In truth, the Wakanda royal family had always known that vibranium-based technology was not some limitless miracle, but a highly specialized form of science dependent entirely on the rare vibranium meteorites. Its applications were powerful, yet finite. Mass production was impossible, and when compared to conventional weapons like nuclear missiles, its destructive power was still lacking. This was the true reason why Wakanda never flaunted its technology to the outside world.
Take their energy weapons, for example. The reason Wakanda relied on them was simple: they could not afford to waste vibranium on something as consumable as bullets. Every particle of vibranium was too precious.
The vibranium woven into their buildings and tools represented permanence, not disposability. Who in their right mind would craft one-time-use items out of such a resource?
Wakanda's survival and secrecy depended on this philosophy. From the very beginning, their scientists and leaders had tailored every technological advancement to remain hidden from the rest of the world. It was caution, not superiority, that kept Wakanda a secret for so long.
Yet the lower classes of Wakanda's citizens, most of whom had never left their borders, lacked this understanding. To them, their country's technology seemed like proof of unparalleled greatness. They compared themselves to neighboring African nations, whose technology was primitive by comparison, and from this rose arrogance, pride, and inevitable ambition.
Fortunately for the ruling class, the Wakandans remained somewhat naive in world affairs. Otherwise, given their rigid monarchy and centralized power structure, rebellion might have erupted long ago.
Professor X reflected silently on this as he sat with his companions. After a pause, he admitted, "Indeed, I was impulsive in this matter. I should first investigate the truth of Wakanda's situation before drawing conclusions."
Whenever he thought of Magneto in connection with Wakanda, suspicion filled his mind. A secretive nation armed with unique resources, paired with Magneto's radical ideals, sounded like a recipe for disaster. Yet suspicion was not certainty. The truth still had to be uncovered.
Shin tilted his head, his tone calm but firm. "Then leave it to us. It's also a good chance for Wanda and Pietro to see Magneto with their own eyes. If he really is their father, this will be the moment of truth."
He shrugged lightly. "And if he's weaving some kind of conspiracy… well, we'll see when we get there."
Professor X frowned slightly at Shin's vagueness, but Shin elaborated. "If Magneto's just working with certain Wakandan factions, maybe as a mercenary, maybe just manufacturing vibranium weapons to make money, that's their internal business. It doesn't really concern us."
His voice sharpened slightly. "As long as one side is willing to fight and the other is willing to be beaten, that's their choice. Unless Magneto starts committing genocide in Wakanda or decides to use their resources to attack the outside world, I won't interfere."
Professor X opened his mouth, ready to argue that Shin's bottom line was far too low. But Shin waved him off. "Why worry so much, Charles? To be blunt, if the Brotherhood grows stronger abroad, your position in the United States might even improve. Politicians will have to treat you with more respect if Magneto's influence expands."
The bald professor fell silent, sighing. Though he disliked admitting it, Shin's words carried weight. The Brotherhood, so long as they operated outside America, wouldn't necessarily make things worse for mutants at home. In fact, they might even reduce some of the hostility mutants faced daily. Selfishly speaking, he had little reason to oppose Magneto's influence spreading in Africa, as long as it did not spiral into global chaos.
…
"Is this really Wakanda?" Pietro, the impatient speedster, glanced around with narrowed eyes. His tone carried both skepticism and curiosity. "It doesn't look any different from the rest of Africa. The people here look the same as any other tribe I've seen."
Storm, walking beside him, smiled faintly. "That's because Wakanda has always cloaked itself in secrecy. To the world, it appears to be just another poor tribe. In fact, they've never even asked me to bring them rain."
Professor X had asked Storm to join Shin's group. Her familiarity with Africa and her balanced perspective would help them understand whatever Magneto was planning. And with Wanda and Pietro possibly being Magneto's children, Charles felt safer having Storm act as both guide and mediator.
Even if he hadn't yet decided how to respond if Magneto turned violent in Wakanda, Professor X at least wanted a trusted voice nearby to report the truth.
Storm herself was no stranger to Africa. Before joining the X-Men, she had lived in Kenya, revered as a living goddess for her ability to command the weather. Villagers would kneel before her, begging for rain or protection, and she had delivered miracles with the sky itself as her tool.
Her lineage only deepened the mystery. Stories said her family descended from a long line of weather shamans, with knowledge of rituals that nudged the elements. Storm had inherited not only that tradition but also the X-gene, which amplified her abilities far beyond her ancestors. Lightning, thunder, rain, and hurricane winds, she controlled them all with unmatched precision.
Even after seven or eight years away, her reputation in Africa endured. When she returned, people still remembered the goddess who once walked among them. Native Africans volunteered eagerly to guide her party, even going so far as to kneel and offer to carry her in a ceremonial chair. Storm, embarrassed, persuaded them simply to walk alongside as guides.
Shin, however, didn't need guidance. With his enhanced perception, one glance was enough to detect the hidden energy barrier that sealed Wakanda from the world. He could have blasted through it with ease, but he chose restraint. He wasn't here to raid Wakanda, after all. Breaking their shield would only ignite unnecessary hostility.
Still, their traveling party looked unusual. With Storm at the lead and Shin among them, they stood out starkly, especially since many in the group were white. To Wakanda, which had hidden itself for generations, outsiders like these would raise alarms. Using African guides as intermediaries was the smarter approach.
The natives themselves knew little of Wakanda's truth. To them, Wakanda was just another mysterious, isolated tribe. Yet even in their ignorance, they understood that diplomacy was preferable to violence. They hoped to negotiate entry through courtesy rather than force.
Wakanda's own strategy for centuries had involved a border tribe that acted as a façade. Disguised as impoverished Africans, they served as Wakanda's decoys. Even when international organizations came sniffing around, Wakanda would present these border tribesmen as proof of their supposed poverty. The ruse was so effective that the world still classified Wakanda as a poor, third-rate African nation.
Shin found this tactic puzzling. Why would those border tribesmen agree to live in squalor while their true kinsmen enjoyed prosperity inside? Was Wakanda not concerned that someone might run off with stolen vibranium? To him, Wakanda's secrecy surviving this long felt more like divine luck than flawless planning.
While Storm's local guides tried to negotiate with the Wakanda border tribe, it became clear the tribesmen were evasive, feigning ignorance and stalling for time. Their wary expressions betrayed their intent to keep outsiders away.
Shin, watching the circular back-and-forth, finally lost his patience. He tilted his head toward Wanda, who had been quietly observing the scene.
"Wanda," he said with a slight smile, "it's your turn."
Scarlet Witch met his gaze, her crimson eyes glimmering faintly, and stepped forward.
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