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"SELF-DEFENCE MODE ACTIVATED!" The Mother of Purity's voice, usually a calm hum, now held a metallic urgency that grated on the Guardians' nerves. "LABORATORY FUNCTION MODULES: DORMANT. DEFENSE SYSTEM ENERGY SUPPLY: CRITICAL 23%. ENTERING PASSIVE DEFENSE PROTOCOL."

A chilling pronouncement followed: "CONNECTING TO OUTER SEALS! ZULDAZAR: CONNECTED. NAZWATHA, ATUL'AMAN: UNRESPONSIVE."

A collective grimace twisted the bronze faces of the three Guardians. No wonder the void's insidious tendrils had seeped so far. They had arrived on the precipice of disaster; a moment later, and Uldir would have been swallowed whole.

"RESTART SYSTEM!" Lai's command thundered, echoing through the cavernous hall.

"SYSTEM RESTARTING... 1%... 3%... 10%..." The glacial progress was a torment.

Under the Mother of Purity's urgent guidance, Lai, a titan of raw power, strode towards the deepest, most corrupted heart of the laboratory, a singular purpose burning in his eyes: to teach G'huun a lesson. This artificial Old God, a cosmic plague to mortal races, was nothing more than a pathetic, squirming worm to the Great Guardian. A single, full-strength Thunder Spear, infused with the Heart of Origination's protective aura, would obliterate it. Lai, immune to the insidious whispers of the void, felt no fear, only a cold, righteous fury.

Far below, a stark contrast to the Guardians' unwavering resolve, the trolls were drowning in despair. They had believed victory was within their grasp, but the Blood Matrons' dark magic had unleashed a nightmare. A plague of blood, a crimson tide, had swept through their warriors, transforming their very essence into a conduit for a monstrous summoning.

Six meters tall, a grotesque parody of an elemental, it rose from the congealed blood of the fallen: a Blood Plague Elemental. Had Garin been present, he would have recognized it as Vectis, the fifth horror of Uldir. This was the progenitor of the Corrupted Blood Plague, a scourge that had devoured countless troll lives near Uldir, scarring Zandalari history with its horrific legacy. Uldir had once imprisoned it, seeking a cure, only to discover isolation and eradication were the only answers. Now, with the Guardian system fractured and Uldir's defenses crippled, the plague had merged with a sample of G'huun's blood, birthing the abomination before them.

"GREAT REZAN! YOUR FAITHFUL FOLLOWERS BEG YOUR AID!" Princess Talanji's voice, raw with desperation, tore through the suffocating blood mist.

"ROOOOOOAR!"

A sky-shattering roar ripped through the air as a colossal Tyrannosaurus Rex, its hide shimmering with golden armor, burst from a cloud of cerulean smoke! Rezan, the Loa of Kings, descended! His massive head lowered, his thunderous strides shaking the very ground, each impact a primal drumbeat. A golden aura pulsed from his form, a radiant shield against the encroaching darkness. The blood-colored mist recoiled, dissipating before his divine presence, and shimmering golden shields coalesced around the injured trolls, purifying their flesh from the plague's vile touch.

With another earth-shaking roar, Rezan charged, slamming into the blood-red mass of Vectis, sending the abomination reeling! The trolls, protected by Rezan's light, fell to their knees, their voices rising in a fervent chorus of prayer: "GREAT REZAN, SON OF THE SUN, BATHE IN GLORY! STAND FIRM, PROUD, AND UNYIELDING! YOU ARE THE GREATEST GOD!"

Talanji's eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, fixed on Rezan. The royal blood bond thrummed within her, confirming it: the Loa of Kings was far more powerful than when she had last summoned him at sea. "FATHER! HIS MAJESTY REZAN HAS GROWN STRONGER! VICTORY IS AT HAND!"

But King Rastakhan's brow remained furrowed, a knot of unease tightening in his gut. This monster, should have been locked away, deep within Uldir's Heart of Darkness! What fresh hell had broken loose?

"LAER! QUICKLY! YOU AND THE PRIESTS! SUMMON PA'KU AND GONK! NO! SUMMON EVERY LOA WHO CAN JOIN THE BATTLE! I HAVE A GRIM FEELING!"

The Sorcery Lord, his face pale, immediately rallied the Loa priests, their desperate pleas echoing across the ravaged battlefield.

"GREAT..."

Ripples of raw spiritual energy pulsed through the air, distorting reality.

"ROOOAR!"

