Under normal circumstances, T'Chaka would never have changed his stance so abruptly. But the man standing before him was Richard, whose reputation for ruthless dominance preceded him.
Though Wakanda's Vibranium technology far surpassed anything in the outside world, their comprehensive military strength couldn't match nations like the United States. America might lack Vibranium's extraordinary properties, but their tactical military capabilities operated several levels above Wakanda's.
In Richard's view, the Wakandans were essentially primitive people wielding interstellar-age technology as glorified melee weapons, capable only of conducting rudimentary warfare. Not just the United States—any nation with a developed military system could defeat them with the "backward" gunpowder weapons that Wakandans so arrogantly dismissed.
Despite Richard's open contempt, T'Chaka's reaction proved the old adage that when one's skin is dark enough, it's difficult for others to see when one's face darkens with shame.
"Mr. Wesley, if you have requests, please state them," T'Chaka said with measured dignity. "Whatever Wakanda can provide, we will not refuse."
As Wakanda's king, even while being openly ridiculed by Richard, T'Chaka maintained his composure as though nothing had happened. More than that, he needed to accommodate Richard's demands to the best of his ability.
If war erupted, today might well be the final day Wakanda existed as a sovereign nation. Not just the country itself, but the Wakandan people might become nothing more than a historical footnote by tomorrow.
"Since you offered," Richard smiled coldly. "My request is actually quite simple. I want all the Vibranium—whether it's still in the ground or already mined and fashioned into weapons and equipment. Every last gram of it."
He paused, letting the implications sink in. "Satisfy this condition, and I might overlook your earlier provocations as momentary impulses."
While Richard harbored little affection for Wakandans, compared to genocide, he preferred the option of stripping away all Vibranium and leaving them to experience genuine agrarian life. For Wakandans accustomed to Vibranium-based technology—who derived their sense of superiority from the metal and looked down on other nations—being deprived of Vibranium would prove more devastating than death.
It would be like a billionaire instantly losing all wealth and status, reduced to begging on streets. While causing no physical harm, the psychological devastation would prove far more unbearable.
"All the Vibranium?"
Shock registered on every face in the hall—from Mr. Fantastic to T'Chaka, T'Challa, and the tribal elders. Though Reed Richards knew Richard better than the Wakandans, even he hadn't anticipated such an audacious demand.
It was ludicrous. Vibranium represented not merely a precious resource to Wakandans, but the foundational cornerstone of their culture and national identity. Surrendering all Vibranium meant losing not only their technological advantage but their cultural heritage and national cohesion.
Before the Vibranium meteorite struck Wakandan soil, they had been indistinguishable from other African tribes. The metal's discovery transformed them into the continent's hidden technological superpower. Now Richard proposed to strip away their source of pride, reducing them to the same agrarian lifestyle as their African neighbors.
Before T'Chaka could formulate a response, the tribal elder with the ceremonial lip plate spoke out forcefully: "We cannot surrender our Vibranium! Don't—"
Heat Ray!
Before the elder could finish, Richard unleashed a crimson beam from his eyes—a power granted by his Superboy-Prime template—vaporizing the man's head instantly.
"I'm not negotiating," Richard stated flatly. "This is my sole condition for your survival. While I don't particularly desire to be labeled a perpetrator of genocide, I wouldn't find such a reputation unbearable."
Had Richard never come to Wakanda, he wouldn't have cared about their isolationist attitude or their belief that Wakanda represented the pinnacle of human advancement. But having arrived, he felt compelled to shatter their delusions and force them to confront reality.
After witnessing Richard casually execute the elder, T'Challa's fists clenched as unrestrained fury washed over his features. Before he could act, T'Chaka's voice rang out.
"Is there truly no room for negotiation?" the king asked quietly.
"What do you think?" Richard countered.
At Richard's cold response, T'Chaka—already well into his years—seemed to age another decade before their eyes. He sank back into his Vibranium throne, desolation evident in every line of his face.
After a prolonged silence, T'Chaka finally spoke. "I accept your terms. How do you intend to remove all our Vibranium?"
"Remove?" Richard smiled. "No, I don't plan to remove anything. You and your people will leave this place and experience the agricultural life you've created for others. This land now belongs to me."
Though Richard possessed his system space, its volume couldn't yet accommodate Wakanda's entire Vibranium reserves.
"You would deny us even residence in our capital?" T'Chaka stared, momentarily speechless.
Despite his profound reluctance, T'Chaka had no choice but to acquiesce with a nod.
Seeing the king's submission, Richard's expression turned satisfied. Coming to Wakanda had proven unexpectedly rewarding.
One week later, as the last Wakandan reluctantly departed the capital, Richard instructed Emma Frost to activate the city's shield—recently repaired by Mr. Fantastic.
For the Wakandans, this week had been the darkest chapter in their collective memory. Yet few outside their borders knew of these events; Richard's forceful occupation of Wakanda's capital and Vibranium reserves had caused remarkably little international reaction.
