Wakanda · Royal Palace Hall
T'Challa sat on the throne, his fingertips gently caressing the Vibranium-carved armrest.
The power of the Heart-Shaped Herb surged through his veins, amplifying his senses—he could hear the hyenas panting on the savanna outside the hall, smell the mist of Thunder Falls a hundred miles away, and even perceive the faint pulsation of the Vibranium ore veins deep beneath the ground.
Below the throne, the Elders of Wakanda's five major tribes were seated in various places.
W'Kabi of the Border Tribe had his arms crossed; Najia of the River Tribe lightly tapped the dagger at her waist, looking at T'Challa with affectionate eyes; the Elder of the Mining Tribe was rubbing his hands together.
Zuri and Su Rui stood beside T'Challa.
"Your Highness," the Elder of the Merchant Tribe spoke first, "According to tradition, a new king must accept a challenge from the royal bloodline before ascending the throne.
This is the will of the black panther god, and it has always been Wakanda's tradition."
T'Challa's gaze swept across the face of each Elder, and everyone looked at T'Challa with anticipation.
They were wholeheartedly convinced of this Prince's ascension, after all, a Prince recognized by the black panther god must be the new King of Wakanda.
T'Challa's gaze swept across the face of each Elder; he knew that only a king who followed tradition and passed the challenge of kingship would earn the respect and loyalty of every tribe.
"I understand," T'Challa's voice was steady and powerful, "Tomorrow at dawn, I will await challengers at Thunder Falls."
As T'Challa finished speaking, all the guards in the hall began to strike their weapons on the ground, forming a unique battle song that made one's blood boil.
— — — —
Wakanda · Thunder Falls
At dawn, morning mist enveloped the sacred waterfall like a light veil.
The rising Sun cast golden light upon the rushing Water, reflecting a colorful halo.
The flags of the five major tribes fluttered in the morning wind, and thousands of Wakandan citizens gathered on the cliffside, eagerly awaiting this sacred ceremony.
Warriors of the Border Tribe, clad in rhino hide armor and wielding Vibranium weapons, stood in formation at the edge of the cliff; the people of the River Tribe, dressed in green battle robes, sang and danced on the mountainside; the Elders of the Merchant Tribe wore magnificent robes, adorned with gold ornaments symbolizing wealth on their chests; all the people of the Mining Tribe wore red clothes, their expressions solemn.
As everyone watched, a fighter jet descended from the sky, hovering above the platform of the waterfall.
T'Challa, holding a sword and shield, his upper body bare, with golden tribal patterns painted on his skin and face, stepped out from it.
(The Golden Tribe is the royal family of Wakanda.)
He walked onto the platform, and the citizens on the cliff began to sing and dance, chanting.
"For T'Challa ~"
"For T'Challa ~"
"For T'Challa ~"
T'Challa looked around, crossed his hands, then placed them at his sides, and knelt on one knee.
His actions made the cheers and singing of the citizens even louder.
On the central platform, Zuri saw T'Challa arrive, holding a ceremonial spear, and solemnly declared: "According to tradition, a new king must accept a challenge before ascending the throne!"
He held a small bowl in his hands and displayed it to the surroundings, "And our Prince, the Black Panther power within him will be stripped."
As he spoke, he walked to T'Challa, fed him the liquid from the small bowl.
After T'Challa drank the potion, his body trembled, his face contorted, as he struggled to endure the pain of the Black Panther power being stripped from his body.
Everyone clenched their fists, crossed them over their chests, and their bodies swayed rhythmically; this was a Wakandan tradition and a sign of respect for the black panther god.
Purple veins bulged all over his body, his eyes were bloodshot, but in a moment, his body returned to normal, and he slowly stood up, looking around again.
Zuri continued to announce to everyone, "The outcome of the ritual battle is either one side surrenders or one side dies!"
As he spoke, he looked at the leaders of the various tribes, "If a tribe nominates a warrior, let him step forward; the steps to the throne are equally open to all."
Zuri's voice echoed amidst the roar of the waterfall, and the leaders of the five major tribes successively stood at the front of their respective tribes, announcing loudly in ancient Wakandan:
"River Tribe, forfeit the challenge!" Najia's father was the first to speak.
