Not long after, three strangely shaped fighter planes appeared on the horizon, their alien-like design unmistakable against the clear sky as they approached Richard and Mr. Fantastic.
Richard activated his Super Senses and X-ray vision to examine the aircraft interiors. Though he'd known for some time that Wakanda possessed Vibranium and technology far surpassing the outside world, he had never specifically sought intelligence about the secretive nation.
To be frank, he wasn't even certain whether T'Chaka or T'Challa currently sat on Wakanda's throne.
Not that it mattered much to him. Whoever ruled Wakanda wouldn't affect his plans. Unless their patron deity, the Black Panther God Bast, personally manifested in the physical world, Wakanda remained just another nation he could easily crush if necessary.
When he observed T'Challa inside the lead fighter wearing traditional Wakandan royal garments rather than the Vibranium-woven Black Panther suit, Richard deduced that T'Chaka must still be king. If T'Challa had already ascended to the throne, he would likely have arrived wearing the iconic suit instead of traditional attire.
Though T'Challa had consumed the heart-shaped herb and received Bast's blessing, he had not yet inherited the throne. As prince rather than king, wearing the Black Panther suit—reserved exclusively for Wakanda's ruler—would violate sacred traditions. For the tradition-bound Wakandans, such an act would be seen as disrespectful, potentially damaging T'Challa's standing among his future subjects.
While public disapproval wouldn't prevent his eventual succession, the prince clearly understood the importance of respecting cultural sensitivities.
The three uniquely designed Vibranium aircraft descended gracefully, hovering several dozen meters from Richard and Mr. Fantastic before landing vertically on the grass with barely a sound.
As the crafts settled, the rear hatch of the center fighter opened. T'Challa, dressed in elaborate traditional Wakandan royal garments, emerged alongside Okoye, the formidable captain of the Dora Milaje, who gripped her Vibranium spear with practiced ease. They approached Richard and Mr. Fantastic with measured strides as Royal Guards from the other two aircraft fell into formation behind them.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Richard Wesley, Mr. Reed Richards," T'Challa greeted them with diplomatic composure. "I am T'Challa, son of King T'Chaka, and this is Okoye, captain of the Royal Guard. My father has sent us to escort you to the King's Hall."
Despite Richard's recent forceful breach of Wakanda's most critical defensive shield, T'Challa's expression betrayed no anger or resentment. His royal training was evident in how perfectly he concealed his true thoughts behind a mask of diplomatic courtesy.
"Let's go," Richard replied coolly. "No need to keep your father waiting."
Reed would have preferred to explain their intentions—that they merely sought Vibranium samples for scientific research—but he recognized that opportunity had passed. The moment Richard arrived, the situation had slipped beyond his control.
T'Challa nodded silently and gestured toward the central aircraft. Richard walked calmly toward it, ignoring both Mr. Fantastic's obvious discomfort and the unconcealed hostility emanating from Okoye and her warriors.
Minutes later, the three Vibranium fighters took off vertically and banked toward the royal palace in Wakanda's capital.
Inside the cabin, Richard sat with perfect composure, seemingly unconcerned about the upcoming royal audience. Reed, by contrast, shifted uncomfortably under the penetrating gazes of T'Challa and Okoye seated across from them.
From Reed's perspective, they were unwelcome intruders who had shattered their hosts' primary defense system—the equivalent of breaking down someone's front door. Though T'Challa maintained his diplomatic decorum, the tension was palpable, leaving Mr. Fantastic feeling profoundly uncomfortable.
The aircraft landed smoothly in the palace courtyard after a brief flight. T'Challa and Okoye led their visitors toward the King's Hall through corridors lined with Wakandan art and technology seamlessly blended.
"Relax," Richard murmured to Mr. Fantastic. "Everything will be fine."
"I doubt that," Reed replied quietly. "Have you seen those spears the guards are carrying? Their expressions? They don't exactly welcome our presence."
"Their welcome is irrelevant," Richard said dismissively. "What matters is King T'Chaka's reception. And don't worry—even if negotiations collapse, I guarantee your safe return to New York. You won't end up skewered by a Vibranium spear."
Richard made no effort to lower his voice, ensuring T'Challa and Okoye clearly heard his words.
Okoye, already seething at Richard's unauthorized entry into Wakanda and destruction of their protective shield, stopped abruptly. With a controlled motion, she brought her Vibranium spear down sharply against the floor.
BANG!
The polished stone tiles cracked under the impact. Her action startled Mr. Fantastic and served as a silent command to the surrounding Royal Guards, who immediately raised their weapons and surrounded the two visitors.
Before T'Challa could intervene, Richard spoke with dangerous calm.
"Reed, it seems the captain of the Wakandan Royal Guard doesn't appreciate our company. Perhaps there's no need to meet with the King after all. What do you think?"
"Ms. Okoye probably struck the floor accidentally," Mr. Fantastic offered diplomatically. "The Vibranium spear looks rather unwieldy."
Despite Reed's attempt to defuse the situation, Okoye turned to face them, her expression unyielding. With practiced precision, she executed a series of complex movements with her spear, the silver-white Vibranium blade cutting through the air with lethal grace.
