The equally young witch doctor Zem'lan was an envoy sent by Zul'Farrak to attend the God-King's coronation and request support.

Witch Doctor Zem'lan said, "Honored Prophet. Our mighty chieftain, Ukorz Sandscalp, will lead us to conquer Kalimdor! Chieftain Ukorz Sandscalp and Ruuzlu are awakening Gahz'rilla!"

"Gahz'rilla? The mighty hydra! It truly has the potential to lead Zul'Farrak forward! Sir Zem'lan, Zandalar will provide you with support."

"Thank you! Then when will it be? And how much aid will there be?!"

"Mm... Please return and rest. A troll will come to see you tomorrow. Discuss the resources, aid, and timing of that aid with him."

"Then I shall take my leave, Honored Prophet."

"Mm... May the Loa bless you!"

"May the Loa bless you as well!"

"..."

Watching the desert troll witch doctor depart, the Dark Prophet gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

In a prophecy long ago, he had foreseen that the desert trolls would certainly perish. Of the several Troll Empires formed after the ancient split, the desert trolls would be the first to vanish.

The desert trolls were too weak.

Zul knew that the desert trolls would perish, and he had told Rastakhan as much. Yet after discussing it with the God-King, they still chose to help the desert trolls.

Aside from the fact that they were trolls and Zandalar had an obligation to help them, the greatest reason was that, in an idiom from another world, Zandalar's unconditional aid to the desert trolls was like "buying horse bones for a thousand gold."

If Zandalar wanted the Troll Empire to rise, it had to unite all trolls and restore the glory of the Zul Empire! To unite trolls who had already declined and were even fighting one another into chaos, mere words would naturally not be enough. Actual assistance was also necessary.

The desert trolls were the first batch. They would be Zandalar's best advertisement for uniting the other trolls.

"The next envoy."

Zul spoke to one of his apprentices, who was also his subordinate.

"Bring him in."

Just as he continued his work, Zul's vision suddenly blurred, but he remained unruffled.

Another prophecy had come.

Within a dense fog visible only to him, he saw a vast desert. The conditions in that great desert were harsh. Yet in such a harsh desert, there was a rare oasis, and within that oasis stood a gigantic pyramid city.

Zul saw many trolls living within the city. These trolls resembled the Zandalari Trolls, standing upright and exceptionally tall.

He also saw a tall troll standing at the highest point of the pyramid city, looking down over it.

Zul wanted to see his face.

But at that moment, the dense fog dispersed, and a troll's face appeared before him. It was not the troll from the prophecy, however, but an envoy from Zul'Aman.

The envoy was rude from the outset.

"Zul'Aman is preparing to wage war and drive out those long-eared ones! What aid will Zandalar provide?!"

Zul frowned.

A city in the desert?

Desert trolls?

Were they not destined to disappear?

He shook his head and returned his attention to reality, facing the envoy.

"You intend to attack Quel'Thalas?"

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