After consuming the Heart-Shaped Herb and completing the ritual, Erik Killmonger steadied his breathing and rose from the mound of earth.
Before he could fully reflect on the changes within his body, Chen Mo gave him a meaningful glance. Killmonger immediately set aside his thoughts and ordered everyone out of the cave.
Though this was Wakanda's most sacred ground—the birthplace of the Heart-Shaped Herb—no one dared oppose the king's command. Wakanda was no constitutional monarchy. Its system, though primitive, was highly centralized. The king's authority was absolute, and none could disobey Erik Killmonger.
When the priests withdrew, only Chen Mo and Killmonger remained.
Alone at last, Chen Mo strode to the herb field. He bent down and plucked a glowing, purple fruit the size of a ping-pong ball from a heart-shaped flower.
Before the ceremony, Chen Mo had studied Wakanda's records on the herb.
The Heart-Shaped Herb had been born alongside the vibranium veins. Millions of years ago, a meteorite of pure vibranium struck Wakanda. Bathed in its radiation, a plant mutated into the miraculous herb.
It healed wounds, strengthened the body, and opened the path to the ancestral plane.
But it was rare, demanding unique conditions. It could grow only in this cave, directly above the meteorite. Attempts to transplant it elsewhere had failed. Even near the meteorite, the herb could survive but not thrive. Only here, where the radiation was strongest, could it flourish and bear fruit.
Chen Mo picked several more fruits and stored them away. He did not consume them immediately. He knew from Killmonger's own enhancement that the herb induced a coma, leaving one defenseless. Ever cautious, Chen Mo intended to use it later, in safety.
Killmonger watched silently as the herbs vanished into Chen Mo's hands. He marveled at the display, but was not surprised. To him, Chen Mo was a godlike being. Such powers were only natural.
When Chen Mo turned back, Killmonger stepped forward, towering and solemn, lowering his head.
"My God, what should I do next?"
Chen Mo had guided him to the throne, but not beyond. Now, as king and Black Panther, Killmonger awaited his command.
Chen Mo studied him, then asked slowly, "What do you want?"
"Me?" Killmonger was stunned. He had expected orders, not a question. Though he wore the crown, his heart was still that of a Hydra warrior, a servant of God. Yet if Chen Mo asked, there must be purpose.
He thought deeply. Memories flashed before him: the slums of his youth, the battlefields of Afghanistan, the starving refugees of Africa.
At last, Hydra's creed crystallized in his mind. He looked at Chen Mo with conviction.
"I want to liberate the poor and the suffering. To free them from war, hunger, and poverty. To give them peace."
Chen Mo regarded him. This was not the ruthless warmonger of the films. Hydra had reshaped him, and for the better. He had seized the throne and already won the people's love, more than T'Chaka had in decades. Now he had the power to pursue his ideals.
"How will you do this?" Chen Mo asked.
Killmonger's eyes sharpened.
"The warlords are the root of war. They must be destroyed. I will use Wakanda's might to wipe out every warlord in Africa, great and small. Then I will move against those in Asia and South America. Only then will the world know peace."
His voice rose with fervor, his eyes burning with fanatic light.
Chen Mo's expression darkened. He silently withdrew his earlier judgment. Perhaps Hydra's conditioning had failed. This was the same radical warmonger he had feared.
His fingers twitched, considering the Sword of Kings. One stroke could end Killmonger before he endangered the world.
For Wakanda's technology was immense, rivaling Hydra's own. In the hands of a fanatic, it could bring devastation on a global scale.