After announcing the fate of T'Chaka and Zuri, Erik Killmonger turned his gaze to T'Challa, who was half-kneeling in the pool, battered and frail, his face clouded with conflicting emotions. Killmonger looked down at him, his voice deep and commanding.
"Do you admit defeat?"
According to the ancient laws of the Pool Throne Challenge, the duel could only end with death or surrender. If T'Challa refused, Killmonger would be forced to kill him.
By offering him the chance to yield, Killmonger ensured that, should T'Challa refuse, his death would not be seen as cruelty but as the rightful conclusion of the sacred ritual.
His earlier decision to spare T'Chaka and Zuri, entrusting them to the judgment of the Council of Elders, had already shown the people that beneath his fierce exterior lay integrity, wisdom, and a sense of justice. He was a king who could temper compassion with discipline, rewarding and punishing with fairness.
Seeing T'Challa's broken state, the Queen and Princess Shuri cried out desperately.
"T'Challa, surrender!"
T'Chaka and Zuri also raised their voices, their eyes heavy with sorrow.
"Admit defeat, T'Challa. He is more worthy of being Wakanda's protector than I am."
"We must face our sins. The Council of Elders will judge us fairly. T'Challa, let us atone!"
T'Challa's gaze swept across the crowd. The fire in his eyes dimmed, his will to fight faltering. His body, strained to its limit, finally gave way. He collapsed forward, catching himself with his hands to avoid falling face-first into the water.
Under the anxious stares of the people, he forced his head up to meet Killmonger's solemn, majestic figure towering above him.
At last, he lowered his head in defeat.
"I surrender."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the crowd. None wished to see the two cousins destroy one another.
"Help me get him to the lab!"
Princess Shuri rushed into the pool, her voice sharp with urgency.
But her command went unanswered.
The Dora Milaje, Wakanda's elite royal guard, stood motionless at the base of the cliff. Their loyalty was sworn to the throne, and now that Erik Killmonger was king, they could not act without his order. Yet their eyes betrayed their concern for T'Challa.
Killmonger, unwilling to humiliate Shuri or her brother, gave a subtle nod to Okoye, captain of the Dora Milaje. Okoye, equally anxious, struck her spear against the ground and signaled two warriors forward.
By the time Shuri reached T'Challa's side, the guards had already arrived. Focused entirely on her brother's condition, she noticed nothing unusual. Together, they lifted the wounded king, preparing to carry him to her laboratory.
Shuri was a prodigy, her brilliance rivaling even Tony Stark's. Despite her youth, she oversaw Wakanda's most advanced scientific division, responsible for much of the nation's technological supremacy. Her lab housed the most sophisticated equipment in the kingdom.
T'Challa's injuries were grave. Killmonger's relentless blows had left him with broken bones and internal damage. Though the Heart-Shaped Herb had fortified his body, sparing him from immediate death, his condition was precarious.
The guards supported him as Shuri led the way toward a cavern at the mountain's base, intent on reaching her lab.
But just as they neared the cavern's entrance, a deep, rhythmic growl echoed from within, reverberating through the stone.
They froze, exchanging uneasy glances. The sound grew louder, closer, carrying the weight of something powerful.
Killmonger, still in the pool, and Chen Mo, standing on the cliff, both turned sharply toward the cavern.
From the darkness emerged a dozen towering figures. They were massive, ape-like warriors, their bodies wrapped in animal skins, their hands gripping crude wooden spears. Primitive in appearance, they radiated raw strength and ferocity.
Their guttural roars filled the air as they advanced, their presence both savage and commanding.
At last, the leader stepped forward. He was the tallest of them all, over two meters in height, wearing a fearsome gorilla mask. Removing it, he revealed a rugged, fierce face.
"M'Baku! What are you doing here?" an elder exclaimed.
It was the Jabari tribe—the fifth great tribe of Wakanda, long isolated in the mountains, rejecting the kingdom's technological progress. They had clung to their ancient ways, hunting and fighting as their ancestors had, their warriors renowned for their immense size and strength.
Every Jabari male was a giant, nearly two meters tall, their bodies hardened by the harsh mountain life. They were unmatched in raw power, the fiercest fighters of all Wakanda's tribes.
Not long ago, in the royal council chamber, some elders had mistaken Killmonger himself for a Jabari warrior, so closely did his physique resemble theirs.
Now, as the Jabari emerged in force, their presence shook the gathering.
Chen Mo, watching from below the cliff, studied the massive warriors with interest, his eyes glinting at the sight of their formidable strength.