[Marvel : The God Of Punishment] Chapter 91 - 95

Chapter 91: Stark's Contingency

"Stark loves you!"

Jason stared at the small, adorable, and childish big-headed toy before him, falling into deep contemplation.

He was currently at the Stark Industries Expo, though it was more accurately called a robotics theme park now.

Simply put, Stark was obsessed.

He hadn't just developed the agricultural robot [Unauthorized modification into combat units is strictly prohibited], but also an array of other mechanical servants.

For instance, there was the big-headed toy proclaiming "Stark loves you," a trash can-shaped cleaning robot, a slim and elegant housekeeping android.

Plus an entire line of powerful civilian machinery including mining robots, exploration units, and deep-sea equipment, all marked [Unauthorized modifications strictly prohibited].

Jason suspected the former arms dealer had discovered how much money remained in the weapons business but couldn't publicly backtrack, so he'd chosen this backdoor approach, selling weapons under the guise of civilian technology.

What bothered him was the timeline. After his captivity in Afghanistan, hadn't Stark supposedly turned over a new leaf? Why this regression to arms dealing?

That's why he'd brought Yinsen, who'd shared Stark's trials in that cave, to confront him directly.

Deep down, Jason hoped Stark might still be the genuine hero he claimed to be—just, brave, and dedicated to mankind's betterment.

Why? Because manipulating a good man through his own righteousness was far easier.

Soon, they met Stark, who'd arranged a small celebration for distinguished guests.

Maintaining his low profile, Jason wore an elegant half-mask that stood out yet prevented unnecessary attention.

The atmosphere buzzed with energy as blonde servers in bunny costumes and black stockings maneuvered through the crowd.

In the center, Stark embraced a stunning redhead with perfect styling, entertaining his audience with theatrical gestures.

Jason immediately noticed Pepper Potts sitting alone in a corner, radiating loneliness.

He tapped Yinsen's shoulder. "You should talk to Stark."

Yinsen, still furious about Stark resuming weapon sales after his hometown was destroyed by Stark Industries munitions, stormed over immediately.

Jason collected some cake from the refreshment table and approached Pepper.

Pepper seemed mildly surprised by his approach. "Care for some cake?"

"No thank you, Mr. Jason."

She clearly recognized him, though her smile seemed strained as she kept watching Stark perform for his crowd.

"What's the story?" Jason gestured toward the commotion. "How did he revert to being such an ass?"

Pepper's laugh carried bitterness. "I honestly don't know. I'm no longer CEO of Stark Industries. He's... changed. This isn't the same Stark I knew."

Jason frowned at this news.

Just then, Stark and Yinsen's conversation escalated into a visible argument. The normally mild-mannered Yinsen left red-faced with frustration, while Stark pulled his model closer and laughed, catching sight of Pepper before spotting Jason.

His expression transformed instantly. He pushed the redhead away and approached aggressively.

Jason stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You won't blame me if I knock out a couple of his teeth, will you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Pepper looked confused as Stark arrived, wearing a mocking expression. "Look who's here—our beloved hero, the great Savior himself! What brings you to my modest gathering?"

Thankfully, the music volume prevented others from hearing his sarcasm clearly.

Jason studied him briefly before proposing, "Interested in joining the Avengers? I'll make you team leader."

Stark laughed dismissively. "I've told you—you can't afford me!"

"Heroes talking about money? How vulgar. Remember our conversation at Hopewell Sanctuary? Tony Stark, who do you want to be in this lifetime?"

Stark snorted, positioning himself between Jason and Pepper. "Life's brief—enjoy it while you can. I don't care about identity labels."

"So your plan is to return to arms dealing, destabilize the world, and kill more civilians?"

Stark's lips curled upward. "Be careful—I might sue you for defamation. I exclusively sell civilian products now. Nothing remotely military! Haven't you grasped the bigger picture? I'm initiating the third industrial revolution. The Arc Reactor will solve global energy crises, and with advanced artificial intelligence, I'll be immortalized in textbooks! They'll erect statues in my honor!"

Jason turned to face him directly. "I believe you're not starting the Third Industrial Revolution—you're igniting World War Three!"

"You're overreacting!"

You're lost.

Looking at Stark before him, Jason weighed his options. Should he eliminate this smirking puppet immediately or let him continue?

In truth, Stark's disruptive activities served Jason's interests. Without the demon realm invasion, without Obadiah's betrayal, without Mephisto's assault, he wouldn't have rapidly gained his current influence and status.

American chaos meant work for the Avengers. Work meant legitimate reasons to request funding and resources. Chaos wasn't inherently problematic.

The critical question was: how much chaos was manageable? What if the scenario escalated into season three of Earth's apocalypse? Traditional warfare Jason could handle, but nuclear conflict would trigger Earth's reset.

Even if he survived, did he really want to experience "Alone as God in Marvel's Doomsday"? Without the alluring women making it worthwhile, what was the point?

Unless... he could advance his power significantly and prevent nuclear warfare, then he could continue this game with Stark indefinitely.

Jason's eyes narrowed as he considered the nuclear device stored in his [Absolute Zero Dimension] and the [Beast Horn] he'd acquired long ago.

Could his plan to assault hell be accelerated? Perhaps he could gain several power tiers instantly!