Najia looked at T'Challa with determination and trust.
"Merchant Tribe, forfeit the challenge!" The Merchant Elder bowed with his hand on his chest, the Vibranium scepter glinting in the Sun, and the masked warrior beside him bowed slightly.
"Mining Tribe, forfeit the challenge!" The burly Elder's voice was like a booming bell, and the warrior's fist heavily thumped his chest.
"Border Tribe, forfeit the challenge!" W'Kabi's father spoke gently, and W'Kabi, dressed in a long robe, covered himself with his cape and bowed slightly.
Zuri saw that the people of the major tribes had all forfeited the challenge, smiled slightly, and loudly asked: "Are there any warriors who wish to step forward and challenge?"
Su Rui weakly raised her hand, and everyone looked at her in surprise.
Result.
"This shapewear is really too tight, can we finish this quickly?"
"Slap ~"
The people on the cliff uniformly slapped their hands to their foreheads, utterly speechless with their little Princess.
Just as Zuri was about to declare T'Challa the victor by default—
"I challenge!"
A roar exploded from a cave at the edge of the cliff, the sound wave momentarily even drowning out the roar of Thunder Falls.
Everyone's gaze simultaneously turned to the source of the sound, only to see a giant of over two meters tall step out from the Shadow.
M'Baku of the Jabari Tribe.
The leader of the Jabari Tribe, painted with White pigment on his body, wore a monkey skull mask and walked out from behind several strong men.
"Jabari Tribe, challenge the kingship!" M'Baku's voice was like rolling thunder, shaking loose stones from the cliff.
The whole place was in an uproar.
T'Challa and M'Baku's eyes met.
An invisible current seemed to explode between them, even the Water mist of the waterfall seemed to freeze at that moment.
"Elder M'Baku," T'Challa's voice was terrifyingly calm, "I thought the Jabari Tribe no longer recognized Wakanda's rule."
M'Baku grinned, "We are deep in the mountains! Watching coldly! But we have had enough!"
He turned and slowly walked towards Su Rui, pointing the wooden mallet in his hand at Su Rui, "The technological lifeline of Wakanda is actually in the hands of a little girl!"
The female warriors of the Dora Milaje quickly stood in front of Su Rui, crossing their weapons to block M'Baku's advance.
M'Baku sneered, "And she despises our traditions."
"Now, you want to hand the throne over to this so-called Prince," M'Baku turned around, his face as still as Water.
"But he can't even protect his own father's life."
M'Baku's footsteps were as heavy as a drumbeat; he walked in front of T'Challa, only a step away from him.
"We, the Jabari Tribe, absolutely refuse to accept! I, M'Baku," his voice was full of oppression, his eyes under the mask gleamed with wildness, "will exercise the right to challenge this little Black Panther cub."
T'Challa's chest heaved violently, anger and grief intertwined.
He could feel thousands of eyes on the cliff staring at this scene, hear his mother's nervous breathing, and even smell the scent of cedar and blood mixed on M'Baku.
"I accept your challenge," T'Challa suddenly calmed down.
M'Baku burst into laughter, tearing off his mask, "That's more like it! For the glory of Hanuman!"
The war drums began to beat again at Thunder Falls the moment T'Challa accepted the challenge.
T'Challa put on the Black Panther's leather mask.
He raised his hand, "Dora Milaje! Prepare for battle!"
The female warriors of the Dora Milaje descended from the platform, and with the Jabari Tribe warriors, they set up their long spears, surrounding M'Baku and T'Challa.
And the battle would take place within this gradually shrinking encirclement.
"Boom!"
Zuri's scepter heavily struck the ground, and the battle officially began!
M'Baku attacked first.
He was like a furious White ape, swinging his wooden mallet in a sweeping motion.
T'Challa agilely leaned back, the mallet grazing past his nose.
"Quick dodge, little Black Panther!" M'Baku sneered, changing his move, the mallet suddenly changing direction, chopping down from above.
T'Challa didn't have time to fully dodge and could only raise his shield to block the blow.
"Bang!" The wooden mallet smashed onto his shield, the immense impact forcing him to one knee, and the audience on the cliff gasped.
