T'Challa's final words were almost shouted. His emotions were completely out of control. He knew his father and the High Priest had been hiding sothing from him—sothing tied directly to his uncle.
"Tell the truth!!"
"So truths are too heavy, T'Challa,"
the High Priest said softly, sorrow etched across his face.
"So heavy that they are difficult to bear."
"Go back and ask your father. He will tell you."
With that, the High Priest slowly turned and left, his back burdened with grief.
T'Challa watched him for a long ti. Then, without hesitation, he stepped out of the cave and headed straight for the royal palace.
---
At the palace, T'Chaka and Ramonda were in the garden, tending to blooming flowers. The retired king was enjoying a peaceful life—gardening, raising rhinos, and savoring family ti.
When he saw T'Challa arrive, the old king smiled and invited him to sit.
"What brings you here today?"
T'Chaka asked cheerfully, trimming a small, unnad flower that was in full bloom.
"Father, I saw soone wearing the sa ring as mine."
Those words made the old king freeze. His scissors snapped shut, cutting the flower cleanly in two.
"What did you say?!"
T'Chaka asked in shock.
"What really happened to Uncle N'Jobu back then?"
T'Challa said firmly.
"Why have you all refused to tell the truth all these years?"
The old king was visibly shaken. He had never known that his brother had left behind a descendant. That old incident had long since beco a wound he refused to touch.
"Who was that person, T'Challa?"
T'Chaka asked, his hands trembling slightly.
"Who was the one wearing the ring?"
T'Challa noticed every detail of his father's reaction. His suspicions were now confird—his uncle's 'disappearance' had been a lie.
"I don't know, Father. I didn't see his face. I only know he was a man… and he was the one who took Ulysses Klaue from ."
He briefly recounted what had happened.
The old king sighed deeply. He never imagined that his brother truly had a child—and that this child now seed to stand against Wakanda.
"This story begins thirty years ago,"
T'Chaka said slowly.
"Your uncle was on an espionage mission in Arica. There, he fell in love with an Arican woman. I only learned of it later. I never knew she had borne him a child."
Painful mories surged back as T'Chaka recalled his brother and the mont he was forced to act.
"But your uncle grew more and more radical," he continued.
"You know how hostile Arica was toward Black people at the ti. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to secretly supply Wakandan vibranium weapons to them—so they could protect themselves."
Even now, T'Chaka could still hear his brother's words echoing in his mind. He had violated Wakanda's laws, intent on spreading vibranium weapons across the world.
T'Challa was stunned. If vibranium weapons were revealed, the result would be a global catastrophe—wars unlike anything before. Nations would invade Wakanda at any cost, igniting worldwide conflict.
Naturally, T'Chaka had refused.
"He would not give up,"
the old king said bitterly.
"So your uncle betrayed Wakanda. He secretly aided Ulysses Klaue in stealing vibranium."
"You wondered how Klaue kept getting in?"
T'Chaka continued.
"He followed the routes your uncle once gave him. That's why he was able to steal vibranium again and again."
Grief and anger filled T'Chaka's face.
"No… that's impossible!"
T'Challa leapt to his feet, tears streaming down his face.
"My uncle wasn't like that—he couldn't be!"
"I didn't want to believe it either,"
T'Chaka said softly.
"I wanted to bring him ho, imprison him within the palace, keep him by my side. I would have erased all traces of his cris."
"But he refused… and he raised a gun against ."
The old king stared at his trembling right hand—the very hand with which he had ended the life of the brother he loved most.
T'Challa closed his eyes in agony. Every word pierced his heart. For over twenty years, he had believed his uncle rely vanished. The truth was far crueler.
"After that, I forbade anyone from ever speaking of it again,"
T'Chaka said, tears in his eyes.
"Not even myself. I thought ti would erase it… but so things never fade. They only bury themselves deeper."
"Go and find him, my son,"
T'Chaka said, gripping T'Challa's hand.
"Find your brother. Bring him back to Wakanda. This is his ho."
---
At the border, a plane slowly descended onto the vast grasslands.
Erik dragged a body bag toward Wakanda. Inside was the corpse of Ulysses Klaue—his offering, his proof of worth.
His gaze was resolute as he walked toward the distant tribe.
The border guards soon noticed him and surrounded him.
Erik dropped the body bag at their feet.
"What is this, outsider?"
W'Kabi asked. As the leader of the Border Tribe and Wakanda's general, he personally patrolled the frontier.
"Just a small gift."
Erik unzipped the bag.
Weapons were drawn instantly. W'Kabi stepped forward and looked down—his long-awaited enemy lay dead before him.
His eyes widened in shock.
"Who are you?"
W'Kabi demanded.
Even the king had failed to capture Klaue—yet this stranger had killed him and brought the body here.
Erik slowly pulled down his lower lip, revealing the Wakandan mark.
---
Back in the laboratory, Shuri and Tony had finally recovered sowhat, but dark clouds still hung over their spirits.
Their research into uru tal had hit a complete dead end—utterly sealed, without even the slightest crack of hope.
The attempt to nanofabricate it had ended before it even truly began.
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