Shuri was momentarily stunned by Leander's sudden intensity, but the scientific curiosity ingrained in her DNA won out over her fear. She watched his golden eyes and felt an strange, inexplicable urge to help him.
She mumbled, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke, "It's about the molecular lattice. You just need to re-compress the vibranium raw material to its critical density, guide the internal contact points to overlap, and then use a high-frequency vibration to trigger the release..."
Leander looked at Shuri, a genuine warmth spreading through him. In the midst of this high-stakes standoff with the Wakandan royalty, he found this brilliant young girl to be surprisingly charming. Her passion for her craft reminded him of Tony, but with a purity that only a child could possess.
"Thank you, Princess Shuri," Leander said with a bright smile. "I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."
His heart hammered against his ribs—not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of what was coming. He could feel the energy within the walls of the Great Mound calling to him, a siren song of cosmic power.
He looked at the siblings, his expression shifting into one of focused determination. "You two should head back to the palace now. I'm going to find a place to start my work. Don't worry, I won't break anything I can't fix."
"What?" T'Challa started to protest, but Leander was already moving.
He walked toward a seamless metallic wall on the side of the energy hub. As he approached, the very atoms of the vibranium seemed to recognize his authority. The wall groaned, a jagged crack opening up like a curtain being pulled aside. Leander stepped through the gap, and before the siblings could reach him, the wall sealed shut with a soft, metallic thud, leaving the surface perfectly smooth once more.
T'Challa and Shuri scrambled to the wall, hands frantically searching for a seam that no longer existed. Shuri ran to a nearby observation window that overlooked the vast, dark chasm of the central mine. She peered out, seeing only the distant, glowing blue veins of the meteorite and the silent, automated maglev trains.
There was no sign of Leander. It was as if he had stepped into the mountain and vanished.
T'Challa ran his hand over the cold metal, his face pale. 'He didn't just move the metal,' the Prince thought. 'He merged with it. His danger level... it's not just high. It's immeasurable.'
"Brother... is he gone?" Shuri whispered, her eyes wide. "Did he fall? It's a hundred-meter drop to the mine floor. Even with his powers, if he hit the bottom without his wings..."
T'Challa looked at his genius sister and placed a heavy, comforting hand on her head. "If only a simple fall could stop him, Shuri. I fear he's doing something much more significant than falling."
Deep within the darkness of the meteorite wall, Leander wasn't falling—he was flying.
He stepped into the empty air of the chasm, his golden wings snapping open with a violent crack of energy. He transformed into a streak of amber light, diving headlong into a specific section of the meteorite wall he had identified earlier.
As he neared the rock, his wings swept forward, merging into a spinning, golden drill-head. He didn't crash; he bored through the raw vibranium like a hot needle through wax. Once he was five meters deep into the heart of the mountain, he expanded the space, using his telekinesis to compress the raw materials into a smooth, circular chamber.
He sat cross-legged in the center of his new sanctuary. The walls around him pulsed with a pale, ethereal light, the raw ore providing just enough illumination to see the dust motes dancing in the air.
The texture of the raw meteorite was different from the processed silver vibranium he had encountered before. It was softer, more organic, but its innate hardness still made titanium look like plastic.
Leander closed his eyes and reached out. A large chunk of raw ore tore itself from the wall and floated before him. Under the pressure of his will, the metal began to shrink, its density skyrocketing. He guided the internal contact points exactly as Shuri had described, overlapping the molecular lattice until the metal began to scream with stored potential.
The sphere began to emit a blinding, violet light and a wave of intense heat. Leander reached out and grasped it.
CRACK.
A surge of violent, pale purple energy erupted from the sphere, arcing into Leander's palms and surging through his nervous system. It wasn't like the steady flow of an arc reactor; this was a predatory energy. It tore through his upper clothing, shredding his shirt into rags as it raced toward his skeleton.
At the same time, the surrounding walls began to react. Faint golden sparks appeared on the surface of the raw ore. Countless tiny, golden beads of "metal essence" were pulled from the walls, surging into Leander's body like a swarm of fireflies.
