"Your Majesty," the High Priest said, turning his gaze to Queen Ramonda,
"do any warriors among the royal family wish to challenge T'Challa?"
The royal family did not consist solely of T'Chaka's direct line. Other royal members also possessed the right to challenge T'Challa for the throne.
Queen Ramonda was just about to shake her head when, suddenly, Shuri—standing beside her—raised her hand.
The moment she did, it was like poking a hornet's nest. The surroundings instantly erupted into noise.
"Shuri, stop fooling around," Queen Ramonda said sharply.
"Be careful, or your father will punish you."
"Well… um…" Shuri said sheepishly,
"I just wanted to ask when the ceremony will end. My belt is way too tight—I can barely breathe."
She was half joking, but the belt really was uncomfortably tight, and the animal-tooth ornaments on her head were pressing painfully against her scalp.
Queen Ramonda rolled her eyes and grabbed Shuri by the back of the neck, forcing her to be quiet.
At that moment, the High Priest turned his attention to Carl and Tony.
"By tradition," he declared,
"anyone present at the ceremony has the right to challenge. Do either of you choose to challenge T'Challa?"
His words stunned the surrounding tribes. Until now, they had practically ignored Carl and Tony. Even if they had noticed them earlier, no one would have voluntarily mentioned this rule.
The High Priest's question made Queen Ramonda visibly tense. She had seen the combat footage recorded by the Black Panther suit—this seemingly harmless young man had shattered vibranium armor with just three sword strikes. And now, her son stood here without armor, nothing more than an ordinary man. He stood no chance against him.
Carl and Tony exchanged a glance. Both saw the same mischievous thought reflected in the other's eyes—a desire to give them a little scare. Tony gestured subtly toward T'Challa.
Carl immediately understood and raised his hand.
The crowd erupted once again. Even Shuri's expression darkened as she looked at Carl and Tony, not to mention Queen Ramonda herself.
"Very well," the High Priest said loudly.
"Since a warrior wishes to challenge T'Challa, then please—"
Before he could finish, Carl interrupted.
"Um… excuse me," Carl said, scratching his head.
"I just want to ask—when does the feast start after the ceremony? I've been here since morning and haven't eaten anything. I'm honestly starving."
Everyone—including T'Challa—froze.
No one had expected Carl to pull something like this. Combined with Shuri's earlier joke, the solemn atmosphere collapsed entirely.
A small boy in the crowd burst out laughing, followed by a wave of laughter that spread through everyone present. Even T'Challa couldn't help but smile.
This ceremony was supposed to be formal and sacred, but Shuri had already broken the tension, and Carl's antics only pushed it further. No one bothered to blame him anymore.
The only one suffering was the High Priest.
Twice.
He had been toyed with twice.
Enough was enough.
He just wanted to end this cursed ceremony and go eat. Did these brats really think they were the only ones who hadn't eaten breakfast?!
The High Priest glared at Carl through clenched teeth. The moment food was mentioned, his suppressed hunger surged violently, his empty stomach nearly protesting aloud.
"Since there are no challengers," he declared stiffly,
"I hereby announce—"
He raised both hands, his ceremonial spear pointing toward the sky.
"ROOOAAAR—OOOHH—OOOHH—!"
A thunderous roar, like that of a giant ape, suddenly echoed from deep within the cavern, cutting him off mid-sentence.
The High Priest was speechless.
Which bastard was this now?!
Couldn't they just let him finish so he could go eat?!
Were these people playing some kind of relay rescue like the Calabash Brothers?!
If he starved to death today, there wouldn't even be a High Priest left to conduct their ceremonies!
"WHO IS IT?!"
The High Priest roared, pouring all his pent-up frustration into that single shout.
The sheer force of his voice stunned everyone present into silence.
"Mother," Shuri whispered to Queen Ramonda,
"the High Priest seems unusually strict today."
"Close your mouth and watch," Queen Ramonda replied coldly.
"We'll deal with you later."
Shuri stuck out her tongue, utterly unconcerned. She knew that as long as T'Challa was around, her mother wouldn't truly punish her. Though they were half-siblings, T'Challa treated her like a full-blooded sister—spoiling her endlessly since childhood. Even Queen Ramonda had long since resigned herself to that fact.
All eyes turned toward the cave entrance.
A massive figure emerged—at least a head taller and far broader than T'Challa, towering like a living mountain.
The man's body was painted stark white, the opposite of T'Challa's markings. Black, claw-like patterns covered his chest. On his head sat a fearsome gorilla mask, radiating ferocity.
W'Kabi—the son of the Border Tribe leader and Okoye's husband—stepped forward instinctively, but his father stopped him with a firm hand.
"The Jabari Tribe!" someone shouted.
"It's the Jabari Tribe!"
"The Jabari Tribe?" Tony whispered to Shuri.
"Who are they?"
"The Jabari live deep in the mountains," Shuri explained quietly.
"They worship the White Gorilla God. They reject outside contact and refuse technology altogether, living a half-primitive, half-modern life. Most importantly… we don't get along with them."
Long ago, two tribes had fought fiercely over leadership. In the end, the Black Panther—armed with superior technology—had emerged victorious. Since then, the Jabari had retreated into the mountains, watching the other tribes from the cliffs above.
The masked man stopped in front of T'Challa and removed the white gorilla mask, revealing a brutal, intimidating face.
"M'Baku," the High Priest said sharply, stepping between him and T'Challa, spear raised.
"What are you doing here?!"
M'Baku—the leader of the Jabari Tribe—snorted.
"Why shouldn't I be here?" he replied coldly.
"Today is the coronation—and also the day of challenges. Why I'm here should be obvious."
He turned, facing all the gathered tribes.
"We have watched you from the mountains," M'Baku continued, his voice echoing.
"We've seen what you've become—and it disgusts us. You have betrayed the will of the ancestors, allowing a child to inherit and oversee Wakanda's so-called advanced technology!"
As he spoke, he raised his heavy staff and pointed directly at Shuri.
His meaning was unmistakable. The "child" he referred to was not T'Challa—but Shuri.
After all, she had only just come of age. In the eyes of others, she was little more than a child.
The guards around Shuri instantly raised their spears, forming a protective wall around her and Queen Ramonda.
Carl and Tony remained still. They were outsiders, and this was an internal Wakandan matter. Interfering would be inappropriate—so they simply watched, as if observing a movie unfold.
"She tramples tradition," M'Baku continued,
"and you—"
His gaze swept across all the tribal leaders gathered for the ceremony.
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