The Great Council Hall was submerged in silence, broken only by the flickering of the holograms projecting the recording of the combat. King T'Chaka remained seated on his throne, his face impassive, while the council elders watched the footage with expressions of disdain and disapproval.
In the center of the hall, T'Challa stood waiting, feeling the weight of their gazes upon him.
"He's a barbarian," one of the elders spat, pointing at the recording with contempt. "Where is the honor in a fight like that?"
"It is a disgrace that this dirty foreigner participated in such an important ritual," another council member added, addressing the King directly. "He has tarnished Wakanda's reputation before our very own eyes."
T'Chaka didn't respond. He kept stroking his chin, his gaze fixed on the video. T'Challa, feeling the pressure of the atmosphere, bowed slightly before his father.
"Father, I ask your forgiveness," he said in a restrained voice. "I believed it would be a good idea — someone trustworthy — but I was wrong. I didn't take into account that he is still very young, as some have already pointed out, for this kind of mission."
The elders nodded with satisfaction. T'Challa continued, trying to regain control of the situation.
"I will prepare my team, as well as those who will accompany me, and we will be ready by tomorrow."
"It's impressive," T'Chaka murmured, cutting him off without taking his eyes off the hologram.
The room fell silent. The advisors looked at each other, confused. One of the elder women stepped forward.
"What do you mean, my King?"
"He surpassed my expectations," T'Chaka declared, looking finally at the elders and then at his son. "The ferocity, the desperation for combat, that need to subdue his enemy... it is exactly what we need."
"But the young man lost the fight," a council member replied, rising to his feet with indignation.
"He is not worthy," another seconded.
T'Chaka rose slowly, pointing to the hologram where the video was paused on a moment of brutal exchange.
"The fight was never about winning — it was about proving oneself as a warrior. More precisely, about showing how far one is willing to go. This boy was willing to give absolutely everything in an emergency situation, in unfamiliar territory, against an opponent practically impossible to defeat. Having someone like that to throw onto the enemy's battlefield is indispensable."
The elders exchanged glances, processing their sovereign's words. The idea began to take shape in their strategic minds.
"If that's the case... it's something that can be deployed... like guerrilla warfare," one of them commented, thoughtfully.
"He can serve as a distraction," another nodded. "Both to divert the enemy from the real objective and to throw him at the front line if the situation becomes urgent and they need to retreat."
Several council members began to nod, praising the King's vision.
T'Challa, listening to it all with growing disbelief, furrowed his brow.
"You do realize you're talking about a person, right?"
"More precisely, a caveman — a savage," an elder corrected without looking at him.
"He is a child," T'Challa raised his voice slightly.
"Details," another advisor dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"He's a foreigner," someone else added. "We owe him nothing and have no obligation to protect him. Our duty lies in the well-being and prosperity of Wakanda. The boy chose to get involved in this on his own accord — what's wrong with us making use of him?"
T'Challa could no longer hold back and raised his voice.
"He is a young man trying to prevent an imminent war between Wakanda and Atlantis. He is trying to prevent thousands of deaths, and this is how you think—"
"T'Challa!" his father's voice thundered through the hall, cutting him off cold.
The prince caught himself and looked down, falling silent.
T'Chaka glanced at the council members for a moment and then turned to Okoye.
"Is there any word of Hunter?"
"No, my King," Okoye replied firmly. "All those who formed the squadron with him have also disappeared."
"They are deserters... traitors," an elder declared.
"You see?" another continued. "All foreigners are worthless. You were merciful — you adopted the boy and gave him everything. And despite that, there he is, betraying the one who raised him and poisoning the minds of our people."
T'Challa clenched his fists until his knuckles went white.
They were slandering his brother — someone who had spent his entire life trying to repay his father's mercy. They knew nothing, and yet they spoke with total carelessness.
T'Chaka nodded, thoughtful.
"Okoye, form several squadrons and find them. We need to interrogate them about the individuals who, according to the Atlantean envoy, killed their princess. If we can capture them, perhaps we can hand them over and this foolish conflict will end with a little bloodshed."
T'Challa looked up at his father, pain and helplessness reflected on his face.
"Father..."
But T'Chaka looked at him steadily with a coldness that forced him into silence. T'Challa clenched his jaw and lowered his head again.