The first to answer the call was Pa'ku, the Pterodactyl Loa. His entire form glowed with a faint blue light, his body shifting, morphing, before he plunged from the sky, claws extended, aiming for Vectis's back! But as his powerful talons connected, the elemental's back liquefied, a sickening spray of corrupted blood erupting, coating Pa'ku! Before the Loa could react, Vectis's massive claw lashed out, sending the pterodactyl screaming through the air, crashing into the murky swamp. Pa'ku, swift and agile, lacked the raw power for a frontal assault; physical attacks were useless against Vectis's fluid form.

Yet, Vectis had no time to press its advantage. A heavily armored Triceratops, a living battering ram, charged! It was Torcali, the Direhorn Loa! Vectis braced itself, preparing to absorb the triple thrust of the Direhorn's horns.

But in that critical instant of collision, Rezan's divine power surged forth! Torcali's three sharp horns blazed with golden light, imbued with Rezan's solar might – a holy light, a searing antidote to the blood plague's vile essence!

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The void monster shrieked as Torcali's horns, wreathed in solar fire, pierced its core three times over.

In the distance, at the combined headquarters of the Amani and Gurubashi, Sen'jin and Zul'jin watched, their eyes fixed on the battle. Pa'ku, Torcali, and the Slenderjaw Loa, Shirik, circled the edges, waiting for their moment to strike.

"Sen'jin," Zul'jin muttered, his voice low, "should we aid them?" Only a few blood trolls remained, and the colossal blood plague elemental was the last true threat. Still, Zul'jin held a hidden ace, making the battle's outcome a foregone conclusion.

"Help them," Sen'jin replied, his gaze calm, far-seeing. "The High Lord needs every hand. We cannot allow the Zandalari to be crippled." Galen knew his lieutenants would not turn on each other, but ancient racial hatreds ran deep. Standing by, or offering minimal assistance, was the unspoken norm. But Sen'jin was a visionary, his gaze fixed on a grander tapestry.

"Furthermore, the Great Lord commands a vast army, a multitude of races. We and the Zandalari are of the troll blood. We must unite, for the greater good of our people."

Zul'jin, leader of Zul'Aman, was no fool. He grasped Sen'jin's meaning instantly. "Heh, then let us show the Zandalari our strength!" Zul'jin stretched, his muscles rippling. "Remember to back me up, old friend. I'll unveil my new trick!"

"Like... turning into a bear!"

As Zul'jin spoke, his form distended, growing monstrously, thick brown fur erupting across his skin! "HAHAHA! I'M THE BEST!" With a final, booming laugh, Zul'jin, now a hulking bear-beast, launched himself from his thick hind legs, a living cannonball rocketing towards the fray.

On the battlefield, four dinosaur Loa, worshipped by the Zandalari trolls, and a transformed, monstrous troll, hammered the Blood Plague Elemental in a five-on-one assault.

High above, on Uldir's uppermost observation deck, Lai and Freya, having dealt with G'huun, surveyed the brutal dance of power, accompanied by the Mother of Purity.

Freya's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing with profound disgust at the blood-red Vectis. "That monster's aura..."

The Mother of Purity, sensing Freya's revulsion, offered a clinical explanation. "Respected Lord of Life, that blood plague elemental contains a sample of G'huun's flesh and blood. It emanates the Old God's essence. Furthermore, the void monster absorbed a vast quantity of life force sacrificed by the Blood Matrons, rendering it several times stronger than its starved state within the laboratory. Hence, its resilience."

Lai, however, was unconcerned with monster's tenacity; a single lightning cannon would shatter it. His gaze was fixed on the titanic dinosaurs below. "What a magnificent battle. That Devil Tyrannosaurus Rex's fighting style... it mirrors Odin's."

Freya's bronze face twisted into a sardonic smile, a silent jab at Odin's muscle-bound intellect. She understood. The arrogant, autocratic Odin was rarely admired within the Guardian system. "I know them," Freya quickly shifted the subject, avoiding the unpleasant topic of Odin. "I examined them when I was selecting the Demigods of the Wilderness. But these dinosaurs are too savage, their wisdom too dim. I never bound them to the Emerald Dream."

If the dinosaur Loa knew Freya dismissed them as brainless, they would have wept tears of molten rock in their dens, lamenting the unimaginable wealth they had missed due to their walnut-sized brains.

"Indeed, you are right, but these are different times." Lai's smile was knowing. He understood Freya's preference for peace. "Azeroth is desperate for strength. The High Lord recruited them precisely for their ferocity."

