Half Pint

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@Roman That is not where I thought your story was going to go I love it haha

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Apologies for the bible I posted, I’ve been skiving a bit at work this week so I had a lot of time to write and thought that all worked better as one but post rather than 2!

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Volume 1 - The Heir of Dorado

What Condition My Condition Was In

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Necalli stormed through the palace like a bull, his frustration burning like a fire in his chest. He had heard enough to know that foreigners were closing in on Dorado's borders, and yet, the council and his own father were doing nothing. He couldn't just stand by while decisions were made behind closed doors. If he was to become king against his will he wouldn't drink from a poisoned chalice when he took the throne. He deserved to know everything, to have all his cards when it came time to play. His footsteps echoed as he pushed through the corridors, heading directly for the council room.

But the council chamber was empty when he arrived. The vast room, usually filled with advisors and strategy discussions, now sat silent. He moved around to his father's seat and began shuffling through the papers on his desk. Numerous reports and maps detailing the times they had come close to being discovered. This only confirmed what he had thought, there was no chance his father could lie to him now. Necalli clenched his fists, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Where could his father be? He turned on his heel and headed toward his father's private chambers, the guards stationed outside immediately stepping aside as they saw him approach.

Necalli pushed the doors open and found Moquihuix sitting at his desk near the far wall, his back to him, deep in thought as he thumbed through the pages of a large book. The room was dimly lit, but the faint glow from the setting sun cast shadows across the stone floor.

"Father." Necalli called out, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence. "We need to talk."

Moquihuix didn’t turn around immediately. He stayed where he was, as if waiting for the weight of the moment to settle between them. "Talk about what exactly, my son?" he said.

Necalli stepped further into the room, biting his lip slightly as he mustered up the courage to speak. Confronting his father was no easy thing, but this was important. "I know about the invaders trying to get into Dorado. I thought it was nothing but rumours, but I saw your maps. You've kept me in the dark about these foreigners, about these threats to our city!"

His father sighed, closing his book and taking a moment to think before pressing his hands on the desk and rising to his full height. He turned slowly to face Necalli, his expression unreadable, though a hint of weariness flickered in his eyes. "I have kept you in the dark for a reason." he said, his voice calm but firm. "These matters are not as simple as you might think."

Necalli clenched his fists. "Not simple? Father, we're under threat! Foreigners are getting closer every day, and you, the council, everyone, you're just sitting by and doing nothing! How am I supposed to become king if I don’t even know what’s happening in my own city?"

Moquihuix's jaw tightened, and he stepped toward Necalli, his tone growing more serious. "You forget you are not king yet, Necalli I am." He said "You think this is about doing nothing? Every decision I make is to protect Dorado, to protect you! There is far more at stake here than you realise."

Necalli didn’t back down, frustration boiling over. "I know enough to see that hiding won’t work forever! What happens when they find us? When they break through our shields? You always talk about protecting our people, but how can you do that if you refuse to face the problem head on?"

Moquihuix's eyes narrowed. "Do not think for a moment that I refuse to face the problem, Necalli. I know the dangers better than you do. But if we reveal ourselves too soon, the consequences will be catastrophic. You want to act without knowing the full picture. That is reckless."

Necalli's voice rose. "Reckless? What's reckless is ignoring the fact that the world is changing! We can't keep hiding forever. If we don't act now, we'll be backed into a corner. What then, Father? You've kept me from the council, kept me from learning what I need to know, and now you expect me to just stand aside and trust you?"

Moquihuix's expression softened, just for a moment. He looked at Necalli, seeing not just a rebellious son, but a young man weighed down by expectations he didn't ask for. His tone lowered, though the gravity remained. "I never wanted this burden for you, Necalli. I wanted you to have time to grow into the role, to learn without being thrown into the fire too soon. But it seems our hand is being forced."

Necalli crossed his arms, his frustration still simmering but his voice quieting. "But you can't protect me from this forever. If I'm going to be king one day, I need to be involved. I can't lead a city I don’t understand."

There was a pause. Finally, Moquihuix let out a long breath. "You're right." His voice softened as he turned away and walked toward the window, looking out over the city bathed in the fading light of dusk. "I have kept you out of matters that should concern you. Not because I don't trust you, but because I fear what this world will demand of you when the time comes. The world is so different now, even more different than when I was your age."

He turned back to Necalli, his gaze steady but filled with the weight of a father’s worry. "Dorado has been hidden for millennia. The outside world has changed more than you know. They seek what we have, our technology, our Vibranium and if they find us, we may not survive the storm that follows. But you are my son, and soon, you may have to carry this burden. So, if you wish to know what I know, I will tell you."

Necalli blinked, the anger in his chest cooling slightly as his father’s words sank in. "Then tell me, Father. Tell me what I need to know."

Moquihuix nodded, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His wife was right about Necalli. He might not have had the stoicism of his older brother, or the intelligence of his younger sister, but he had tenacity, and a will to do what's right even in trying circumstances. He turned and stepped towards a far wall in his chamber. "Come, there's something you must see." Necalli watched as his father pressed a hidden panel, revealing a secret doorway that Necalli had never seen before.

Curiosity battled with Necalli's frustration as he followed his father down the hidden passageway. He was still upset, but he could hear in his father's voice that this was something big. The air grew cooler as they descended deeper into the palace, the walls lined with carvings that told stories of Dorado’s ancient past, stories Necalli had heard growing up but had never fully understood.

When they finally emerged into a large, dimly lit chamber, Necalli's eyes widened. Suits of armor, each unique, stood on pedestals around the room. They gleamed in the soft light, adorned with jaguar motifs and intricate designs that only advanced in their design as they walked further through the room. The power emanating from the room was almost tangible.

Necalli caught eyes with the mask on one of the pedestals. The armour was old, much older than any of the others in the room. It had the face of a panther, with its eyes hollow but seeming to pierce straight through him. The teeth of the mask were bared in a snarl, as if ready to lunge at any moment. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each contour of the feline snout and sharp lines of the jawline imbued with an intensity that made Necalli feel as though he were standing before a living, breathing beast. This was no mere battle helmet, this was a predator's visage, designed to strike fear into the hearts of enemies long before any blade was raised. Gold accents shimmered around the eyes and snout, enhancing the already intimidating form, while the golden feathers of a radiant headdress crowned the panther, giving it the appearance of something both royal and divine.

