"How is Father?"
Inside the Wakanda Royal Palace, T'Challa, whose lips were slightly pale, looked at King T'Chaka, who lay on a suspended stretcher.
The hall was quiet except for the low hum of medical instruments. Light from the virtual projection washed over T'Chaka's face and made the lines of age look deeper than they had that morning. Guards stood at a distance, not daring to speak. The smell of ozone and sterile metal hung in the air.
Shuri was constantly manipulating nanoscale medical robots via a virtual projection to treat T'Chaka's injuries. Her fingers moved fast, but her shoulders were tight.
"Thanks to the protection of the black panther suit, Father's injuries are under effective control. The main issues are severe blood and stamina loss, coupled with a slight decline in physical fitness due to his age. He will need about a week of rest to fully recover."
"Within the next three days, Father won't be able to fight again. We can only rely on ourselves."
Shuri wiped the sweat from her forehead, looked worriedly at the unconscious T'Chaka, and then turned to her brother.
"Let me treat your injuries. Right now, you must pull yourself together and lead our people to victory!"
T'Challa frowned slightly, lacking confidence in himself. His hands still trembled from the earlier fight. The suit on his body felt heavier than usual.
"With my current strength, I am no match for her. I don't know what kind of weapon she has, but she can force the black panther suit into an energy overload state in just two hits."
The black panther suit, made of Vibranium, possesses the characteristic of absorbing external energy.
Under normal calculations, it can withstand the energy of more than a dozen missiles in a few seconds without any effect.
Only when the energy input is too high in a very short period will the Vibranium instantly release this power to make room.
This is the energy overload state.
Before today, they had never encountered such a terrifying enemy, one who could overwhelm the Vibranium with just two casual strikes.
Once the suit is in an overload situation, its defensive capability drops significantly. The plates still look whole, but they no longer take the hit the way they should.
T'Chaka was attacked by Angela multiple times while in an overload state, which is why he suffered numerous wounds.
T'Challa, meanwhile, could only barely restrain Angela with the help of Shuri, Nakia, and Okoye.
Otherwise, if he were alone and hadn't consumed the Heart-Shaped Herb, he could last ten moves at most.
And that was only because Angela wasn't serious.
Thinking about Angela and the Angel Legion still surrounding them outside, and the constant danger of Wakanda being annihilated, everyone couldn't help but feel a headache coming on.
The palace walls could not shut out the pressure of what waited in the sky. Every so often the floor trembled, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
"Those guys haven't hidden their tracks. The people outside must have discovered them by now, right?"
"I don't know when reinforcements will arrive."
T'Challa thought of the United Nations. Currently, Wakanda could only barely defend itself. Only with external support was it possible to repel the Angels.
Although he had never paid attention to the United Nations in the past, to them, the United Nations was no different from those foolish and lazy Black "compatriots" outside. The Wakandans, whose technology was centuries ahead, always adopted a superior posture when dealing with outsiders.
Just like before, when he led a team into the core areas of the United States to gather intelligence, no one detected their presence except for Luke.
It was a complete technological dominance.
But now, T'Challa could only pin his hopes on the United Nations. The thought left a bitter taste.
Okoye sneered. "Those United Nations people? Even if they discovered them, they couldn't do anything. With their technology, an entire air fleet might not even be able to handle a single Angel..."
She held her head high, like a black swan.
The White people outside looked down on Black people.
But the Black people of Wakanda equally despised both the Black and White people outside.
"I'm not concerned about the United Nations, but rather the group of superhumans with special abilities." T'Challa shook his head.
Okoye was about to continue her disparagement, but the face of a certain British man flashed through her mind, and she swallowed the words that reached her throat.
Fine, there were still some capable people outside.
Not everyone was useless.
Shuri, standing nearby, sighed, not optimistic that outsiders would come to help.
In the past, when Earth was attacked multiple times, Wakanda was largely indifferent.
At most, they dealt with a few individuals who accidentally stumbled into their territory.
How could they now expect outsiders to help them?
Truly, the tables had turned.
"I.. I will find a way to develop targeted equipment to subdue the wingless Angel."
Shuri said worriedly. She was already running numbers in her head, but even she knew a prototype would not appear in an hour.
"Hmm. Then I'll leave it to you, Shuri." T'Challa nodded, his gaze lingering on T'Chaka for a few seconds before finally making up his mind.
"I must undergo the Ancestral Rite. Only by becoming Black Panther will I have a chance to hold off that wingless Angel!"
According to regulations, he must be designated as the next king by T'Chaka and participate in the coronation ceremony before he can consume the Heart-Shaped Herb, perform the sacrifice, enter the Soul Realm, and gain the recognition of the ancestors.
But now was no time to adhere to ancestral rules. Wakanda needed Black Panther to step forward.
And there was only one candidate.
"Luke Rowling!"
"King, Prince T'Challa, Princess Shuri, that guy, Luke, is here!"
"He defeated the wingless Angel, and in an instant, he defeated the Angel Legion!" An excited voice came through the communicator.
"What? The Luke we were talking about? The same God who misuses Vibranium without our consent? How is he here?"
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