"Is that all you've got?" M'Baku seized the opportunity to lift his leg, delivering a knee strike directly to T'Challa's abdomen.
T'Challa grunted, using the momentum to roll back and create distance.
He felt a warm liquid trickle from the corner of his mouth—it was blood.
The Jabari leader's strength far exceeded his estimation.
Before T'Challa could react, M'Baku suddenly threw his wooden mallet at T'Challa.
T'Challa raised his shield to block again, but unexpectedly, the power of the wooden mallet directly shattered T'Challa's shield, causing T'Challa to stumble, and his single-handed sword also flew out of his hand.
"Still distracted in battle?" M'Baku had already closed in, his pincer-like hands gripping T'Challa's throat, slamming him hard onto the ground.
"Boom!"
T'Challa's back heavily hit the Water platform, and M'Baku straddled him, punches raining down.
"This punch is for your father!"
"This punch is for your sister's contempt for tradition!"
"This punch—"
T'Challa suddenly seized an opening, wrapping his legs around M'Baku's neck, executing a beautiful scissor kick that sent him flying several meters away.
Both simultaneously rolled to their feet, facing each other, panting.
The sound of the waterfall seemed to disappear; the entire World was left with only the heavy breathing of two warriors.
T'Challa wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and suddenly smiled: "You're right, my father did teach me to respect tradition."
He slowly took off his damaged Black Panther mask, "But he also said that a true king must know how to innovate."
M'Baku frowned: "What do you mean?"
T'Challa suddenly changed his moves, adopting a completely new style that incorporated modern combat techniques.
When M'Baku threw another punch, T'Challa dodged at an unusual angle, simultaneously delivering a precise hand chop to the nerve plexus of his opponent's elbow joint.
"Ah!" M'Baku's right arm instantly went numb.
T'Challa pursued, landing three consecutive heavy punches on the same spot under M'Baku's ribs.
This was a weakness of Jabari warriors that Su Rui had told him about—their strengthened muscles had a natural gap at the seventh rib.
M'Baku stumbled backward, showing a pained expression for the first time: "You...how could you..."
"Knowledge is power, Elder," T'Challa slid closer, elbowing his opponent's chin, then grabbing M'Baku's dreadlocks and throwing him over his shoulder towards the edge of the platform.
"No!" The Jabari Tribe warriors exclaimed.
M'Baku's body was mostly suspended over the edge of the waterfall, held only by his left hand gripping a rock crevice.
The roaring Riptide bellowed beneath his feet, and the hundreds of meters drop was enough to shatter anyone.
T'Challa slowly walked over, looking down at his former opponent: "Surrender, M'Baku.
For the future of Jabari and Wakanda."
M'Baku looked up at the young man, who was covered in injuries yet still stood tall.
The Sun gilded T'Challa, and for a moment, he seemed to see T'Chaka in his youth.
...I concede." M'Baku released his grip, letting T'Challa pull him back onto the platform.
The entire venue was silent for a moment, then erupted in deafening cheers.
The flags of the five major tribes waved simultaneously, and the sound of war drums, horns, and the roar of the waterfall intertwined into a symphony of victory.
Zuri solemnly stepped forward, handing T'Challa the sacred chalice containing the heart-shaped herb potion: "In the name of the black panther god, I declare—"
"Wait!"
A cold voice suddenly cut through the cheers.
On the highest rock of the cliff, a figure cloaked in a purple robe had appeared at some unknown time.
"Who?!" Queen Monglaag shouted, and all the tribal warriors raised their weapons, pointing them at the newcomer.
The newcomer removed his hood—Erik Stevens.
"Who are you?" the Queen demanded loudly.
Erik pulled a sack from beside him, dropped it onto the water platform, and then descended from the cliff using a rope.
Everyone was extremely wary of the sudden stranger, as Wakanda had not seen outsiders for a long time.
Erik looked at everyone who was staring at him with wary eyes and sneered, "Your Prince is so eager to ascend the throne before even killing his enemy."
"And I, meanwhile, have come to present a grand gift."
He untied the sack, and Ulysses Klaue's corpse rolled out.
Everyone present gasped.
T'Challa's pupils suddenly constricted.
