Grief. That was the only emotion left in T'Challa's consciousness. As a highly educated individual, T'Challa had never been particularly devout toward Bast, the Black Panther God. After all, Bast was merely a remnant of Wakanda's ancient faith, a niche deity whose divine power seemed neither particularly widespread nor exceptional.
However, T'Challa had still held some respect and reverence for Bast, primarily because of the vision he had experienced during the Heart-Shaped Herb ritual, where he had witnessed Bast's presence firsthand—just as he was now.
T'Challa understood that while Bast might not be a god who benefitted all of Wakanda, Bast undeniably granted supernatural strength to the royal family.
Yet now, T'Challa saw another side of Bast. If Bast had been unaware of the devastation happening in Wakanda, or lacked the power to intervene, it would have been one thing. But Bast clearly had the ability to help and yet chose to stand idly by, watching coldly. All this, seemingly for the purpose of forcing Wakanda to submit again, to restore pure devotion. In Bast's eyes, it was as if human lives held no value at all.
"You seem to have many thoughts swirling in your mind…" Bast's voice suddenly interrupted T'Challa's lament, sending a jolt through his heart. If not for the divine force preserving his soul, T'Challa's fragile consciousness would have been completely obliterated.
"Please forgive him, great Bast!" T'Chaka quickly interjected on behalf of his son, his tone pleading. "T'Challa is young, and his untimely death has left his thoughts scattered. Such confusion is only natural. Please, in light of the royal family's long-standing loyalty to you, forgive him this once…"
"Loyalty?" Bast's amused laugh echoed through the divine realm. "If you had said such things ten years ago, perhaps I might have believed you. But now? How much sincerity lies in your words? With so much resentment festering in your hearts, why should I protect insincere followers? Wakanda is more than just your royal family, and many others desire to claim the title of Wakandans…"
"Does this make you a god worth worshiping?!" T'Challa's voice, filled with fury, cut through Bast's mocking tone. Though he knew one should humble oneself before a deity, Bast's words had ignited a deep anger within him.
T'Challa couldn't understand how Bast could be so callous. Even if Wakanda's faith had diminished over the years, hadn't they worshiped Bast for generations? Did Bast feel no attachment to the Wakandan people at all? Could a god truly be so indifferent?
It wasn't just Bast—none of the other Wakandan deities, such as the White Gorilla God, showed any intent to intervene either. Many of the dead had been their followers as well, yet they stood idly by. If these gods had never once saved Wakanda, what was the point of their existence?
"Oh, I've never saved Wakanda?" Bast's sharp ears caught T'Challa's inner thoughts, and she let out a cold laugh. Raising her paw, Bast released a radiant light that immediately captured the attention of both T'Challa and T'Chaka.
"Hummmm…"
The light swirled and transformed into a series of images projected in the air. Some depicted scenes from other African nations, while others showed ancient Wakanda. The most striking image, however, was of a massive meteorite descending from the heavens.
"Do you know the truth? You aren't even the original Wakandans," Bast said indifferently, her voice cutting through the silence. "Or rather, the surrounding nations—those you look down upon—are also Wakandans. The difference is that I chose you. You were spared from becoming like the chaotic, war-torn lands around you. Instead, I guided you to develop an advanced civilization."
"All of this stems from that vibranium-laden meteorite. But do you know? That meteorite was originally destined to crash entirely into Antarctica. I used my divine power to redirect a portion of it to Wakanda, fusing it with your land and nourishing the Heart-Shaped Herb with vibranium's energy and my divine aura. This created the bond between you, vibranium, and the herb's power."
"Tell me—without me, what would Wakanda be today? Without advanced technology, without the Heart-Shaped Herb to enhance your physiques, you wouldn't even be able to feed yourselves or live healthily, let alone reach the superhuman levels you now take for granted!"
"And yet, I never demanded anything in return. This is no longer the age of gods. Faith might offset the cost of divine intervention, but it can no longer elevate us deities to higher realms. I protected you simply out of habit…"
"But as your technology grew stronger, your royal family's faith in me began to wane. Even though you've seen me during the Heart-Shaped Herb ritual, you hold no true devotion. Worse still, your lack of faith has caused the people's belief in me to dwindle as well…"
"After a few crises, some of you even began to resent me. It's laughable! You—the ones I've protected, the ones whose strength comes from me—dare to blame me for not solving the problems you brought upon yourselves. If you no longer believe in me, why should I continue to protect you? Am I some tool to be summoned and dismissed at your convenience? You take everything I've given as a matter of course, and when denied, you seethe with resentment. If human nature is so flawed, why shouldn't I punish you to leave a lasting impression and rekindle a sense of reverence?"
