Chapter 385: Love You Three Days and Nights, Never Down
The moment he heard the name of the serum, T'Challa felt a surge of dread.
It didn't sound like a proper serum at all. Besides, the Heart-Shaped Herb was supposed to be purple—how did it end up green? Something was clearly off.
"Captain Black Cat, this is my one-of-a-kind secret formula. Drink it and I guarantee you'll go beast mode. You're getting a bargain here," Allen declared proudly.
The more T'Challa looked at Allen's smug expression, the more wrong it all felt.
"What are its effects?" Namor asked bluntly.
He wasn't doubting Allen's capabilities—he was just curious. If T'Challa grew exponentially stronger, and his people ever came into conflict with Wakanda, he'd at least be able to prepare for it properly and not get completely outmatched.
"Good question."
Allen shot him an appreciative glance, clearly pleased with Namor's humility. Then, he launched into a serious-sounding explanation. "Based on the benefits of the Heart-Shaped Herb, I conducted extensive research and developed enhancements. Then, combining it with the principles behind the Super Soldier Serum, I fused the two to create this…"
Research?
Yeah, right.
Namor was too polite to call him out, but they had literally watched the entire process from start to finish—it was more like chaotic improvisation than any kind of disciplined scientific procedure.
"Trust me, drink this and you'll beat the Leopard King until he's howling," Allen said as he advanced, holding the test tube menacingly.
T'Challa's face showed a flicker of panic. He hurriedly asked, "Can I not drink it?"
"Don't waste my good intentions," Allen said, face darkening in refusal.
"Can I at least wait a bit?" T'Challa asked hesitantly.
"Hurry up. If it cools down, the effects will be cut in half."
Whimper…
Before T'Challa could resist again, Allen had already grabbed his head and poured the serum straight into his mouth.
Huff…
A strange sour and bitter taste filled T'Challa's mouth. He gasped for air, trying to dispel the unpleasant flavor.
"So? Mixed-fruit juice flavor. Doesn't it taste like that weird 'Three Punch Farmer' energy drink?" Allen said nonchalantly.
"Juice!?"
At the word "juice," Morgan ran over, hugging Mimi, and shouted, "What juice? I want juice!"
"If you want juice, just ask Unita Sun-Sun to buy you some." Allen brushed her off casually.
Morgan then turned to Unita, who stood nearby, and pleaded with puppy-dog eyes, "Grandma, I want juice."
"You can just call me Unita. I'll get it ready for you right away."
A stream of data flickered in Unita's eyes—she must've contacted the slapstick trio through the network.
Meanwhile, Allen kept his eyes on T'Challa's transformation.
"His face turned green!" Namor exclaimed.
"That can't be good…"
"What's there to worry about? He's transforming into a super black panther," Allen said dismissively.
But clearly, T'Challa was feeling unwell—visibly dazed and struggling.
"Now he's red!" Namor blurted out in disbelief.
Something was definitely wrong.
From green to red—what was this, a human traffic light?
"I dunno!"
Allen looked genuinely confused. "I was too focused on testing the effects. Forgot to check for side effects."
"…"
As expected, nothing this guy makes is ever safe.
"Am I dying?" T'Challa asked, scratching himself in discomfort. His whole body itched and radiated heat.
"Please don't question my professional integrity."
Allen pushed up imaginary glasses on his nose.
"Why does it feel like my body's catching fire?" T'Challa asked, sweat pouring down his face. Something was clearly not right.
"I was concerned that the Three Thousand Slaps of Manly Fury might have Super Serum-like side effects, so I added a little something to boost your virility. Sweating and overheating is perfectly normal," Allen explained seriously.
"Boost… virility!?"
Upon hearing that, T'Challa instinctively looked down.
Whoa… impressive.
Standing proud like a golden pyramid—Allen and Namor both averted their eyes in discomfort.
Apparently, all of a Black man's stats really were allocated to reproduction.
"Bathroom! I need a cold shower—NOW!"
Covering himself awkwardly, T'Challa bolted for the showers.
"Third door to the left," Allen called out helpfully.
Bang—
The door slammed shut, followed by the sound of rushing water inside.
"Allen, uh, so, yeah… can I get a dose of that Manly Fury serum too?" Namor asked sheepishly.
"Huh?"
Allen leaned back, eyes wide with surprise, staring at Namor like he was a total stranger.
"Ahem… don't get me wrong, I'm just taking it for academic purposes. I'm quite satisfied with myself," Namor insisted, his entire neck turning red.
"Here… I was gonna keep it for myself, but fine—consider it a gift between friends."
Allen begrudgingly handed over a vial of red serum.
"Thanks."
Without hesitation, Namor chugged it, then smacked his lips and asked curiously, "Was that the same one you gave T'Challa?"
"Nope."
Allen replied bluntly, "There was only one dose of Heart-Shaped Herb. What you got is Love You Three Days and Nights, Never Down."
"…The hell did you just say?" Namor's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Love You Three Days and Nights, Never Down.
Just the name alone sounded terrifying.
"Holy sh*t!"
Moments later, Namor, now clutching his lower half in embarrassment, charged toward the bathroom to join T'Challa.
"Didn't expect them to be so into hygiene," Allen mused as he looked at the closed door, eyes filled with pride.
The Heart-Shaped Herb serum was a growth-type enhancement. It needed battle and bloodshed to fully activate its effects—roughly equal in strength to the original Super Soldier Serum.
The only problem: it caused frequent overheating, which naturally triggered certain physiological side effects.
As for the serum Namor drank? That was made from leftover scraps—a high-potency Viagra knockoff.
Allen originally made it on a whim, thinking it might come in handy someday, and just happened to have it on him.
---
Kulak Islands.
A small, impoverished island nation in the middle of the ocean.
Surrounded by water, its only resource was fishing. It was completely disconnected from mainstream international affairs.
The reason? It had no valuable resources to attract attention. The country survived by leasing out its ports for money.
They didn't care what kind of ships came in—as long as they paid.
As a result, it became a hub for major pirate crews and black market exchanges.
Black Manta—David—was lounging on the beach with a drink in hand, enjoying the sun.
He had already ordered his men to distribute the vibranium ore and exchange it for a fortune. With that, he planned to upgrade his submarine, restock supplies, and prepare for the next voyage.
At that moment, a group of white men approached.
David took off his sunglasses and grinned at the man leading them. "Killian, welcome aboard."
"Honored to be working with you," Killian replied.
Beside him stood his younger brother, Jack—thankfully rescued from that deep pit on the island after great effort.
"Then let's set sail. We're heading to the Arctic. I need to retrieve something," David announced as he stood up.
"What kind of item?" Killian asked with a frown.
"A relic powerful enough… to counter Atlantis."
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