The king turned his gaze back to his general.
"You have your orders."
Okoye nodded and withdrew from the hall. The King then directed his gaze toward the elders, who remained in silence, nodding respectfully at the clarity of his plans.
T'Chaka returned to his throne and, with a measured gesture, asked to be left alone.
Everyone began to leave, including the prince, but his father's voice stopped him before he crossed the threshold.
"T'Challa, stay. I have something to discuss with you."
His son looked at him for a second and nodded.
Both waited in silence until the last of the council members had left the hall and the heavy doors closed. At that moment, the King rose and walked toward his son.
"Come with me," he asked, beginning to walk toward the balcony that overlooked the city.
As they moved, T'Chaka broke the ice with a more paternal voice.
"I am proud of you, son — of the man you have become. I trust completely in your ability. Did you know that?"
"I am grateful for your words, Father," T'Challa replied with a slight bow, though he felt a strange pressure in his chest.
They reached the exterior. The cool night air blew over the beautiful views of the great capital, whose lights shone like stars trapped in the earth.
T'Chaka leaned against the railing, looking toward the horizon.
"Atlantis is larger and more powerful than people believe. Although the elders refuse to accept it, their capability rivals our own. More specifically, Namor is far more important and dangerous than anyone imagines."
T'Challa nodded, listening carefully.
"If the Dora Milaje don't find the former Dogs of War... which is likely given the training they received alongside Hunter for much of their lives... everything will rest in your hands," he continued.
"I can handle this, Father. Myself, Legion, and those who accompany me will prove that Wakanda is innocent and that we have nothing to do with the assassination of the princess."
T'Chaka kept his gaze fixed on the distance.
"There were three Atlantean attacks on our territory. I was patient. I tried to communicate multiple times without receiving a response. I had my people endure those attacks out of respect for the agreement the first Black Panther made with Atlantis millennia ago. But what they have done now... has crossed a line."
T'Challa furrowed his brow, confused by the direction of the conversation.
"What do you mean?"
The King turned slowly to look him in the eyes.
"They are looking for an excuse, son. They want to break the pact, but they don't want to be the ones to make the first move. They have been provoking us, waiting for us to react, but they didn't count on our restraint. Now they have the audacity to launch this accusation..."
"And what if they're right?" T'Challa interjected carefully.
"...Even if Hunter and his men did something... that will only make things worse for them."
T'Chaka asked his son to step closer to the edge.
"Look at the city, T'Challa. Look at our people — all the life that Wakanda holds. If war begins, thousands will die. And surely the secret we have guarded for so long will be discovered by the rest of the world."
The King reached into his pocket and pulled out a small artifact — a sphere the size of a palm, a deep, dark violet color that seemed to absorb the light. T'Challa looked at it in amazement and then at his father.
"The best way to end a war is before it begins," T'Chaka declared. "Atlantis doesn't care whether we are innocent or not, so we will not play their game."
He took his son's hand and placed the artifact on his palm.
"Your mission — your true mission — is to prevent this war before it begins. Definitively."
T'Challa kept his gaze fixed on the object. A sudden chill ran down his spine as he grasped the nature of what he was holding.
"What you're asking of me... this isn't... " he stammered, looking at his father with growing horror. "They would all die. Men, women, children and elders. To sacrifice an entire country and its people for..."
"For Wakanda," T'Chaka interrupted coldly.
"No," T'Challa said, returning his gaze to the artifact. "This is not right. Even if war is declared, killing millions of civilians is an atrocity — this is not right."
"It is necessary," the King insisted.
"No! I will not wipe out an entire kingdom over a provocation."
T'Chaka stepped toward him, closing the space between them. His expression changed, leaving behind any trace of paternal affection.
"It is not an option, T'Challa. I am not proposing it to you."
The young prince looked at his father, stunned by the harshness of his words. T'Chaka closed his son's hand around the violet sphere, making sure the artifact was held firmly in his grip.
"I tried as a father, but given your refusal, things will now be different... Your mission is to bring this conflict to a premature end."
"But, Father..."
"This is my order... As your King."
T'Challa looked at him, feeling the conflict tearing his mind apart.
He looked at the object in his hand — the weight of millions of lives reduced to a small dark sphere. The silence stretched as he wrestled with his own moral compass, until finally he closed his eyes.