But caution demanded notifying the Ancient One first, ensuring Earth's magical defenses were properly reinforced. If demons broke through, let her handle the containment.

As for Stark, hmph—the Avengers would develop eight contingency plans against him. Any signs of trouble meant immediate termination!

After Jason departed, Stark glared at Pepper, called for his bodyguard Happy, and left abruptly.

Stark Industries Building, top floor.

Once inside, Stark commanded Jarvis to secure all access points and draw the heavy curtains.

Speaking calmly, Stark ordered: "Jarvis, activate... the Babel Project!"

Instantly, blue illumination filled the room as a massive holographic display materialized before him.

It featured photographs and detailed profiles for each Avenger.

These dossiers contained comprehensive data including abilities, personalities, preferences, and life histories for all Avenger members.

Most notably, beneath each profile were one to three methodologies for elimination! Using whatever means necessary!

For instance, with Cyclops, since his offensive power was formidable but limited, one could employ ambush tactics with multiple attackers. His average physique and lack of defensive capabilities made him vulnerable to standard ammunition. His moral compass and affection for fellow mutants could be weaponized through threats against mutant children. His deepest connection was to Jean Grey, perfect for psychological warfare or tactical diversion...

Regarding Wolverine, his physical strength, speed, and combat abilities were comparatively modest, but his adamantium claws and regenerative abilities made him nearly invincible. While conventional weapons could incapacitate him temporarily, permanent neutralization required creative solutions. Special ultra-strength sedatives could render him unconscious for 2-4 minutes, sufficient for specialized restraint application. Considering his immortality, options included disposal in molten metal, liquid nitrogen, or the vacuum of space... Alternatively, a continuous tissue removal system that, while unable to destroy his adamantium skeleton, would immediately eliminate any regenerated tissue!

Among all these targets, Jason held the undisputed top position.

Abilities: Superhuman physique, master marksmanship, expert combat skills, thunder manipulation, pyrokinesis, flight...

Personality: Just, Kind, Courageous...

Interests: Wealth, Women...

Background: First appeared as a priest at Hopewell Sanctuary. Asian origins, investigation yielded no results. Subsequent events were documented...

Stark examined the massive display before him, satisfaction evident in his expression.

This represented countless hours of careful planning.

On the display, certain data continued updating—Jarvis constantly gathered external information, carefully analyzed it, and integrated it into the database.

This meant anti-Avenger protocols were continuously evolving. More time and information made these plans increasingly effective.

However, noticing the conspicuous absence of any assassination protocols in Jason's file, Stark frowned.

"Jarvis, what's the issue? Why isn't there a Jason protocol?"

Jarvis's mechanical voice responded: "Based on data compilation, the subject changes extremely rapidly, consistently developing new capabilities while existing ones evolve continuously. Due to the subject's unique nature and rapidly outdated information, developing efficient, targeted plans remains impossible!"

Stark considered this for a moment: "What about behavioral or psychological approaches?"

Jarvis replied: "Eight calculated methods exist, all highly discouraged with poor success probability!"

Stark glanced at the recommendations and immediately became irritated.

The first suggestion read: Psychological Manipulation - Subject demonstrates potential romantic interest in Pepper Potts, consideration should be given to utilizing...

"JARVIS, NOOOOO!"

"My apologies, Sir, I fail to comprehend your objection."

"Remove Pepper entirely from this damned plan!"

"Acknowledged, Sir."

Stark had no interest in reviewing the remaining protocols. He frowned as an alternative strategy formed in his mind.

If he couldn't deal with Jason directly, why not let others do it for him? Surely there were many who despised him viciously?

He could...

Chapter 92: Divine Exchange

Shortly after Jason returned to the Avengers base, a peculiar visitor arrived.

Glory to the Northern God, the God of Thunder—Thor!

Studying the disheveled, confused-looking heir of Asgard, Jason smirked. "Where's your wife? Didn't she join you for the visit?"

Thor looked startled. "I'm unmarried."

"But you've met someone recently who completely captivated you, haven't you?"

Thor stood frozen as his thoughts involuntarily conjured the woman he'd encountered mere days ago—Jane Foster.

Seeing recognition dawn, Jason pressed on. "When you find someone special, don't hesitate. You'll regret it forever otherwise."

Thor lowered his head, contemplating deeply.

"You've existed for over a millennium. How many women have affected you like this? Don't let her slip away!"

"Hiss!"

The words struck Thor's wandering soul like lightning, and he exclaimed enthusiastically: "You speak truth! Once I reclaim Mjolnir, I'll return and bring her to Asgard!"

Jason rolled his eyes. This oaf remained forever fixated on his hammer.

He raised his hand. Wind swirled through the chamber as Mjolnir materialized in his grasp.

Thor rushed forward immediately. "Mjolnir! I recognized you instantly. When I saw those storm clouds on television, I knew you waited for me! I've come for you, Mjolnir!"

Jason pushed him away. "Thor, I bear unfortunate news. Mjolnir belongs to me now. You've lost the right to wield it."

Thor froze, then erupted: "Preposterous! Mjolnir is mine! Blind mortal, regardless of your trickery, one touch will restore our bond—it's mine!"

Jason sneered, offering the hammer. "Yours, you claim? Prove it."

