The King: T'Challa.

Chapter 19: Out With The Old, In With The New

Killmonger stood before the crowd, Zuri's blood still staining the water of the arena, the weight of the crown pressing on him as though he had always belonged in it. His smirk never wavered.

"You know," he drawled, pacing the circle with the ease of a predator, "it would be strange—having my auntie sitting as Queen beside me."

He let the words linger, then tilted his head, voice rising so that all gathered would hear.
"So here's my offer. Simple terms. Anyone here thinks they can stop me? Step forward. Keep me down for ten seconds, and she lives, free to remain among her people."

He paused deliberately, letting silence carve the threat deeper. His eyes swept the crowd, dark and gleaming with cruelty.

"But if you fail..." He stopped pacing, fixing his gaze on Ramonda. "Then she dies—just like her son."

The arena erupted in murmurs. Emily's chest tightened. She turned to Ramonda, whose arms were clutched protectively around Shuri. The Queen seized Emily's hand with sudden force, her eyes burning with grief and command.

"You are all we have left," Ramonda whispered fiercely.

Emily's throat closed. A tear escaped despite her will, sliding hot down her cheek. She shook her head. "I promised him I would keep you safe."

Ramonda's grip only tightened, but Emily tore free. She could not stand idle while a monster played games with her family. Moving quickly down the rocky slope, she felt the weight of countless eyes follow her. When she reached the bottom of the arena, she lifted a fallen spear and shield from the ground—T'Challa's weapons. The crowd parted, their silence heavy as judgement.

Killmonger's smirk deepened as he watched her.
"I shouldn't be surprised," he said, circling with an almost playful menace. "Always throwing yourself in front of kings and causes that ain't yours."

Emily levelled the spear at him, voice like steel. "You won't touch her. You won't touch any of them."

He rolled the dagger in his palm, raising his brows mockingly.
"We'll see."

They collided with a clash of steel. His blade raked sparks against her shield; she twisted low, slicing his side with a clean strike of the spear's haft. He grunted but came back harder, hacking and slashing with raw fury. His strength tore the spear from her grip, leaving her with only the shield.

Breathless, she slammed her foot into his chest, sending him stumbling back. She abandoned the shield, letting it fall heavy into the water, and met him bare-handed. Fists and kicks struck like drums—rapid, brutal, exhausting. The crowd shouted with each exchange, the spray of water glinting in the sun.

She swept his legs from under him, but in turning, gave him the opening he needed. His arm coiled around her throat, his body pressing her into stillness. Pain seared as his dagger tore across her abdomen in a merciless diagonal slash.

Her scream caught in her throat. His grip loosened and she collapsed to her knees, hands clamped over the wound, hot blood slipping between her fingers. The faces of Ramonda and Shuri blurred through tears and pain.

Behind her, Killmonger chuckled darkly. "Useless. Just like him."

The words ignited her. Rage surged through the haze of pain, and she forced herself upright. With a roar she drove her fist into his jaw. He staggered. She struck again—harder, faster—blow after blow, until he crashed onto his back in the shallows. She straddled him, fists raining mercilessly into his face, water splashing with each strike.

Gasping, she seized the broken spear beside them and drove it through his shoulder, pinning him to the stone beneath. His cry tore through the arena as she leaned close, eyes blazing.