UN Assembly, Eastern Africa
In a major city in eastern Africa, a United Nations assembly was underway.
Journalists, diplomats, and international agents filled the vast conference hall.
"Distinguished guests, I am T'Chaka, King of Wakanda. It is an honor to attend this United Nations conference and contribute, in our small way, to world peace."
"As we all know, Africa's geography has long hindered agricultural development."
"Even Wakanda—a nation many consider poor and underdeveloped—must step forward now."
He lifted a document from the podium.
"This is a new fertilizer jointly developed by Wakanda's scholars. It can double the yield of ordinary crops."
"With this, Africa may one day be free from reliance on international aid."
To the outside world, Wakanda was a backward agrarian state, dependent on foreign support.
In truth, it was the most technologically advanced nation on Earth, guarding the rare metal vibranium. Its rulers bore the title Black Panther, drawing strength from the heart-shaped herb and their bond with Bast, the panther goddess.
Seated below, Prince T'Challa listened quietly to his father.
Many in the audience wore faintly disdainful expressions.
T'Challa knew the irony.
They believed Wakanda to be a pig, when in reality it was a tyrannosaurus capable of devouring tigers.
"May the world become a better place!"
Whoosh—
Runic symbols spun through the air, guiding a whirling axe toward the back of the Wakandan king.
His panther instincts flared. T'Chaka rolled aside like a hunting cat.
The spinning axe cleaved through the podium—and bisected dozens of innocent people behind it.
Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, it flew back.
A flamboyantly dressed warrior strode in, catching the returning axes effortlessly.
Draven.
His physique, deadly precision, and rune-etched axes forged from Valoran metal gave him the power of a Demon-level disaster.
Screams erupted. Guards drew pistols.
"Come out and play! Hahahaha!"
"Let the Draven show begin!"
"Welcome to the League of Draven!"
The twin axes danced like venomous serpents, harvesting lives with terrifying ease.
Only T'Chaka, empowered by the Black Panther and clad in vibranium, could barely resist.
Without the suit, even explosives could kill him. Against Draven's axe, flesh alone meant death.
"Father!"
"T'Challa! Run!"
T'Chaka shouted. This enemy was monstrously dangerous.
His own death was acceptable. But his son had to live.
"No! I'm not leaving!"
"Fire!"
Gunshots rang out.
To a Noxian body, bullets were little more than pebbles.
Crash—
Glass shattered above.
A massive figure in black armor dropped into the hall like a meteor.
Killing intent flooded the room.
Darius.
"Where is the King of Wakanda?"
"I am—"
"Then die."
Before T'Chaka could finish, Darius's axe fell.
His head rolled across the floor.
No hesitation. No flourish. Just execution.
This had not even been an order from Swain.
It was simply Darius and Draven announcing to the world—
Noxus has arrived.
"No!!!"
T'Challa's scream tore through the hall as he watched his father's headless body collapse.
Mission complete, the two brothers ignored the remaining "insects," seized the king's severed head, and tore through the military perimeter with ease.
Moments later, they were gone.
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