Batman always prepared for the worst, but that did not mean he would rack his brains or waste his energy on things he could not yet understand.
Such as "the Ancient One," or the dark tide Khonshu spoke of.
Batman would do his best to stop a disaster before it happened; but if he failed, he was prepared to face it.
Seeing Khonshu dissolve into moonlight and vanish from the Batwing's cabin, T'Challa's knitted brow finally relaxed. He reached up, removed his Vibranium mask, and spoke:
"That... person just now said there's a conspiracy against you in Wakanda? I'm certain I didn't mishear."
"Correct," Batman said, sitting back down in the pilot's seat.
T'Challa's brow unfurled, but his mood did not lighten:
"You've never been to Wakanda. As far as I know, your area of activity has always been New York. No one in Wakanda knows you, and the Wakandans certainly wouldn't harm you."
"And I would never trick you into coming under the pretext of my country suffering a crisis."
Hearing this, Venom Robin looked at Batman. Knowing Batman as he did, he knew the possibility T'Challa mentioned had likely already crossed Batman's mind.
But Batman gazed at the sea of clouds ahead, his voice devoid of any emotion: "I know."
"Who was that just now? If it's inconvenient to say, just pretend I didn't ask," T'Challa asked, letting out a breath.
"That was Khonshu, the Moon God from Egyptian mythology," Venom Robin answered.
T'Challa nodded, showing surprisingly little astonishment on his face.
Seeing this, Batman calmly steered the conversation toward Wakanda's faith—the Panther God:
"You've seen Wakanda's Panther God, which is why you believe gods truly exist in this world?"
"I haven't," T'Challa said, waving his hand. "But in Wakanda, every single person steadfastly believes the Panther God has protected Wakanda for generations."
"If a king ingests the Heart-Shaped Herb to become the Black Panther, but his actions during his reign contradict the Panther's original purpose of protecting Wakanda, would he lose his power?" Batman asked in a casual tone.
Venom Robin blinked, unsure why Batman was bringing up such a seemingly sensitive topic.
T'Challa also looked at Batman's profile, as if debating whether he should disclose such a situation.
After a few seconds of silence, T'Challa decided to be upfront:
"I don't know why you're asking, but the situation is exactly as you described. He would lose the power gained from consuming the Heart-Shaped Herb... In the eyes of the Wakandans, this symbolizes the Panther God revoking His blessing."
"And what if, after that, the king wins back the approval of his people?" Batman pressed.
"Then I wouldn't know," T'Challa offered a helpless smile. "After all, I am not the Black Panther."
It didn't matter that T'Challa didn't know; Batman already did.
"In theory, Wakanda's Panther God is a sort of sentient 'totem.' Power is obtained through the totem, and the Heart-Shaped Herb acts more like a medium for the consumer to establish a connection with the Black Panther totem."
"Looking at it this way, Peter Parker's abilities also belong to a 'totem.' The way I previously lost and regained my abilities was highly likely influenced by it as well."
Batman looked at the moon in the night sky, keeping these thoughts to himself.
"Conspiracies, totems, the Ancient One, the Moon God... I am coming into contact with more and more entities that exist far above the dimension of reality. Perhaps, just as Khonshu said, the darkness is coming."
Wakanda.
Even in the dead of night, massive searchlights kept a mining vein illuminated as bright as day.
Countless Wakandans were here, using their bare hands and other simple tools to mine Vibranium.
Beside them, armed international mercenaries paced back and forth. The moment they noticed any Wakandan slowing down, they would immediately strike them with a rifle butt.
In the silent, oppressive atmosphere, a Wakandan would occasionally cry out in pain from being struck, but they were quickly silenced by the dark barrels of the mercenaries' guns. Left with no choice, they could only bury their heads and continue working.
"I don't get it. Modern technology is so advanced, and Wakanda is supposedly twice as advanced as the outside world... why are we still using these Wakandans to mine Vibranium?"
"If you ask me, we should just buy a few heavy mining machines from Germany, set them up here, kill all these people, and the mining efficiency would easily double."
Among the patrolling international mercenaries, two guys sneaked off to a secluded spot to smoke. One of them couldn't help but complain:
"Look at us now. We can't even sleep because we have to personally watch over these people."
"If Klaw hears you saying that, he'll kill you for sure," his companion said.
"Why?" the mercenary asked, looking thoroughly puzzled.
"Why?" his companion shot back. "Do you think Ulysses Klaue doesn't want to do that, or that he can't do that?"
"He obviously can't, but why?" the mercenary pressed.
The cigarette was quickly smoked down to the butt. The companion tossed it onto the ground, ground it under his boot, twisting his foot left and right, and chuckled:
"Because Ulysses Klaue is furious. And the reason he's angry is that after we helped M'Baku seize the Wakandan throne, that guy turned around and planned to silence us... using the Wakandan army."
The mercenary gasped:
"Then what the hell are you laughing at?"
"Don't worry, you think Ulysses didn't foresee that?" The companion patted his shoulder reassuringly. "We have hostages."
The companion pointed toward the Wakandans silently mining the Vibranium, and then continued:
"And we have help."
He gestured subtly toward someone sitting cross-legged on a lounge chair about a hundred meters away.
The figure was completely shrouded in a black cloak, obscuring their face, but judging by the contours of the cloak and the creamy smooth hand exposed to the air, it was likely a woman.
"This person has been following us since we first set out for Wakanda. Who exactly is she?" the mercenary asked.
"All you need to know is that with her help, taking over Wakanda is only a matter of time."
"If you swapped her cloak for a white robe, wrapped a turban around her head, and strapped a belt of explosives around her waist, I might actually believe you," the mercenary said, crushing his own cigarette butt and picking up his rifle.
"Heh." His companion offered no explanation, merely letting out a few cold chuckles.
In the next second, the mercenary saw his companion's body suddenly go limp, on the verge of collapsing. He rushed forward to steady him:
"By the way, I forgot to ask—how do you know so much?"
The companion frowned, looking at the mercenary holding him up:
"Know so much about what? Did I say something to you?"
With that, he shoved the mercenary away, picked up his gun, and walked to the side.
The mercenary stood frozen in place for a moment. In his daze, he thought he saw an illusory shadow drift out from his companion's body.
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