Chapter 379: Heading to Wakanda
"Steve?"
Namor asked hesitantly, uncertainty in his voice.
It was true—Allen was wearing the Captain America uniform, but with a bandit-style mask covering his face, making it hard to identify him right away.
"Damn, Pirate King, I'm hurt," Allen said, lifting the mask to reveal his face.
"It's you?"
Namor was surprised. They hadn't seen each other in decades, and now they were reunited in such an unusual way.
Of course, Namor hadn't been confined to the ocean all that time; he often came ashore and interacted with the X-Men.
Because of Atlantis, most nations were reluctant to engage with Namor's people and instead maintained a pseudo-alliance with marginalized groups like the mutants.
"You look awfully unenthusiastic for seeing an old friend," Allen teased, waving Morgan over. "This is my granddaughter, Morgan. We're out dolphin fishing."
"Hi, I'm Shark Knight Morgan."
Morgan flexed her solid muscles, leaving Namor momentarily stunned.
Had this kid been chugging steroids?
Her head was tiny, but her body was ridiculously buff—completely defied reason.
"Uh, hi," Namor replied awkwardly, then turned to Allen with a puzzled look. "When did you even get married? You've got a granddaughter now?"
"It was a dark, windy night," Allen said with a straight face. "A shooting star streaked across the sky, and I made a wish. And boom—she appeared."
"…"
Could that story be any more ridiculous?
Namor squinted at Morgan, a sense of familiarity growing stronger. "Why does she look exactly like Tony's daughter?"
The facial resemblance was uncanny—even if the body definitely wasn't.
Naturally, being a public figure, Tony's family had drawn heavy attention from global media. News about Morgan outshined even the children of royal families.
"That's because she is Tony's daughter," Allen replied sincerely.
"…"
Namor's face twitched in disbelief. So Morgan's terrifying transformation must've been Allen's doing.
But if that was the case, Tony and Pepper surely wouldn't let Allen off the hook for turning their beloved daughter into a hulked-out monster.
"Pirate King, what kind of wild celebration are you guys having? All your soldiers are lying on the ocean surface asleep. That's a bit much, isn't it?"
Allen gazed at the floating Atlanteans, clueless about what had happened.
It was Allen, after all, who had advised Namor to secretly relocate the tribe here to quietly mine vibranium and grow their power.
"Thanks for reminding me," Namor snapped, his expression darkening. "Our settlement was ambushed. Judging by the explosion, it was a nuclear bomb."
Namor had been patrolling the territory when a surprise torpedo strike occurred.
The sheer force of the blast and the shockwave knocked out most of his people instantly—and they didn't even catch a glimpse of the enemy.
"Ah," Allen blinked, stunned.
"Thankfully, our patrol troops were wearing vibranium armor, so we likely avoided casualties," Namor added, a touch of relief in his voice.
"Ah," Allen replied, checking his own suit.
"I'm not sure about the regular citizens though. The auto-defense field might've absorbed some of the blast."
"Ah."
"I'm convinced Wakanda is behind this sneak attack. We've always been at odds with them."
"Ah."
"Let's go check on the settlement."
"Ah."
Namor rolled his eyes. "Are you even listening to me?"
Not long after, the sea-dwelling soldiers began to regain consciousness—though many still remained knocked out cold.
Namor silently thanked Allen's suggestion to relocate. Without the access to vibranium, that nuclear strike could've easily caused catastrophic casualties.
Thanks to the tech they'd developed from vibranium, Namor's people now had a real foothold in the human world.
"Station a hundred soldiers to watch over the unconscious. Everyone else, come with me—return to the settlement immediately."
Namor issued orders swiftly, worry etched into his features.
Would their primary defensive field hold up against a nuclear blast? No one knew. It had never been tested.
If the casualty count was too high, they'd have no choice but to relocate once more.
More critically—they'd lose any leverage to resist Wakanda.