In one swift motion, she thrust the spear forward, stopping mere centimeters from Richard's face.
Richard had been content to ignore Okoye's hostility, but this direct challenge demanded response. The weapon pointed at his face crossed a line he wouldn't tolerate.
"Impressive spear technique," he remarked coldly. "Unfortunately, it's more suited for ceremonial display than actual combat. Let me offer some advice: if you lack the resolve to kill, never draw your weapon against an enemy. You'll only appear foolish."
With those words, Richard channeled the mana flowing through his body, raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
Snap!
Instantly, more than a dozen translucent wind blades materialized in the air. Before anyone could react, they sliced through the necks of Okoye and the nearby Royal Guards with surgical precision, severing their heads in a single synchronized motion.
Mr. Fantastic and T'Challa stared in horror at the carnage before them.
"Your Highness," Richard said calmly, "we shouldn't waste time. Please continue leading the way."
Despite his impressive self-control, T'Challa's face contorted with fury as he processed what had just happened. Okoye wasn't merely the captain of the Royal Guard trusted by both father and son—she was also the beloved partner of W'Kabi, commander of Wakanda's defense forces.
"Mr. Wesley," T'Challa managed through clenched teeth, "don't you think you've gone too far?"
"If you think it excessive, then act accordingly," Richard replied indifferently. "But remember, you are the prince of Wakanda. You understand what that responsibility entails without my explaining it."
"Are you threatening me?" T'Challa demanded.
"Would you prefer I bring your head to meet your father?" Richard asked with chilling calm. "I can arrange that immediately if you wish."
Every fiber in T'Challa's being screamed to attack, to avenge Okoye and the fallen guards. But his royal training prevailed. Taking several deep breaths to master his rage, he turned and continued toward the King's Hall.
Richard stepped past Okoye's body without a glance, as though he had eliminated nothing more significant than insects.
Mr. Fantastic followed in stunned silence, already anticipating the disastrous meeting ahead between Richard and King T'Chaka. Worse, his conscience weighed heavily with responsibility for the bloodshed. Had he not sought Vibranium in Wakanda, Richard wouldn't have accompanied him. Had Richard not come, Okoye and the others would still be alive.
Though Richard might have eventually visited Wakanda alone, at least today's deaths might have been avoided. With a resigned sigh, Reed followed Richard and T'Challa from the courtyard.
Minutes later in the King's Hall, Richard stood before T'Chaka, ruler of Wakanda, who was flanked by tribal elders in distinctive ceremonial attire.
Though they had just arrived, T'Chaka had already received reports from surviving Royal Guards about the slaughter in the courtyard. Like his son, he burned with rage but maintained the measured composure expected of Wakanda's king.
"Mr. Wesley," T'Chaka addressed him directly, "you are clearly no ordinary man, so I will dispense with diplomatic courtesies to avoid wasting everyone's time. If you seek Vibranium and our technology, I can provide you with samples and related knowledge freely. If, however, your goal is to conquer Wakanda entirely, you may state so plainly. Though we may not match your power, Wakandans fear no death when defending our homeland!"
T'Chaka's words carried the dignity and authority befitting Wakanda's ruler. To Richard, however, they sounded like empty posturing.
If T'Chaka truly possessed the strength his words suggested, T'Challa and Okoye would have arrived with forces sufficient to capture the intruders, not merely escort them. Their diplomatic approach revealed the limits of Wakandan confidence when facing Richard's power.
"Not afraid of death?" Richard's lips curved into a cold smile. "Excellent. I prefer opponents who embrace their mortality! Since Your Majesty has spoken so boldly, let us commence hostilities immediately."
As he spoke, Richard summoned his mana, causing blue-white energy to envelop his body like ethereal flames. Though he had only activated his basic power—not yet employing any skills or revealing his mutant abilities—everyone in the hall except Mr. Fantastic felt an overwhelming sense of dread.
Richard's immediate escalation disrupted T'Chaka's diplomatic strategy, causing visible surprise on the king's face as he sat upon his Vibranium throne.
"Wait!" T'Chaka called out barely two seconds later.
"What is it?" Richard asked with mock surprise. "Don't tell me you've reconsidered your brave stance?"
If Richard were to rank the most despised groups in the Marvel universe, Wakandans would undoubtedly top his list. Despite their Earth origins, they embodied everything he found contemptible.
Their arrogance and self-righteousness knew no bounds. Despite possessing technology far beyond the outside world, they clung to primitive traditions like ritual combat to determine succession. They wielded the most advanced weapons yet settled leadership through archaic hand-to-hand combat.
They contributed nothing to global advancement, isolating themselves while looking down on other nations. Even if the Wakandans had been any other race, their behavior would have been equally repugnant to Richard.
"War... is always the last resort," T'Chaka replied, maintaining his regal bearing. "Before we commit to conflict, perhaps we can reach an agreement through other means."
"Agreement?" Richard scoffed. "I doubt we could reach any consensus you would find acceptable."
"Everything is negotiable," T'Chaka insisted. "How can you be certain until we've tried?"
Richard's expression hardened with contempt. "You just proclaimed that Wakandans do not fear death. Yet before I've even made my first move, your courage falters. Your performance is... disappointing."
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