No one had expected Senju Haruto's power to be so overwhelming.
In less than thirty seconds, the earth quaked, and half of an entire Vibranium vein was wrenched free by his magic, lifted high into the sky.
It floated above them like a city in the clouds.
If not for Wakanda's long history of mysticism and arcane tradition, every single witness would have fallen to their knees, mistaking Haruto for a god. Even so, their minds were utterly shaken, too stunned to make a sound.
If T'Chaka hadn't broken the spell of silence with a beast-like roar, they might have stayed frozen until Haruto simply carried the Vibranium away before their very eyes.
Only now did T'Chaka, the king, truly understand. He understood why Bast, the Panther Goddess, had entered his dreams with such a dire warning.
Haruto's power eclipsed that of any invader Wakanda had faced throughout its history.
This was not just a crisis.
This was the greatest disaster Wakanda had ever known.
And the king himself—T'Chaka—could not think of a way to stop it. All he could do was watch as, at his order, countless warriors leveled their Vibranium spears and roared in unison.
That familiar phrase, echoing through the Marvel world, now thundered across Wakanda:
"Wakanda forever!"
"Wakanda forever!"
"Wakanda forever!"
Their voices shook the air as they charged toward Haruto with all the speed they could muster, desperate to strike him down before he could rob them of their sacred Vibranium.
There was no thought of mercy. No sympathy for an enemy who stood alone.
And not one of them thought this would be an easy victory.
On the contrary, when they saw Haruto raise an entire Vibranium vein as if it weighed nothing, every warrior drew in a sharp breath, their hearts cold. They all knew it without saying a word—
Today could well be Wakanda's final day.
Whether they lived or died, their names would be carved into history.
Black faces hardened with resolve rushed toward him, yet Haruto's expression did not flicker.
To him, these warriors were indistinguishable.
Their determination, their desperation—it mattered little. He didn't even spare them a true glance.
Instead, he continued to raise the Vibranium higher, slowly lifting his right arm.
Not to strike back.
Not to kill.
In Haruto's eyes, these people weren't even enemies.
Because no one regarded ants as opponents.
He flicked his fingers lightly. A spell—harmless by his standards—spread forth.
Before their stunned eyes, flames bloomed beneath the floating Vibranium. At first, it was no more than a glowing ember, the size of a fist. Then it expanded outward in a circle of fire, growing wider and wider.
And within that fiery circle, the land of Wakanda vanished. A new image took its place.
The forests of the Land of Fire.
The very place where Haruto had completed his first sign-in.
The place where everything had begun.
If he was going to plant the Vibranium in his homeland, then it had to be here.
Every Wakandan warrior, even King T'Chaka himself, stared in sheer disbelief.
Their minds could not accept it.
Their worldview, their very understanding of reality, was crumbling under the weight of Haruto's magic.
Doubt and dread wormed their way into countless hearts.
Against someone like this… is there even hope?
Perhaps… perhaps it was time for Bast herself to appear.
Right now.
Right here.
As Wakanda's guardian deity, surely she could not remain silent.
Otherwise… without her children, how lonely would she be?
T'Chaka swallowed hard, his throat dry as he stared into the sky.
He was the king of Wakanda, the Black Panther. No one alive knew more about magic than he did.
And yet, even with all his knowledge, he had never seen sorcery of such magnitude.
"Lady Bast…" he whispered in his heart, over and over, praying for her to answer.
But the silence stretched on.
And in the end, T'Chaka had to face a bitter truth.
"Your Majesty."
Okoye's voice trembled as she stared up at the impossible sight. The captain of the Dora Milaje had already withdrawn to the king's side, ready to guard him with her life.
But the scene before them was too much. She couldn't stop herself from speaking.
"Perhaps… we need the Panther Goddess's aid."
T'Chaka was silent.
The pause was brief—only moments—but for him and Okoye, it stretched like an eternity.
At last, he forced down a dry swallow, lips cracking as he spoke in a low voice.
"Since this began, I have been praying to her."
"What did she say?" Okoye asked, her tone urgent. To her, the Panther Goddess's power could determine Wakanda's survival.
But T'Chaka shook his head, voice trembling despite himself.
"She has not answered. What I know is this—today, we can only rely on our own strength and wisdom to save Wakanda. But I believe she will not abandon us."
Okoye stared at him, searching his features, then gave a helpless, bitter laugh.
"I do love her… but shouldn't she consider that without us, who will build her temples? Who will carry her will forward?"
"Okoye." T'Chaka's face hardened as he spoke her name.
But even he could not say whether his displeasure was aimed at her irreverence, or at Bast's silence.
Either way, it was true—if they were to defeat this "demon" named Senju Haruto, it would have to be by their own hands.
Accepting this, T'Chaka stepped forward with newfound resolve. He snatched a Vibranium spear from a guard and broke into a sprint.
His body moved like the panther whose mantle he bore. He felt the wind rush against him, felt strength rise from the very earth beneath his feet, flowing into his body, becoming one with him.
Perhaps… this was Bast's way of helping him.
At least, that's what T'Chaka told himself.