Namor handed Allen and Morgan each an oxygen mask, allowing them to breathe and communicate underwater, then dove deep beneath the surface with them.
They descended quickly.
Roughly seventy meters down, a futuristic cityscape gradually appeared in view.
After decades of development, the population had exceeded one million, and in certain technological fields, they had even surpassed Atlantis.
Of course, in terms of overall power, they still lagged far behind.
Thankfully, based on the intact structures, the city hadn't suffered direct hits from the blast.
However, the EMP from the nuclear detonation had damaged a lot of equipment, and many citizens were actively working to repair it.
At the city center, several aging nobles looked visibly distraught.
Upon seeing Namor return, they rushed over, tearfully reporting, "Your Majesty, the enemy stole our latest research breakthrough—and took a large cache of weapons with them."
"What about casualties?" Namor asked sharply. To him, tech and weapons could be remade. What mattered most were his people's lives.
"Over a hundred young citizens…"
These lives had been lost resisting the invaders—valiant sacrifices that resulted in a "kill to warn" tactic. The attackers had gone straight for the weapons depot and even dismantled a large-scale doomsday device.
Among the loot was a significant amount of vibranium ore.
Fortunately, they hadn't gone on a full-scale slaughter—just a targeted raid.
"Did anyone see who they were?"
Namor was already ruling Wakanda out.
They had no need to steal tech or vibranium from ocean-dwellers. Wakanda had plenty of its own.
"They were wearing the Atlantis Royal Guard's armor… but didn't feel like Atlanteans. They seemed like surface-dwellers," one elder described.
Namor frowned.
He didn't recall offending any surface nations.
His only real interaction with them had been vibranium trade with the mutants—he had no interest in getting involved in their land-based messes.
"Start rescue operations immediately," he commanded grimly. "We'll get to the bottom of this. I'll make sure the fallen are avenged."
The loss was devastating.
Most of their naval weaponry was completely destroyed.
Before retreating, the attackers had planted explosives to prevent any possible pursuit.
"Allen, I need your help," Namor said solemnly.
Allen folded his arms, took a wary step back, and said, "As long as you don't try to take my chastity, I'm in."
"…"
Meanwhile—
Five submarines sped away from the African coast into open waters.
Crates upon crates of weapons were stacked before Black Manta, while his crew of pirates beamed with victorious glee.
They were oceanic marauders—plundering cargo ships, ambushing naval fleets, with no crime off-limits.
Armed with military-grade firepower, they could easily coerce any island nation.
Had they not been constantly submerged, they'd have been hunted down long ago.
But Black Manta's crowning achievement had been taking down a nuclear sub—prompting global powers to avoid provoking him for fear of losing their deterrence assets.
"Get the buyers on the line—we need to offload this vibranium fast," David ordered, ignoring the ore as his attention stayed on the weapons.
After all, vibranium required highly advanced refinement tech. Finding a suitable smelter would take time—and risk exposure.
Better to cash it out quickly and buy more submarines.
Since WWII ended, many countries had decommissioned their fleets. Those facing economic hardship were happy to sell subs they no longer needed.
Maintenance, crew salaries—it all added up.
"Full speed to the base."
They headed for a controlled island harbor—technically under another nation's name, used as a covert naval dock.
With well-placed bribes, no one questioned why millions in cash changed hands annually.
Onboard, kidnapped scientists were already working on reverse-engineering the superweapon.
"Incredible—it just needs seawater to fire an ion cannon. Unbelievable," a linguist gasped, examining the Atlantean schematics.
It was clearly a breakthrough in hydrogen-based energy stabilization.
Black Manta wasn't surprised. His mercenaries wore guard armor powered by seawater—an old gift from Ocean Master when he tried to eliminate Aquaman by outsourcing the job.
In the end, Ocean Master lost the throne himself.
At first, many scientists were reluctant to work for a villain like Manta.
But over time, they became obsessed with the unfamiliar technology.