Slowly, he bowed before his sovereign in a gesture of submission that burned his soul.
"Then... it shall be done," he whispered.
===
T'Challa stood motionless, stroking his chin while his gaze drifted to some distant point. His mind was still on that balcony, feeling the weight of the violet sphere now hidden inside his suit.
Beside him, Okoye watched him carefully, though her face remained a stone mask thanks to her rigorous training — deep down, she felt a sting of concern at her prince's strange silence.
"T'Challa? Hello?"
Legion had been calling to him for a few seconds without success, until he finally had to snap his fingers right in front of his face. The prince reacted with a slight start, blinking to bring reality back into focus.
"Huh? Yes... sorry."
"Were you even listening to me?" Legion asked, crossing his arms.
T'Challa nodded slowly, regaining his composure.
"Yes. My father and the council approved it. You'll be part of the group going on the mission."
Legion stayed quiet for a moment, processing the news, then nodded with a sigh.
"Well... that ruins all my preparation and my speech."
"Speech?" the prince asked, confused.
"Well, since I figured they weren't going to accept me, I prepared something moving to make them reconsider," the young man explained, holding up a crumpled piece of paper covered in several lines of writing.
Suddenly, Shuri appeared out of nowhere behind him and, with a swift motion, snatched the paper from his hands.
She began reading aloud in a dramatic, mocking tone.
"'Honorable King of Wakanda and respected council, I am here to ask you to reconsider your decision. As a hero who has committed himself to justice and the common good, I, Legion...'"
"Hey! Give that back!" the young man exclaimed, lunging to recover his writing.
Shuri dodged the grab with agility, laughing as she kept reading.
"Why? I'm very interested in seeing your 'inspiring speech,'" she teased.
"That's private! Besides, it's not needed anymore," Legion protested, trying to catch her again, but Shuri pivoted on her heels once more and moved away.
"A private speech? Come on, don't be modest," she continued, trotting away. "Also, why did you write it on paper? Who does that these days?"
"I wanted to do it the old-fashioned way!" the hero explained, chasing after her. "You know, to appeal to the nostalgia of older people. Paper has a... classic touch."
Shuri dodged him again, leaping over a supply crate.
"You know we still use paper for some things, right?"
"Oh yeah? When was the last time you actually touched a piece of real paper?" Legion challenged her, stopping in front of her.
Shuri stayed quiet for a second, finger on her chin and a mischievous smile on her face.
"The last time was when I was... four?"
"See?! I'm right!" he exclaimed, taking advantage of her distraction to lunge at her.
He managed to grab her by the shoulders from behind, but Shuri bent her body with astonishing elasticity, slipping out of his arms like a snake.
She went under his legs and took off running again, resuming the reading at full volume.
"'I have saved thousands of lives, I have sacrificed as much of myself as I possibly could, and I am willing to give everything to save at least one more life...'"
Legion froze for a brief second, caught off guard by the princess's flexibility, but hearing his own words read back aloud, embarrassment overtook the feeling and he took off after her with even more determination.
"Stop right there! You boneless woman!" he shouted, while Shuri burst out laughing.
T'Challa watched the scene with a small smile.
Seeing Shuri finally behaving like the teenager she was — and even finding someone she might, perhaps, call a friend in her own very strange way — gave him a moment of peace.
He began walking after them, following the echo of his sister's taunts and the young hero's complaints.
Okoye walked one step behind him, maintaining her guard position, but she couldn't help noticing the faint shadow across her prince's face.
"Are you alright, my prince?" she asked quietly.
T'Challa nodded without taking his eyes off what was ahead.
"I just have... things to think about."
"Is it the mission? Is there something worrying you?" Okoye pressed, scanning the surroundings out of instinct.
T'Challa was quiet as they kept walking.
"...If saving Wakanda meant sacrificing a great number of lives... what would you do?"
Okoye didn't hesitate for a single second. Her answer was automatic, forged through years of discipline.
"Thanks to all my training, my duty is to safeguard the royalty and the well-being of Wakanda. If saving it means burning an entire world, I would do so without hesitation."
T'Challa glanced at her sideways, processing the coldness of that loyalty.
"And if it weren't for your training?" he asked, barely stopping. "I'm not asking you as a Dora Milaje, or as a general. I'm asking you, Okoye... what would you do?"