Across the shoulders, a rich cape of red and gold was draped, its ends fastened with large golden brooches shaped like the sun. The cape hung loosely down passed the waist, but purposefully, making the figure look regal, even in its readiness for war. The lack of a traditional chestplate made the armor feel even more dangerous, as though the wearer relied not just on metal to protect them, but on their own strength, their agility, and their courage.

Necalli's gaze traced the lower half of the armor, taking in the segmented ceremonial wrap made from thick, darkened black leather, reinforced with vibranium but flexible, allowing for ease of movement. The leather was trimmed with jagged golden plates that mimicked the fur patterns of a panther, adding both protection and a predatory elegance. Hanging from one of the leather straps was a small skull, unmistakable as an Aztec death whistle, its hollow eyes and open mouth ready to release a chilling wail meant to terrify enemies. The skull, carved from bone, swayed slightly with the armor, and had been inlaid with very faintly pulsing vibranium.

Necalli's eyes moved to the weapons clutched in the figure's hands. The macuahuitl gleamed with lethal intent, its vibranium blades darker than night, contrasting sharply against the golden hilt that was detailed with the same panther imagery as the mask. Each blade seemed to vibrate if you stared at them long enough. In the other hand, the warrior held a tepoztopilli, a spear with a similar vibranium blade that seemed designed for precise, fatal strikes. The shaft was wrapped in dark leather for grip, and golden accents spiraled up toward the blade, which caught the light and glinted softly as the torches burned.

Moquihuix stopped, sensing Necalli wasn't following him. He joined him in front of the armour with a smile, clasping a hand around his son's shoulder. "This armor," Moquihuix began, his voice echoing softly in the vast chamber, "belonged to the very first warrior-king of Dorado. He defended our city from the outside world long before we had our shields or our technology."

Moquihuix led him further towards the center of the chamber, stopping in front of the third last suit in the row. It was still majestic, with dark armor and golden accents, but there was a worn quality to it, like it had seen battle.

"This," Moquihuix said quietly, "was your great-grandfather's suit. Each of these were the suits of the Yohualli Ocelotl that came before them."

Necalli's brow furrowed. He had heard tales of his ancestors, but nothing like this. "I thought the Yohualli Ocelotl was just a legend." he said, his voice uncertain.

Moquihuix shook his head. “The Yohualli Ocelotl is more than a legend. It is a mantle, passed down from king to king. Your great-grandfather wore this suit when he fought in the Second World War.”

Necalli’s eyes snapped to his father's. "What?"

Moquihuix's expression grew grave. "It was one of the only times Dorado interfered with the outside world. The Axis powers threatened the entire globe. Had they won, it would have changed everything. We could not ignore the threat."

"But we’ve always stayed hidden?" Necalli replied, his mind racing. "Why did he—?"

"We couldn't reveal ourselves." Moquihuix interrupted, "Not even then. But we couldn't stand by and do nothing. So, your great-grandfather took on the mantle of the Black Panther and fought on the side of the Allies, in secret. He fought alongside American soldiers, but they never knew who he truly was or where he came from." He continued, casting his mind back to the man he called 'Granddad'. "We came dangerously close to being discovered back then. Your great-grandfather wasn't one for keeping to the shadows, he was even friendly with a few of the soldiers he felt he could trust. Even the papers printed a story about him, calling him the 'Black Panther'. I can still remember him showing me that paper at any opportunity he got."

Necalli stared at the suit, the weight of history sinking in. His great-grandfather had risked everything to protect the world, but without ever revealing the truth about Dorado. The responsibility was overwhelming. He looked back at his father. He had always been the stoic, commanding figure that had guided and discplined him. It was hard for Necalli to picture him that young, being told stories by his grandfather.

Moquihuix continued, his voice steady. "He fought to keep the world from falling into darkness, but even then, he understood that Dorado must remain hidden. It is why we have always stayed apart from the outside world. The moment they know we exist, they will come for us, just as the Axis would have."

Necalli's anger began to simmer down, replaced by a growing sense of confusion. "Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? About him? About the Yohualli Ocelotl?"

Moquihuix turned and walked toward another suit, this one newer, sleeker, and more powerful. It was his own. "Because I wanted to protect you, Necalli. The mantle of the Yohualli Ocelotl is not something you can take on lightly. It is not just armor. It is a burden, a sacred duty. I had to make sure you were ready before I burdened you with this knowledge."

He turned to face his son, his eyes filled with both pride and sorrow. "I wear this suit to protect Dorado. Just as my father did. Just as his father did. But it's not just the suit that makes us who we are."

Necalli’s eyes flicked between the suits, the magnitude of what his father was saying beginning to sink in. "Then why tell me now?"

Moquihuix placed a hand on Necalli's shoulder. "Because soon, it may be your turn. The Yohualli Ocelotl is not just a warrior, it is a protector of our people. It is not just about striking down our enemies, but of protecting our people even if that means deciding when and when not to strike. And when the time comes, you will take on that mantle, just as I did."

Necalli took a step back, the weight of the revelation crashing over him. "But… my suit…?" He asked, glancing over at the empty armour stand next to his father's suit.

Moquihuix shook his head gently. "Your suit has not yet been made. But it will be, when you are ready."

Necalli looked at his father’s suit, then back to the one that belonged to his great-grandfather. "And what makes me ready? How do I…?"

Moquihuix's gaze softened. "It is not just about the suit. The Yohualli Ocelotl draws his strength from the gods—through the heart-shaped herb. It is a sacred plant, grown in the sacred gardens of Dorado, blessed by the divine."

Necalli frowned. "The heart-shaped herb?"

Moquihuix nodded. "When consumed, it grants the strength of our ancestors. Heightened senses, enhanced strength, and the wisdom of the spirits. You will journey to the Ancestral Plane and meet those who came before us. They will guide you."

Necalli felt his heart pound. "So…I'm supposed to go through this ritual? To consume this herb?"

Moquihuix met his gaze, his voice gentle but firm. "Yes. And soon. You are nearly of age, and when the time comes, you will be ready. This is your birthright, Necalli. But it is also a responsibility. One that you must carry."

Necalli stared at his father, the overwhelming truth settling in his chest. He had been angry moments ago, but now…now he wasn't sure what to feel. It wasn’t just the secrecy that stung, it was the weight of what was expected of him. The Yohualli Ocelotl. Protector of Dorado.

