Chapter 13: Ghost Flames on the Battlefield

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It wasn't hard for Luke to pick up on Okoye's hostility toward him.

Though "hostility" might not be the right word—if anything, it was more of a wariness or distrust.

Clearly, her animosity wasn't directed at him personally. They had no prior grievances, and this was their first meeting, so Okoye had no reason to bear any ill will toward him specifically.

Luke quickly deduced the root of the problem: Okoye's distrust was aimed not at him, but at the American government, its military, and the now-shadowed, fragmented S.H.I.E.L.D. organization he represented.

Given Wakanda's past, it wasn't surprising. After joining the United Nations, their people had suffered attacks, their king had been assassinated, and their vibranium had been a constant target of greed from all corners.

Adding to that, while the entire planet should have united against Thanos, in reality, Wakanda had been left to fight almost entirely on its own. The Battle of Wakanda had cost them dearly—brave warriors, resources, and even their king, T'Challa.

As these thoughts swirled in Luke's mind, he realized how his sudden presence here, under the pretense of "building ties and sharing intelligence," might appear to the Wakandans. To them, it could easily be seen as an intrusive ploy to gauge Wakanda's strength while it was at its weakest.

For Wakanda, the scars of betrayal ran deep. They had no reason to view outsiders favorably.

No wonder Agent Bowes had bailed so quickly. Clearly, he'd faced similar hostility before.

Lost in thought, Luke was startled when the female Royal Guard leading him abruptly stopped.

Coming to a halt just in time to avoid bumping into her, Luke looked up and realized they'd reached the edge of the battlefield.

The terrain stretched endlessly before him, the once-vibrant plains now a grotesque tableau of blood-soaked earth and churned mud. Alien technology, broken weapons, and lifeless bodies lay scattered in grim piles.

The land bore the scars of a fierce battle, its tranquility shattered by devastation.

"This is it," the guard said, her tone flat and disinterested.

Luke didn't respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the battlefield, particularly on the grotesque mounds of bodies being hauled and sorted by surviving Wakandan soldiers.

Many of the corpses were massive, monstrous alien creatures—each one requiring several warriors to move.

Luke's dry lips tightened. He couldn't help but imagine: What if he had been on this battlefield instead of in New York? With his current abilities, could he have survived against these terrifying foes?

The answer was clear, and it only strengthened his resolve to grow stronger.

"Weren't you insistent on 'personally' collecting samples? What are you waiting for?" the guard asked, her disdain clear as she misinterpreted his hesitation as fear.

Luke didn't argue, nor did he explain. Instead, he quietly descended onto the battlefield, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos, calculating his next move.

For Luke, his task wasn't just about sampling alien remnants—it was about finding something else, something tied to his unique mission.

From his previous encounters, he knew he needed to physically touch objects imbued with strong emotional "resonance" to activate their special properties. Yet, with so many Wakandan eyes on him, rummaging through corpses and debris at random was out of the question. He needed a more calculated approach.

Just as he deliberated, a faint blue glow in the distance caught his attention.

Hovering in the air like an ethereal wisp, a small flame flickered—its ghostly hue almost blending with the encroaching twilight.

"A ghost flame?" Luke muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" The guard's puzzled tone broke through his thoughts.

Realizing she had overheard, Luke clarified. "Phosphorus flames. When bodies decompose, they release phosphine gas, which can ignite spontaneously, creating floating, bluish flames. Back in my hometown, we call them ghost flames."

The guard raised an eyebrow. "I know what ghost flames are. I'm asking why you're talking about them now."

Luke frowned but said nothing. Instead, he turned back toward the flickering flame.

His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the guard's expression. She wasn't reacting to the flame—in fact, she didn't seem to see it at all.

Testing a theory, Luke pinched his thigh. The sharp pain grounded him—it wasn't an illusion.

If the flame wasn't a hallucination and the guard couldn't see it, then there was only one explanation:

That flame was like the crimson script that had appeared before—it existed on a different level of reality.

Excitement surged through Luke. This was what he had been looking for.

(End of Chapter)