T'Challa's chest rose and fell with anger, but when he looked up at the humming warships overhead, his heart sank. Those ships were no longer under his control.
If he chose to resist, then among the royals present, the only survivors would likely be W'Kabi's supporters. His mother, his sister Shuri—dead. The princes and elders who backed him—dead. The rest of the royal clans—dead.
Damn it.
Even without the Panther suit, the TX-type genetic enhancement—fusing the Extremis virus and the Super-Soldier Serum—had given him a powerful new body. But it couldn't solve the crisis in front of him.
"Abdicate, T'Challa. I promise I won't harm your mother or your sister—or any compatriots here who choose to support me. Right?" W'Kabi called out, brimming with confidence as he swept his gaze across the crowd.
He had prepared for both outcomes: if Erik won the challenge and took the throne, W'Kabi would rule from the shadows, controlling Wakanda from behind the scenes. If Erik failed?
Then he would stop waiting and settle it by force.
"I… "
T'Challa slowly raised his hand, pain crossing his face.
"Brother!!" Shuri cried out. "Don't—"
Kings who seize the throne by force seldom meet a good end. It wasn't hard to see what would happen: if T'Challa abandoned the throne and W'Kabi ascended, the last pillars holding T'Challa up would collapse.
Wakanda would fall entirely into W'Kabi's hands. The Queen Mother and Princess Shuri might be kept safe for a time to soothe the tribes' anger, but the dethroned king would be hunted to the death.
Shuri could not watch her brother die.
"Saitama, please—save my brother!!" she begged, tears streaking her face.
"Buddy… in a situation like this, if there's anything you can do to help T'Challa, you should. W'Kabi won't make a good head of state," Agent Ross said, jaw tight.
If W'Kabi took power—given the Wakandan super-tech Ross had seen—he doubted any nation could stop Wakanda's iron cavalry, except perhaps the United States with Iron Man, Captain America, and their super-heroes.
And even then… he wasn't confident.
Wakanda was a thousand years ahead of Earth's technology—the thought alone rattled him.
"Oh? That so?" Saitama scratched his head, looking between them. He didn't know politics, but he didn't need to. In his eyes, anyone who'd aim warships at civilians wasn't fit to rule.
With his mind made up, Saitama walked toward W'Kabi. His polished bald head flashed in the sun, drawing every gaze on the cliffs.
"What's that royal guest doing?"
"Is he going to swear loyalty to Lord W'Kabi? Hah, finally someone with sense."
"No… wait—"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The Dora Milaje women parted for him; they had seen his terrifying power with their own eyes. W'Kabi's fighters, unaware, swung their spears to bar his path.
The bald "slacker hero" seemed oblivious. He stopped in front of W'Kabi.
An inexplicable dread surged through the power-hungry minister. He instinctively stepped back. "What are you going to do?"
"What am I going to do?" Saitama looked at him, dead serious. "I want to…"
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!] [[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]