"How can I be ready for something like this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Moquihuix smiled faintly. "None of us are ever truly ready, Necalli. But when the time comes, you will rise to the challenge. You have the strength of our ancestors in you. And soon, you will walk in their footsteps."

Necalli stood there, staring at the suit, his heart pounding in his chest. Being king was bad enough, now this? He wished he had been given warning, training to prepare him for what was to come. "I'm scared, dad. This is all so much."

His father stood for a moment. Affection didn't come easy to Moquihuix, he preferred showing it in other, less direct ways. But even he understood what his son needed now. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I was scared too, terrified."

"Really?"

"Yes, more scared than I had ever been in my life. Your grandfather wasn't much help, he just told me to get on with it. I've only been that scared one more time since."

"When?"

His father let a smile grow on his face. "When you were born, Necalli." He said casting his mind back more than twenty years. "You were premature, none of us were sure you were going to make it. When you were born I could hold you in my palm. I remember those first weeks like they were yesterday, we were so scared something would happen to you, but no matter what life threw at you, you just kept on fighting, kept on struggling through no matter what obstacle was in your way." He looked his son directly in the eye. "And that's exactly why I know you'll pass this test. Because no matter what you don't give up, Necalli."

He pulled his son in for a hug.

---

(From here on The 'Yohualli Ocelotl' will be directly translated to 'Black Panther' for ease of writing and reading)

---

The weeks following Necalli's conversation with his father had been intense, filled with training, meditation, and what felt like endless preparation. The weight of his future as the next Black Panther was heavier than he had ever imagined, and yet, there was a quiet acceptance building within him. Like he had finally inched closer to his place in the world. His family had noticed a change in him too. He wasn't sneaking away from the training like he had been his classes. In fact, he had barely seen his friends since that night with his father. He'd sworn himself to secrecy about the Black Panther and found the best way to keep his mouth shut was to not have any opportunity to open it at all.

Torches flickered in the dark, their orange glow casting long shadows across the smooth stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of sacred herbs and incense, their pungent aroma filling Necalli's lungs with each breath. His father, Moquihuix, stood beside him, stoic and regal in his ceremonial armor, while his mother, Citlali, gazed at him with a mixture of pride and concern. Itzcóatl, his older brother, was there too, his face expressionless, though Necalli was sure he caught him winking at him when they caught eyes on the way down.

The elder shaman, dressed in elaborate robes adorned with feathers and gold, chanted softly as she prepared the sacred heart-shaped herb. The herb itself was unlike anything Necalli had seen, its glowing, vibrant veins pulsed with energy as though it were alive.

His father placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "This is it, Necalli. Once you drink the heart shaped herb, you will be taken to the Ancestral Plane. Trials await you my son, but trust in our ancestors and yourself. You have the strength to do this."

Necalli nodded, although his stomach churned with nerves. He had been preparing for this moment for months, but now that it was here, the enormity of it felt almost suffocating. No amount of preperation would have made him feel ready for this moment.

The shaman handed him a small bowl filled with the crushed heart-shaped herb, now a thick, black liquid. The smell was bitter, earthy, like damp soil after a storm. Necalli hesitated for only a moment before he lifted the bowl to his lips, closing his eyes as he swallowed the bitter mixture.

It hit him almost immediately. His vision blurred, and a warmth spread through his body, growing hotter and hotter until it felt like his veins were on fire. His heart raced, and the room seemed to tilt and spin around him. He stumbled, barely feeling his father’s hands as they lowered him gently to the stone floor. The torches dimmed, their light fading into swirling darkness.

And then, everything vanished.

Necalli opened his eyes to find himself standing in a completely different world. The jungle around him was impossibly lush, the trees towering overhead, their branches twisting into strange, ethereal shapes. The colors were too vibrant, too intense, leaves shimmered with hues of green that seemed to pulse, the sky above shifting from blue to purple and back again. The air was thick, alive with the sounds of birds, insects, and the distant roar of animals. It all sounded a millon miles away and right next to him at the same time.

But something felt…off.

The ground beneath him swayed like water, the trees bending and stretching, shifting in ways that made his head spin. Necalli staggered forward, his steps unsteady. The jungle seemed to be playing tricks on him, each tree he approached moved away, each sound he followed seemed to come from another direction.

He looked down at his hands and was surprised to find he could look straight through them. His form was an ethereal shimmering blue. solid and yet not. His whole body felt weightless, like he would float away at the lightest touch.

From the corner of his eye, he saw something dart between the trees, a quick flash of movement. Necalli turned, heart pounding, but saw nothing. Just more jungle. He tried to steady himself, tried to focus, but then there was a soft laugh, barely audible, but unmistakable.

"Lost already, little panther?" The voice was teased.

Necalli spun around, searching for the source. And then, from the shadows, stepped a figure, tall and lean, his face covered by a mask of a jackal, or was it a mask? Necalli knew in his heart who this had to be. The trickster god.

The god's body seemed to shimmer, like he was only half real, flickering in and out of focus. He took slow, deliberate steps toward Necalli, his movements fluid and unnerving. It was like every step shook his form in unnatural and unnerving ways. "You think you’re ready for this, hmm?" he said, circling Necalli like the jackal he was. "Ready to wear the mantle, ready to lead? To fight?"

Necalli frowned, trying to stay calm, but the world around him continued to twist. The trees bent unnaturally over him, the sky flickered like a broken light, and the ground seemed to shift like snakes beneath his feet. "I am ready." he said, though his voice didn’t sound as sure as he hoped.

The jackal god laughed, a low, mocking sound. "Oh, I don’t think so. You don’t even know who you are yet, do you? How can you protect them when you don’t even understand the weight of the crown you're about to wear?"

Suddenly, the god's face was inches from Necalli's, his eyes glowing with a strange, otherworldly light. The jungle seemed to close in around them, the colors deepening into a sickly green. "It's all a game, little panther," the god whispered. "A game you are very much unprepared for."

Necalli tried to pull away, but his feet were rooted to the ground, his body unresponsive. He glanced down and found his legs entangled in vines and roots, cementing him to the jungle floor. His mind raced, the world around him warping into grotesque shapes. The jackal god grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming.

"You'll fail," the god hissed, his voice echoing through the jungle. "Like so many before you."

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the trickster vanished. The jungle shifted again, the trees snapping back into their natural forms. The sky brightened into a glorious purple and gold, and the strange, eerie feeling lifted from the air. Necalli blinked, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind reeling from the encounter. He felt the vines entrapping him slither away back into the soil.

