"What exactly do you want from Wakanda?"
T'Challa stared at Erik. In Erik's eyes, he saw anger—and deep resentment.
"I want that throne."
Erik did not lower his voice. Instead, he declared it loudly, making sure everyone present heard him clearly. He wanted them all to know that he had come for the throne itself.
An elder immediately stood up and shouted angrily,
"Silence! How dare an outsider speak so brazenly in Wakanda!"
The elders burst into laughter, as though they had just heard the most absurd fantasy.
"You all sit here so comfortably,"
Erik said, glancing at the elders behind T'Challa.
"It must feel wonderful. But out there, across the world, more than a billion of our people are still living in misery. Many of them are still bullied and oppressed by white people. Wakanda possesses the means to save them—to free them from oppression and humiliation!"
His tone was calm, but the calmer he sounded, the fiercer the rage burning beneath his words.
"Oh?"
T'Challa replied evenly.
"Then tell me—what weapons are you talking about?"
At this moment, T'Challa finally understood the helplessness his father must have felt when facing his uncle back then.
"Vibranium. The weapons you already have."
"Our weapons have never been meant to wage war on the world,"
T'Challa said firmly.
"We will never use vibranium to act as some so-called world police, judging or executing the people of other nations!"
Now T'Challa truly understood why his father had opposed his uncle so strongly. If his uncle had held the same beliefs as Erik, then his father's decision—to stop him, even to forcibly bring him back to Wakanda—had been the right one.
"Your Majesty, we have already wasted enough time on this outsider,"
an elder interrupted coldly.
"What he needs now is interrogation."
He had no interest in hearing Erik's twisted rhetoric any longer—grand words about justice that were nothing more than excuses to satisfy personal ambition.
"Don't rush, elders,"
Erik said calmly.
"I haven't even stated my conditions yet. Aren't you curious who I really am?"
"You are Erik Stevens,"
Shuri spoke up immediately.
"I know exactly who you are—a spy from America."
"That is not my name, Princess."
Erik looked at Shuri. He bore her no particular hostility—after all, she had not even been born when everything happened.
"Then who are you?!"
one elder roared angrily.
"Enough of this nonsense—take him away and interrogate him!"
"I am N'Jadaka,"
Erik shouted.
"The son of Prince N'Jobu!"
His words sent shockwaves through the hall.
Every elder rose to their feet in disbelief. None of them had ever known that Prince N'Jobu had a son.
"When my father died, there were Black Panther claw marks across his chest,"
Erik continued fiercely.
"T'Challa, you were never a true king—you are nothing but the son of a murderer!"
As his emotions surged, the royal guards rushed forward and restrained him, preventing any sudden violence.
"Silence! Lies!"
Okoye stepped forward, her spear pressed against Erik's throat.
"Another word, and you die."
She was T'Challa's most loyal supporter. She would never allow anyone to slander him.
"I'm afraid he's telling the truth, Okoye."
W'Kabi, who had been standing quietly to the side, spoke at last.
All eyes immediately turned toward him. Okoye stared at her husband in disbelief, unable to understand why he was acting so strangely.
W'Kabi raised his hand. Hanging from his fingers was a necklace—with a ring attached.
The elders of Wakanda, some of whom had followed King T'Chaka since his coronation, recognized it instantly.
"This… this is—"
Gasps rang out across the hall.
"That is Prince N'Jobu's ring!"
One elder stepped forward and took the ring from W'Kabi, examining it carefully with trembling hands.
There was no doubt.
It was N'Jobu's ring.
Which meant the outsider before them was, in all likelihood, truly his son.
"I now invoke my right as a descendant of the royal bloodline,"
Erik declared loudly.
"I challenge T'Challa for the throne. I challenge the current Black Panther!"
W'Kabi had told him long ago that a royal descendant possessed the right to challenge the reigning king—and that tradition fit Erik's intentions perfectly.
The elders fell silent. Though they wished to object, Erik was invoking a legitimate Wakandan tradition. There was no argument to be made.
T'Challa first looked toward W'Kabi—the brother he had once trusted more than anyone else, now stabbing him in the back.
An elder stepped forward, handing the ring to T'Challa.
"Your Majesty, as the son of Prince N'Jobu, he has the right to challenge you."
T'Challa accepted the ring and returned to his throne. He lowered his gaze, staring at the two identical rings in his hands, saying nothing.
After a long silence, he finally looked up at Erik.
"Elders,"
he said calmly,
"summon the High Priest. I accept his challenge."
The news spread through Wakanda like wildfire.
The return of the former prince's son—and his challenge for the throne—rippled across the nation in an instant.
---
At the research center, Shuri stood with her head lowered, lost in thought. Her mood was clearly grim.
Out of nowhere, she had gained another brother—one who now sought to challenge her real brother for the throne. Worse still, this newly returned brother was a ruthless killer.
She was deeply conflicted.
"Do you need our help?"
Tony asked gently as he walked over.
He genuinely admired Shuri—her intellect, her scientific skill, her achievements. He did not see her as a child at all, but as a peer, much like Lucas.
Shuri shook her head.
"You can't interfere. If you do, my brother will lose the throne for certain. I'm only worried about his safety… Erik is a monster who kills without blinking."
"Don't worry,"
Tony said, glancing at the hexagonal reactor on the chest of the test mannequin.
"We'll make sure your brother stays safe."
---
Soon, the day of the challenge arrived.
The same place.
The same cliff platform rising from beneath the lake.
This time, however, in addition to the tribal leaders, there was one more observer—
The former king, T'Chaka.
He, too, had heard that his nephew had returned.
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