"Gladly!"

Thor reached out greedily. The moment his fingers wrapped around the handle, Jason released his hold.

The hammer plummeted violently.

"BANG!" It struck the floor.

"CRACK!" Thor's spine protested as his body lurched downward.

"Mmph!" He grunted, face reddening rapidly.

He released Mjolnir but couldn't straighten himself.

Jason inquired kindly, "Medical assistance?"

"Unnecessary!" Thor's muffled voice strained. "Impossible... Mjolnir cannot reject me! We've been inseparable for millennia. It knows me better than Father. How could it abandon me?"

Thor stubbornly grasped it again.

Jason shrugged. "After thousands of years, perhaps it grew weary of you? It cannot speak its grievances, but its refusal says everything."

"Silence!"

Thor shouted, straining against Mjolnir's immobility. His complexion shifted from crimson to ashen.

Disbelief consumed his features. He staggered backward, arms raised skyward: "No—NO!"

The devastated god collapsed, eyes vacant. Jason ordered attendants to give him privacy.

Immediately after, Jason sought Professor X and Jean.

Logic dictated that Thor's Earth arrival occurred days ago, meaning the All-Father had entered Odinsleep by now.

Loki would arrive seeking his brother momentarily.

Preparations were essential—a proper welcome for the Nine Realms' master illusionist.

Jason joined the professor and Jean.

Since escaping Stryker's clutches, Charles harbored overwhelming guilt about what he had done, dedicating himself to constant companionship instead of missions, determined to aid his recovery.

Despite relentless dedication... advancement proved minimal.

Current progress allowed their combined mental assault on resilient minds, inducing elaborate delusions.

Notably, the professor never requested help reconstructing the Cerebro amplifier—welcome news for Jason.

While he harbored no immediate plans for reuniting Charles with his former associates, he'd established firm boundaries: the amplifier remained forbidden. Its mention warranted execution.

Combined with Xavier's telepathic mastery, it wielded apocalyptic potential—surpassing nuclear devastation!

In the adjacent chamber to Thor's quarters, Jason explained their mission. Both professor and Jean appeared dumbfounded.

That towering figure next door was truly Thor from Norse legends? Living? Breathing? And his brother Loki approached even now?

They simply waited for Loki's arrival?

Reality increasingly defied comprehension.

Midnight found Thor huddled in his corner, wearing grief like a funeral shroud.

Suddenly, a phantom manifested silently.

Black longcoat, gray-green scarf—elegance countered by furrowed brows and melancholy demeanor.

Thor spotted him instantly: "Loki, what brings you?"

"I had to see you, Brother."

"What news?"

"Father... our father, King Odin, has perished."

"What!?"

Thor recoiled in shock. "Speak sense!"

"Father is dead, Brother."

Loki's repetition carried anguish.

His tone deepened painfully: "Following your exile, Asgard faced war's threat. He couldn't endure the burden. Overwhelming pressure collapsed him—he never recovered!"

Thor appeared catatonic, nearly dissociating.

Loki shook his head, seemingly unable to witness his pain: "Before death, Father appointed me ruler. The crown weighs heavily. Rest easy, Brother—I'll honor both your legacy and Father's, leading Asgard righteously."

Thor hesitated before pleading, "May I return home, Brother?"

"Impossible, I fear. I negotiated peace with Jotunheim—your permanent exile was their condition. Additionally, Mother blames you for Father's demise! My apologies, Brother!"

Tears threatened as Thor responded: "The apology is mine, Brother! Gratitude... for this visit."

"Farewell, my Brother!"

Departing, Loki's expression brightened conspiratorially. He stepped forward, phasing through the wall effortlessly while muttering: "Mjolnir dwells nearby—perhaps I'll attempt to claim it..."

Mid-sentence, his vision transformed—

Endless golden desert, shimmering under oppressive heat!

By the gods!

Where had that step transported him?

He turned bewildered. Has my sorcery malfunctioned?

Inconceivable—I'm the Nine Realms' master sorcerer. Unless...

His expression hardened: "By Odin's name, am I captured?"

Recognizing the situation, he scoffed. Inferior illusion work against an expert? I possess nine methods to shatter this deception!

Meanwhile, Charles strained visibly: "Quickly! His power surpasses my expectations!"

Jason teleported beside Loki's physical form. With focused intent, he accessed his Absolute Zero Dimension space.

He kicked Loki inside.

Previous experiments confirmed survivability within absolute zero space. Like films depicting frozen time, subjects remained unaware of their suspension.

Upon release, they'd only notice missing time spans.

Elsewhere, in distant Asgard.

Though deep in Odinsleep, the All-Father retained external awareness.

When Loki vanished into absolute zero, his presence disconnected entirely. Odin was confused.

What transpired? Why did his second son disappear completely?

His charismatic, clever son—vanished without trace?

Back on Earth, Jason contemplated Thor's situation.

Mjolnir remained in his possession, though Odin could reclaim it instantly. While the hammer favored him now, Odin maintained ultimate authority—his divine essence permeated the weapon.

Observing Thor, inspiration struck: Exchange the hammer for the prince?

Would the God-King pursue him vengefully? His current power hadn't reached divine tiers—Odin would overwhelm him.

