Azazel's Fight

The man was tall and broad, even taller than James, who stood over six feet two.

He wore dark, half-body metal armor. Leather and iron links joined the pieces at the joints, while the rest of his body was well protected.

Sharp barbs jutted from his arms, and his five fingertips ended in silver-white claws.

A helmet shaped like a black panther's jaws covered his head, with four long, sharp fangs arranged in two rows. His face was exposed, framed by a beard, and his lips were thick. His eyes were sharp.

"Who are you?" the armored man demanded in Hausa.

Thank goodness. James hadn't expected anyone here to speak English; Hausa was more than enough.

"Travelers who lost their way."

He answered calmly. James was still interested in talking with the people here. If he could save time on his research later, all the better.

The man gave Azazel a long look. He certainly didn't believe that an ordinary outsider had wandered in by accident.

Dense forests surrounded Wakanda. For thousands of years, the tribes had worked to make the routes into its heartland nearly impossible to find, while laying countless traps and stationing hidden guards throughout the area.

Decades earlier, when he had still been a boy, a group of white men who had clearly planned their intrusion had entered the kingdom. They had only wandered around the outskirts, and the moment they found the path in, the border guards had captured them all.

Those men had also brought plenty of gunpowder weapons they called guns, and the guards had suffered casualties. In the end, his father, the previous Black Panther, had stepped in and crushed those who dared to resist.

Most importantly, this red-skinned monster with a tail and a hideous face was exactly like the demons in the stories told across the grasslands.

Azzuri suddenly realized that this might be the most dangerous day in Wakanda's history.

"Unknown visitors! Get down and surrender, and you may live," Azzuri shouted in Hausa, making one final attempt.

"They're telling you to give up and wait to die."

James smiled as he said it to Azazel, then turned to the panther-armored man and spoke with a mocking air.

"So merely coming here makes us criminals? No matter the reason, anyone who discovers Wakanda's secret gets branded and imprisoned forever. Black Panther, you're far too arrogant."

Azzuri's pupils contracted. The human man's words made him realize that Wakanda's secret had already leaked beyond its borders.

"Dora Milaje!"

The Black Panther king's shout sent a squad of formidable women forward, armed with fine spears. They surrounded the two men, dressed in red and gold armor, spears held level as they crouched slightly, their faces stern.

The Dora Milaje had been Wakanda's fiercest warriors since ancient times. Every Wakandan king was protected by a female personal guard called the Dora, whose members were skilled with all kinds of weapons. They were selected from the women of Wakanda's various tribes.

To join the guard, a woman had to defeat every male warrior in her tribe. Since they were all human, women who overcame such a huge natural disadvantage to reach that level of fighting skill were without exception extraordinarily gifted.

Azazel glanced at the women surrounding them. Though they had shaved heads and fierce faces, he could still tell their gender. He looked at James, puzzled, and silently asked him about it.

"Primitive tribes select women from every region and offer them to their leaders, where they serve as bodyguards or household servants. It's like a pride of lions, with one male lion while the females do the hunting. These women might also become queens, so in a sense, this is a way for the tribes to strengthen their political ties through marriage."

James explained calmly. Meanwhile, Black Panther Azzuri decided he could no longer let this human speak to the demon in a language he couldn't understand. He roared, "Surround them! Cut them down!"

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The warriors in front formed a shoulder-to-shoulder battle line and tightened the circle around them. Those on the outside hurled spears straight at Azazel.

All the Wakandan warriors, including the Black Panther king himself, naturally saw the red devil as the most dangerous enemy. The unarmed white man beside him had to be nothing more than the demon's servant.

Azazel let out a cackling laugh before anyone could give him an order. Black smoke billowed in an instant, and more than a dozen spears struck the grass. James shifted his feet casually, dodging the few that came flying his way.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Azazel flashed into the air, then reappeared behind a man who had lost sight of his target and was panicking. His short blade swept cleanly across the man's throat. Before blood could even spurt out, he teleported elsewhere.

Azazel's figure seemed to flicker across the battlefield, appearing almost everywhere at once. Sometimes he slit throats with his short blade; other times he used both hands and tail, driving his sharp tail spike through an enemy's neck.

The tribal warriors spun around in panic. Already terrified by the demon's appearance, the Wakandan soldiers gradually lost their morale and discipline, falling into chaos.

They kept seeing their comrades clutch their throats or chests and collapse dead after a flash of black smoke. No matter how desperately they swung their weapons, they couldn't so much as touch the devil. Their minds began to crack. They screamed wildly, forgetting even the most basic defenses.

Azzuri watched the Red Devil flicker from place to place. He flexed his fingers, extending the claws at their tips. He lunged at the demon several times, trying to seize him, but never succeeded.

He realized that keeping the ordinary tribal warriors here would only add to the chaos and pointless casualties.

Black Panther roared an order, and the warriors from each tribe quickly fell back. The elite Dora Milaje gathered in pairs and threes, back-to-back, spears poised. Their precise thrusts met the red devil whenever he appeared, and they quickly steadied their lines, denying Azazel any easy kills.

Watching the elite women's guard form tight, bristling ranks as they found a way to counter him, Azazel realized they could be trouble. He shifted his attention to the imposing native leader in strange armor.

Azzuri's earlier pursuit had shown Azazel that the man's speed and strength were far beyond those of an ordinary human.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Azazel teleported in and lunged. His short blades struck the armored man several times, but had no effect at all.

The armor was incredibly strong. His blows landed with a strange, dull force, and his short blades couldn't even leave a scratch. The man's reactions were also extremely quick; Azazel had to stay completely focused to evade his counterattacks.

Seeing Azazel take the initiative and go after Black Panther, James grew serious. Ready to step in if things went badly, he watched Black Panther's reactions closely and began assessing his strength.

Azzuri attacked the flickering Red Devil in a frenzy, his panther claws blurring as he leaped and sprang with nimble agility, trying to catch the elusive figure.

Since Wakanda's original eighteen tribes had united in ancient times, the kingdom had never suffered so many casualties at the hands of outsiders or been driven into such a humiliating state. Fury twisted his face as he attacked faster and faster. The heightened senses granted by the Black Panther's strength also helped him gradually discern the pattern of his opponent's teleportation.

Bang!

Azazel crossed his two blades over his chest to block a strike, but a claw sent him flying. He teleported again in midair, returning to James's side. The two short blades, made with the finest materials and craftsmanship, had been smashed into several pieces by the panther's claws. Only their hilts remained in his hands. His shirt was torn across the chest, and blood seeped from his skin.

Black Panther Azzuri could let the Red Devil attack him without suffering so much as a scratch. Azazel, however, couldn't afford even one mistake. If he hadn't practiced unique fighting techniques with his father since childhood and developed quick enough reflexes, his heart would already have been pierced.