But before he could collect his thoughts, the jungle parted, and from its depths, figures began to emerge, his ancestors. Each one adorned in the ceremonial armor of the Black Panther, their eyes glowing with a soft, ethereal light. They moved silently, their faces calm, yet stern, as they encircled him.

Necalli stood taller, his breath steadying as he met their gazes. These were the protectors of Dorado, the Black Panthers who had come before him.

One of the figures, a tall man with a jaguar pelt draped over his shoulders, stepped forward. His face was weathered, his eyes sharp and knowing. "You are Necalli, the next in line," the ancestor said, his voice resonating like a drumbeat in the quiet jungle. "We have watched you. We have waited."

Necalli swallowed, attempting to puff his chest and show his worth. "I am Necalli Dorado Cuauhpilli, heir to Dorado and the next Black Panther." He felt the gaze of his ancestors as his words hung in the air. They stared down at him, expectantly, not a judging stare, but one that made Necalli feel strangely comfortable. Like he was seeing different aspects of himself. "I don’t know if I’m ready." he finally admitted, his voice quiet.

Another ancestor, a woman with fierce eyes and armor that shimmered like obsidian, approached. "None of us were ever ready." she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "But the gods choose you. The mantle chooses you. The question is not whether you are ready, but whether you will rise to meet the burden."

Necalli clenched his fists, looking from one ancestor to the next. Their faces were stern, but there was a sense of understanding in their eyes. The same doubts, the same fears had plagued them once, and yet they had risen to the challenge. His eyes glanced upwards to a silhouette standing high on a tree branch, leaning back with his arms crossed against the tree. He felt familiar, much more familiar than many of the other Panther's before him. His eyes bore into Necalli like a drill, and yet the figure remained silent.

And then, the ground trembled beneath him.

The trees bent low, as though bowing to an unseen force. The sky above darkened, and a mighty wind tore through the jungle. From the heart of the storm, a colossal figure appeared, radiant in blue and gold, feathers like fire, his presence overwhelming. Huitzilopochtli, the war god, the sun god, towering above them all.

Necalli's breath caught in his throat as the god's immense form loomed closer, each step shaking the earth. Huitzilopochtli’s eyes, burning like twin suns, locked onto him, and everything else seemed to fade away.

"You stand before me, Necalli, son of Dorado." the god boomed, his voice like thunder rolling across the sky. "Chosen by the gods, chosen by your ancestors. Do you doubt this path?"

Necalli looked up at the god, his heart racing. The power radiating from Huitzilopochtli was overwhelming, yet there was something familiar in the way the god's gaze bore into him. "I... I don’t know if I’m strong enough" he admitted.

Huitzilopochtli's laughter echoed through the jungle, shaking the very trees. "Strength is earned, not given. Through battle, through sacrifice, through fire. The path of the Black Panther is not an easy one, but it is your destiny."

Necalli stood his ground, meeting the god's gaze. The world around him had been a whirlwind of chaos, confusion, and doubt. But here, in the presence of his ancestors, in the presence of the sun god himself, he felt something stir deep within him, a strength he hadn't known was there.

The god knelt, his immense form looming closer, his eyes burning like molten gold. "You will face trials beyond your imagination" Huitzilopochtli said, his voice filled with power. "But you carry the blood of warriors, the strength of of the panther. You are the son of the gods. Do not fear the burden."

Necalli took a deep breath, the weight of the words settling in his chest. His ancestors watched in silence, their eyes reflecting both pride and expectation. He could feel the power of the Black Panther within him now, awakened, stirring.

He was ready.

But the spirit world wasn't done with him yet.

As Huitzilopochtli began to fade, the ground beneath Necalli's feet shifted once more, the jungle around him warping into a swirling, chaotic blur of colors and shapes. Suddenly, he was no longer standing in the peaceful, ancestral clearing but in a dense, suffocating mist. The air felt thick, almost liquid, as if it were pressing against his skin, making each breath laborious. He looked around, but the mist swallowed everything beyond a few feet.

A voice echoed from within the mist, low and rumbling. It wasn’t Huitzilopochtli, nor the ancestors, it was something else entirely. The sound of it sent a chill up his spine.

"Strength must be tested. A warrior's worth is proven, not given."

Necalli tensed, bracing himself as the voice faded into the mist. He took a step forward, and the ground gave way beneath him. He tumbled, spinning through the air as the world collapsed into darkness, only to land hard in an unfamiliar place. He groaned, pushing himself to his feet, and his surroundings slowly came into focus.

He was no longer in the jungle. Instead, he stood in the middle of a vast battlefield, under a blood-red sky. The stench of smoke and burning flesh filled the air. All around him, warriors clashed, their faces twisted with rage and pain. The clang of metal on metal, the shouts of battle, the cries of the dying, it was overwhelming.

Necalli's heart raced. Was this a vision of the past? A trial from the gods? He didn’t have time to dwell on the question as a warrior, clad in blood-soaked armor, charged at him, a jagged spear in hand.

Instinct took over.

Necalli dodged the attack, rolling to the side and grabbing a fallen sword from the ground. The weapon felt heavy in his hand, but he gripped it tightly, just in time to parry another strike. The force of the blow reverberated through his body, but he held his ground. The warrior attacked again, a flurry of strikes that left Necalli scrambling to defend himself.

He felt the strain in his muscles, the burn in his lungs, but he fought back, his movements becoming sharper, more precise with each exchange. This wasn't just a test of his physical strength, it was a trial of his will, his determination to survive. And he refused to fall.

With a roar, he disarmed the warrior, sending the spear flying from their hands. In one fluid motion, Necalli struck, his blade slicing through the air and the warrior dissolved into a cloud of black smoke, vanishing into the wind.

Necalli gasped, his chest heaving, but there was no time to rest. The battlefield shifted, the ground rippling beneath his feet. The warriors, the carnage, they all faded into the mist once more.

He stood alone again, the eerie silence pressing in on him.

"Strength is one thing." the voice echoed again. "But a true Black Panther must be more than a warrior."

The mist parted before him, revealing a new path, one that led into a towering, jagged mountain. Necalli hesitated for only a moment before moving forward. His body ached from the battle, but he pressed on, each step heavier than the last as the mountain loomed above him.

As he climbed, the air grew colder, the path steeper. His hands bled from gripping the sharp rocks, but he didn’t stop. The higher he climbed, the more the wind howled, threatening to knock him down, but he held firm, his eyes fixed on the peak above.

