The breach in Wakanda's barrier glowed faintly behind me, a perfect circular distortion shimmering like a mirage in the dim African air. My army waited just outside it—thousands of elite death troopers standing at rigid attention, Dark Foundation operatives checking their weapons, and the experimental units Orochimaru insisted on bringing pacing impatiently at the back of the formation.
This was it.
Years of preparation. Months of intelligence work. Countless arguments inside the O5 Council. And a mountain of political concessions.
But the moment had finally arrived.
The Foundation would conquer Wakanda.
With my best subordinates—Dr. Jack Bright and Orochimaru—standing beside me, I stepped up onto the small metal platform Sentinel printed earlier from compressed alloys. A makeshift command podium, but efficient and stable enough for what I intended to do.
The troopers snapped to full attention when they saw me climb onto it.
Good.
This required discipline. The operation needed precision—no chaos, no unnecessary bloodshed. Wakanda was far too valuable to harm.
I inhaled slowly.
Even now, the electric anticipation of victory buzzed in the air.
Sentinel displayed a countdown hologram in the corner of my vision—02:10 until the barrier hole naturally began to reseal on its own. Wakanda's self‑healing shield was a masterwork of vibranium physics and exotic energy refractors. Impressive.
Not impressive enough to stop me.
But it meant my speech had to be short.
I raised one hand.
Instant silence.
Even the wind stilled.
My voice, carried by the resonant amplifiers in my armor, boomed across the ground.
"Soldiers of the Foundation…"
A wave of attention swept the ranks like a physical force.
"For centuries, Wakanda has hidden the greatest resource on Earth beneath our feet. A treasure trove of vibranium—the metal that can change the fate of nations and rewrite the laws of physics."
I let that settle, watching rows of black armored helmets tilt subtly forward.
"We are not here to steal. We are not here to destroy. We are here to secure and contain. To claim what will safeguard humanity's future."
Bright chuckled softly. Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with serpentine hunger.
"This world grows darker by the year. Alien invasions. Dark sorcery. Mutant conflict. And now, dimensional incursions."I lowered my hand sharply."Humanity cannot afford to leave power buried."
A low ripple of agreement moved through the soldiers.
"Wakanda will fall today—not to greed, not to spite, but to necessity."
Sentinel pinged again. 1:34 remaining.
I continued.
"Move with precision. Do not kill unless required. We want their minds, their technology, and their history intact."
My gaze swept over the troops.
"But above all, remember this: We are the Foundation. And we do what must be done for the survival of our species."
Then I extended my arm toward the breach.
"March."
The army surged forward—silent, perfect, deadly.
Bright hopped off the platform behind me.
"That was solid," he said with a smirk. "Not exactly inspirational, but strong. Very… authoritarian dad‑energy."
"Shut up, Bright."
"I'm just saying, if you ever quit being an O5, you could be a cult leader. Or a dictator. Or both."
Orochimaru slid beside us with a pleased hiss. "Your speech was efficient. No unnecessary flair. I approve."
"Thank you, Orochimaru."
Bright frowned. "Hey, why does he get thanked? I added constructive feedback."
"Because his feedback isn't idiotic," I said, stepping down from the platform and walking toward the breach. "Now move. You're both leading the first wave with me."
Orochimaru nodded, already weaving hand signs that released dozens of bio‑enhanced serpents. They slithered between death troopers, vanishing into the breach ahead of us.
Bright examined the edge of the shimmering hole with fascination.
"You know, even after all these centuries," he said, "seeing a reality‑warped barrier punctured like a soap bubble is still sexy."
"I don't need commentary," I muttered.
"You say that," he replied, "but you keep inviting me."
I ignored him.
We walked through.
The world shifted.
Colors bent. Air pressure warped. Space folded—
And then Wakanda lay before us in all its glory.
Vibranium towers. Glowing blue rail lines. Golden reflective surfaces. Thousands of citizens frozen mid‑motion as Sentinel's first-stage cyberattack flickered through the city.
The silence was almost surreal.
Bright whistled. "Ten bucks says T'Chaka is already screaming in the palace."
"Keep your bets," I said coldly. "We move to phase two."
"Understood," Orochimaru whispered, his serpents fanning outward in scouting patterns. "Let the harvest begin."
Bright rubbed his hands together eagerly. "And let's see what we can steal without breaking anything."
Sentinel's voice chimed in over my internal comms.
"King's Palace shields activating in T‑180 seconds. I suggest immediate engagement."
I felt power hum beneath my fingertips.
My newest anomalous ability—the one allowing me to manipulate every element in the periodic table—thrummed inside my bones like a living engine.
Perfect.
I stepped forward, raising my hand as my death troopers marched behind me in flawless formation.
"Begin full invasion procedures," I ordered.
And Wakanda, the greatest hidden nation on Earth, was about to learn why the Foundation was feared by gods, monsters, and cosmic entities alike.