This time, the silence was hers. The general lowered her gaze slightly, thinking more deeply about her answer. After a few seconds, she met his eyes again with honesty.
"I... don't know... It's a decision that... I think carries too much weight for any one person... but if it were truly necessary, then I would do it. I think doing it under orders, or through my training, is essential — it wouldn't allow me to hesitate. Otherwise, there's a chance I might not go through with it."
T'Challa nodded slowly, feeling that weight now resting in his own hand.
He continued walking toward the other two, trying to dispel the darkness in his thoughts.
In the distance, he heard his sister's voice challenging Legion.
"I'll give it back if you tell me that little secret!" Shuri was shouting, waving the paper in the air.
"Oh yeah? You want me to give it to you? Then TAKE THIS!" Legion exclaimed.
Suddenly, a sharp metallic sound — like a struck bell — rang out through the corridors.
"Owww!" came Shuri's yelp, followed by the young hero's triumphant laugh.
====
In the depths of the ocean, where sunlight barely reaches, an advanced-technology submarine glided silently between the currents.
On the command bridge, Hunter watched the main screen. In the distance, barely visible as a diffuse bluish glow, the imposing silhouette of the city of Atlantis could be made out.
A woman approached his side and handed him a tablet with the tactical maps.
"We will reach the destination in approximately eight hours," she informed him in a professional voice. "To avoid the outer defenses and detection systems, we must divert and take alternative routes through the trenches."
Hunter nodded, without taking his eyes off the submerged city.
"It's a delay we can't avoid. There would be no point in arriving earlier if we're detected before we're in position."
The woman remained quiet for a moment, also staring at the screen. The glow of Wakanda's technology reflected in her eyes.
"I trust you, sir. All of us here do," she said quietly. "But... is this the right thing to do?"
Hunter turned slowly toward her. His face showed no doubt — only the determination of someone who has accepted an inevitable destiny.
"We cannot count on Wakanda," he declared. "T'Chaka is blinded by his own pride — he is incapable of seeing or accepting anything beyond his own opinion. The council is stagnant. So it falls to us, the Hatut Zeraze, to handle this. They may have officially disbanded us, but that doesn't mean our mission is over."
He placed a firm hand on the woman's shoulder and then swept his gaze across the rest of the crew. The soldiers, seated at their posts and attending to various technical tasks, paused for a second to listen to him.
"This is for Wakanda, and for ourselves," Hunter continued with a powerful voice. "We have to put an end to Prince Namor. It is the only way."
The woman nodded firmly. The rest of those present, from their seats, watched him with absolute loyalty. One by one, they crossed their arms over their chests in their nation's characteristic salute.
"Wakanda forever!" they exclaimed in unison — a whisper charged with determination that filled the submarine's cabin as it disappeared into the darkness of the vast ocean.
===
HEYYYY, HOW'S EVERYONE DOING? HOPE YOU'RE ALL WELL!
IT SEEMS T'CHALLA HAS BEEN ENTRUSTED WITH A VERY QUESTIONABLE MISSION BY HIS FATHER, MEANWHILE HUNTER AND HIS SQUAD ARE PLANNING TO TAKE DOWN GOOD OLD NAMOR — BUT WHY? WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN ATLANTIS? WHAT IS HYDRA PLANNING?
NEW ALIENS, FIGHTS AND DISCOVERIES ARE ON THE WAY — I CAN'T WAIT!
REMINDER THAT WE NOW HAVE A PATREON: patreon.com/EmptyTag
THERE I POST PREVIEWS OF THE NEXT CHAPTER, AND IF I MANAGE TO FINISH THE CHAPTER EARLY, IT WILL ALSO BE UPLOADED THERE AHEAD OF TIME.
BY THE WAY, I'M PLANNING SOME THINGS FOR A FUTURE FANFIC — HOW DOES THE DC UNIVERSE SOUND? AND IN IT, SOMEONE BY SOME TWIST OF FATE ENDS UP OBTAINING A...-
I'LL BE DISCUSSING AND PITCHING IDEAS WITH PATREON MEMBERS TO SEE WHAT YOU ALL THINK.
AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND COMMENTS — I REALLY APPRECIATE IT.
TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES, A KISS 😘