Finally, after what felt like hours, days even, he reached the summit. There, atop the mountain, stood a single figure, an old woman, her face weathered by time, her eyes sharp and piercing. She said nothing as Necalli approached, only gesturing to the edge of the cliff.

Necalli frowned but walked to where she pointed. Below him was a sheer drop, a chasm so deep he couldn't see the bottom. The wind whipped around him, howling in his ears. His hands dripped warm blood into the cold snow he stood on.

"Jump." the woman said, her voice calm.

Necalli's heart skipped a beat. He stared into the abyss, his stomach twisting. "I'll die if I jump."

The woman tilted her head, her expression unchanging. "A king must trust in more than what he sees. He must trust his instincts, his heart, and the gods that guide him. If you doubt, you fail."

Necalli's hands trembled at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away, to turn back. But deep down, beneath the fear, was something else. Something that pushed him forward. He glanced upwards once more, to the peak of the mountain and he could see the same figure from the jungle, perched, watching him like a predator. Then, Necalli realised where that familiar feeling was coming from. His armour was the set his eyes had been drawn to, the first Black Panther's armour. He looked back down to the chasm, a weight of expectation on him as he felt the first protector of Dorado watch.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaped.

The air rushed around him as he plummeted toward the darkness below. His heart raced, but he didn’t scream. He didn't fight it. He trusted.

And then, everything stopped.

Necalli opened his eyes to find himself floating in an endless void. There was no ground, no sky. Just an infinite expanse of nothingness. But he wasn't alone. Before him stood his ancestors, their forms flickering like shadows in the dark. The Black Panthers who had come before him, all watching, all waiting.

"Courage." one of them said, their voice echoing through the void. "Not just in battle, but in life. In choices. In leadership. This is what makes you worthy of the Black Panther."

Necalli nodded, understanding now. This trial wasn't just about physical strength. It was about trust, about courage, about accepting the responsibility that came with the mantle of Black Panther.

Suddenly, the void began to shimmer, the darkness peeling away like the skin of a snake, revealing a vast, starry sky above him. The stars swirled, forming constellations that danced across the heavens. And there, towering above them all, was the radiant figure of Huitzilopochtli once more, his presence filling the sky with light.

But something else moved in the shadows. Necalli felt a familiar chill crawl down his spine as the trickster jackal god appeared once again, grinning from the darkness.

"Oh, you’ve come so far!" the jackal god sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "But let’s see if you’re truly ready, little panther."

With a wave of his hand, the jackal god summoned illusions, distorted images of Necalli's worst fears. He saw his family falling to enemies, Dorado burning, his people enslaved. The visions twisted and spun around him, overwhelming, horrifying.

Necalli's breath caught in his throat. Fear clawed at his chest, and for a moment, doubt threatened to consume him. But then he remembered the mountain, the leap into the abyss. He remembered the words of his ancestors, trust. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath.

"You don't control me." Necalli said, his voice firm, cutting through the illusions like a blade. "I am Necalli Dorado Cuauhpilli, heir to Dorado and the Black Panther."

The illusions shattered, dissolving into nothingness. The jackal god hissed in frustration, his form flickering. He vanished once more, retreating into the shadows.

Necalli stood tall, his heart steady, the fear gone. The trials were over.

Above him, Huitzilopochtli's eyes glowed with approval. "You have passed, Necalli. You have faced fear, pain, and doubt, and you have overcome them. You are worthy." Necalli could feel the god's warmth as the giant smiled down upon him. "Your path will be fraught with difficulties, Panther, maybe more than Dorado has faced since its first days, but you are truly one of my most capable warriors."

The sky blazed with golden light as the war god stretched his hand toward him. "Return now, Black Panther, son of Dorado. Your people await you."

And with that, the spirit world faded away, the stars and gods dissolving into the golden light, leaving Necalli standing in darkness once more.

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the sacred cave. The flickering torchlight bathed the stone walls in warm hues, and his family stood around him, watching with a mix of anticipation and concern.

Moquihuix stepped forward, his voice low and steady. "You have returned, son."

Necalli slowly rose to his feet, feeling a new strength coursing through his veins. His vision of the trials, the gods, the ancestors it was all still fresh in his mind. But something inside him had changed. He was no longer the uncertain prince who had entered the cave.

"I am ready" Necalli said, his voice resolute. "I am ready to be the Black Panther."

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

<Snipped quote by Hound55>

I have the strangest sense of Deja Vu

You doing okay bub?

@Sep

I'm glad you said this I thought I was going crazy or had gained psychic powers lol

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Volume 1 - Beggar Knight

Stand with Honour

---

Duncan stood still for a moment, his pulse slowing but the power from the armour still thrumming, pulling at him. The Elder Ghul lay dead at his feet, their immense bodies sprawled across the chamber floor, and yet the hunger inside the living armour was not sated. It demanded more, more blood, more death, more chaos.

Omar and Mehdi exchanged nervous glances, uncertain how to react to their companion, who no longer seemed entirely human. They had seen Duncan fight before, but this was different. He moved like a predator, like something ancient and terrifying that had been awoken deep within him. The three stood in silence, Duncan's friends not quite sure what to say or do in his terrifying presence.

"We need to go." Duncan said, his voice a strange mixture of his own and something far more primal. His eyes behind his helmet were wild, burning with a savage intensity. "The camp needs us."

Without waiting for a response, Duncan turned and led them back through the corridor. His strides were swift and purposeful, the cursed armour carrying him with unnatural ease. Omar and Mehdi followed, keeping their distance, still unsure of the creature that now wore their friend's face.

As they climbed back up the spiral staircase, the eerie hum from the chamber below faded. But the tension didn't. Duncan's chest still ached, the shard of the Ebony Blade embedded in his heart pulsing with each step, reminding him of the cost of this power.

They emerged from the subterranean ruins to find the camp in chaos. The Ghul had mounted a massive assault in their absence, the campfires flickering wildly as soldiers fought to repel the vicious creatures. Screams filled the air, mingled with the clash of steel and the guttural growls of the Ghul.

Duncan barely paused. He charged forward, his mace in hand, the living armour propelling him into battle with terrifying speed. He crashed into the nearest Ghul, swinging his mace with bone shattering force. The beast was sent flying, its skull crushed, but Duncan didn't stop. The armour's hunger was insatiable. It guided him through the battlefield like a storm, tearing through the Ghul with ruthless efficiency.

