T'Challa, who had remained silent, suddenly rose to his feet, his eyes burning with fire...
He turned to High Priest Zuri, his young face now exuding the authority of a king. He questioned, "Is all of this true?"
"So truths are too heavy to bear, T'Challa." Zuri replied, his expression bitter.
He had never imagined that this buried chapter of history would one day be unearthed...
Back then, he had been sent by the forr king to keep watch over Prince N'Jobu, carrying out his surveillance mission while N'Jobu, who was unaware of this, trusted him as a loyal friend. Aside from his true origins, Zuri had hidden nothing from him.
But as a mber of the Panther Tribe, Zuri's loyalty could only lie with the king. When the forr king arrived to confront N'Jobu, his original intention had only been to bring his brother back to Wakanda to face royal judgnt... at worst, imprisonnt. Yet in the ensuing struggle, he had accidentally killed his own brother.
If this were to beco public, it would irreparably damage the royal family's authority. The tribal elders would never accept a king who had murdered his own brother. It would beco an indelible stain.
So when the two returned to Wakanda, they tacitly agreed to bury the truth, sealing it away as if nothing had happened.
"This is not for you to decide. We have the right to know the truth." T'Challa, steadfast in his integrity, pressed forward relentlessly.
He wanted to know what had truly happened back then.
From this perspective, T'Challa was not suited to be king. By demanding the truth from Zuri in front of everyone, regardless of the outco, he was forcing the royal family to shoulder an imnse risk...
Zuri lowered his head, replying, "I swore to keep the king's secrets."
For years, he too had carried the weight of guilt, often haunted by the image of Prince N'Jobu lying in a pool of blood, his vacant eyes staring accusingly at him.
"I am your king now!" T'Challa roared.
Under his relentless questioning, High Priest Zuri finally revealed the truth. Though so details differed from Sean's deductions, the fact remained... the forr king had killed Prince N'Jobu.
The council hall fell deathly silent. The tribal elders wore complex expressions, their eyes flickering with unreadable emotions. Who could have imagined that the forr king, renowned for his benevolence, had committed such a heinous act?
T'Challa's eyes lost focus, the revelation striking him like a physical blow. He had aspired to be a ruler like his father... To be beloved and revered by his people. But Zuri's words shattered all his illusions.
Moreover, Sean's earlier maliciously crafted speech had planted even darker suspicions in the minds of those present. Sending his younger brother across the ocean, planting a spy by his side... these calculated moves made the "accident" seem far from accidental.
The forr king's "mistaken" killing of his brother now appeared preditated. Zuri had initially wanted to defend the late king, but seeing the doubt in everyone's eyes, he wisely chose to remain silent.
"Now that the truth is out, we must discuss what cos next." Sean declared, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The reason he had General Ross withdraw his forces was to avoid giving the World Security Council further pretext to intervene. The world powers would never stand by while the U.S. seized Wakanda and monopolized its vibranium.
Rather than letting the great nations tear each other apart, it was better to sit down and divide the spoils together. And as for who would oversee this division... well, that would naturally be Sean himself.
The NATO forces had rely been the key to opening Wakanda's doors. The true linchpin was Killmonger, a man with legitimate royal blood. A new king who could not be legally faulted, and whom the tribes would tacitly accept.
This was the perfect candidate to install...
"First, by Wakandan tradition, Erik Stevens, the son of N'Jobu, indisputably has the right to challenge the king. Second, the forr King T'Chaka committed a grave sin. As his son, the current king T'Challa's right to the throne is now in question." Sean spoke unhurriedly.
The tribal elders dared not interrupt, and even the seething Queen Mother and the rest of the royal family could only swallow their anger.
Sean had already seized the moral high ground... further resistance would be futile. Their only hope now lay in T'Challa's martial prowess... that he could defeat Killmonger in combat.
"How about this? Let the grievances of the past generation be settled in this one." Sean proposed, "By Wakandan tradition, a trial by combat. The victor shall be king."
Killmonger clenched his fists, his heart pounding with excitent...
He had waited too long for this day. T'Chaka, the man who had killed his father, was now a frail old man. Killing him would bring no satisfaction.
But T'Challa was different. To make the old panther watch as his son died by Killmonger's hand, to fill the void in his heart with the cries and wails of his enemy... that would be true vengeance.
"I will kill you with my own hands, before the eyes of all."
Killmonger grinned, not bothering to conceal the murderous intent in his eyes.
He had no fear of the young and strong T'Challa. Though the latter had consud the heart-shaped herb, Wakandan tradition dictated that the Black Panther's powers would be temporarily stripped away to ensure a fair duel.
Thus, even if T'Challa was Wakanda's most formidable warrior, Killmonger remained undaunted. He had clawed his way through the battlefields of the Middle East, erging from blood and fire, and earning the moniker 'the dealer of death'.
His true strength was terrifying.
Could a pampered prince, who had never known true battle, hope to defeat a predator forged in the wild?
"The challenge ceremony requires weeks of preparation." The royal family still refused to give up, trying to buy T'Challa more ti.
The longer they delayed, the greater T'Challa's chances of victory. A lone outsider, even if he truly was N'Jobu's son, would amount to nothing without the support of the tribes.
The Queen Mother glanced at Sean...
If they could just placate this young man, ensuring T'Challa's victory in the duel would be child's play.
By offering concessions to the tribal elders, securing their continued support, and arranging for Killmonger to suffer an "accident" like his father... who could protest?
This noble-born African woman had learned much from her husband. If anything, she had surpassed him in the arts of intrigue and deception.
"I don't need that long. Just give a weapon, and a Wakandan king brave enough to face . That's all I ask." said Killmonger.
T'Challa took the royal ring, gripping it tightly in his hand. He wanted to clear his father's na and restore the royal family's dignity. Only by defeating his opponent in fair combat could he truly secure his place as king.
"I accept the challenge." T'Challa declared solemnly.
"Cherish every second you have left. Every breath you take. I'll send you down to et the Black Panthers of old." Killmonger grinned, baring his teeth like a shark, the stench of blood thick in the air.
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