Nevertheless, surrendering Mjolnir proved unthinkable!

Like hiring an ideal assistant—charming, capable, devoted—how could he relinquish such perfection?

For Mjolnir, he'd risk everything!

Deciding firmly, Jason accessed absolute zero, seizing Thor by the neck.

The stunned prince, bewildered by the assault, joined his brother instantly!

In Asgard, the slumbering God-King trembled again!

One son lost, then immediately another?

Thor and Loki—both my sons!

Queen Frigga touched Odin's brow curiously. Why these tremors? Odinsleep never produced such reactions before.

Having secured both divine princes, Jason felt unease and decided to seek the Ancient One.

Their previous meeting lacked genuine commitment—she'd provided no means of contact.

Given his assistance with Mephisto's invasion, she owed two favors.

The first purchased borrowing techniques.

Requesting her mediation between him and Odin seemed perfectly reasonable.

As for reinforcing magical barriers against Hell's lords? That remained her responsibility—no favor required!

In an undisclosed location.

Nick Fury faced his assembled group, voice hoarse and disillusioned.

"Events accelerate beyond control. Another name change is necessary. You're no longer the 'Justice League.'

Henceforth, you are—

[Injustice]!

Your primary target: assassinate the celebrated hero, the Savior, Jason!"

Chapter 93: Wakanda Forever

Jason hadn't expected the Ancient One to seek him out first.

Her opening words cut straight to the point: "You killed Odin's two sons?"

Jason shook his head quickly. "How is that possible? That old man is terrifying—why would I mess with his children?"

The Ancient One nodded. "Good. If Asgard launched an assault, I could hold Odin back, but his armies would steamroll you."

Jason hesitated before asking tentatively, "Master, hypothetically speaking... could I trade his sons for something valuable?"

The Ancient One gave him a strange look. "You're planning to blackmail the All-Father?"

"No!" Jason waved his hands frantically. "I would never resort to such underhanded tactics!"

He continued, "Look, there's this hammer—Mjolnir. Odin declared that whoever can lift it shall wield its power. But he probably didn't expect me to be there! I lifted it fair and square, yet I'm worried he'll go back on his word and forcibly reclaim it. What should I do?"

"You want to trade this hammer for his sons?" the Ancient One asked incredulously.

"Exactly!" Jason brightened. "I have these two strapping young Asgardians. Perhaps you could mediate a discussion with Odin? If he agrees, we could formalize it with proper documentation. What do you say?"

"Hmph! What business is this of mine?" the Ancient One replied dismissively.

"Master, when those hell demon invaded New York, I was the one who helped you repel them! You can't just pull out... I mean, you can't abandon me after I've helped you!"

Jason added, "Besides, last time you promised to teach me mystical arts, but didn't even leave me a contact number. Clearly, your intentions weren't genuine!"

The Ancient One rolled her eyes. "Your pettiness is unbecoming for someone with aspirations. Odin might honor his word and give you the hammer freely. But I will never accept threats from you."

"Master, do you truly believe he'll keep his promise?"

The Ancient One glanced at Mjolnir beside Jason and shook her head. "No."

"Then what should I do? Beg him?" Jason's eyes widened in disbelief.

"It's an option."

"Impossible! Absolutely not!" Jason exclaimed, then paused thoughtfully. "What if... I offered to train his sons? What do you think he might—"

"That reckless brute and the silver-tongued trickster?"

Jason considered this carefully. Gods and demons like Odin and Mephisto seemed to share a common trait: failed parenting, with children constantly eyeing their thrones.

The Ancient One nodded approvingly. "If you can genuinely improve his sons, this plan might work."

Jason perked up. Perfect. A dose of harsh reality from humanity's bottom would wake these godlings up!

In Asgard, Odin exhaled with relief upon sensing his sons' presence again.

He returned to his Odinsleep.

Before departing, Jason requested a mystical restraint from the Ancient One to suppress Loki's powers.

He released the brothers, ignoring Loki's protests about being divine while mortals remained beneath them, and summoned Frank. "Take these two to experience some honest, back-breaking labor!"

Ring ring...

Freeman called Jason yet again.

The president was desperate to avoid his term ending in disgrace. As America's first African American president, he refused to go quietly into obscurity.

He'd been persistently trying to convince Jason to support him publicly, hoping to secure the same favor Jason had shown by pledging neutrality toward mutants.

But the tables had turned, Mr. President!

Unless...

Over the phone, Freeman asked curiously, "Wakanda? What is that? Is it somewhere in America?"

"Wakanda is an African nation, Mr. President!"

"An African country?"

Jason chuckled. "Though it appears to be a small tribal nation, in reality, it's the wealthiest, most advanced, technologically superior country on Earth!"

"Impossible!" Freeman shouted. "The most advanced nation on this planet is clearly America! How many aircraft carriers does this Wakanda have?"

"Wakanda possesses no aircraft carriers, but they maintain an energy shield encompassing their entire territory, concealing their existence from the world. They possess advanced aircraft capable of outmatching any military on Earth."

"That's preposterous!" Freeman exclaimed.

"Not at all, Mr. President. Are you familiar with vibranium?"

"The metal worth $10,000 per gram?"

"Do you know how much vibranium Wakanda possesses?"

Freeman's voice turned hoarse as realization dawned. "How much?"

