Location: Wakandan Border Outpost – Night
The stars glittered like cold eyes above the southern border of Wakanda. Beneath the overgrowth of tangled vines and dry brush, a concealed dome shimmered with cloaking fields. Inside, a Dora Milaje warrior stood motionless, listening to a low-pitched frequency emitting from a triangular communication tablet.
"His Zulu is perfect," she said. "Xhosa as well. Accent is South Johannesburg, but seasoned."
The other, older and more decorated, didn't reply. Instead, she looked at the map projection above them—highlighting seismic and vibranium readings pulsing from the Drakensberg range in South Africa.
"He's building something," the older warrior murmured.
A hologram showed Hann: long staff across his back, energy rings humming around his forearm, eyes intense with something ancient.
"Should we alert Queen Shuri?"
"No." She touched her vibranium spear. "We go ourselves."
---
Location: Drakensberg Rift Base – Deep Night
Hann stood alone in the center of the Rift Chamber. His staff glowed softly at the base, pulsing with the heartbeat of the cavern. Carvings along the walls—etched with both Mandarin and hieroglyphs—glowed faintly as he passed.
He held one of the fragments left behind by a recent arrival—a girl named Marwa. She had vanished before fully explaining her powers, but not before whispering something into his ear in Arabic: "The storm doesn't begin when thunder strikes… it begins when the sky forgets it was blue."
Her aura was strange. She smelled like ozone and dust. Like an abandoned future.
Hann pocketed the shard and closed his eyes. The walls seemed to hum with whispers.
"Zhenyu…"
He turned, but no one stood behind him. The voice hadn't come from the hall. It had come from inside him.
---
Location: Rift Base – Outer Perimeter
Aleksander was training, moving with disciplined strikes across the open platform. His knuckles were wrapped, shirt drenched in sweat. Naledi stood nearby, monitoring readings.
"We need more infrastructure," she muttered. "Medical. Stabilizers. Hell, even plumbing."
Azari dropped from the shadows above. "We also need more food. My drones intercepted a Wakandan surveillance bird. They're watching us."
"They're always watching," Naledi replied. "What matters is whether they act."
A low alert chime echoed from the station's mainframe. Azari ran to the console and frowned.
"We've got a visitor," she said.
---
Location: Entry Gate – 10 Minutes Later
Two figures in tight armor stood outside the holographic boundary. Spears strapped to their backs. One wore the signature red and gold uniform of the Dora Milaje. The other, younger, had more modern enhancements woven into her uniform—stealth gear blended with kinetic fiber mesh.
Hann stepped forward, flanked by Azari and Naledi.
The lead Dora spoke in sharp Xhosa:
"Sizobona isizathu sokukhula kwakho ezweni lethu."
(We seek to understand the reason your power grows in our lands.)
Hann answered evenly:
"Akusona isizwe. Lena indaba yomhlaba uqobo."
(It's not about the nation. This is about the Earth itself.)
The Dora narrowed her eyes. "You speak well for an outsider."
"I'm not as outside as I look."
She tilted her head. "Then you know what you invite by building this."
"Yes," Hann said. "But I didn't choose it. I inherited it."
There was a long silence.
Then, unexpectedly, the younger Dora stepped forward and offered him a small stone disk.
"Shuri wishes to see you… in secret. No protocols. No guards."
Hann looked at it—etched with a panther and a sunburst. A summoning token.
"She believes you may have answers about something… even she cannot explain."
---
Location: Wakanda – Underground Lab – Three Days Later
Hann stood across from Shuri, who wore an all-black bodysuit and thick-lensed goggles. Screens around her pulsed with anomalous readings—matching exactly with the Rift Base's energy signature.
"These vibrations you've triggered," she said, "they don't match vibranium, nor any known cosmic radiation. But they resonate with our oldest sonic patterns—some so old even Bast no longer answers them."
She pulled up an ancient Wakandan scroll, digitally rendered.
"There are whispers of a staff. Not of the Ten Rings. Something deeper. More feral. Born when the universe screamed its first breath."
Hann nodded slowly. "I think it found me before I found it."
Shuri studied him. "And the rings?"
"They're different than my father's. More… bonded to thought. To belief."
"Show me."
Hann raised his arm. The rings glowed, floating off his skin. The room dimmed—energy coalescing, then bending into a mirage of light, forming a map of the Earth.
But not as it is.
As it will be.
Shuri stepped back. "This is… impossible."
"No," Hann said, eyes narrowing. "It's the future."
The map showed major power sites flickering: Stark Tower, Kamar-Taj, Wakanda, an unknown city in Antarctica… and a black tear forming above Earth's orbit.
Shuri looked closer. "A rift in time-space…"
"Kang," Hann whispered.
---
Elsewhere – Mongolian Wasteland
The Ten Rings outpost was built like a fortress-temple. A caravan approached under the blizzard, banners black with a golden dragon.
Inside, Lieutenant Fei Cheng, an old officer loyal to Wenwu's ancient rule, sat before a table of advisors. All held holographic images of Hann in action.
"He bears his father's name… and something else," Fei said.
A shadow moved in the corner. A tall figure stepped into the torchlight. A woman—tattooed in ink that shimmered like starlight. She was known only as Meilin the Silent Blade.
She spoke once:
"He must be tested."
---
Location: Rift Base – The Test Begins
That night, the camp was quiet. Too quiet.
Azari's drones detected movement far too late. A dozen black-clad assassins emerged from shadows. No sound. No heat.
Ten Rings Elite.
They struck fast.
Aleksander was the first to react, fists flaring with kinetic energy as he threw two against the wall. Naledi deflected a blade with a vibranium-forged baton.
Hann burst out of the chamber, staff spinning into a blur. A blade slashed toward him—he caught it mid-air with his rings and disassembled the steel on contact.
They surrounded him. Six elite fighters, blades coated in vibranium and dragon-scale poison.
"Stand down," Hann warned. "Or be broken."
They attacked as one.
He moved like a blur—his staff extending, rings orbiting like comets. He struck, blocked, spun, and redirected their energy. He wasn't just fighting—he was channeling.
At the end, only one remained—Meilin herself. Silent and still.
She stepped forward and offered him a scroll wrapped in black silk.
"From your father," she said, then vanished in smoke.
Hann opened it. Inside: a sigil. The dragon of the Ten Rings. And six words.
"Come home, my firstborn son."
---
End of Chapter 9