447 C447 Challenge for the Throne (2/2)

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"Prince N'Jadaka of the Golden Tribe challenges Prince T'Challa for the throne!" Killmonger exclaimed, a smug look on his face.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as shocked gasps echoed through the gathered crowd. The rumors that had circulated were proving to be true… the king's long lost brother had indeed spawned a child, and that child had returned to Wakanda. Whispers and discussions spread like wildfire among the attendees, each person processing the implications of this revelation.

Amidst the murmurs, T'Challa's gaze remained locked on N'Jadaka, his cousin. It was hard to ignore the truth that was staring him in the face. The bond he thought they had formed, the kinship he believed they shared, was nothing more than a carefully woven facade to manipulate him into this very situation.

As T'Challa pieced together the puzzle, he realized that N'Jadaka had used him from the moment he stepped foot in Wakanda. The false sense of camaraderie, the show of familial connection… all of it was designed to lead T'Challa to this moment. The moment where his birthright was challenged, where his role as the Black Panther was put on the line.

T'Challa's eyes darkened, a mix of anger and betrayal boiling within him. He had defended N'Jadaka, fought for his right to be here, and now it seemed that all his efforts were in vain. He was facing a wolf in sheep's clothing, a shadow that sought to steal his crown and tear apart the very fabric of his existence.

T'Chaka's stepped forward, hoping to somehow put a stop to this. But T'Challa's mind was made up. His eyes never wavered from Killmonger, and with a heavy heart, he spoke the words that his father dreaded the most. "I accept your challenge."

The crowd hushed as a mixture of disbelief and anticipation hung in the air. Killmonger was given ceremonial clothes, a spear, and a shield akin to T'Challa's. The gravity of the situation settled over the ceremonial arena like a storm cloud, casting a foreboding shadow over what was to come.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the ceremonial pool, while torches and bonfires flickered to life, casting long shadows that danced on the water's surface. The backdrop seemed almost surreal, as if nature itself was attuned to the gravity of the situation unfolding before it.

The two contenders faced each other, the tension palpable as they exchanged sharp words, their voices dripping with animosity. "Once this is over, you may return to America. You're no longer welcome in Wakanda." T'Challa spoke, his face hardened, hiding the betrayal that he felt.

Killmonger smirked dangerously. "When this is over, you'll be nothing but a dead body, floating face down in this puddle." He taunted as he turned his head, eyeing T'Challa's family with a bloodthirsty look. "But don't worry, I'll be sure to take care of that sister of yours… after I kill your father, of course. As for your mother… Well, I wouldn't mind keeping her around. Do you think she knows how to throw that a*s back? I wouldn't mind seeing that while I kick back on my new throne."

Gasps filled the air once again as everyone heard Killmongers vulgar words. Most among the tribes were angry and shocked that someone would say such things about their royal family. But a few lecherous tribesman turned to discreetly admire their queens backside, unconsciously picturing exactly what Killmonger spoke of.

The Ancient One felt the urge to kill. "Men are disgusting…"

"True…" MJ nodded in agreement. Even Lily, who was too young to understand what was happening, seemed to agree with her mother on instinct alone.

Peter turned to his family. "Hey, we aren't all that bad…" He spoke up in defense of himself and his gender.

Killmongers words worked like a charm, his cousins eyes instantly went bloodshot as he leaped forward, spear and shield at the ready. "You won't leave this place alive!" He shouted

With the final exchange of words, the battle commenced, the air heavy with anticipation. The drums ceased, the chanting stopped, and all eyes remained fixed on the two contenders.

And as the sun's last rays painted the sky with hues of gold and purple, Killmonger stepped to the side, dodging the painted end of his cousins spear.

With a swift, fluid motion, Killmonger lunged forward in retaliation, his spear slicing through the air toward T'Challa's side. T'Challa met the attack head-on, deflecting the blow with his shield and countering with a sweeping strike of his own. Killmonger danced backward, avoiding the strike by a hairsbreadth, the water rippling beneath his feet.

The royal family cringed in worry every time T'Challa faced Killmongers spear, fearful that it might soon hit its mark. 'This is exactly what I wanted to avoid…' T'Chaka thought in exasperation.

The two combatants circled each other, their movements graceful and calculated. Killmonger's attacks were relentless, each thrust of his spear aimed to exploit any opening. T'Challa responded with a mixture of agility and precision, his shield deflecting blows while his own spear arced through the air in a deadly dance.

Killmonger feinted left before swiftly switching to a low thrust of his spear. T'Challa, having anticipated the move, sidestepped the attack and rushed forward, swinging his shield in a sweeping arc, forcing Killmonger to twist away and barely avoid the blow. Droplets of water scattered in all directions as the impact echoed through the air.

As the fight wore on, the intensity only increased. Each parry and dodge showcased their skill and familiarity with their weapons. T'Challa's movements were like water, adapting to every shift in the battle, while Killmonger's attacks were fierce and calculated, each blow precise and deadly.