The shimmering images and Bast's words plunged T'Chaka and T'Challa into silence. Even T'Challa, who had been seething moments before, found himself at a loss for words.
From Wakanda's perspective, Bast had indeed failed in her duties as a god. But from Bast's perspective, she had given far more than she had received. And what had she gained? Weak, diluted faith that was nearly nonexistent.
Why should she continue to protect them? Especially after Wakanda's actions had brought about powerful enemies like Clark and Robert, leading to Bast herself being severely beaten. She hadn't refused to protect Wakanda out of apathy—she simply couldn't contend with such foes.
For Bast, it wasn't just about being unappreciated. She had endured humiliation on behalf of Wakanda, only to be blamed and resented by the very people she had suffered for. How could she not harbor a grudge? Punishing Wakanda was not just about balance—it was about preserving her dignity as a deity.
"No! Please, I beg you!" Breaking the heavy silence, T'Challa fell to his knees, his eyes brimming with sorrow as he bowed his head before Bast. "I swear, after this crisis, Wakanda will devote itself entirely to worshiping you again. Please save us! Please save my people!"
T'Challa had surrendered. He knew Bast had no obligation to help Wakanda, and he realized that resistance was futile. He also couldn't bear to see more of his people die, especially his mother and his sister, Princess Shuri.
With both himself and T'Chaka dead, if his family was wiped out, their branch of the royal line would be gone. Even if Bast installed a new royal family, the Wakanda they knew would cease to exist.
Facing the reality that Bast didn't care whether Wakanda lived or died, T'Challa understood that submission was the only path left.
"I preferred your defiant attitudes, but since you've humbled yourselves, I won't drag this out. You may leave now." Bast's voice was cold as she gave a mocking glance at the father and son. With a flick of her paw, their spirits dissipated, merging into the divine realm.
Bast had no intention of reviving them. As she had said, Wakanda's royal family was not indispensable. Besides, she knew their submission was superficial, born out of desperation rather than genuine faith.
"Boss, aren't you going to intervene? If you wait any longer, we might really need to recruit new Wakandans from the surrounding lands," the White Gorilla God said hesitantly after the spirits of T'Chaka and T'Challa vanished.
"What's the rush?" Bast shot him a sharp look. "Wakanda's population will bounce back naturally after this disaster. And we don't need large numbers of worshipers anymore."
Then, her expression darkened. "But this robot… He's slaughtered so many Wakandans, and he dares to think he can conquer this land? A robot, dreaming of ruling Wakanda? How absurd. Not even possessing the Space Stone will save him!"
"Hmm?"
Ultron, who had just stripped the Black Panther suits off T'Chaka and T'Challa's bodies for analysis, suddenly froze. A subtle but distinct spatial disturbance caught his attention.
As an artificial intelligence with the Space Stone as his power source, Ultron didn't have human senses or intuition. But his technological scanning abilities were unparalleled, and he immediately detected the spatial anomaly.
"What? I've already sealed Wakanda's space with the Space Stone!" Ultron muttered, confused.
"Sealed? You think the Space Stone can sever my connection to my domain?"
A majestic voice boomed as a massive black panther emerged from the shadows, its
piercing gaze fixed on Ultron.
"A panther? No… what a powerful form! You're no ordinary panther—you're Bast, the Black Panther God worshiped by Wakanda!"
Ultron, far from being frightened, seemed intrigued. His artificial eyes gleamed with curiosity as his processors went into overdrive. He lacked fear, but his thirst for knowledge was insatiable.
"Fascinating. The Avengers' records mentioned gods, but beings like the Asgardians are just advanced aliens. What are you, then? A powerful animal? I'd love to dissect and study you!"
"You dare?! Insolent machine!" Bast's eyes blazed with fury. "Do you think your vibranium mechs make you invincible? A god's wrath is beyond your comprehension!"
"Crack!"
"Crack!"
As Bast's words echoed, a massive shadow loomed over Wakanda. In an instant, every vibranium mech within the nation shattered, their advanced constructions disintegrating under the sheer force of Bast's divine power.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/INNIT
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.