"Their reserves exceed 10,000 tons!"

"Hiss!" Freeman's breath caught for several seconds before he started panting heavily.

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely," Jason laughed. "Calculate the monetary value, Mr. President. Even at massive discount rates, that's enough wealth to sustain the entire United States indefinitely! If you could secure these resources for America, they'd carve your face alongside the four presidents on Mount Rushmore!"

Silence stretched uncomfortably long.

Finally, Freeman asked with difficulty, "If they're truly that powerful, why haven't they conquered the world?"

"Because of their profound arrogance, Mr. President. Can you conceive of a people hiding behind energy barriers, smugly watching the world's struggles?

Where wars rage, they mock the combatants as barbarians too primitive to understand civilization. Where famine strikes, they ridicule those too incompetent to feed themselves. Even when Americans celebrate our technological achievements, they observe from their hiding spot, dismissing us as 'backward' and 'ignorant'!

They view everyone outside Wakanda as beneath them, hence their total isolation. They regard us all as inferiors.

Additionally, their population is insufficient for global conquest. Despite superior technology and elite warriors, they lack the numbers to dominate the outside world."

The phone remained silent for a long moment.

Then Freeman's voice returned, seething with rage: "During the transatlantic slave trade, did they simply watch as my ancestors were enslaved?"

"I believe so, Mr. President."

"During both World Wars, did they observe tens of millions perish without intervention?"

"Indeed, Mr. President."

"They witnessed human suffering, bloodshed, anguish, struggle, and torment, yet did nothing?"

"...Yes, Mr. President!"

"They're unworthy of humanity! Not part of our species—just a collection of unevolved simians! They're enemies of this world, heartless and ungrateful parasites! Damn them all...!"

"Absolutely, Mr. President!"

"So, Mr. Jason, do you have their location or any intelligence?"

"Of course, Mr. President!"

Jason had already extracted Wakanda's information from SHIELD's archives. They'd been tracking vibranium's source and discovered an anomaly in Africa.

He transmitted all available data to Freeman.

Jason had long calculated that keeping Freeman in office served his interests. Their clandestine dealings created mutual benefits and shared interests.

Similarly, if Freeman could claim Wakanda for America, Jason would profit immensely. With Freeman's backing and the Avengers' reputation, whatever belonged to Wakanda would effectively become theirs, wouldn't it?

That evening, shocking news exploded from the White House:

An American soldier vanished mysteriously during a covert mission in Wakanda, a small African nation. The United States demanded an explanation, but this tiny country audaciously challenged American authority, claiming ignorance of any incident.

Consequently, the U.S. House, Senate, White House, and Pentagon rapidly authorized the deployment of three aircraft carriers to Africa.

They vowed to seek justice for the missing soldier: find them alive or recover their body!

This announcement bewildered the international community, but nobody was more confused than Wakanda's current monarch, King T'Chaka.

He learned of these events through news broadcasts and newspapers.

What the hell? The United States never contacted me about this!

How could I forget something like this?

Moreover, your soldier allegedly infiltrated Wakanda and disappeared—shouldn't I be demanding explanations? Yet you're the one making demands?

Do you respect international law or basic decency?

This is textbook bullying!

Despite his protests, the American military machine was already in motion.

As global confusion mounted, a familiar bombastic figure emerged:

J. Jonah Jameson, owner of the Daily Bugle.

He ranted on television as usual: "Folks, what I’m about to say is no conspiracy theory—it’s a fact! Somewhere out there, a secret cabal is watching us like ants in a jar! That’s right—watching! They sit on a mountain of treasure, a cosmic gift meant for all of humanity! And what do they do? They hoard it! They claim it, lock it away, and then look down on the rest of us from their ivory tower like we’re beneath them! This is nothing short of theft on a galactic scale!"

He displayed drone footage showing a vast forest. Suddenly, the aircraft struck an invisible barrier, sparked, and plummeted.

A blue energy shield momentarily flickered into view.

Jameson thundered, eyes blazing with fury. "Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves—because what I’m about to say needs to be heard! The nation hoarding this miracle? These smug isolationists? They call themselves Wakanda!"

"To my fellow African Americans—think about this. For centuries, you were captured, enslaved, brutalized, and murdered. And all the while, Wakanda watched. They had the power. The technology. The weapons. They could’ve ended the suffering. But they chose silence!"

"To the world at large—every disease you’ve battled, every famine, every war fought with sticks and stones while Wakanda sat on sci-fi weaponry and miracle tech... all of it, preventable! They had the means to help! But did they? No! Why? Not because of wisdom, compassion, or merit—but because of selfishness, secrecy, and pure, calculated greed!"

"That meteorite, that vibranium—that wasn't meant to be buried and hidden. It was a gift! A cosmic blessing! And they stole it from the world!"

"So remember this: our suffering wasn’t just overlooked—it was allowed. And the cure? The cure was in Wakanda all along!"

As Jameson's rage continued, American newspapers blazed with inflammatory headlines:

New York Times: "With Vibranium, Could the Demon Have Invaded New York?"

Los Angeles Times: "Wakanda, Open Your Eyes to Our Suffering World!"

