He did not know how to face his nephew.
He knew that Erik hated him to the bone. Unwilling to rekindle that hatred, the old king had remained in his palace for the entire week. Only today did he finally come face to face with Erik.
"My dear uncle,"
Erik said with a mocking smile as he looked at T'Chaka, whose hair and beard had turned completely white.
"So you finally show yourself. You really didn't want to see me that badly?"
For a brief moment, Erik felt a strange surge of emotion. If his father were still alive, he would probably look just like this now.
The old king's eyes brimmed with tears. He had never known that N'Jobu had a son. Had he known earlier, he would have brought the child back to Wakanda long ago.
"My child,"
T'Chaka said softly,
"you have suffered all these years. As for your father… I don't wish to speak of it now. No matter how today ends, come to me afterward. I will tell you everything, and the final decision will be yours."
T'Chaka looked at Erik calmly. The queen, Ramonda, stood beside him with sorrow written all over her face—no matter who won or lost today, the outcome would not be a happy one.
Lucas and Tony stood beside Shuri. On Tony's chest was a hexagonal arc reactor—the latest breakthrough, powering his nanotech vibranium armor.
The High Priest painted ritual markings onto T'Challa's bare upper body, while Erik stood nearby holding a spear, waiting to decide the outcome once and for all.
Erik glanced at the spear in his hand, then suddenly kicked it, snapping the shaft in half. The long spear instantly became a short one—far better suited for close combat and slashing.
At that moment, the High Priest brought forward a small bowl filled with a black, unknown liquid.
"Drink this, T'Challa,"
the High Priest said.
"Once you do, your enhanced abilities will disappear. This will be a fair fight."
The liquid was used to neutralize the effects of the Heart-Shaped Herb. Since T'Challa had consumed the herb, his abilities far surpassed Erik's. For the sake of fairness, he had to relinquish that power.
The thunderous drums sounded once more, signaling the official start of the challenge for the throne.
"This is your last chance, Erik,"
T'Challa said as he stood up. The veins on his forehead bulged under the effects of the medicine.
"Lay down your weapon. We can still talk."
Erik sneered.
"I've spent my entire life preparing for this moment. I trained relentlessly. I killed countless people—all so that one day I could return here and reclaim what is mine."
He tore off his shirt, revealing a torso covered in scars and raised marks.
"These,"
he said coldly,
"are proof. Each one marks someone I've killed. I keep them so I never forget my hatred. I've killed many people—but the one I truly came to kill is you."
He raised the short spear and pointed it straight at T'Challa.
T'Challa shook his head, then looked toward the High Priest, signaling him to begin.
"The challenge begins now!"
As the declaration fell, both T'Challa and Erik raised their weapons and charged.
"Shuri,"
Lucas whispered urgently,
"take Tony and quietly go to the sacred grounds. Pick as many Heart-Shaped Herb fruits as you can and hide them."
"What? Why?"
Shuri asked in confusion.
"I can't explain it in a sentence or two,"
Lucas said quickly.
"Just trust me. Do it fast. And while you're at it, go to T'Challa's palace and take his Black Panther necklace with you."
After giving a few more instructions, Lucas watched as Shuri nodded.
"Alright. I understand."
Though she didn't know what Lucas was planning, she trusted him. While everyone's attention was focused on the battle, she and Tony slipped away. Tony activated his armor and immediately carried Shuri toward the sacred grounds.
---
On the platform, T'Challa and Erik were already locked in combat.
At first, they seemed evenly matched.
T'Challa wielded a short spear and shield, while Erik fought with a short spear and short sword. Erik completely abandoned defense—every strike was ruthless, leaving no room for retreat.
T'Challa was quickly suppressed by Erik's all-out, life-for-life fighting style.
Gradually, Erik gained the upper hand. His blows were heavy and relentless, each strike crashing against T'Challa's shield. T'Challa's stamina began to falter.
However, Erik's wide, aggressive attacks also exposed openings. Seizing one, T'Challa swept his shield forward, knocking Erik off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.
"Yield,"
T'Challa said, leveling his spear at him.
"You are not my equal."
Erik rose and charged again, his attacks as wild and brutal as before. Sword and spear alternated in a relentless storm, forcing T'Challa to raise his shield and defend.
Suddenly, Erik kicked forward. Caught off guard, T'Challa was knocked to the ground. Erik pressed the advantage, bringing his sword down in a deadly arc.
T'Challa narrowly rolled aside, sprang up, and blocked the blade with his spear, swinging his shield at Erik in return.
Erik took the shield strike head-on and twisted his spear, stabbing toward T'Challa's ribs.
T'Challa leapt back to defend—but it was a feint.
In the instant T'Challa retreated, Erik's short sword slashed toward his leg.
T'Challa barely avoided it. Even so, a gash opened across his thigh, blood dripping into the pool beneath his feet.
T'Chaka frowned deeply. Queen Ramonda watched in anguish. Both could see it clearly—T'Challa was being overwhelmed.
Erik pressed the attack, raining blow after blow. Sword and spear battered T'Challa's shield again and again.
T'Challa's strength was fading. He could do little more than brace himself behind the shield.
Then—
Erik slashed at T'Challa's abdomen.
This time, T'Challa failed to dodge.
The blade tore into his lower abdomen, and blood burst forth instantly.
Okoye and Nakia clenched their weapons tightly. Seeing T'Challa wounded, they nearly rushed forward to kill Erik on the spot.
T'Challa's strength ebbed rapidly. Erik hooked the shield with his spear and yanked—sending it flying from T'Challa's grasp. In the next instant, Erik's sword plunged straight into T'Challa's abdomen.
Gasps rippled through the stands.
King T'Chaka, Queen Ramonda, Nakia, Okoye—everyone covered their mouths in shock.
In that moment, T'Challa lost his ability to fight.
And with it, the throne.
T'Challa grabbed the blade with both hands. Though it was embedded in his abdomen, it had not gone in too deep. His worst wound was still the gash across his stomach.
Erik kicked him hard, sending him crashing into the water. T'Challa lay there, gasping for breath.
"Get up!"
Erik roared.
T'Challa looked up—only to be met with Erik's fist.
He was knocked down once more.
"You've already lost."
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