Wakanda's border was a desolate, uninhabited wilderness. Rolling hills stretched all the way to the mountains rising in the distance, while scattered trees dotted the bare ridges, lending the landscape an air of bleak desolation.
Magneto led the Brotherhood here, his purple robes snapping in the wind and his white hair blowing freely. This veteran powerhouse among Mutants stood tall, his sharp gaze piercing toward the young man who had arrived alone not far away.
This had once been a camp of the Border Tribe, but NATO's steady advance had reduced it to ruins. Charred earth scorched by fire lay all around, shell craters pocked the ground, and many damaged vibranium weapons were scattered amid the blackened soil.
Sean and Magneto stood on opposite sides of the camp, facing each other from afar. The former appeared relaxed and casual, while the latter treated the situation like a formidable enemy.
On the more distant barren ridges, the Mutant legion led by John began clearing the area and setting up a security perimeter to keep strangers from intruding and disturbing this clash between powerhouses.
The Wakanda Royal Family had been driven out and, under the leadership of the young Black Panther T'Challa, had gone into exile. They would not meekly accept such an outcome.
If Sean had not kept the elders and chieftains of the various tribes in check, Killmonger's throne might not have remained so secure. Wakanda's noble factions were more inclined toward the Royal Family.
"To earn the right to speak as equals, you need strength to prove it."
Sean's gaze was calm. There were already few powerhouses on this planet capable of serving as his opponents.
Magneto had proposed this challenge himself. He was not someone who surrendered easily. Though he had once lost to Sean, becoming a prisoner