During the takeover process, Richard had eliminated those who resisted. Even with T'Chaka's directives, many Wakandans refused to relinquish their personal Vibranium possessions. To demonstrate the seriousness of his demands, Richard showed no mercy, using telepathy and matter manipulation to decompose these individuals completely.
Though the death toll remained relatively modest—fewer than a thousand—witnessing his ruthlessness convinced the remaining Wakandans to surrender quickly. They had no alternative; they lacked the strength to resist. If they had possessed such power, T'Chaka would never have capitulated so readily.
With the Wakandans evicted, Richard began transforming their capital. While Wakanda's architecture displayed remarkable distinctiveness, he found their aesthetic distasteful. He decided to personally reshape the capital into a new city aligned with his own vision.
For the name, he settled on "Silver City"—simple, perhaps unimaginative, but Richard saw no reason to waste creative energy on something so trivial.
In less than three days, Richard completed Silver City's reconstruction. His extraordinary speed stemmed from two specific mutant powers: matter manipulation and transmutation. With these abilities, he could reshape terrain and materials at will, like playing a city-building simulation, creating his ideal urban environment in record time.
If there was any issue, it was Silver City's minuscule population—barely a few dozen people. After completing construction, Richard and Emma relocated to the newly built palace in Silver City, bringing along the servants, chefs, and staff from his manor.
In the palace study, Richard stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, admiring the distant landscape. Retrieving a mobile phone from his system space, he located Magneto's number.
Silver City's infrastructure stood completed, but it remained empty—a ghost metropolis awaiting inhabitants. To address this problem, he decided to contact Magneto.
After dialing, the connection established quickly.
"Why this unexpected call?" Magneto's voice came through clearly.
"I have a proposition to discuss," Richard replied calmly.
"What kind?"
"I've acquired a city—newly constructed, approximately one-third the size of New York. However, I'm lacking residents. I'm wondering if you'd be interested in relocating here, perhaps bringing your Brotherhood of Mutants associates."
A prolonged silence followed before Magneto finally responded. "How exactly did you acquire a newly built city? What have you done?"
"Nothing extraordinary—merely displaced a population, occupied their capital, and renovated it somewhat," Richard answered casually. "If you want details, we should meet. Tell me your location, and I'll open a portal."
Though questions filled Magneto's mind, he recognized the prudence of discussing such matters in person and provided his coordinates.
After ending the call, Richard withdrew the Cosmic Cube from his system space. Moments later, a dimensional gateway resembling condensed thunderclouds materialized in the study. Within seconds, Magneto and Mystique stepped through the portal.
"Have a seat," Richard gestured. "Would you like a drink?"
"Whiskey," Magneto replied promptly.
"Of course."
Richard produced an expensive bottle and three glasses from his system space. After serving both guests, he poured one for himself.
"This was originally the capital of Wakanda, a small African nation," he explained. "Ten days ago, I reached an agreement with their king, converting this territory to my personal domain. Finding their architectural style distasteful, I spent some time remodeling."
Richard channeled his mana to create a three-dimensional holographic projection displaying Silver City from above.
"I've named it Silver City. We're currently in the palace at the city's core."
Richard sipped his whiskey, speaking unhurriedly.
Though Magneto knew little about Wakanda, his brow furrowed as he studied the magical projection.
"Aren't you concerned about international backlash from forcibly occupying another nation's capital?" Magneto asked.
"Why would I fear that?" Richard shrugged. "If anyone objects, they're welcome to try their luck. I guarantee they'll be the ones with regrets."
He waved dismissively. "Let's not dwell on this. You've likely guessed my purpose. Is transforming this place into a mutant sanctuary feasible?"
"Feasibility depends on whether appropriate infrastructure exists," Magneto replied pragmatically. "If it's merely empty buildings without supporting facilities, even with both of us calling mutants here, few might come."
"Silver City has complete infrastructure," Richard assured him. "For initial supplies, we can import necessities. Once we establish our own production facilities, we'll achieve self-sufficiency. At capacity, this city could accommodate millions of mutants."
Though Richard harbored no ambition to lead the mutant community, he didn't mind assisting his "compatriots." More importantly, he genuinely needed these mutants to transform Silver City from an architectural showcase into a living community. Without inhabitants, regardless of its splendor, Silver City would remain a ghost town.
"You previously expressed disinterest in such endeavors," Magneto observed. "What prompted this sudden change?"
"People evolve," Richard said indifferently. "Consider it a momentary inspiration."
Though clearly not the answer Magneto sought, he didn't press further. "Tell me how you envision my cooperation."
"It's straightforward. Simply announce this opportunity under your name and invite others to come."
"Why not do it yourself?" Magneto challenged. "Your influence among mutants exceeds mine. Your call would generate greater response."
Richard's expression turned serious. "Because I don't want anyone mistaking me for a good person."
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