Erik froze for a moment.
This was the first time he had ever seen a white man openly calling other white people "idiots." Weren't they always arrogant, self-righteous, and convinced of their own superiority? Yet this man standing before him seemed completely out of place among them.
"In that case, you should support my plan even more," Erik argued forcefully.
"Only this way can the world become truly equal. Only then will Black people no longer be oppressed by whites!"
Erik had never believed his actions were wrong. In his mind, Black people deserved to dominate, and white people had to pay for centuries of oppression.
Lucas looked utterly baffled. From his perspective, Erik wasn't fighting oppression at all—he was trying to conquer the world. This had nothing to do with justice. It was a complete distortion of his so-called original purpose.
Erik's ideas—no, his father's ideals—were fundamentally impossible in this era. Racial discrimination among whites wasn't something that could be erased through threats or force. It was ingrained, almost instinctive.
In fact, whites didn't just discriminate against Black people—they discriminated against everyone who wasn't white. That ugly reality couldn't be changed by a single law or a few condemnatory headlines.
"Alright, sure. I believe you," Lucas replied calmly.
"So… what next?"
He had no interest in debating Erik. Arguments never solved anything. If words were enough, the world wouldn't need weapons in the first place.
Erik hadn't expected that response and was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Enough talking," Lucas said flatly.
"If you've got nothing else to say, then come on."
He leveled his sword straight at Erik.
Erik's gaze hardened. He lunged first, claws slashing down toward Lucas's head, his movements agile and savage—no slower than T'Challa's.
Lucas flicked his sword upward, blocking Erik's path. Then he pressed the blade down and slashed across Erik's shoulder.
Lucas clearly held back. The strike didn't cut into Erik's body—but it did slice open the Golden Jaguar armor.
Agony exploded in Erik's shoulder. A fierce burning sensation seared his nerves. He leapt backward at once.
The vibranium at his shoulder had shattered, revealing scorched, blackened flesh beneath.
"You… you actually cut through vibranium?!"
Erik stared at Lucas in disbelief. Vibranium had always been synonymous with invincibility in his mind. Yet today, he had encountered something that could break it.
"What is your sword made of?" he demanded.
"Hmm… probably crystal," Lucas answered casually.
He genuinely had no idea. The Ultimate Weapon looked like dull crystal, so crystal it was.
Lucas stepped forward and thrust his blade toward Erik's chest. Blazing flames surged along the sword, forming the phantom image of an undying phoenix.
For the first time, fear overtook Erik's face.
Years of bloodshed had honed his instincts—especially his instinct for death. He knew with absolute certainty that if that phoenix-shaped strike hit him, he would die instantly.
This was not an attack he could afford to block.
Faced with the scorching inferno, Erik instinctively turned to flee.
But Lucas had no intention of letting him escape.
A streak of red fire flashed across the battlefield. In the next instant, Lucas appeared directly in Erik's path.
The Ultimate Weapon rotated in his hand. The phoenix vanished, replaced by an icy-blue sword. Its tip rested lightly against Erik's throat.
The chilling sharpness froze Erik in place. A bone-deep cold washed over him.
"Struggle a bit more," Lucas said indifferently.
"You know the consequences."
The frigid aura spread from Erik's neck throughout his body. He could even feel his blood beginning to freeze.
Lucas opened his hand.
The golden necklace around Erik's neck snapped apart and flew into Lucas's palm.
The moment the necklace was gone, Erik's armor disintegrated. The nanotech vibranium lost all vitality, scattering across the ground like lifeless debris.
"Honestly," Lucas continued,
"you and I don't really have a personal grudge. I just couldn't stand what you were doing. Now… can we finally talk calmly?"
The Ultimate Weapon vanished. In its place appeared a silver revolver, pressed firmly against Erik's body.
The Punisher was lethal to anything that wasn't a normal human—and after consuming the Heart-Shaped Herb, Erik was no longer one.
Lucas escorted Erik outside.
By now, the battlefield was in complete chaos.
On the ground, T'Challa led Nakia and the Dora Milaje against the Border Tribe warriors. Skye darted through the battlefield at high speed, each shockwave she released shattering vibranium armor by the dozens.
In the sky, Shuri—now wearing a vibranium combat suit—fought alongside Tony, their energy blasts raining down to suppress the Border Tribe.
At the same time, from behind the Border Tribe, a group of burly warriors clad in fur suddenly charged forward, wielding short swords and spears.
At their head was M'Baku—the very man who had once refused T'Challa.
Seeing the reinforcements, T'Challa shouted and launched a counteroffensive. The Dora Milaje had been outnumbered earlier and only held the line thanks to Tony and Skye. M'Baku's arrival was the final blow that broke the Border Tribe's resistance.
On the battlefield, Okoye stood facing her husband, W'Kabi.
His betrayal cut deeper than any wound. The two stood opposed, weapons drawn.
"Put down your weapon, W'Kabi," Okoye said, staring straight at him.
The tide had already turned. The Border Tribe had no chance of victory.
"Are you going to kill me, my love?" W'Kabi asked quietly.
Despite everything, he had always loved Okoye.
"For Wakanda."
Tears welled in Okoye's eyes as she leveled her spear at him. She loved him just as deeply—but his crimes left her no choice.
W'Kabi looked around. Former friends, even family members, were locked in brutal combat, killing one another.
Regret flooded his heart.
Following a madman like Erik to ignite a war—how foolish he had been.
Erik's so-called plan to liberate the oppressed hadn't even begun, yet Wakanda's people were already slaughtering each other.
Only now did W'Kabi understand the peace T'Chaka and T'Challa had spoken of.
War had no victors. Only mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. In the end, everyone's hands were stained with the blood of their own people.
W'Kabi dropped his curved blade and slowly sank to his knees.
Seeing this, the Border Tribe warriors followed suit, laying down their weapons one by one.
They, too, longed to laugh and talk with friends and family. But on the battlefield, they were soldiers—and obedience came first.
Every aircraft capable of flight had already been destroyed by Lucas's lightning. The platform was now piled high with vibranium weapons.
Lucas rested a hand on Erik's shoulder and led him to the edge of the platform, overlooking the battlefield below.
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