T'Challa's defenses were unlike anyone else's on the battlefield.
The suit he wore was forged entirely of pure vibranium—impenetrable, capable of withstanding any assault.
Neither the searing flames of Fire Release chakra bullets, the paralyzing current of Lightning Release rounds, nor even the razor force of Wind Release projectiles could pierce it.
And the Black Panther suit wasn't merely a shield. It housed an arsenal of advanced weaponry.
Back during Captain America: Civil War, he hadn't used those weapons—not because he lacked them, but because his enemies then were fellow heroes. He had no desire to kill them.
But this was different.
The enemies before him were invaders, here for one purpose: to destroy Wakanda and claim it for themselves.
As king, as the Black Panther, T'Challa would never yield. He would never compromise.
This wasn't about good or evil, right or wrong—it was a clash of positions, of survival.
And T'Challa was certain of one thing: his cause was just.
Purple energy rippled outward from him, the kinetic force blasting the surrounding invaders off their feet in an instant.
"Out of my way!"
His stride never faltered. The moment he had cleared the circle around him, T'Challa burst forward at full speed, calling upon the strength of the Panther God to hurl aside anyone in his path.
These enemies, though, were no ordinary men. Their bodies were unnaturally strong.
For a moment, T'Challa even wondered if they, too, had consumed the Heart-Shaped Herb, their strength amplified beyond human limits.
If not for the Black Panther suit's augmentation, they might have dragged him down.
But T'Challa knew his true purpose.
His mission wasn't to thin the invaders' numbers. It wasn't to ease the burden on his warriors.
He carried a greater responsibility—
to end this war.
And the only way to do that was with his own hands.
He had to defeat Senju Haruto.
Anything else—every swing, every ounce of effort spent on others—would only waste his strength.
"Shuri! Have you located Haruto yet?"
His voice cut through the comms. The Wakandan plain was a sea of bodies, two armies clashing in endless numbers.
T'Challa had hoped to rely on Bast's divine power to sense his true enemy. But no matter how he reached, he could not find Haruto's presence anywhere on the battlefield.
It wasn't Bast's weakness.
It was that Haruto wasn't there.
Far from the chaos, beyond Wakanda's shimmering energy barrier, Senju Haruto stood calmly, watching the war unfold as if it were a performance staged for him alone.
When Shuri relayed the truth, T'Challa froze.
"…He isn't going to intervene?"
His throat tightened. Though this was his first time facing Haruto directly, he knew from both his father and the Panther God how formidable the man was.
That strength explained his confidence.
But T'Challa had never expected this.
For Haruto to be so dismissive, so certain of victory, that he wouldn't even bother to join the fight himself.
In his mind, crushing Wakanda didn't require his presence at all.
"I'll show him how wrong he is."
T'Challa's voice was low, almost a growl. There were no royal guards by his side, no allies near enough to hear.
It was more than words. It was a vow.
He gave the order: Shuri was to lower the barrier.
The shield couldn't withstand Haruto's forces anyway. Leaving it in place only hindered T'Challa's path to his true enemy.
Shuri understood. After a moment's hesitation, she disengaged the segment separating T'Challa from Haruto.
But she didn't disable the whole shield. There were too many other enemies eager for Wakanda's fall.
Even with the path open, reaching Haruto would not be easy.
Because from the very start of the battle, someone else had already marked T'Challa as their prey.
Orochimaru's most loyal blade—
a man who had once driven both Rock Lee and Gaara into a corner.
The bone-wielding prodigy of the Kaguya clan—
Kimimaro.
Just as T'Challa scattered another group of foes with the force of his suit, Kimimaro dropped from above, landing directly in his path.
Their eyes locked, and each instantly recognized the other's extraordinary aura.
"Stand aside."
T'Challa's voice struck first, sharp and commanding. He had no intention of wasting time on this stranger.
"I have no interest in you."
His growl carried more than authority—it held the weight of Bast's divine magic, a force that could drive ordinary men back in fear.
But Kimimaro was no ordinary man.
He lived only to serve Orochimaru. His sole purpose was to remove every obstacle in his master's way.
And now, that meant T'Challa.
Without a word, Kimimaro raised his hand. White bone pushed through his fingertip.
The sudden, grotesque sight startled even the Black Panther.
Before he could move, Kimimaro flicked his fingers. The bone bullets shot forward like gunfire, aimed directly at T'Challa's throat.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Each projectile struck the vibranium weave with sharp metallic cracks, rebounding harmlessly.
But even the ricochets were deadly. Warriors on both sides—Wakandan and prisoner alike—fell where the fragments struck, pierced clean through.
T'Challa's gaze flicked to their fallen bodies, shock flashing through his mind.
He had never seen a man wield his own bones as weapons—let alone with such lethal force.
This enemy was terrifying.
"How many more like you are there?"
The question slipped from his lips.
Kimimaro merely rolled his shoulder, unfazed by the failed attack. It hadn't surprised him at all.
In fact, if the Black Panther could be killed so easily, he wouldn't have bothered with him.
"That suit you wear… forged of vibranium. It absorbs force, shields you from harm."
Kimimaro's tone was calm, clinical. "As I thought—you won't be easy prey."
He let his voice drop, a quiet conviction beneath the words.
"But since I began serving Lord Orochimaru, I've never failed."
Slowly, he lifted his hand toward his back. His spine began to rise beneath his skin, vertebrae pushing outward.
Grasping the bone at its end, he drew his entire spine free, wielding it like a blade.
A weapon both sword and whip, white and terrible in his grasp.
T'Challa's eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping him.
This foe was unlike anything he had faced.
But no matter how strange, how dangerous Kimimaro was, T'Challa would not be stopped.
He crouched, then surged forward once more, charging straight for the bone warrior.