With T'Chaka crushed beneath Senju Haruto's Susanoo, reduced to nothing but bloody pulp, the tide of battle shifted completely.
The sand soldiers advanced in unison, slaughtering the Wakandan warriors who still tried to resist.
Against this kind of overwhelming, dimension-crushing power, even vibranium—even the most advanced vibranium technology—offered no real chance of survival.
Haruto gazed upon the field of corpses without the slightest ripple of emotion in his heart.
And yet… he had to admit something.
Even with despair blanketing the battlefield, not a single Wakandan warrior dropped their weapon. They held on, fierce and unyielding, until their very last breath. They met their end with the honor of warriors who fell in battle.
In a way, their courage was worthy of respect.
"Wakanda…" Haruto murmured the nation's name. He didn't think their deaths were meaningless. On the contrary, fighting on despite knowing the outcome was hopeless—this made him shift, ever so slightly, in his perception of Wakanda.
But such a change in perspective didn't alter the inevitable.
This land… would belong to him sooner or later.
"There's no need to rush things now."
Drawing in a deep breath, Haruto released the Susanoo that encased him. His body fell freely through the air, no longer committed to the slaughter.
For now, he needed to return to the Land of Fire and report the discovery of the vibranium mines to Orochimaru and the others.
So Haruto twisted his fingers again, opening a portal below his falling body that connected directly to the Land of Fire.
His sign-in here was already complete.
He had obtained the vibranium veins.
There was no longer any reason to remain.
As for Soldier One?
Whether he lived or died was of no concern to Haruto.
His body plunged into the portal and disappeared from Wakanda's skies.
The sand soldiers he had summoned crumbled once more into loose grains, scattering on the battlefield.
All that remained across Wakanda's soil were the corpses of the fallen.
Meanwhile, on another battlefield within Wakanda—
Soldier One gripped a blade in one hand and a vibranium spear in the other, drenched in blood as he carved his way through the enemy.
General Ross's voice barked through his communicator again and again, ordering him to retreat immediately.
No matter what, Soldier One was a super-soldier. His very blood, altered by the serum, was a priceless asset to the military.
Ross would never accept the possibility of him dying here in Wakanda.
But even for someone like Soldier One, escaping this place was no easy feat.
Seeing his squad slaughtered by Wakandan warriors armed with vibranium weapons, fury ignited in his chest. He charged at the enemy with unrestrained rage, cutting them down one after another as he struggled to regroup his forces for a retreat.
Ross had only ordered him to return to the USS Stennis alive. But Soldier One could not bring himself to abandon the others.
Even as he hesitated, more Wakandan warriors arrived. These were no ordinary fighters—they were the elite who had already annihilated other squads. And after clashing with enhanced soldiers earlier, they now understood exactly what they were facing.
Unlike the first wave, they weren't careless. They kept their distance, launching searing laser beams from vibranium spears.
At first, Soldier One managed to dodge them, using his sharpened senses and the enhanced body granted by both the super-soldier serum and the heart-shaped herb.
But as their numbers grew, his room to maneuver shrank rapidly.
And with Ross and Maverick's commands ringing in his ear, pressure mounted.
At last, he gathered the few remaining soldiers.
Calling them a "squad" was generous—only six men were left.
They didn't need him to explain the situation. They understood it perfectly well. They knew the weight Soldier One carried, how important he was to their country.
Their eyes met one another's. No words were needed. Each of them nodded, silently resolving themselves.
Years of training, countless battles—they had forged this unspoken bond.
They knew even Soldier One couldn't save them now.
Their enemies weren't just powerful; their technology was unlike anything they had ever imagined.
They had come to Wakanda completely unprepared.
Even Captain Rogers hadn't been able to save everyone.
But his spirit—his courage—had become a symbol.
These six might never match Steve Rogers, might never wield his strength.
But at the very least… they could choose to go down with honor.
"Sir, we'll create an opening for you. No matter what happens, you must make it back to the Stennis. Bring reinforcements. Bring better weapons and soldiers."
"Take our bodies home."
"Please…!"
Their voices rang out like steel.
Then, without waiting for Soldier One's answer, they strapped explosives to themselves, pulling the pins.
One by one, they raised their weapons and charged, hurling themselves into the weaker side of the Wakandan formation.
The suddenness of it all caught Soldier One off guard. But realization dawned quickly—he understood why they were doing this.
His right hand clenched tighter around the vibranium dagger. A primal roar tore from his throat, raw and guttural.
But his rage shattered his composure.
The flaw of the super-soldier serum had always been this: it stripped him of true emotions, leaving him a machine that obeyed Ross's orders without hesitation.
But Haruto's heart-shaped herb had changed that.
It hadn't just made his body stronger.
It had filled in the missing pieces, restoring what had been hollowed out.
Now, seeing dozens of comrades die before his eyes, he felt powerless—helpless—and his emotions broke loose.
The surge of grief and fury disrupted even the strength the herb had granted him.
A laser beam lanced into him from behind, punching through his arm.
Agonizing pain spread through his body.
Before he could recover, a Wakandan warrior rushed in, both hands gripping a vibranium spear, and brought it crashing down.
Soldier One twisted to evade, but not fast enough.
A wet, brutal sound split the air—
Blood sprayed in an arc.
His arm was severed from his body.
He staggered back, half falling, half stumbling, his dismembered arm dropping uselessly to the ground.
But he did not collapse.
Snarling, he swung his dagger in a savage arc, slicing clean through the warrior's neck.
Rage unlike anything he had ever felt swelled within him. It twisted, boiled, and erupted into raw, violent power.
In that instant, Ross's orders meant nothing.
There was only one thought left in his mind—
Kill.
Slaughter every last one of them.