Creating Oasis:Mutant Dawn

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There was no denying it—Wakanda's rise to global technological supremacy stemmed from one source: Vibranium.

Without that miraculous metal, Wakanda would have remained just another secluded tribal nation, hidden away in the heart of Africa. But with it? They had built a futuristic empire hidden behind an illusion of jungle and tradition.

And because of that, Wakandans valued secrecy and control more than anything else—especially over Vibranium.

So when Joseph, the so-called King of Mutants, mentioned the word so casually, King T'Chaka's expression shifted instantly. His previously polite smile faded, replaced by a flicker of unease. But he didn't lash out. Not yet.

Joseph was not an ordinary visitor. He had demonstrated power far beyond anything Wakanda had encountered. And that power demanded a measured response.

"Mr. Joseph," T'Chaka said carefully, "are you saying you want to buy Vibranium?"

He paused, then continued with deliberate calm.

"Wakanda does engage in limited trade with the outside world. The market price for Vibranium is ten thousand U.S. dollars per gram. As King, I can authorize the sale of a small amount… as a gesture of goodwill."

It was a classic diplomatic maneuver.

A little metal to pacify a dangerous guest. Enough to be generous, not enough to lose control.

But Joseph's reaction wasn't one of gratitude.

He laughed.

And not politely.

"Ten thousand dollars a gram?" he repeated with a smirk. "Come on, King T'Chaka. That's black market pricing, isn't it?"

He didn't wait for a response. "Let's not pretend. I know the game. Wakanda strictly limits Vibranium exports. That's why the price is so high. It's not because the metal is inherently rare—it's because you hoard it."

T'Chaka's brow furrowed.

Joseph continued casually, his tone still light, but every word landing like a hammer.

"Vibranium is unique, yes. It can absorb kinetic energy, store vibrations, even power advanced tech. But its value isn't just intrinsic—it's inflated. You've choked supply so tightly that the outside world treats it like gold dust."

Murmurs rippled through the Wakandan entourage. Even T'Challa, standing behind his father, looked uneasy.

"Mr. Joseph," T'Chaka said sternly, "Vibranium is sacred to us. It is a gift from Bast, the Panther Goddess. It is the heart of our nation, and—"

Joseph cut him off, raising a hand.

"I've heard the legend," he said, amused. "But let's talk facts. That 'gift' was a meteorite, an alien rock that happened to fall in your backyard. You're lucky. Not chosen."

The king's jaw tightened. T'Challa stepped forward. "That metal belongs to Wakanda!"

Joseph turned his head slowly, eyes glinting.

"Really?" he said coldly. "Funny. Because from what I recall, when that meteorite landed, your five tribes went to war over it."

T'Chaka froze.

Joseph went on.

"The first Black Panther rose from that war—after defeating the others. So let me ask you this: If I defeat you, do I get to claim the mine too?"

The insult was deliberate.

Every Wakandan stiffened.

Royal guards gripped their weapons. Energy spears powered up. The tension was palpable—like a dry savanna moments before lightning struck.

King T'Chaka's face darkened. "If Mutants invade Wakanda," he said in a low voice, "you will face death and blood."

Joseph's expression remained calm.

"But if I wanted to invade," he asked, "who would stop me?"

That question—backed by the memory of the meteor storm they had just narrowly escaped—silenced the crowd.

Everyone remembered the sky filled with burning magic, the black fire, the threat of total annihilation.

Joseph's eyes swept the crowd.

No one answered.

Some guards raised their weapons again, trembling with indecision.

"Lower your arms!" T'Chaka snapped. "He's not our enemy. Not unless we make him one."

The guards froze, then reluctantly obeyed.

T'Chaka's voice softened, but his eyes held sharp calculation.

"Mr. Joseph," he said, "you arrived with your name and purpose out in the open. Clearly, you mean no harm. But this... is not a negotiation. It's coercion."

Joseph shrugged. "It's reality."

T'Chaka sighed heavily.

This man wasn't here to declare war. But he didn't follow the rules, either.

He was pressing, pushing, manipulating—and doing it with a smile. Every step of their conversation had been calculated, every word leading to this moment.

Wakanda couldn't afford a war.

But Joseph wasn't asking for war.

He was asking to buy.

And doing it in a way that made refusal sound dangerous.

"Five thousand dollars," T'Chaka said finally. "Per gram. A token of friendship between Wakanda and Mutantkind."

Half the price.

Joseph raised an eyebrow.

But T'Chaka quickly added, "Only limited quantities. Vibranium is still costly to mine, and its strategic value cannot be overstated. This is already our most sincere offer."

A long pause followed.

Joseph's smirk returned.

"Deal," he said. "Fifty kilograms every three months."

T'Chaka nearly choked.

One hundred and fifty kilograms per year.

A staggering amount.

For comparison, the Vibranium used to forge Captain America's shield? Barely over five kilograms—and it was mixed with other alloys.

And this man wanted ten times that, every quarter.

"Impossible," the king said immediately. "Fifty kilograms a year, at most."

Joseph didn't press further. He nodded.

"Agreed."

T'Chaka sighed in quiet relief. It was still a massive quantity—but one Wakanda could manage without compromising national security.

Joseph's eyes, however, sparkled with something more—amusement.

Because in that moment, he knew what the king did not.

That Wakanda's true reserves of Vibranium were far greater than they let on. The mines beneath their feet stretched for miles, veins of glowing metal deeper than any records acknowledged.

Wakanda was sitting on a goldmine unlike anything else on Earth.

And Joseph had just bought himself a monthly share.

"Two hundred kilograms per year," Joseph mused, running the numbers. "That's a billion dollars annually, if we go by your pricing."

He paused, then looked around.

"But I'm afraid I don't have that kind of cash lying around."

The mood froze.

Everyone stared.

T'Chaka narrowed his eyes. "...Excuse me?"

Joseph grinned.

"Money's tight. Building a nation, you know. You'd be amazed how fast cash disappears when you're building schools, labs, anti-magic defense grids, battle suits... oh, and paying professors."

Silence.

Black Panther took a step forward, his voice sharp. "Are you saying you can't pay?"

"Not in dollars," Joseph replied lightly. "But I can offer value."

T'Chaka tensed. "What kind of value?"

Joseph's voice dropped.

"Access. Collaboration. Protection."

He raised a hand and listed off casually:

"Real-time magical defense systems for your borders."

"Teleportation networks to move troops or evacuate civilians instantly."

"Healing magic that outperforms your medical tech."

"Elemental magic support in combat scenarios."

"Anti-alien protocols. Anti-psyker shields."

He looked straight into T'Chaka's eyes.

"All of that. In exchange for Vibranium."

He let the silence stretch, then added:

"You don't have to trust me."

"Just imagine what happens if the next person who comes knocking doesn't ask nicely."

The reminder was chilling.

For all Wakanda's secrecy, the world was getting smaller. Mutants were rising. Gods were walking Earth. Aliens had already arrived.

Wakanda could no longer stand still.

T'Chaka exhaled slowly.

"Very well," he said. "But we negotiate each phase separately. No open contracts."

"Of course," Joseph said smoothly. "We're just getting started."

The two kings shook hands, sealing a quietly historic deal.

And in the shadows, Black Panther narrowed his eyes.

The King of Mutants had come to Wakanda.

And he had not come empty-handed.