And truth be told, Manta's ambitions were massive. Every raid brought generous rewards, earning fierce loyalty and rapidly growing his influence.
"Gentlemen, once we've resupplied, we head straight for the Arctic Ocean."
"Aye, Captain!"
Back in the ocean—
Once things were stabilized, Namor left for the surface.
In his absence, he feared Wakanda might strike—so he hoped to negotiate a ceasefire.
Back in his kingdom, the elders would maintain order, stay in full defense mode, and isolate the city from outside contact until Namor's return.
The biggest threat came from their "neighbors"—Wakanda.
The three of them stepped onto the beach. Nothing but barren wilderness stretched before them.
"Where's Wakanda?" Allen asked, looking around and recalling the scenes from the movies.
"Wakanda, show yourself!"
Morgan shouted into the distance.
Namor flipped his hair and explained, "They have holographic projections and energy shields around their borders. Unless they deactivate it, we can't get in."
Sure enough, a diamond-shaped gap opened in the sky.
A Quinjet emerged.
Six bald, dark-skinned women stood on the jet, armed to the teeth.
Their attire had a primitive flair, but every piece was forged from vibranium—their spears were practically indestructible.
The lead warrior looked down arrogantly and barked, "Namor. What do you want?"
Her tone made it clear—no love lost here.
"I need to speak with T'Challa. It's urgent," Namor said, swallowing his pride.
He and Storm from the X-Men were familiar—and since Storm was T'Challa's wife, their nations had always stopped just short of open war.
"Wait here. The king may not see you," Okoye said coldly.
"What are you doing!?"
Before she could send a signal, she spotted two figures fiddling with the energy barrier.
Morgan had stuck a toilet plunger to a control panel and yanked it off, causing sparks to fly and a gaping hole to open.
Immediately, the six warriors raised their spears.
"Are you here to start a war?!"
"Wait! It's a misunderstanding!" Namor cried. "She's Tony's daughter—we just met her!"
"Do I look like an idiot? Tony's daughter is six. That thing is built like a tank."
The women surrounded Namor.
Meanwhile, Allen and Morgan had vanished through the breach.
"So this is Wakanda."
Morgan gazed at the futuristic city, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Little Morgan, we're going in—charge!"
"Charge!"
The two stormed forward, kicking up clouds of dust.
Outside the city, people tended herds of cattle and sheep on vast grasslands.
It made no sense.
Despite being ultra-advanced, Wakanda still embraced primitive herding practices and tribal governance.
Before long, Allen and Morgan entered a bustling market—resembling a slum with shabby buildings, trash-strewn corners, and livestock everywhere.
The locals, draped in vibrant cloth, looked almost like cave dwellers.
"Smells terrible," Morgan grumbled, pinching her nose.
"You stepped in cow poop," Allen pointed out.
"Ah—!"
Morgan shrieked and leapt onto Allen's back in terror.
His eyes bulged as her weight hit him like a ton of bricks.
Usually he rode others—this was the first time he was ridden.
And in her transformed state, Morgan weighed at least a ton.
Her massive frame was too much—Allen couldn't even wrap his arms around her.
"Undo the transformation—I can't hold on."
"Saipan."
BOOM!
A bolt of lightning struck, and Allen felt her weight vanish.
Morgan reverted to her six-year-old self.
At that moment, all the bystanders were staring at them.
Possibly due to limited brainpower, they were unable to comprehend how a lightning bolt had just shrunk a giant girl into a tiny child.
"The Panther God has manifested!"
"The Panther God has manifested!"
"…"
Someone shouted, and instantly, the surrounding Wakandans dropped to their knees, chanting in awe.
Despite their advanced tech, Wakanda remained deeply superstitious.
Their belief in the Panther God as the one true deity was absolute—no one dared question it.
Suddenly, a horn blew long and loud—clearly signaling something important.
The worshippers immediately turned toward the city center and rushed off.
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