Mehdi and Omar fought valiantly, but they couldn't keep up with Duncan. He was a force of nature, moving faster and hitting harder than any man should be capable of. The Ghul fell before him like wheat before a scythe, their monstrous forms crumbling under his assault. Blood sprayed the sands, and Duncan felt a dark satisfaction rising within him. The armour wanted more. Demanded more.

But with each kill, the armour grew tighter, more suffocating. The line between Duncan and the beast within the metal blurred. His chest burned, the shard of the Ebony Blade flaring with dark energy, feeding the curse.

He felt it then, the armour trying to take control. The line between the movements he chose to do, and the ones it was making him do began to blur.

The battlefield faded from his vision, replaced by a swirling void of darkness and blood. The primal roar of the beast within the armour echoed in his mind, calling him to surrender, to give in to the power, to let it consume him completely.

No! Duncan fought back, gritting his teeth. He couldn't lose himself. Not now. Not after everything. His friends, his mission, they still needed him.

But the armour tightened around his body, its influence pressing harder. His limbs felt heavier, his movements more violent. He was losing the battle for control. His shrouded vision spun as he whipped his head around and watched as the last of the Ghul fell. But rather than cheers of victory the people of the camp were almost silent, many of them casting worried glances or flat out staring at Duncan.

He looked down at his bloodied metal hands, like a beasts claws curling up towards him and then back to the people of the camp. He shook his head violently, regaining just enough control to turn and pounce like a wildcat, scrambling on all fours at a speed far greater than he could run back towards the cliff that overlooked the camp Mehdi had shown him before.

He could feel the armour's will. It didn't just want to kill the Ghul, it wanted to kill anyone in its path. He could feel it trying to draw him to the camp, to satiate its thirst for blood. He had to resist. He began clawing at the armour, trying to peel it off and toss it away, but it was like trying to peel off your own skin. Every time he tried to tear at it his skin felt like it was burning. He could feel the armour resisting, solidifying itself as part of him moer and more as he struggled.

He gripped the helmet in his hands, shutting his eyes tight as he shook his head, trying to fight against the thoughts telling him to let go of control. And then a glimmer of hope, a vision of times long gone.

Memory 3

Duncan's ears were filled with the chaotic clamor of battle. Screams of pain, the clang of steel, and the thunderous gallop of horses crashed against his senses. He was small, too small for the battlefield, barely more than a child, yet here he was a conscript in a mercenary band, fighting for coin and survival. The weight of the rusty shortsword in his trembling hands felt like a mockery of the carnage surrounding him.

The battlefield was a vast plain, its rolling hills dotted with the bodies of fallen men and horses. Smoke rose in thick plumes from distant fires, the acrid scent of blood and burning flesh stinging his nose. Duncan's heart raced. He could barely keep his wits about him. He had been taught to fight, to survive, but no training had prepared him for this, a real war.

He darted through the chaos, ducking under wild swings and avoiding the trampling hooves of warhorses. His mercenary band was outnumbered, hired to fight for a cause they didn’t believe in, just coin in their pockets. Duncan had been pushed to the front lines, and now he was alone. He had lost sight of his comrades, and his small frame made him a target.

A shadow loomed over him. He spun around to see a massive knight bearing down on him, clad in dark, jagged armour that looked as though it had been forged from his nightmares. The knight's visor was down, but the cold, soulless gaze of his eyes gleamed from behind it. Duncan froze, unable to move, as the knight raised a wicked sword high above his head, ready to bring it down and end the boy's life.

Fear seized Duncan, his legs refusing to respond to his desperate desire to flee. He raised his flimsy sword in a futile attempt to block the blow, but he knew it would shatter against the knight's steel. Time seemed to slow as the sword descended toward him, and Duncan felt his heart stop.

And then, in a blinding flash of gold and steel, a figure burst between him and the knight, intercepting the deadly blow with a shield that gleamed like the sun.

It was him. The man who claimed to be the rightful king of Albion, Arthur. Duncan was supposed to be fighting against him, and yet here he was, being saved by him.

The king's presence was larger than life, his armor shining with a brilliance that seemed to drive back the darkness of the battlefield. His golden helm reflected the light of the burning fires, and Excalibur, his legendary sword, shone with an ethereal glow. The sheer force of his presence sent shockwaves across the field, and the knight who had nearly killed Duncan was momentarily stunned, as if fearing the king's wrath.

Arthur didn't speak as he effortlessly parried the knight's next attack, his movements swift and precise. With a single stroke, Arthur cleaved through the dark knight’s armor, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap of broken metal and flesh.

Duncan stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, unable to comprehend what had just happened. His sword slipped from his fingers, falling uselessly to the ground. He was just a child in the presence of a legend.

King Arthur turned to him, his gaze calm and reassuring. Behind the visor of his helm, his eyes were kind, filled with a quiet wisdom and strength that soothed Duncan's terror. He pulled his visor up, revealing his sharp, handsome features and blonde hair.

"Young one." Arthur said, his voice deep but gentle. "This is no place for you."

Duncan could only stare, his body shaking with the adrenaline of his near death experience. He opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

Arthur knelt before Duncan, lowering his sword. He placed a gauntleted hand on the boy's trembling shoulder, his touch firm but comforting. "Do not be afraid. You are not meant for this life. Not yet."

Duncan looked up at him, his lips quivering. "W-why...why did you save me?"

Arthur smiled, a warmth spreading across his face. "Because even in the midst of darkness, there are those worth saving. You have a path ahead of you, young one, a light within you that cannot be extinguished."

Duncan felt a surge of emotion rise in his chest. This man, this king, had seen something in him, something worth saving. He felt the tears sting his eyes, but he blinked them back, nodding quickly, trying to steady himself.

Arthur rose to his full height, his golden armor gleaming in the sunlight. "Remember this day." he said softly, "and remember that you are never alone in battle. Stand with honour, and you will never be defeated." He took one last look at Duncan. "Come and find me after the battle, boy, Albion needs brave warriors like you."

And with that, Arthur turned and charged back into the fray, his sword raised high as he rallied his men to victory. Duncan stood there, watching the legendary king vanish into the chaos, his heart still racing but filled with a strange sense of peace.

As the memory faded, Duncan found himself back on the cliff overlooking the camp, the cursed armour loosening its hold. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his fingers gripping the helm as he tore it free from his head. The air was cool against his sweat-slicked skin, and the weight of the armour seemed to lessen.

