Despite it being summer, the night wind in Lukare still carried a bone-chilling cold.
As soon as Toka arrived, he felt the tension in the air.
He had thought the good news from two days prior would bring some comfort to the residents of Lukare:
Ital'ruk, an ally of the Resistance Alliance, had decisively defeated Frost Howl in Gray Tooth Valley.
They had not only annihilated the five hundred elite soldiers dispatched by the chieftain but also completely destroyed one of Northrend's most formidable armies—the Matos Guard.
Even the Loa Matos himself had fallen in battle against the 'alien god.'
Good news it was, but it was simply too shocking.
At this very moment, this stronghold of the Resistance Alliance had fallen into greater anxiety and chaos than ever before.
Every day, trolls frequently entered and exited Lukare, their expressions hurried and solemn—not to prepare for war, but to vie for power and profit.
The tide had turned.
Everyone knew that Frost Howl had lost its capacity for expansion in the short term, and the Resistance Alliance... might also be reaching its end.
Ms. Zukora spent her days rushing between the camps of the major tribes, her throat dry, trying to maintain this alliance on the verge of collapse.
Toka did not interfere—this was her territory.
It wasn't until the morning Toka was leaving Lukare that Fusar gently knocked on his door.
"Let's go, Zukora is waiting for you 'there.'"
They went to the edge of the hidden warehouse, just as before, and entered the dragon god's secret shrine.
However, this time they did not go to the main hall where the idol was placed, but to a stone chamber next to it.
There, Zukora was hunched over a desk, a map of ZulDrak spread out before her.
"Welcome, Toka." She looked up, her eyes bloodshot, but her gaze remained sharp. "We need to talk about the future of ZulDrak."
The stone door slowly closed behind Toka, cutting off the sounds from outside.
"Sit down, we need to finish talking before dawn."
Toka didn't feign politeness and sat down on the stone stool opposite her.
He glanced at the map—it was marked with different colored ink dots indicating the approximate distribution of forces in ZulDrak, but many areas had question marks.
"We won," he said calmly.
"You won," Zukora corrected him. "The victory in Gray Tooth Valley can be Ital'ruk's, or it can be His Excellency the Dragon God's, but it is certainly not the Alliance's."
She pointed to the southern edge of the map. "And now, Frost Howl has retreated, and we have no excuse to remain united."
Toka's eyebrow twitched: "Are you saying...?"
"The Resistance Alliance is falling apart," she said very directly.
"It hasn't split yet," Zukora raised her hand, as if pressing down on some unstoppable crack, "but no one is willing to cooperate anymore."
"Representatives from each tribe have returned to their own camps; some are going back home to 'restore morale,' some are 'transporting supplies,' and a few have simply sent people to bid me farewell."
"As soon as the enemy retreated, they immediately remembered that they weren't friends."
Toka did not immediately respond, simply looking at Ital'ruk's position on the map.
There was a solid colored circle, representing controlled territory.
There was also a dashed colored circle, with a '?' mark, likely indicating the potential sphere of influence after the change in the situation.
"What do you plan to do?" Toka asked.
Zukora took a deep breath: "Stall."
Her fingertip tapped twice on the map: "I can still use the resources of the Lukare tribe to mobilize food and squeeze out supplies to distribute to them. As long as I can control 'trade and distribution,' they might still be willing to keep the banner of this alliance."
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