Okoye returned to the battlefield with W'Kabi and several warriors from other tribes.
But the Susanoo, the sand soldiers—everything that should have been there—was gone.
All that remained were rivers of blood and endless corpses.
The sight stretched as far as the eye could see, drowning all hope.
And among the dead were not just friends and family.
Even the King of Wakanda himself lay among them.
Okoye's mind went blank, a loud ringing filling her ears. Her feet moved back on their own, and the world began to spin.
Everything felt too real.
So real that her heart rejected it.
She wanted to scream, but no sound came.
She wanted to cry, but no tears would fall.
Deep inside, Okoye wished desperately this was only a dream—a nightmare she could wake from.
But the truth was undeniable. It had really happened.
W'Kabi's heart was just as heavy and conflicted. Never in his worst dreams could he have imagined it:
That Wakanda, a nation a thousand years ahead of the rest of the world in technology, would suffer such a crushing, merciless defeat.
Such a massacre.
"What in the world happened here…"
The other tribal leaders stood frozen as well, stunned into silence.
None of them knew what expression to wear, what emotions to show, in the face of such carnage.
At last, W'Kabi swallowed hard and forced his voice out, low and grim.
As sudden as it all was, as much like a nightmare as it felt, the living still had to think of the future.
They had to plan for those who had survived.
"First, we must confirm—see if there are any wounded still alive, anyone in need of treatment."
"And also…"
"Search for the King. Dead or alive."
His voice trembled when he spoke the last words.
Everyone's mood grew heavier still.
"W'Kabi, the King has always been under the Black Panther God's protection. He wouldn't fall so easily. He will return to lead us, to rally us again."
One of the tribal leaders loyal to T'Chaka spoke firmly.
"I want to believe that too. But we must also prepare for the worst, don't you think?"
W'Kabi's gaze slid toward him. He could see the truth in the man's eyes.
The situation was worse than anyone had dared imagine.
Worse than even their worst fears.
And knowing T'Chaka, he was not a man who clung to life out of fear.
If he had fallen, he would have done so at the very front, leading his warriors.
He was not just Wakanda's King—he was their spiritual leader.
And that leader, W'Kabi was certain, would never abandon his people to die alone.
The other man knew it too. His words were nothing more than an attempt to escape reality.
W'Kabi met his eyes, and silence pressed between them.
Finally, the other leader sighed and relented.
"Perhaps… you are right."
His voice dripped with helplessness.
"Believe me, I want nothing more than for you to be wrong."
W'Kabi's voice was heavy as stone. He turned back to the grisly task of organizing the search.
"Okoye, you said His Majesty threw you out of the battlefield?"
W'Kabi asked as he searched for signs of T'Chaka, pressing her for details.
Because of time and urgency, Okoye gave only a brief account. There was no chance to explain at length.
"Yes."
Her answer was sharp, almost defensive, as though she feared accusation.
"You think I ran away? You think I'm a deserter? W'Kabi, my loyalty to the King surpasses anyone's—even yours."
"As long as His Majesty commands it, I will not only die for him, I will live for him."
"Like now—the only reason I'm standing here speaking to you is because his last command to me was to survive."
The words left her lips without thought, her emotions raw.
Had she been calmer, she would have noticed that W'Kabi had never meant to accuse her at all.
In truth, he understood her better than anyone—even herself.
He believed wholeheartedly that Okoye had intended to fall on the battlefield with the King.
If not with him, then before him.
Because he knew she could never have borne to witness his death with her own eyes.
"I don't blame you, Okoye," W'Kabi said evenly. "I only want to know… what were the King's last words?"
"With his wisdom, with his foresight… surely he saw how this battle would end. And he would never do nothing. Am I wrong?"
W'Kabi's tone was careful, understanding.
He knew how raw Okoye's heart was now, why she reacted so sharply.
Had their places been reversed, W'Kabi doubted he could be as strong as she was. Or perform as well.
"…Forgive me. I spoke out of turn," Okoye muttered, lowering her head, guilt biting her. "But you know, I can't control myself now."
"We've lost our King forever."
Her voice cracked. But then, suddenly, she looked up.
"Yet… he did give us one last command."
"He told us to find Prince T'Challa, bring him home, and make him our new King. To lead us against that mysterious man."
Okoye knew nothing about Xu Fan—not even his name. To her, he was only "the mysterious man."
W'Kabi nodded. The King's decision didn't surprise him.
Though T'Chaka had more than one child, and Wakanda had never been rigid—its long history even saw female rulers rise—
There was no doubt now.
T'Challa was the one destined to lead.
The eldest son, brilliant and well-educated, currently studying at Oxford in the United Kingdom.
It was time to bring him home.
"I'll take care of it," W'Kabi said firmly.
But Okoye shook her head hard.
This was the King's last command to her. She felt it was her duty to carry it out.
Before they could argue further, shouts rang out from the warriors nearby.
W'Kabi and Okoye froze, then rushed toward the sound.
There, beside a grotesque pile of mangled flesh, they found remnants of the King's attire—garments only he could have worn.
The horrifying truth was undeniable.
This broken mass of flesh was what remained of King T'Chaka.
W'Kabi's chest tightened. His fist clenched, then slammed into the earth.
Boom!
The ground cracked, a crater spreading from the impact.
His eyes burned with fury.
Even if the mysterious invader never returned, W'Kabi would never forgive.
Even if he had to stand against the entire world, he would hunt him down.
And he would offer his severed head as tribute to his fallen King.
"We will prevail," Okoye declared, inhaling deeply, her voice unshakable.
She would bring Prince T'Challa home.
And then—begin their vengeance.