Arthur's words echoed in his mind, grounding him. Stand with honour.

With one final, violent effort, Duncan ripped the cursed armour from his body, it retreating back into its liquid form and disappearing down the shoulders of his robes. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, but he was free, at least for now. He could still feel it there, part of him. But at least he had control over it for the moment.

The memory of Arthur's light had saved him once again. Now, it was time to find Merlin.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@Half Pint this song will be playing in my head whenever you post as Panther

@Sep

Hahaha part of me wanted to add a reference to them somewhere in my post but I thought it might take away from the tone lol

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Volume 1 - The Heir of Dorado

Footsteps in the Jungle

---

Moquihuix sat at the head of the room, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow across the stone table. The chamber, lit by the warm glow of torches, felt heavy with tension as his advisors discussed the unsettling news. The soft hum of water from a nearby fountain was the only sound cutting through the low murmur of voices.

"They are drawing closer." one advisor said. "Our scouts have reported sightings of foreign invaders, armed, trying to sweep the jungle, no doubt looking for something."

"Still." another advisor added, her arms crossed over her chest "They have not come close to breaching the cloaking systems. Our technology remains far superior. Let them wander in circles for now."

Moquihuix exhaled slowly, his dark eyes glinting with thought. "And the drones?" he asked, his voice calm yet commanding. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he surveyed the room.

"Harmless." one of the senior generals answered. "They fly blind. Even with their surveillance, they see nothing but the dense jungle. None have come near our shields."

There was a pause as Moquihuix considered the situation. His fingers traced absent patterns on a map that lay on the table, as if trying to calculate the hundreds of ways the invaders could find his city. He nodded slowly, his fingers tapping lightly against the stone table as he considered their words. His voice, low and commanding, carried across the room.

"If we confront them, we risk drawing attention to ourselves. Dorado has been hidden for millenia for a reason. The world is not yet ready to know we exist, and we cannot reveal ourselves prematurely."

Another advisor, older and draped in richly embroidered robes, leaned forward, his voice carrying tones of concern. "But, my lord, how long can we rely on the jungle's protection? These outsiders, these invaders, are persistent. If we wait too long, we may find ourselves cornered."

Moquihuix’s jaw clenched slightly. He knew the stakes. "For as long as it takes. Our priority is secrecy. Monitor them. Engage only if absolutely necessary, and even then, leave no trace. The time will come when we will reveal ourselves to the rest of the world, but that time is not now."

The advisors nodded, though unease flickered in their expressions. They had kept the invaders at bay for years, but the presence of the foreign drones and soldiers on their borders was becoming too frequent to ignore. Time felt like it was running out, and maybe it was.

Moquihuix rose from his seat as his advisors left the room and made his way over to a balcony that overlooked a large city square in front of his palace. The city was bathed in the golden light of the lowering sun. A million thoughts were racing through his mind. They'd had sparse contact with outsiders over the years. Centuries ago one plucky adventurer might stumble across Dorado every 100, or even 200 years, but as technology advanced so did the methods those in the know used to try and find the golden city. Now it was every 50, or even sometimes 25 years that a foreigner had managed to wander their way too close to Dorado's gates.

They kept secluded from the outside world, but the outside world was no secret to them. They surveilled every major country, and it was of the utmost importance for the royal family to learn the languages of other cultures on the off chance they were forced to make contact. They'd lived in almost absolute peace for centuries, getting involved in the wars and skirmishes of the wider world was just too risky, especially with the interest they'd draw from global superpowers once Vibranium was discovered.

He heard the door open and a set of footsteps gently approaching him.

"The meeting is adjourned. You can bring me anymore problems tomorrow."

"Do I often bring you problems, Moquihuix?" replied his wife, Citlali, her voice soft yet teasing as she stepped out onto the balcony beside him. Her long, flowing dress, a deep shade of red embroidered with golden patterns, caught the fading sunlight, and her dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Though her presence brought a certain calm, the weight of their shared concerns was still reflected in her dark eyes.

Moquihuix turned to her, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth, though the seriousness of the meeting lingered in his expression. "Only when the problems are worth hearing." he said, his tone lightening slightly as he took her hand and pressed it gently to his lips.

Citlali gave him a knowing look, then turned her gaze over the city. The streets below were bustling with activity, families returning home as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Despite the peaceful view, the tension from the earlier discussions clung to the air like an unwelcome shadow.

"They're getting closer, aren't they?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might bring the invaders nearer.

Moquihuix nodded, his eyes still focused on the city below. "Closer than ever. They’re persistent, but our shields hold. For now."

"For now." Citlali echoed, her grip tightening slightly on his arm. "But how long can we hide, Moquihuix? The world beyond the jungle…it has changed so much. Maybe it’s time we consider making contact. On our own terms, before they find us on theirs."

Moquihuix's face darkened at the suggestion. He turned to face her fully, his voice firm. "No. The outside world is not ready for Dorado. They would tear us apart. Strip this city of its secrets, its power. You know this."

"I do." Citlali replied gently, searching his eyes. "But times are different. They’re not just wanderers or explorers anymore. They're armed with satellites, drones, technology we’ve never faced before. Eventually, they will find us. And when they do, we may not have the upper hand."

Her words hung in the air. Moquihuix clenched his jaw, turning back toward the horizon, his mind racing. "They are not ready." he repeated, his voice more resolute. "And neither are we. If we reveal ourselves now, it will invite destruction. The moment they learn of our Vibranium, every superpower on the planet will be at our gates, and then it will be war. We have the technological advantage, but they have the numbers."

Citlali was silent for a moment, her brow furrowed. She had heard these arguments many times before, understood the logic. But her heart whispered otherwise. "And yet, if we wait too long, Moquihuix...we may lose control of the situation entirely. The world has a way of finding what it wants, whether we're ready or not. Who knows, perhaps there are those out there who would wish to help Dorado, to live in harmony with us?"

Moquihuix didn't respond right away. He stood there, the silence stretching between them, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on his shoulders. Finally, he sighed. "I will not risk our people. Not yet. Not until I am certain we can control the outcome."

Citlali placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "I understand. But we've kept this secret from Necalli for long enough. Sooner or later, he'll need to know what's happening beyond our borders."

Moquihuix’s expression softened slightly, though the concern didn’t leave his eyes. "He's not ready for that burden yet. He needs time."

