Doo!
Doo!
Doo!
Wakanda's drumlike alarm thundered across the capital the moment T'Challa's expression twisted and his roar rang out.
The Wakandans, still in the midst of frenzied celebration, froze. Just moments ago, they believed themselves victorious, their land defended. Why now would the siren of calamity sound—the call to abandon all and flee into the capital's shielded refuge?
Then—
Boom!
From the heart of the royal palace, a purple beam shot skyward, shaking the earth.
In the next instant, a dome of faint violet, laced with golden shimmer, spread through the clouds like ripples on water, then curved downward—an inverted bowl sealing the capital.
The vibranium energy surge dispersed the cloud cover—and revealed Hawk, floating above, cloaked in fire.
Behind him, the blazing phantom of a phoenix spread its wings.
The Phoenix Cloth burned in golden flame.
Those below saw.
And so did S.H.I.E.L.D., stationed near the Hell Gate canyon.
"Shit. How many still inside?"
"Two squads left."
"Tell them to move!"
Maria Hill's voice was tight, eyes locked on the sky, on Hawk.
Then—
The Phoenix's eyes glowed. Twin beams locked onto Hawk, igniting a surge of scarlet fire around him.
The Phoenix Cloth manifested fully:
Shoulder guards flared like burning wings.
The chestplate bore the sigil of rebirth.
Gauntlets and greaves gleamed like molten metal.
Three tail feathers swayed behind him.
From beneath the mask, Hawk opened his eyes—pupils split gold and crimson, cosmos roaring within.
He gazed down, expression colder than steel.
Below, Wakandans screamed. Celebration turned to terror. Soldiers stampeded toward the capital, desperate to slip inside before the shield closed.
From above, they looked like black ants swarming a wall.
But they failed.
The shield closed mercilessly. Some were caught mid-stride—bisected, vertically, by the falling dome.
Hawk hovered above, arms slowly crossing before his chest. Fingers curled inward, palms meeting.
Between them, a speck of crimson light ignited—compressed, spinning, warping space itself. Heat rolled outward, lethal.
From the light, a fire phoenix was born.
"Phoenix."
"Wing."
"Heaven."
"Soar—!"
The words fell like judgment itself.
Hawk thrust downward.
The phoenix unfurled its wings, shrieking across the sky, trailing fire hotter than suns. Like a comet, it plunged into Wakanda.
Hill watched from safe distance, mouth falling open. To her eyes, a sun itself was falling.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Fiery feathers rained first, hammering the dome, rippling golden energy.
Then the phoenix struck, slamming dead center.
Light erupted.
White.
Pure, searing, absolute.
The shield screamed. The white wave rolled across the city.
Trees disintegrated at its touch.
Buildings melted to dust in slow motion.
And people?
None.
No bodies remained to bury.
When the brilliance faded, Hawk recalled a line from Dream of the Red Chamber:
"All that remained was a vast white emptiness."
Wakanda was gone.
Not entirely.
In the wasteland, one ornate palace still stood, its shield spiderwebbed with cracks.
Hawk vanished—reappeared before it, extending a hand.
A single tap.
The shield shattered like glass.
From within, black light burst forth.
T'Challa, clad in the Panther Habit, eyes ablaze, vibranium claws gleaming.
Everything was gone.
His people.
His kingdom.
All reduced to nothing.
"Die!"
He lunged.
BANG!
Hawk's fist met him, blasting him into a palace wall.
"What the hell is this thing?" Hawk muttered.
"HAWK!!"
T'Challa staggered up, voice ragged with fury. "You killed my father. My people. You slaughtered all of them!"
Now Hawk recognized him.
The Black Panther.
T'Challa.
"Oh. It was you who sent assassins to New York?"
Claws clenched. "Yes. It was me."
"Oh."
The answer was flat, indifferent.
Hawk raised a hand. Power yanked T'Challa through the air, placing his throat in Hawk's grip.
The Panther lashed out, claws stabbing.
Hawk's eyes flared.
CRACK.
T'Challa screamed. His right arm bent grotesquely, bones shattered.
Eye Strike—an attack any Bronze Saint could wield, but this was Hawk's first time.
"Damn butcher," T'Challa spat through clenched teeth. "You killed my family, my tribe."
Hawk said nothing. His telekinesis seized the Panther's broken arm, forcing it upward. Vibranium claws pressed toward his own skull.
T'Challa's eyes widened, struggling, left hand stabbing again.
Another scream.
Still, Hawk ignored him.
"Why?" T'Challa bellowed. "Why do this to Wakanda? Speak!"
For the first time, Hawk's mask receded, revealing his calm face.
"You shouldn't have sent people to New York."
"As for why?"
"Destroying you… has nothing to do with you."
SNAP.
…
(End of Chapter)
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