T'Challa thrust his spear, aiming for Killmonger's midsection, but his cousin twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. Killmonger seized the opportunity, lunging forward and slamming his shield against T'Challa's, the force of the impact causing T'Challa to stumble back a step. The water beneath him splashed as he fought to regain his balance.

Killmonger pressed his advantage, attacking with a series of rapid strikes that forced T'Challa to go on the defensive. He deflected each blow with his shield, the metal ringing out in a metallic chorus. With a swift motion, T'Challa managed to hook Killmonger's spear, using his shield to disarm him. But just then, Killmonger did the same, bashing into T'Challa and kicking the spear from his hand.

As the spears crashed into the pool, T'Challa saw an opportunity. With a quick, fluid movement, he swung his shield at Killmonger's side, catching him off guard and knocking him off balance. But Killmonger's agility saved him once again as he stumbled back and managed to recover his footing.

The two adversaries continued their dance, each move and countermove a testament to their training and determination. Their breathing was labored, their faces etched with sweat. The waterfall's roar served as a backdrop to the relentless clash of weapons, the tension escalating with each passing moment.

T'Challa's muscles tensed as he saw a momentary opening. He struck with precision, his spear aimed at Killmonger's exposed flank. But Killmonger's reflexes were lightning-fast. He deflected T'Challa's blow with his shield, countering with a powerful jab that forced T'Challa to retreat with an aching rib cage.

A grim determination settled in T'Challa's eyes as he calculated his next move. He circled Killmonger, his movements deliberate and controlled. Killmonger mirrored his actions, an image of focus and readiness. The two combatants were evenly matched to begin with, but as time went on, Killmonger seemed to be slowly taking the upper hand, his years of military training and service pushing T'Challa to the brink.

T'Chaka watched closely, his fists gripping into fists so tight that he palms began to bleed. If this continued the way it was going, Wakanda would most certainly fall into his nephews hands. The hands of an outsider who knew nothing of their country or their heritage.

Suddenly, a familiar voice appeared in the old Kings head. 'Hey, you want me to help?'

"Huh?! Who's there?" T'Chaka calls out, confusing his family.

"Are you okay?" His wife asked, knowing just how stressed her husband must be right now because she feels the same.

The voice appeared again. 'It's me, Spider-Man. Don't talk out loud. I'm using telepathy to speak to you. Just think and I'll hear you.'

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just worried…" T'Chaka nodded to his wife, who immediately returned her attention to the fight. 'How can you help? I can't even do anything and I'm the King. And if outsiders interfere in favor of T'Challa, then he'll never be accepted by Wakanda again...'

Peter's voice returned again. 'Did you forget that I can do magic? Just say the word and T'Challa's opponent will slip in the water. Or perhaps his shield will break? No one will ever know.'

Peter's words were like the devils whispers, sweet and alluring yet unscrupulous and evil. '…' T'Chaka didn't know what to say.

The devils voice continued urging him. 'What are you hesitating for? Who knows what this psycho has planned. You already heard his plans for your family. Do you think he has good intentions towards Wakanda?'

Finally, T'Chaka came to a decision. Whether he regrets it or not would remain to be seen. 'Do it. But make sure no one finds out…'

Peter smirked as he snapped his fingers. 'You owe me one…'

And then, in a split second that felt like an eternity, T'Challa saw an opening. Killmonger seemed to slip and fall into the shallow pool, leaving him completely vulnerable. With a fierce battle cry, T'Challa surged forward, kicking his spear up out of the water and catching it with ease. Winding it back, he aimed to the center of Killmonger's stomach.

Seeing this coming, Killmonger held up his shield to block, but the spear sliced right through it, shattering the shield as if it were made of paper. Before Killmongers shocked eyes, the blade of T'Challa's spear connected with deadly accuracy, piercing through his exposed stomach with a sickening squelch.

The world seemed to slow as the two adversaries locked eyes, a mix of shock and realization passing between them. Killmonger's strength wavered, his body betraying him as he sank further into the water, a spear now lodged in his abdomen. The water around them was stained crimson, a stark contrast to the purity of their surroundings.

T'Challa stood before his fallen cousin, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion. The fight was over, the battle won. Killmonger's gaze met T'Challa's one last time, a mixture of pain, defiance, and regret. And then, with a final breath, N'Jadaka, also known as Killmonger, succumbed to his wounds, his journey ending in the place he spent his entire life trying to find.

As T'Challa looked down at the fallen form of his cousin, he couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if they had grown up together as they should have. Maybe he would have had a loyal brother that he could trust?

With a heavy heart, T'Challa raised his head to the sky, the night sky shining with twinkling stars. He was king now, but he wished that his reign didn't begin with the death of his family.

A/N: 1936 words :)

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