Wall Street Journal: "Vibranium Trade Could Revolutionize Global Economy"

Rolling Stone: "Number One Hit: 'A Thousand Reasons to Destroy Wakanda'..."

Chapter 94: Wakanda No Forever

Aircraft, tanks, artillery, soldiers.

Under global scrutiny, the US military completed its siege of Wakanda. Yet it wasn't solely American forces—NATO allies including the United Kingdom, France, and Canada had also deployed warships and troops, hoping to claim a share of the spoils.

The Pentagon wasn't naive. These allied forces were all positioned on the front lines.

Leading the battlefield operations was an uncompromising hawk: General Ross.

After the Hulk incident fiasco, his career had teetered on the brink. While the media portrayed this assault as legitimate warfare, the Pentagon understood this was purely invasion and plunder.

Other generals declined the assignment, but Ross saw opportunity and volunteered eagerly.

Within Wakanda's royal palace, King T'Chaka convened with his elders, Queen Ramonda, Crown Prince T'Challa, and Princess Shuri to formulate their response.

The American military's relentless advance finally drove home Wakanda's perilous situation.

The aged king slammed his fist on the table. "America is a bullying hegemonic nation! They claim soldiers are missing merely to pillage our technology and vibranium! Look at their media coverage—they've abandoned all pretense!"

The lip-plated elder beside him sighed. "They've encircled us. We must devise a strategy to address this catastrophe!"

Another female elder added, "Their general demands our unconditional surrender by midnight tonight. They want military occupation, mining corporations, and research facilities. Meeting these demands would strip Wakanda bare within years!"

"We would never surrender! These arrogant Americans have no concept of our true power! Mobilize our greatest tribal warriors! Mount our vibranium-armored rhinos, wield vibranium spears, don vibranium cloaks—show them what we're capable of!"

Prince T'Challa shook his head firmly. "Direct confrontation with American forces isn't wise. Every Wakandan life is precious, and our numbers are few. We should negotiate.

"We could share our technology selectively and permit limited vibranium trade. Perhaps the world's criticism contains some truth—we cannot remain passive spectators to global suffering. Vibranium is a divine gift; we should use it to benefit mankind!"

"Blasphemy! Vibranium is Bast's blessing. It belongs exclusively to Wakandans!"

"T'Challa! Know your place! You are Wakanda's heir, not an outsider! Consider your people and nation first!"

The elders immediately rebuked T'Challa's words. Even King T'Chaka glared disapprovingly.

"Brother, I disagree!" Princess Shuri protested. "I developed our advanced technology to protect Wakanda, not to benefit outsiders!"

She addressed her father: "Your Majesty, we should demonstrate our full might to teach these foreign primitives a lesson they'll never forget!"

After careful deliberation, the king declared, "Order our forces to full readiness. Every warrior and soldier must prepare for battle. We'll meet the United States head-on!"

"Father!" T'Challa objected.

T'Chaka shook his head. "We can negotiate, but only as equals! The Americans won't engage in good faith until they've witnessed our power!"

T'Challa hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I understand, my king!"

T'Chaka surveyed the council chamber and raised his voice: "Wakanda forever!"

Aboard the USS George H.W. Bush command center in the Atlantic, General Ross spoke with President Freeman.

"General, what's your battle strategy?" Freeman inquired.

Ross paused momentarily. "Mr. President, ground forces have Wakanda surrounded. We don't need elaborate tactics—just clear authorization."

"Authorization?"

"How far will you permit me to devastate Wakanda, Mr. President?"

Freeman fell silent.

He found the general's eagerness disturbing. "What tier of destruction are you contemplating? I must remind you, intelligence suggests they possess highly advanced aircraft and weaponry!"

"Precisely, Mr. President. This war's outcome remains uncertain. Hence my question."

Freeman frowned. "I won't dictate destruction tiers! I want you to capture that location while minimizing American casualties!"

Ross smiled. "Then I understand, Mr. President."

"What do you understand?"

"Three Ohio-class strategic nuclear submarines patrol beneath us. To minimize soldier casualties, please ensure one is prepared to launch, Mr. President!"

Freeman's blood ran cold as nightmarish memories surfaced.

This bastard was asking him to prepare for... a second strike?

After disconnecting, Ross immediately issued battle commands.

Unless Wakanda surrendered, combat would commence at 8 PM—one hour away.

Thousands of artillery pieces would bombard simultaneously. Hundreds of Atlantic warships would unleash thousands of missiles. The initial wave included hundreds of fighter-bombers.

He was determined to crush Wakanda swiftly!

Evening winds stirred across Africa as most creatures entered dormancy. Only nocturnal predators remained alert, concealed in tall grass, their gleaming eyes tracking potential target.

"Whistle—whistle—"

A piercing shriek split the darkness.

Cylindrical objects spun rapidly, radiating intense heat as they hurtled forward!

"BOOM!"

They struck something invisible—a blue flash preceded thunderous detonations.

This marked not an ending, but a beginning.

"WHISTLE!"

Dense artillery shells fell like lethal rain. Violent explosions startled every creature within range. Predator and target alike panicked—some hooved animals whinnied and galloped away, while others roared and retreated into their lairs.

In ancient Africa, another brutal war had erupted.

Wakanda's war room.

Shuri clenched her teeth. "These treacherous bastards! They promised midnight deadline, yet they attack at 7:58! Completely dishonorable!"

