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Chapter 14: The Rift's Return (Finale Version)
Johannesburg burned.
Shattered glass and screaming sirens painted the streets with chaos as two of the world's deadliest mutants, Juggernaut and Sabretooth, rampaged through the city like wrathful titans. The skyline trembled under their fury.
And amidst the storm stood Hann.
The mystical staff in his hands crackled with energy, the inherited Ten Rings glowing faintly along his arms as if aware of the gravity of the moment. His breath was steady, muscles loose. His mind, though new to war, had the instincts of a born fighter.
And beside him—silent, regal, lethal—stood Black Panther.
Their eyes met briefly, a wordless exchange passing between them.
"I take the beast," Black Panther said, nodding toward Juggernaut.
"I'll tame the animal," Hann replied, turning toward Sabretooth.
And without another word, they split.
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Sabretooth was fast—terrifyingly so. His claws slashed through the air, vicious and wild, but Hann moved like smoke. He rolled beneath a wide arc, springing upward and slamming his staff into the mutant's ribs. The force sent Sabretooth skidding across the asphalt, demolishing a parked car.
"I don't know what you are," Sabretooth growled, climbing from the wreckage, "but you're gonna bleed the same."
"You can try," Hann shot back, spinning his staff.
Sabretooth lunged, claws aiming for Hann's throat, but this time Hann was ready. The Ten Rings flared to life—each one glowing with kinetic energy as he unleashed a sudden burst that propelled him backward, flipping mid-air. He landed behind Sabretooth, sweeping his leg and tripping the brute.
While Hann's fight danced like wind, Black Panther's battle was thunder.
Juggernaut was a wall of force. Each step cracked the earth. But T'Challa was precision incarnate—dodging, weaving, drawing the brute into narrow alleyways and choke points. His vibranium claws struck pressure joints, exploiting tiny flaws in Juggernaut's armor. Still, it was a grind. Juggernaut's roars rattled the bones of buildings.
"You're fast, King," Juggernaut snarled, "but you ain't stopping me."
"I don't have to," T'Challa answered coolly. "He will."
With a blast of energy, Hann was launched from a rooftop, flipping overhead to land beside Black Panther. Their backs pressed together as Juggernaut and Sabretooth flanked them.
"I take right, you take left?" Hann asked.
"No," T'Challa replied. "We switch mid-assault. Confuse them. You trust me?"
Hann nodded. "Let's move."
They surged forward like twin storms. Hann ducked left, feinting at Juggernaut, only to redirect at the last second toward Sabretooth. Black Panther mirrored him—swerving at the last second to slam his claws into Juggernaut's shoulder.
The enemy pair staggered, off-balance.
Synergy.
It wasn't just teamwork—it was rhythm. Hann flowed around T'Challa's strikes, using the Panther as a pivot, launching acrobatic attacks while T'Challa hit with sharp, grounded blows. Where Hann dazzled, the Panther broke bone. Where the Panther struck, Hann struck again before the enemy could recover.
Sabretooth, sensing the pressure, roared and lunged at Hann again. Hann blocked with his staff, but the mutant overpowered him, forcing him to the ground. Claws descended.
Suddenly—a blur. Vibranium claws sliced through the air. Black Panther intercepted, tackling Sabretooth mid-leap.
"Get up," T'Challa snapped.
Hann rolled, coughing, then stood.
"You alright?"
"I will be." Hann smirked. "Let's finish it."
The duo circled. Juggernaut charged again—unstoppable. Hann raised the staff, concentrating. The Rings responded, humming.
"Brace me!" he shouted.
Black Panther dove, planting his feet behind Hann and grabbing his shoulder.
With both bodies steady, Hann unleashed the energy of all Ten Rings in a focused blast—a seismic beam of force. It struck Juggernaut head-on.
The brute staggered.
It wasn't enough to kill him. But it stopped him.
Then, from the rooftops above, Hann noticed a Wakandan dropship decloaking. A squad of Dora Milaje rappelled down, their presence silent and sudden.
Sabretooth turned.
Too late.
T'Challa signaled. The Dora encircled Sabretooth, spears and energy weapons aimed with military precision.
It was over.
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The two young warriors stood over the ruined battlefield as medics and Wakandan tech units began containing the fallout. Hann's staff dimmed, and the Ten Rings powered down, almost in sync with his heartbeat slowing.
T'Challa walked beside him.
"You fight like an old soul," the Panther said, glancing at him with something between curiosity and respect.
"And you fight like royalty," Hann said, then added with a smirk, "Wait… right."
A slight chuckle broke through T'Challa's composure.
"You have spirit. But more importantly, you adapt. Not many can match rhythm in battle on their first outing."
"I've always had to fight alongside others," Hann said. "It's survival instinct."
T'Challa looked at him again, longer this time. "You are more than just instinct. Your power is growing. The Rings… they are not normal."
"They're ancient," Hann admitted. "But I don't fully understand them yet."
"You will." The king stepped closer. "Wakanda will help you."
Hann blinked. "You'd do that for me?"
"After what you've done today? After how you fought beside me without question?" T'Challa nodded. "You've earned something more valuable than technology. You've earned trust."
Hann's gaze drifted across the city—scarred, but standing.
And for the first time, he didn't feel like an outsider anymore.
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End of Chapter 14
Next: Chapter 15 – The King's Invitation