Outside, he used the remaining debris to seal the entrance to his hole. Buried deep within the living heart of Wakanda, Leander Hayes began the most grueling cultivation of his life.
The city of Birnin Zana, usually a paragon of order, was suddenly thrown into a state of controlled panic.
T'Challa's report reached the King within minutes. The mining district was locked down. Drones were launched in swarms, their blue sensors scanning every inch of the subterranean cavern. The maglev trains, the lifeblood of the city's industry, were screeched to a halt.
King T'Chaka stood in the observation room, watching the dozens of flickering screens. "An intruder has vanished in our most sacred site," he said, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and awe. "Find him. If he taps into the Great Mound without regulation, he could destabilize the entire mountain."
T'Challa stood behind his father, his voice a low rasp. "Father, we ran the assassination simulations. Even with the sonic-dampening tech, the certainty of success never cracked seventy percent. And that's assuming we find him. If he's truly merged with the ore, he is Wakanda itself right now."
"I don't understand," T'Chaka muttered. "He asked for our energy grid. Why hide in the dirt instead?"
"Shuri," T'Challa said simply. "She told him how to trigger the ore's internal release. He doesn't need our power plants anymore. He has the source."
The King's eyes darkened. He turned and swept out of the room, the weight of his crown feeling heavier than ever.
Shuri, meanwhile, was holed up in her private laboratory. To the outside world, she was a dutiful princess. Inside, she was a rebel. She stood by her reinforced glass window, looking out at the darkened mine. She shook her wrist, and her Kimoyo beads projected a private interface.
She hadn't told her brother everything. She had developed a prototype—a stealth scanning drone powered by a miniature vibranium bead. She launched it through a small vent. The machine drifted into the chasm, its blue tail-flame silent, beginning a grid-based search that the royal guards would never detect.
She returned to her workbench, but her mind wasn't on her spears. She was thinking about the boy with the golden eyes.
One day passed. Then two. Then three.
The city eventually had to breathe again. The maglev trains resumed their hum, and the swarms of drones were recalled to save power. In the Great Hall, the tribal leaders gathered once more, looking at the empty scans of the mine.
"Three days and not a single heat signature," the Merchant Tribe leader noted. "Perhaps he has already left. Perhaps he used the energy to teleport away."
King T'Chaka tapped his scepter against the floor. "Cancel the city-wide alert. We cannot live in fear of a ghost. Let the people return to their work. Suspend the tactical plans. We will wait for him to show his face."
But in the quiet moments of the night, Shuri remained by her window, her eyes fixed on a specific shadow in the northwestern wall of the mine. Her stealth drone had found a microscopic vibration—a heartbeat made of metal.
Across the ocean, in a much noisier city, Tony Stark sat in his Malibu workshop. He was surrounded by holographic blueprints for 'Mark 7,' but his focus was elsewhere.
"Jarvis, try the satellite link again. I want a lock on Leander."
"I'm sorry, sir," the AI responded. "Mr. Hayes's signal remains dark. His last known coordinates were in the middle of a forest in Central Africa. There is no infrastructure there capable of supporting a cellular signal."
"Central Africa?" Tony leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes. "The kid went to Wakanda. He actually did it."
Tony looked at a small piece of vibranium on his desk—the piece Leander had helped him secure. "He's chasing the dragon, Jarvis. He's going to come back either as a god or a statue."
Meanwhile, in Washington D.C., the air was thick with the scent of old ice and sterile chemicals. Nick Fury stood in a subterranean S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, looking through a glass partition.
Inside the chamber, a team of scientists was carefully thawing a massive block of nitrogen-enriched ice. Inside the blue-tinted frost, the silhouette of a man was visible, clutching a circular shield.
Fury remembered Leander's words from months ago. 'You'll find him soon, Director. He's just taking a nap.'
The kid had been right about everything. Fury pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Leander's contact info, then he sighed and put it away.
"Get the medical team ready," Fury barked at a technician. "The Captain is waking up, and the world he's coming back to is a lot weirder than the one he left."