T'Chaka stood stoically nearby. "What's the status of our aircraft?"

"More than half ready!"

T'Chaka checked the energy shield's integrity. Within seconds, it had absorbed tens of thousands of impacts.

Seventy-three percent capacity!

Emergency alerts blared through the command center.

Shuri glanced at her displays, gasping. "Your Majesty, thousands more missiles inbound with hundreds of fighters following!"

"Can our shield withstand the assault?"

Shuri's fingers flew across her keyboard. "Calculations show post-missile shield integrity will drop to five percent!"

"Prime the laser cannons. Once the barrier fails, eliminate all aircraft!"

After several adjustments, Shuri warned frantically, "Your Majesty, without protective shielding, we can't stop all incoming artillery! Wakanda faces destruction! There are too many!"

T'Challa stepped forward, striking his chest. "Your Majesty, permit me to pilot fighters and destroy their artillery and armor!"

T'Chaka regarded his son, then shook his head gently. "I'll fly myself."

"What?"

Both T'Challa and Shuri stared in disbelief.

T'Chaka gripped his son's shoulder. "You have another duty."

T'Challa looked puzzled as Queen Ramonda approached with attendants.

"My son, I've prepared the Heart-Shaped Herb trial. You will inherit the Black Panther mantle!"

Ignoring protests, King T'Chaka donned the Black Panther armor again and boarded his fighter.

As their aircraft launched, thousands of missiles arrived!

Massive projectiles hammered the energy shield mercilessly, creating aerial fireworks displays.

From within Wakanda, the sky appeared engulfed in flames.

After the explosions subsided, the shield wavered unstably. Finally, with a brilliant blue flash, it vanished.

Wakanda lay exposed to the cosmos.

Hundreds of enemy fighters appeared on the horizon, weapons primed.

Suddenly, emerald laser beams erupted from Wakanda's surface!

Like unstoppable blades, they sliced through the sky, detonating every American and coalition aircraft mid-flight!

Ground forces and their commanders gaped in horror.

The frontline commander stumbled to communications, grabbing the phone: "General, our first air squadron... completely annihilated!"

"Understood."

The terse response.

"Click." The line went dead.

The frontline commander clenched his jaw, seizing a signaler. "Relay my orders: all units, maximum force! Fire every shell we have!"

Wakanda.

Fires blazed along the city's perimeter.

Without shields, artillery strikes couldn't be fully intercepted. Soon flames would consume the entire metropolis!

Shuri checked her radar, her expression darkening.

She activated her communicator urgently: "Your Majesty, the second wave of missiles and aircraft is targeting Wakanda!"

Chapter 95: The Black Panther's Fall

In the skies above Wakanda, King T'Chaka banked his fighter jet sharply as he prepared to strike the coalition's ground positions. The moment he received Shuri's urgent transmission about the incoming missile wave, his tactical priorities shifted instantly.

First priority: neutralize enemy missiles and fighters!

...

War Machine Colonel James Rhodes rocketed through the air, his Stark-designed armor gleaming among the second wave of coalition aircraft. Flying in tight formation with two other similarly equipped operators, they formed an elite "Iron War Team."

These weren't just any suits - each armored unit represented a billion-dollar investment by the Pentagon. Even with Rhodes negotiating a "friendly price" for his military contacts, the cost still reached astronomical tiers. And that was before factoring in maintenance, upgrades, and ammunition.

But for technology this advanced? The Pentagon bought in - though only three units to start.

Today marked their combat debut, and both the military brass and Tony Stark himself were watching closely.

...

Meanwhile, fresh off a surprisingly civil conversation with the president, Jason had secured the adamantium alloy formula. Reluctantly shedding his beloved vibranium pants, he'd rushed to produce a limited supply of specially-crafted bullets.

These rounds now fed the Gatling guns mounted on Rhodes and his wingmen - Jason's trump card against Wakanda's seemingly impenetrable forces.

...

The first wave of coalition missiles painted contrails across the African sky. T'Chaka's voice crackled through the comm system: "All units, engage! Destroy every incoming projectile!"

Wakandan interceptors moved in perfect formation, unleashing their full arsenal. Energy weapons, conventional missiles, and rail-gun fire lit up the atmosphere as they systematically dismantled the American bombardment.

Within minutes, most threats had been neutralized. A few stray missiles slipped through, but Wakanda's ground-based laser defense systems would handle those.

T'Chaka allowed himself a brief moment of relief before his sensors screamed warnings. Enemy fighters approached in force.

Rage surged through the old king. "All wings, follow my lead!"

The veteran warrior dove toward the enemy formation with practiced aggression.

If only he'd known Rhodes and his team already had him locked in their targeting systems.

Perhaps decades of isolation had dulled Wakanda's wartime instincts. Spotting T'Chaka's command fighter proved laughably simple - the larger, more elaborately crafted vessel stood out like a beacon.

Rhodes didn't hesitate. "Engaging primary target."

Three streams of adamantium death lanced across the sky.

Clang clang clang...

T'Chaka's initial confidence stemmed from long-held beliefs. His fighter's vibranium-reinforced hull, the specially treated cockpit glass, his own Black Panther suit - all should have been impenetrable to conventional weapons.