Ulysses Klaue's corpse lay quietly on the platform, his grotesque face still frozen in the agony of death.
"You..." T'Challa's voice trembled slightly as he looked up at Erik, his eyes filled with both gratitude and deep confusion.
Queen Monglaag took a step forward, her gaze shifting between Klaue's corpse and Erik: "Young man, you have brought justice to Wakanda. Please tell us your name, and you shall receive our highest honor."
Erik suddenly burst into laughter, an unsettling madness in his mirth: "Honor?" He took out a ring threaded on a necklace from behind his waist, "I don't need your honor. Remember my name! Erik Stevens! Son of N'Jobu! I!"
He turned to T'Challa, his eyes filled with murderous intent: "As the Prince's son, I challenge the throne!"
The entire cliff instantly fell into dead silence. Zuri, standing nearby, trembled, recalling the child whose eyes were filled with hatred.
T'Challa finally understood where the hatred in Erik's eyes came from. He instinctively looked at his mother, Queen Monglaag's face had turned pale.
"According to tradition," Erik's voice echoed throughout the waterfall, "royal blood has the right to challenge the throne. I, son of N'Jobu, demand to exercise this right!"
The people on the cliff began to stir.
"How do you prove your bloodline?!" Queen Monglaag demanded loudly. She truly had not expected such a variable to suddenly appear just as her son was about to inherit the throne.
Erik sneered at Zuri, throwing the ring in his hand to Zuri, "Old man, you should remember this."
After Zuri took the ring, he trembled as he examined it. He slowly raised his head, looking at everyone, his words weak, "He... is indeed the son of N'Jobu."
The people on the cliff began to clamor and whisper.
"Even if you are the son of N'Jobu, so what? N'Jobu was long ago exiled, and the Golden Tribe does not acknowledge his princely status," Monglaag retorted loudly.
"I acknowledge him," a voice suddenly rang out.
Everyone looked over; it was W'Kabi of the Border Tribe.
W'Kabi's father looked at his child with some disbelief, wanting to dissuade him, but W'Kabi shook off his father's hand.
He spoke to himself, "He killed the murderer of the King and made a great contribution to Wakanda; he should rightfully reclaim his bloodline."
W'Kabi's words made everyone fall into contemplation.
"I support his challenge to the throne," the Elder of the Merchant Tribe also spoke.
"I also support him," the Elder of the Mining Tribe also supported W'Kabi's statement.
Only the Golden Tribe and the River Tribe remained silent.
At this moment, T'Challa spoke: "I do not know why your eyes hold such anger for me, but I am willing to accept your challenge."
Queen Monglaag's fingers gripped her scepter tightly, her knuckles white: "T'Challa! You don't have to accept this—"
"Mother." T'Challa's voice was calm. He bent down and picked up the single-handed sword on the ground, "Father taught me that a true King never fears any challenge."
He turned to Erik, his gaze like a torch, "No matter what happened to Uncle N'Jobu back then, today, I will prove with my strength who is the true Guardian of Wakanda."
The wind on the cliff suddenly became violent, and the mist from the waterfall formed a hazy curtain between the two.
Erik ripped off his purple robe, revealing gruesome scars covering his entire body. Each scar was like a twisted worm of flesh, densely covering his muscular physique. Gasps arose from the cliff.
"See these?" Erik's finger traced over each scar, "I have experienced countless life-and-death situations in Afghanistan and Iraq," his voice carried pride, "Every time I killed an enemy, I left a mark on myself as a memento."
Erik suddenly pulled a serrated single-handed knife from his boot: "This knife has been steeped in the blood of countless lives, and now..." He pointed the tip of his knife directly at T'Challa, "It's your turn."
Without warning, Erik pounced like a panther. His moves bore no resemblance to traditional Wakandan martial arts, but rather a fusion of special forces killing techniques and brutal street fighting. His first strike went straight for T'Challa's throat!
"Clang!"
T'Challa hastily raised his Vibranium sword to block, sparks flying. But Erik changed his move even faster, his left hand forming a claw to gouge at his opponent's abdomen. T'Challa barely managed to turn sideways, yet still received three bloody gashes.
"Too slow!" Erik spun into a whip kick, sending T'Challa stumbling backward, "Is this the future King of Wakanda?"
