See more on my P@treon.
[email protected]/Dreamerlord Just replace @ with a
Read more than 55+ chap there
******
Ethan rested the wooden katana on his shoulder and looked at T'Challa across the arena.
"So… any rules?" he asked.
T'Challa nodded. "Yes. The first to score three points wins."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do we score?"
"If your weapon touches a vital point—lungs, throat, head, neck—you gain one point," T'Challa explained. "No killing blows. Just clean, controlled strikes."
"Got it," Ethan said, adjusting his stance.
T'Challa spun his wooden spear lightly, the movement controlled and clean. He was clearly experienced.
A Wakandian referee stepped into the arena between them. She looked at each fighter, made sure they were ready, and then raised her hand.
"You will start in—three… two… one… begin!"
She jumped out of the way.
Ethan and T'Challa did not rush at each other.
Instead, they circled slowly, eyes locked, reading each other's posture, each tiny shift of weight.
Ethan's grip tightened on the wooden katana.
T'Challa lowered his stance, spear angled to defend or strike at any second.
Neither attacked.
They waited—testing, watching, measuring.
Then Ethan moved.
A small shift—almost nothing—but T'Challa reacted instantly, spear sliding up to guard.
Ethan stepped in fast, testing him with a quick diagonal slash.
T'Challa blocked it cleanly and countered with a sharp thrust toward Ethan's ribs.
Ethan twisted his body out of the way, the wooden tip barely missing him.
They reset.
Another clash.
Ethan feinted left, then stepped right.
T'Challa reacted to the feint for half a second—just long enough.
Ethan's katana tapped the side of T'Challa's throat.
"Point—Ethan!" the referee called.
T'Challa stepped back, surprised but not angry.
He nodded once. "You are faster than you look."
Ethan shrugged. "Thanks. Let's keep going."
They returned to their positions, weapons raised.
"Round two. Begin!"
The moment the referee's hand dropped, T'Challa attacked first.
This time he didn't wait.
He charged in with two fast spear jabs—quick, sharp, and controlled. Ethan dodged the first one, blocking the second with his katana, but T'Challa wasn't done.
He took a half-step back, lowering his guard on purpose.
A clear opening.
A bait.
Ethan went for it, swinging his katana toward T'Challa's ribs.
But T'Challa had been waiting for that exact move.
He twisted his body smoothly, letting the strike pass by, and in the same motion drove the spear's wooden tip up toward Ethan's chest, then quickly flicked it toward his throat.
Tap.
The spear touched Ethan's neck before he could react.
"Point—T'Challa!" the referee announced.
Ethan blinked, caught off guard."Okay… you tricked me."
T'Challa allowed a small smile. "You are fast. But I have trained with spears since childhood. I know when someone sees an 'easy hit.'"
Ethan nodded, smirking. "Alright. One to one. Let's see who gets the next one."
The fighters reset again.
"Round three. Begin!"
Round three began, and both fighters moved at the same time.
T'Challa went for speed again—quick footwork, sharp spear swings.
Ethan responded with tighter defense, blocking each strike cleanly.
They exchanged fast blows.
Wood hitting wood.
Sand shifting under their feet.
T'Challa tried another tricky move, dropping his stance low and aiming for Ethan's knee.
Ethan jumped back just in time.
But as he landed, T'Challa rushed in and tapped Ethan's side with the spear.
"Point—T'Challa!" the referee called.
T'Challa now had two points. Ethan only had one.
Ethan scratched his chin. "Okay… now it's getting interesting."
The Wakandans cheered a little for their prince.
Round four started.
This time Ethan didn't hold back.
He moved faster—much faster—closing the gap before T'Challa expected it.
A spin.
A clean slash.
Tap.
The wooden katana touched T'Challa's chest.
"Point—Ethan!"
Crowd noise rose again, surprised this time.
Both fighters now had two points.
Final round.
Ethan adjusted the grip on his katana and finally showed a bit of real speed.
He stepped in, feinted a high strike, then swept low—forcing T'Challa to block.
But Ethan changed direction mid-movement, twisted his wrist, and tapped T'Challa's throat before the prince could react.
"Final point! Winner—Ethan!"
The Wakandans fell silent for a second, shocked.
T'Challa stepped back, breathing hard.
"You were holding back, baiting me for this last decisive match," he said quietly.
Ethan smiled. "A little."
Meanwhile, outside the arena:
Coulson watched Ethan land the final hit and nodded.
"He won."
May glanced at him. "You were sure he'd win. So why are you celebrating something you expected?"
Coulson exhaled. "Confidence is one thing. Relief is another. I'm glad it went smoothly."
May's eyes shifted to Storm.
"How good is he?" she asked, pointing at the tall bodyguard.
Coulson looked at Storm and nodded. "Storm? He's great, very great."
He continued, "I saw Storm in action once. Twenty fully armed men came after Ethan. Storm beat them easily… and I actually saw him deflect bullets with his sword."
May stared at him like he was joking.
"Deflect bullets? I can fight twenty men, sure… but bullets? That's insane."
Coulson nodded. "I thought it was impossible too. But I saw it."
May looked at Ethan again—now dressed back in his shirt and coat—and wondered why such an guy is simply following him.
Ethan approached T'Challa, now fully dressed.
"I hope you honor your word, Prince," Ethan said lightly.
Okoye frowned immediately. "We Wakandans always honor our word."
T'Challa raised a calming hand. "We will."
Then he continued, "The Vibranium is yours. And we can begin official trade… but my father, the King, set a strict limit. Only one hundred kilograms per year."
"Just one hundred?" Ethan asked, surprised.
"Yes. We already agreed on that amount. That is the limit we can trade with you each year," T'Challa said.
Ethan resisted the urge to curse. I should've asked about the amount before making the bet.
"So you had your tricks ready," Ethan said.
T'Challa simply smiled in reply. "It was a good fight. I look forward to facing you again."
They shook hands, and T'Challa turned to leave with his guard.
"We will be leaving now."
But Ethan raised a hand. "Wait. I have a parting gift for you."
He gestured to Storm.
Storm tossed a heavy-looking bag onto the sand at T'Challa's feet.
Okoye stepped forward instantly, spear ready, and stopping the bag before it reached T'Challa with her spear.
"What is this?" T'Challa asked as he looked at the gift thrown at his feet.
"Something you wanted," Ethan said calmly.
Okoye opened the bag carefully.
Her eyes widened.
She looked up at Ethan in shock, then back to T'Challa, showing him the contents.
T'Challa stared for a long moment… then nodded slowly.
"You are right. I do like it."
Okoye took the bag silently, her expression hard but satisfied.
Both Ethan and T'Challa exchanged a final nod, then parted ways.