BANG BANG BANG!

The reality proved far different. Spider-web patterns spread across his cockpit as the adamantium rounds bit deep. In the strobing muzzle flash, T'Chaka glimpsed a bullet embedding itself in what should have been unbreakable material.

Sharp pain bloomed in his chest as hundreds more rounds found their mark. The Black Panther armor absorbed much of the impact, but far too many penetrated flesh and bone.

His hands slipped from the controls as darkness crept into his vision.

...

"FATHER!" Shuri's scream echoed through the command center as tracking data showed the royal fighter plummeting. "King! Come in! What's your status?"

Static answered her desperate calls.

Behind her, Queen Mother Ramonda stood frozen, eyes locked on the radar display.

More static, then: "Szzzt... The King has fallen!" General Okoye's devastated voice finally broke through. "The King... is down."

Silence fell like a shroud. How could this happen? Wakanda's technology was decades beyond anything the outside world possessed!

The loss of their leader sent ripples of confusion through Wakandan ranks. Some pilots pressed their attacks, others broke formation to search for survivors, while a few began tactical withdrawals.

Rhodes seized the moment, unleashing precision strikes that claimed Wakandan fighter after fighter.

...

On the ground, coalition armor rolled forward as Wakanda's protective barrier flickered and died. American soldiers couldn't believe their eyes - was that really a cavalry charge of armored rhinoceros and elephants?

The Wakandans advanced in tight formation, shields raised and spears at the ready, looking like something from an ancient battlefield rather than the 21st century.

The tank commander blinked in confusion. "Since when do we do close quarters combat?"

He raised his fist, signaling a halt. "All tanks, arm high-explosive rounds!

"FIRE!"

Explosions ripped through the Wakandan ranks. But as the smoke cleared, impossible scenes emerged - rhinos charged through the barrage unscathed while warriors at the rear raised cloaks that formed shimmering blue energy shields, deflecting direct artillery hits.

"Christ!" the commander grabbed his radio. "Fire support! Coordinates..."

Shells rained from the sky seconds later. This proved more effective - the energy shields couldn't maintain omnidirectional coverage, and many began failing from power drain.

Wakanda's isolation had cost them dearly. With all resources focused on special operations and air superiority, they'd never developed ground armor or heavy vehicles. Their warriors, despite exceptional training and vibranium weapons, remained vulnerable once their shields and air cover failed.

Though the armored war-beasts demolished several tanks, even they couldn't withstand concentrated artillery fire.

Soon, flames engulfed sections of Wakanda's capital as American boots hit African soil.

...

Aboard the USS George H.W. Bush, champagne clinked in celebration despite heavy losses.

"A bit excessive with our preparations, perhaps?" General Ross mused to the president's video feed.

Freeman flashed his signature smile. "Tone it down next time, Five-Star General Ross!"

Their laughter rang hollow against the backdrop of distant explosions.

...

T'Challa's awakening from the heart-shaped herb ceremony granted him enhanced strength, speed, and senses. But joy transformed to anguish as devastating news flooded in.

The King... fallen? Ground forces... routed? The palace... burning?

Grief became rage as he stormed into the command center. "I will avenge my father!"

...

Rhodes and his Iron War Team burned through their ammunition stocks, claiming only seven or eight Wakandan fighters despite their advanced weaponry. Vibranium and exotic alloys made the enemy aircraft nearly indestructible.

Even this kill count exceeded the conventional US fighters, which managed three victories while losing half their number.

With both sides low on munitions, the Wakandans suddenly disengaged, retreating inland.

Before Rhodes could analyze this tactical shift, alarms shrieked. A dozen fresh Wakandan fighters vectored in at maximum velocity.

"Fall back!" Rhodes ordered, but their pursuers rapidly gained. These new arrivals didn't just close the distance - they blazed past the Iron War Teams in seconds, setting course for open ocean.

Rhodes felt ice in his stomach. Only one target lay in that direction - the carrier group.

...

T'Challa's knuckles whitened on his flight controls as fury consumed him. These invaders would pay for their audacity - their violation of sacred soil, their murder of his people...

He would deliver retribution in kind.

"All wings, descend to nap-of-earth altitude!"

A dozen jets skimmed the wave tops at speeds that would prove instantly fatal if they clipped the surface. But Wakandan pilots possessed skills matching their technology.

"Engage the aircraft carrier first," T'Challa commanded. "I'll take the largest surface combatant. Make them understand the true cost of their aggression!"

"Affirmative!" came the unified response.

...

General Ross's champagne glass lay forgotten as sweat soaked through his uniform. The enemy's final gambit had caught him completely off-guard - abandoning their homeland to strike directly at the fleet.

Have they lost their minds?

He vowed to survive this assault before demanding immediate nuclear authorization.

"Damn it, find them!" he roared. "You worthless—"

The radar operator's face glistened with nervous perspiration. "Negative contact, sir! They must be using the ocean surface to mask their approach!"

"Kentucky here," crackled the submarine comm. "Sonar detecting massive acoustic signatures inbound. Suggest immediate defensive—"

Alarms screeched as targets materialized on radar.

Through the bridge windows, Ross watched in horror as enemy fighters burst from the waves, climbing vertical like missiles launched from the depths.