The cheers on the cliff abruptly ceased. Su Rui covered her mouth, Najia's hand rested on her dagger, and even M'Baku frowned—this outsider's fighting style was exceptionally fierce.
T'Challa spat out a mouthful of blood, then suddenly laughed: "You've had professional training." He adopted a modified Black Panther fighting stance, "But the battlefield isn't a training ground."
This time, it was T'Challa who took the offensive. His sword moves suddenly incorporated the rhythm of Brazilian capoeira, the sword arcing golden lines in the Sun. Erik hastily blocked, but was swept in the knee by a spinning kick.
"Crack!"
With a crisp sound of bone cracking, Erik dropped to one knee. But he instead grinned ferociously, suddenly pulling a chain from his waist and wrapping it around T'Challa's ankle: "Welcome to the real World!"
The moment T'Challa was pulled to the ground, Erik's serrated knife stabbed towards his eye! In the nick of time, T'Challa turned his head to dodge, the tip of the knife scraping against the rock with a harsh sound.
The two rolled and grappled at the edge of the cliff, the waterfall's mist drenching their bodies. Erik suddenly pulled out a handful of sand from his waist and violently threw it into T'Challa's eyes!
"Despicable!" the people on the cliff roared.
T'Challa instinctively closed his eyes, and Erik seized the opportunity to land a heavy punch on his temple. T'Challa's vision went black, and he stumbled backward, half his foot already suspended over the edge of the waterfall.
"That one..." Erik gasped, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, "was for my father!"
T'Challa suppressed his dizziness, suddenly grabbed Erik's wrist, and slammed him to the ground with an over-the-shoulder throw. But the moment Erik landed, his legs locked around T'Challa's neck, and the two rolled into a tangled heap again.
T'Challa's face gradually turned red from lack of oxygen, just as he was about to lose consciousness.
Zuri suddenly walked up to the two, "Erik!"
Erik looked up at Zuri, "Long time no see, Uncle James."
Zuri's voice trembled as he pleaded: "Erik, please don't continue. What happened back then has nothing to do with T'Challa. You shouldn't repeat the mistakes of T'Chaka and N'Jobu."
Erik released T'Challa's neck and stood up, walking towards Zuri with a sneer: "No, I'm not repeating history."
He snatched the ceremonial spear from Zuri's hand and plunged it into Zuri's chest, "Instead, I am respecting tradition! You, you broke tradition!"
"No!!" T'Challa had just recovered from the state of oxygen deprivation when he saw the scene of Zuri being killed. He roared in grief and rage.
He lunged at Erik, who, already anticipating it, dodged sideways and then struck T'Challa's back hard with the ceremonial spear.
"Heh, only the weak are blinded by anger."
He raised the spear again and savagely plunged it into T'Challa's abdomen.
Everyone was stunned by this sight.
T'Challa coughed up blood, gripping the spear tightly, his eyes red as he looked at Erik.
Erik hoisted T'Challa onto his shoulder, blood dripping from the spear onto the platform, reflecting a dazzling crimson in the Sun. T'Challa's fingers weakly clutched Erik's armor, a hoarse gasp escaping his throat.
He walked with steady steps towards the edge of the cliff, each step leaving dark red footprints in T'Challa's blood. The wind on the cliff suddenly became violent, blowing away the sweat from Erik's forehead, revealing his eyes burning with madness.
"T'Challa!" Queen Monglaag's heartbroken cry was swallowed by the wind.
T'Challa weakly raised his head, looking in the direction of his mother and sister, his lips moving as if saying something.
Erik stood at the very edge of the cliff, T'Challa's body swaying slightly on his shoulder. He looked down into the abyss, a cruel arc forming on his lips: "Say hello to father for me."
With a muffled thud, T'Challa's body plunged into the mist of the waterfall, quickly swallowed by the rushing Water. A deathly silence fell over the cliff, broken only by the incessant roar of the waterfall.
Erik slowly turned, plunging the blood-stained ceremonial spear heavily into the ground. His gaze swept over every shocked face, finally settling on Queen Monglaag's pale face.
"Now," his voice was like ice, "I am your King."
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)