In the heart of the battlefield, the five-on-one struggle was no longer a contest. Deep within the jungle, the Dark Prophet Zul watched as Vectis, summoned at the cost of countless lives, teetered on the brink of collapse. He barked orders, urging the Blood Matrons to lead their remaining forces into Uldir, a desperate, final gamble to unleash G'huun. But they were met by a storm of reactivated Titan constructs, torn to pieces before they could reach the inner sanctum.

Zul, his face contorted in a mask of defeat, finally abandoned the Blood Matrons, fleeing Nazmir with the last, loyal remnants of his followers.

"GREAT GUARDIAN! REQUESTING PURSUIT!" The Mother of Purity's voice crackled with renewed purpose, her electronic eyes fixed on the fleeing Zul. As Uldir's caretaker, her authority was limited. To dispatch constructs beyond the laboratory required higher authorization.

"No need," Lai dismissed, a flash of lightning in his eyes, already seeing the grand design unfolding. "He is merely a stray dog. Our hands are needed elsewhere."

On the battlefield, with a final, spiritual wail, the monster exploded, dissolving into a pool of viscous, blood-colored sludge. Rezan, his divine power pushed to its limits, struggled to contain the corrupting liquid, preventing its spread.

The war between the Three-Tribe Troll Alliance and the Blood Trolls in Nazmir was officially, brutally decided. Rezan and the other Loa, exhausted, retreated to their temples to recuperate. With the leaders of the three major tribes finally united, Rastakhan unleashed his armies, a sweeping tide to cleanse Nazmir. This land, untouched by the Cataclysm's floods, its rich resources pristine, was vital for the Zandalari's rapid recovery. The mop-up operation was ruthless. Zul's scattered loyalists and the remaining blood trolls were hunted down, one by one, reduced to nameless, faceless mobs. Plan A had concluded, perfectly.

Deep in the jungle, Zul and his dwindling band fled for their lives. Less than ten remained. Zul's once-proud golden crown and shoulder guards were long gone, shed in the desperate flight. After an eternity of running, Zul finally stumbled, leaning his hunched, frail body against a withered tree trunk, gasping for breath, a ragged, broken bellows leaking air from his thin chest. Had his magic not sustained him, his followers would have been forced to carry him.

His loyalists gathered, concern etched on their faces, but he waved them away.

"Rest," Zul rasped, straightening his stooped form. "Disperse. Be alert!" His voice, though strained, held a flicker of its former authority, injecting a desperate confidence into his followers. They spread out, taking up defensive positions, seizing every precious second to recover.

"Shadra has severed the connection with me. She has abandoned me!" Yazma, the team's second-in-command, a former Shadra priestess, cried out, her voice raw with despair. Born into a priestly family, her lineage had served the king for generations, her duty to safeguard secrets and spy on enemies. King Rastakhan had faced at least fifteen assassination attempts, each thwarted by Yazma's vigilance. Zul had spent years twisting her loyalty, and now, in their flight, he had not abandoned her.

"Gonk and Shirik's followers are hot on our trail, Prophet! What do we do?!"

Yazma's desperation, her thirst for power, was palpable, but Zul remained silent.

"What should I do? Heh!" A bitter, mirthless laugh escaped his lips. He needed to absorb this crushing despair.

"WHAT!" A low, guttural roar of pain tore from Zul's throat. Physical exhaustion was nothing. The true agony was his failure!

FAILURE!

His grand, desperate plan to revive the Zandalari Empire had collapsed! To achieve this ideal, he had used every conceivable means! He had united the Desert Trolls, the Jungle Trolls, the Forest Trolls. He had even embraced the Mogu, their ancient allies. He had even, in his final, desperate gambit, turned to the Zandalari's greatest enemy: the Old Gods!

"Just one step away... one agonizing step! If only Rastakhan hadn't acted so swiftly, hadn't fortified Atal'Dazar so heavily! If only I had seized Emperor Dazar, I could have dealt a crippling blow to Rastakhan!"

The thought ignited a raging inferno of hatred in Zul's heart, a burning resentment for Rastakhan and the Council. The Zanchul Parliament, obsessed with petty power struggles, had sought only to exclude the Grand Speaker and the Prophet. And Rastakhan, his once-close comrade, his ambitious partner, had fallen into a pathetic despair after his wife's death, becoming a mediocre, complacent king. In Zul's eyes, Rastakhan, who had abandoned the affairs of state, had betrayed him, had betrayed their shared dream of a resurgent empire!