"Looks pretty good."
T'Challa didn't even glance at the technical data on the large screen. He simply studied the Black Panther suit itself. As for the professional metrics and performance figures, he understood only part of it. As long as the upgraded suit was stronger than before, that was enough for him.
Karl was in an even worse position—at least T'Challa was a graduate of a world-renowned university. Karl, on the other hand, had never even set foot on a college campus. A bona fide high school dropout, unemployed at home.
Afterward, T'Challa tested the new suit's comfort and mobility. Once satisfied, he left while still wearing it—taking the Golden Jaguar suit with him as well.
His destination was obvious.
The moment Karl sensed there would be something entertaining to watch, his interest piqued. He grabbed Shuri and followed T'Challa deep into the palace.
First, they paid their respects to the former king, T'Chaka. Proper etiquette was essential when visiting as a guest. T'Chaka welcomed Karl warmly, especially given that the young man had once saved Wakanda.
Then the three of them proceeded to Erik's residence within the palace grounds.
Erik was training.
With a short spear in one hand and a short sword in the other, he sparred against vibranium training dummies. When he saw T'Challa, he didn't even bother acknowledging him—though he did nod at Shuri in greeting.
But when his gaze shifted to Karl, a surge of anger rose within him.
This was the man who had ruined everything.
Though Erik now recognized that his plan had been somewhat naïve, Karl had undeniably dismantled it—and beaten him senseless in the process. That was not something easily forgotten.
Without warning, Erik hurled the short spear straight at Karl.
Karl didn't move. He simply reached out and caught it midair.
Even after consuming the Heart-Shaped Herb, Erik had been no match for Karl while wearing the Golden Jaguar suit—let alone now, without it.
Karl casually handed the spear to Shuri.
"I'm just here to watch. I told you before—we don't have any personal grudge. I just didn't approve of what you were doing. No need for that much hostility."
He shrugged. He genuinely bore Erik no ill will.
Erik studied him for a long moment before turning back to T'Challa.
"What do you want this time?"
T'Challa tossed the golden fang necklace toward him.
"My suit's been upgraded. Help me test it."
With that, the Black Panther armor flowed over his body, glowing faintly with a deep violet sheen that exuded quiet power.
Erik wasted no time. He donned the Golden Jaguar suit immediately.
A fight—especially against T'Challa—was something he never refused.
Black and gold collided in an instant.
Both lunged forward at full speed, claws extended. Their fighting styles were similar but distinct: Erik's strikes were broad and aggressive, while T'Challa's movements were fluid and adaptive.
Even with the upgraded armor, neither gained the upper hand.
Each clash of vibranium claws sparked showers of light. But with both suits forged from vibranium, neither could easily breach the other's defense.
Bang!
Erik landed a kick squarely against T'Challa's chest, using the recoil to vault upward, claws slashing down like steel blades in a predator's pounce.
T'Challa stepped back at once, counter-kicking Erik's arm to disrupt his balance before thrusting both hands forward, claws aimed directly at his opponent's face.
Meanwhile, Karl and Shuri sat leisurely to the side.
Each held a handful of sunflower seeds, cracking and eating them while watching the fight. Two drinks Karl had brought along rested beside them.
They looked exactly like casual spectators enjoying a sporting event.
"So, who do you think will win?" Karl asked, spitting out a seed shell.
"Obviously my brother," Shuri replied without hesitation, flicking seed shells aside with zero royal decorum. "I just upgraded his suit. It outperforms the Golden Jaguar in every category."
The nickname "Golden Jaguar" had gradually spread throughout Wakanda. Karl had coined it to differentiate Erik's suit from T'Challa's Black Panther armor. Over time, the name stuck.
Now, T'Challa was universally called Black Panther, and Erik—Golden Jaguar.
"Not necessarily. I'm betting on Erik," Karl said confidently.
He knew Erik's combat ability well. What T'Challa lacked was that edge of ruthlessness. Erik had clawed his way up from battlefields littered with corpses. His real-world combat experience far surpassed T'Challa's.
Shuri scoffed. "Want to bet?"
"What's the wager?"
"If my brother wins, you lend me your sword for a few days."
Her eyes gleamed. She had wanted to study the Ultima Weapon since the first time she saw it, but Karl had always refused.
Clearly, she hadn't given up.
"Fine. And if you lose?"
Karl agreed immediately. He had full confidence Erik would win.
"If I lose, you can pick anything you want from my lab."
She looked equally confident.
Karl paused, then grinned. "Let's raise the stakes. If I lose, I'll lend you both the Ultima Weapon and the Blade of Judgment for half a month. If you lose, you build me three nano-armor suits. They don't need too many features—just improved flexibility and defense."
He suddenly thought of the three ladies back home. Their current suits, built by Tony, were still conventional armor—not nanotech.
Perfect opportunity for an upgrade.
"No problem. Just bring them over when the time comes. I guarantee satisfaction."
Shuri agreed instantly. Three suits would barely dent Wakanda's vibranium reserves. The entire nation was built atop the metal.
Besides, she wasn't worried about Karl exposing Wakanda's secrets. If he intended to, the world would have known long ago.
They sealed the deal with a high-five and turned back to the fight—now fully invested, like spectators at a championship match.
By this point, T'Challa and Erik had been battling for over ten minutes.
Neither could overpower the other.
Their physical abilities were nearly identical, enhanced by the Heart-Shaped Herb. Their suits were comparable. It now came down to endurance—and experience.
Erik pressed the attack relentlessly.
T'Challa countered with calculated defense.
They darted through the courtyard like streaks of black and gold, th
eir movements generating gusts of wind strong enough to strip leaves from the surrounding plants, leaving branches bare.
Bang!
At last, T'Challa seized an opening—and sent Erik flying with a powerful kick..
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