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Just as Senju Haruto and T'Chaka were locked in conversation, the familiar voice of the sign-in assistant chimed in again. Watching the progress bar slowly crawl forward, Haruto felt no rush at all.
T'Chaka's eyes swept up and down, carefully taking the measure of him.
Every king who bore the mantle of Black Panther had to consume the Heart-Shaped Herb and form a spiritual bond with the Panther God, Bast. Beyond the tremendous enhancements to strength, speed, and reflexes, each monarch also inherited the wisdom and memories of the kings before them.
T'Chaka carried the weight of centuries, even millennia, of Wakandan history. Invasions, raids, attempts to seize their most precious resource—there had never been a shortage of them. But the result was always the same. Every single one had ended in tragedy for the intruders.
Never once had anyone succeeded.
And T'Chaka was certain no one would break that record in his reign.
Yet something about this man unsettled him.
By all rights, Haruto should have been desperate—surrounded, outnumbered, with no chance of escape. But the confidence radiating from him was undeniable, almost oppressive. It was as if he were silently declaring: Even now, I can walk away unscathed.
In all his years, T'Chaka had never encountered someone quite like this. Either Haruto was bluffing… or he truly possessed the power to back that confidence.
And T'Chaka did not believe him to be the type who bluffed.
Their eyes met, neither moving to strike.
"Your Majesty," Okoye murmured as she leaned close to T'Chaka's side. Her voice was low but edged with steel. To her, there was nothing to discuss. The fact that this outsider had dared set foot here was already reason enough for death.
T'Chaka flicked a glance at her. Normally, someone like Haruto wasn't worth his personal attention. Wakanda had dealt with invaders countless times; others could handle it.
But this time was different.
This wasn't instinct or paranoia. At the very start, Bast herself had appeared to him in a dream, warning him to handle this intruder with the utmost caution.
It was rare for the Panther God to intervene at all. To issue a direct warning—such things were almost unheard of, even with the wisdom of past kings flowing in his veins. The last time something like this had happened could be traced back centuries.
Even so, T'Chaka knew this standoff could not drag on. With a sharp gesture, he ordered Okoye and the Dora Milaje to move in.
"Yes, my king."
Okoye snapped her spear tight in her grip and strode forward, six elite guards following close behind.
"Actually, T'Chaka… you were right."
Haruto's voice rang out, calling the king by name without hesitation.
This didn't surprise T'Chaka. Though Wakanda cloaked itself from the world, he was not an unknown. He had spoken at international summits, his speeches stirring even when dismissed. Enough eyes in the world knew his name.
But then Haruto said something that froze T'Chaka where he stood.
"I did come here… to move the Vibranium."
His words fell heavy as stone. He spread his arms wide, and chakra-infused magic surged forth, shaking the world itself.
The earth groaned.
The ground trembled.
All around them, Wakandan warriors shifted uneasily, eyes darting. A dread they could not name spread through them like wildfire.
Okoye's knuckles whitened on her spear. She had never—never—witnessed anything like this.
"This is… magic?!"
T'Chaka's eyes widened, his scalp prickling, fists clenching as the sheer force radiated outward. Only now did he understand why Bast had warned him. Only now did he grasp the reason for Haruto's unshakable confidence.
Because he truly did have this power.
"Impossible…" T'Chaka muttered. "A mere man—no human could wield such power."
But even as he said it, he rejected the thought. No, Haruto was not human. He couldn't be.
"Who—what are you?!" T'Chaka roared, warning his warriors to stay wary.
Yet the ground's upheaval wasn't aimed at them. Not the surface.
Not the people.
Haruto had no interest in unleashing a grand-scale spell to slaughter them all. He wasn't here for massacre. He was answering T'Chaka's mocking words—responding to that sneer.
Move it yourself?
Fine. I'll show you I can.
A slow grin tugged at his lips. Behind him, the earth split open with a thunderous crack.
And from the depths, something immense began to rise.
A mountain of metal, glittering under the sun.
The Vibranium itself.
Gasps spread as the colossal formation broke free, rising higher, a mountain range of gleaming alien ore. Warriors, Dora Milaje, even T'Chaka himself—none could tear their eyes away. In all his reign, in all Wakanda's history, not even their king had ever witnessed the full glory of the Vibranium in its untouched form. They had only ever mined fragments.
But Haruto had pulled an entire vein from the earth itself.
Still, he did not take it all.
He knew well Vibranium's secret—its unique property of transforming surrounding earth and minerals into more Vibranium when buried. That was why Wakanda's reserves had never run dry.
If he stripped it bare, it would eventually be gone.
So his plan was simple: take half, and replant it in the Land of Fire. Two Vibranium sources. Two mines. A new foundation for power.
In the Marvel universe, there were few metals as remarkable as this. Even Orochimaru would marvel endlessly at it.
"Stop him! Now!"
At last, T'Chaka snapped from his shock, barking the command as the mountain of Vibranium loomed overhead.