Several days later.
Okoye herself took on the mission of retrieving the prince. With only two attendants, she traveled to Oxford University in England to deliver the news of King T'Chaka's death to T'Challa.
When T'Challa heard of the tragedy that had befallen Wakanda—of the invasion, and of his father's death—it struck him like thunder from a clear sky. His mind reeled, refusing to accept it.
Wakanda had always stood a thousand years ahead of the world in technology. By every measure, such a place should have been untouchable. No one should have been able to invade Wakanda.
Yet reality had shattered that belief.
"Wakanda needs you now, Your Majesty," Okoye said plainly, acknowledging him then and there as the new King.
After all, this was T'Chaka's last command. And as captain of the royal guard, Okoye would never disobey her late King's dying will.
"…I understand."
T'Challa drew a deep breath, steadying himself.
The loss of his father weighed on him, but he was no longer simply a grieving son. He was the Prince of Wakanda—the King of Wakanda. And he knew well that the loss of a king meant far more to his people than the loss of a father meant to him.
For the sake of stabilizing his nation and preparing for his father's funeral, T'Challa ignored the consequences of leaving school without leave. He followed Okoye back to his homeland.
On the journey, he listened to her recount the battle in full detail:
How American soldiers had invaded Wakanda.
How the mysterious man, Xu Fan, appeared in the Vibranium mines.
And how he had carried away half the mines… before slaughtering the King.
Every part of the story sounded impossible—like a tale out of myth.
How could any ordinary man wield the power of a god?
And yet… Okoye was not someone who lied. Her loyalty was absolute, her duty unwavering. The anguish carved into her expression was proof enough. She spoke the truth.
After hearing everything, T'Challa fell silent for a long time.
If he could, he would rather none of it were true. He wished Okoye were lying, or playing some cruel trick.
But deep down, he knew he stood at the first of grief's stages: denial.
Still, T'Challa was no ordinary man.
From childhood, he had known his destiny—to one day lead Wakanda. To inherit the throne, just as his father had from his grandfather.
This burden had shaped him, set his mind apart.
Instead of sinking into sorrow, he understood he must rise swiftly, or Wakanda would fall again before the enemy's return.
And beyond Xu Fan, the Americans themselves were involved.
To T'Challa, that could mean only one thing: Xu Fan and the U.S. military must be connected.
The thought only fueled his urgency. For the first time in his life, he felt restless to be home, desperate to return to the land of his birth.
Fortunately, it did not take long. Other nations lagged behind Wakanda in many fields, but not so far in air travel.
The moment T'Challa set foot back in Wakanda, he demanded to see his father.
Okoye tried to dissuade him, but he was now the King. None could deny him.
When at last he saw his father's remains, T'Challa nearly broke down.
It was hardly a body at all anymore.
The once wise, commanding King T'Chaka was reduced to nothing but mangled flesh.
The sight was unbearable.
A surge of fury like none he had ever felt consumed T'Challa. He wanted to leave Wakanda that instant, to hunt down the killer and mete out justice with his own hands.
But he knew this was not just personal vengeance.
This was war.
"War is coming."
The voice rang out as the High Priest, Zuri, stepped forward from the crowd.
At once, the people shifted aside, their footsteps retreating like a tide. All eyes turned to him.
Okoye, W'Kabi, and the other tribal leaders looked upon him with solemn respect.
"I know you grieve. I know you rage," Zuri said, stopping before T'Challa. "I understand, my son. But we must face the truth—war is upon us."
T'Challa lifted his head, meeting the priest's eyes. Their gazes locked.
At last, T'Challa broke the silence, asking what he must do.
For Wakanda was more than technology a thousand years ahead of the world. Its intelligence network was unmatched.
And according to their findings, the sudden invasion by American soldiers had been no accident. It was a calculated strike.
But using millions of soldiers' lives as a mere distraction? That made no sense.
With the power Xu Fan had displayed, he had no need of bait. He could have infiltrated Wakanda alone, unseen.
"No," Zuri declared, his voice hard with conviction. "The true hand behind this seeks to ignite war between Wakanda and the United States. His reasons remain unclear, but one thing is certain—we cannot wait for death to come. We must act."
"We must unite every tribe's strength. And to do that, one leader must rise to guide us."
T'Challa nodded. None of this surprised him. He had already foreseen it during the flight home.
Okoye, W'Kabi, and the others fixed their eyes on him, the heir.
"But before we unite," Zuri's tone sharpened, "we must face the worst possibility."
American soldiers were one thing. They still fought with guns, primitive weapons compared to Wakanda's might. No matter how many they sent, Zuri had no doubt Wakanda could repel them.
Xu Fan, however…
The power he had displayed was no mortal strength.
Not a god.
A demon.
The most fearsome demon in the world.
And his power was nothing less than sorcery.
To defeat such magic, only magic would suffice.
Only magic could fight magic.
"We need more than a King," Zuri said. "We need the power of the Black Panther God."
"You must undergo the ritual. You must step onto the sacred plains and forge a bond with Bast, the Great Panther Goddess."
"Only with her strength can we survive what is coming."
"In all of Wakanda, there is no one else. No one but you, T'Challa."
"This is your battle. And you must win."
Zuri drew in a breath, speaking each word with gravity.
...
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