Chapter 380: The Battle for Wakanda's Throne
"Yo, Blackie, what are you up to?"
Allen casually pressed down on the rising automated farming tool.
The Black man responded with a tone of reverence, "The king is summoning the people. Something big must be happening."
"Ooh, a spectacle—hell yeah!"
Upon hearing there was action, Allen slung Morgan on his back and dashed toward the city of Wakanda.
Along the way, countless Wakandan citizens were heading in the same direction.
They wore clothing reminiscent of the traditional attire of the African Maasai tribe—basically, vividly colored fabrics draped around their bodies.
Allen and Morgan blended into the crowd, drawing no special attention. Clearly, the Wakandans were well aware of the world beyond their borders. However, due to their isolationist policies, ordinary citizens who attempted to leave the country without special status would be considered to have relinquished their citizenship.
Then again, most Wakandans probably wouldn't want to give up their current lifestyle. According to their ingrained beliefs, the outside world was a desolate wasteland, while their nation stood at the pinnacle of civilization.
From everything he had seen so far, Allen had already figured Wakanda out.
At its core, it wasn't much different from an African monarchy under authoritarian rule.
Were it not for the comic book setting of the Marvel universe, a country like Wakanda could never realistically exist.
Contradictions were everywhere.
Following the crowd, Allen eventually arrived at a cliffside waterfall.
A wide rock ledge was packed with Black onlookers staring down at a platform beneath the cascading water.
Etched into the cliff face was a carving of a panther—clearly a depiction of Bast, the panther god worshipped in Wakanda.
Not only were the royal family members present, but the leaders of various tribes had also gathered in the viewing stands.
The platform covered in flowing water was actually a ceremonial arena, used for choosing the next monarch.
The crowd waited quietly for the contenders to appear, anticipating the emergence of a new king.
In truth, the commoners didn't particularly care who the king was. They were mostly here out of curiosity.
After all, opportunities to see the royal family in person were rare; most only knew the king through official propaganda.
"You heard? The challenger is Erik, son of Prince N'Jobu."
"Never heard of any Erik in the royal lineage."
"He's been living outside Wakanda. Now he's back."
"By royal tradition, Erik does have the right to challenge for the throne."
"But have you thought about this—how's he supposed to beat the king? T'Challa took the Heart-Shaped Herb!"
"…"
Listening to the people around him chatter, Allen quickly pieced together what was going on.
If things were following the movie plot, Black Panther T'Challa was about to lose and fall off the cliff.
Then cue the power fantasy arc—rebirth through fire, reclaiming the throne.
"Grandpa, who's Erik?" Morgan asked, looking around curiously as if everything was a new discovery.
Allen stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Erik? Oh, he's Blade—you know, the guy who hunts vampires. Except now he's got a new look and goes by Killmonger."
"Oh, I see." Morgan nodded half-understandingly.
There were too many duplicate names in this world—especially in the West, where people weren't exactly creative with naming. You shout "Jack" on the street, and from diaper-wearing toddlers to homeless guys on the curb, half of them might turn around.
In Allen's eyes, Blade and Killmonger were basically the same deal.
Both Black. Both melee fighters. Same name.
But Allen's mage skill, Omniscient Perception, let him see deeper truths.
Looking over to the royal family stands, he spotted Shuri—T'Challa's younger sister—surrounded by a faint, sharp-edged black glow.
Even the queen, seated at the center, had no such aura. Only Shuri had it.
"Blessing from Bast?"
Allen instantly saw through it.
Clearly, those with true royal blood could receive favor from Bast, granting them abilities beyond the norm.
As the chief scientist of Wakanda, Shuri's blessing was likely a boost to her intelligence.
Suddenly, a Quinjet descended and landed on the platform.
Six female warriors stepped out, escorting Namor to Queen Ramonda.
The moment Namor appeared, the entire crowd broke into a commotion.
As the leader of the Atlanteans, Namor was a sworn enemy of Wakanda. And yet here he was, captured without a sound.
To the general populace, this raised serious concerns—mainly about the possibility of full-scale war.
Wakanda was a coastal nation. If the sea tribe launched a single tsunami, the damage could be catastrophic.
"Your Majesty, we caught two infiltrators in the country," Okoye reported.
Infiltrators!?
At that, the crowd on the cliff turned to look. Inevitably, all eyes settled on Allen and Morgan.
They were the only ones with a different skin color—naturally making them the prime suspects.
"What's with those looks? You can tell from my uniform I'm Captain America."
The way Allen said it so shamelessly, the crowd found themselves at a loss for words.
If he really were a spy, why would he walk in here so blatantly and stir up trouble? That's not something a rational person would do.
Just then, Allen bent his knees slightly.
With a sudden burst of strength, he leapt off the cliff—landing next to Namor.
Instantly, the female warriors raised their spears, and the guards around the viewing stand drew their weapons in alarm.
"Do it again! Do it again!"
Morgan cheered excitedly, loving the thrill of jumping from high places.
"Just once," Allen said sternly. "We have to show respect for the elderly."
"…Okay, just once."
In full view of everyone, Allen—with Morgan on his back—launched himself back up to the cliff, then jumped back to the platform again.
The crowd was utterly stunned.
Jumping 20 to 30 meters with a kid on his back? That was beyond belief.
"She's Morgan."
Shuri, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke, her eyes fixed on the girl. "Is she Morgan, daughter of Tony Stark?"
"Yup," Allen replied casually.
"Auntie Shuri!"
Morgan waved the toilet plunger in her hand like a baton in greeting.
As Black Panther was an Avenger, Shuri had definitely worked with Tony on tech. So it was perfectly reasonable for her to recognize Morgan.
"And who are you?" Shuri turned to Allen, clearly seeing him as a potential kidnapper.
She couldn't recall any Asian superheroes in the Avengers.
Allen put Morgan down, removed his mask, then donned the Captain America helmet again. Hands on his hips, he declared smugly, "I'm Tony's uncle, Morgan's grandpa, Steve's dad, the second Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar-Taj, Gotham's Comedic Bat, and the current protagonist of Old Man Cap—Allen."
"…"
Though Shuri was thoroughly confused by the nonsense, it didn't stop her from pulling up Allen's records on the net.
Her wristwatch projected a series of images, and her expression kept shifting.
There was just too much wild info about Allen—and it hit her how much had changed in the outside world.
With the misunderstanding cleared, Allen explained their purpose.
Namor proposed a peace treaty.
Shuri didn't immediately respond. Instead, she turned to her mother, Queen Ramonda.
"I'm sorry," the queen said heavily. "Lord Namor, I can't give you an answer right now."
The nation was on the brink of a succession duel. If Black Panther lost the throne, any agreement made now might not be honored.
(Support me and read ahead on Patreøn: patreøn.com/craxxtranslations. Thank you for your support!)