Citlali nodded. "Perhaps. But he's not a child anymore, Moquihuix. He deserves to know what he will one day be responsible for."

Moquihuix followed her gaze as it drifted toward the square below, where Necalli had emerged from his lessons and was playing Pok-ta-pok with his friends. His movements were quick and precise, his body language focused and strong, laughing and shouting as the ball moved across the court.

Moquihuix watched in silence, the sight of his son both comforting and unsettling. After a long pause, he spoke softly, almost to himself. "I shouldn't have compared him to Itzcóatl yesterday. It was unfair."

Citlali glanced at him, her expression gentle. "You've always been hard on him, Moquihuix. He's not his brother, and he never will be. But that doesn't mean he's not capable in his own way."

Moquihuix sighed. "I know. I just...sometimes, I worry. About whether he's ready. About whether he'll ever be ready to be king."

Citlali placed a hand on his arm, her voice soft and reassuring. "Necalli has great potential. He may not be like Itzcóatl, but he's strong in his own right. When the time comes, he'll rise to the challenge."

Moquihuix nodded slowly, though the tension in his posture remained. "I hope you're right" he said quietly. "For his sake...and for Dorado's."

They stood together for a moment longer, watching as the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the city and the courtyard below where their son played, unaware of the burdens waiting for him.

---

Necalli chewed on the end of his already destroyed pencil as he struggled to stay awake. His instructor had been droning on about the compelexities of foreign diplomacy for what felt like weeks now. This was his tradeoff. Either get a job working with his fathers advisors or attend these boring classes. He was supposed to be paying attention to the lesson, supposed to be learning about the dynamics of places like America, Britain, or China, countries far removed from the quiet and cloaked world of Dorado.

But his mind was elsewhere.

As the teacher lectured, Necalli's thoughts drifted to the outside world, what it was like beyond the borders of Dorado. He'd learned about their cultures and traditions, but never met someone from anywhere else. Part of him longed to run away to these places, to visit the Empire State Building, Big Ben, or the Great Wall. But instead he was stuck learning about the correct way to speak to foreign nationals without insulting them. It all seemed kind of pointless when his father refused to make contact with anyone.

The sound of his friends outside only further spurred his daydreams. He'd been cooped up far too long and his muscles were stiff from sitting still. He could hear the heavy ball thumping against a nearby wall as the game of Pok-ta-pok continued on without him.

Finally, the lesson ended, and Necalli wasted no time heading toward the courtyard. He stepped out into the cool, fresh air, the sun already beginning to set in the distance, and stretched his back letting out an exagerrated yawn. The streets were alive with people going about their business, but Necalli had only one destination in mind.

The second match had already started when he arrived. His friends were in the middle of a fast paced game, the heavy rubber ball bouncing off the stone walls with sharp, resonating thuds. Necalli grinned as he joined them, his earlier impatience fading as he focused on the game.

"Nice of you to join us, princess!" Shouted Tepe, volleying the ball into the air towards Necalli with his elbow. Necalli bounced it off his chest before booting it towards the stone goal mounted up on the wall.

"Well I couldn't let you lose all day!"

Pok-ta-pok was more than a pastime, it was a way of life for the people of Dorado. Teams had formed over the centuries of the game being played and the superstars of the sport were on the same level in Dorado as people like Ronaldo or Michael Jordan were in the outside world. The ballgame was played with intensity, and it didn't take long for Necalli to lose himself in the rhythm of it all, sweat dripping down his brow as he ran across the court.

But even as he played, something gnawed at the back of his mind. A faint whisper of something out of place. He couldn’t shake the sense that something was happening, something he wasn’t aware of.

His suspicions were confirmed when he overheard a conversation from the sidelines.

"My cousins a scout, he says they’ve been spotted again, on the outskirts." one voice said, just loud enough for Necalli to catch. "More foreigners this time, with machines. They're searching for something. Maybe…for us."

Necalli’s heart skipped a beat. He missed the ball as it flew past him, slamming against the wall. His friends laughed, giving him a light shove, but he barely heard them. His mind was elsewhere, fixated on the words that now echoed in his ears.

Foreigners. Searching for Dorado.

"They’ll never find us." another voice replied. "Moquihuix has decided we will remain hidden. They'll never get passed our borders."

Necalli forced a laugh with his friends, but the unease within him grew. Why hadn’t he been told about this? Why was his father keeping this from him? He'd heard rumours like this all his life, but they only got more common as time went on.

The game continued, but Necalli’s concentration faltered. His movements grew slower, his thoughts elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he needed to know more. The invaders were too close, their presence too persistent. How could they just stand by and watch?

He glanced toward the jungle in the distance, the thick canopy visible beyond the city’s shield. Somewhere out there, foreigners, strangers from a world Necalli had never seen, were pushing against the edges of their hidden world.

As the game came to an end, Necalli wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind already made up. He had to find out more. He couldn’t just stand by while his father and the council debated behind closed doors. Dorado was in danger, and he wasn’t going to wait for someone else to act.

Necalli left the courtyard with a purpose. It was time to confront his father.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

<Snipped quote by Half Pint>

This is just one part, of something that will happen once or twice so I wouldn't be in a massive panic just yet.

My goal is to try and facilitate interaction in ways that are manageable (not too many people at once), but also fun and work witn the stories YOU guys want to tell.

@Sep

Sounds good captain, looking forward to seeing what it could be

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Damn Duncan and Neville better get a move on if they want to be in America in time for this event lol. Necalli has a better chance of getting there quicker with what I’ve got planned so I’ll focus on him for the time being!

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Volume 1 - The Heir of Dorado

The Hunt Begins

---

The dense canopy of the jungle swayed with the symphony of nature. Leaves rustling, creatures stirring in the underbrush, birds fluttering and flying around the trees, but Necalli was silent. He was crouched, obscured by foliage and gripping his short spear tightly in his hand. Slowly, purposefully, he drew his weapon back, raising his other arm forward to guide his throw. His eyes traced the outline of his prey, a tapir, oblivious to his presence as it foraged among the low hanging branches.

Just as Necalli steadied his breath and prepared to strike, there was a sudden crack, a twig snapping somewhere behind him. The tapir's ears perked up, its head jerking toward the sound. Necalli’s eyes widened.

"No..."

Before he could react, his friend, Tepe, burst through the bushes, waving wildly.
"Necalli! Wait, I-"

The tapir bolted, crashing through the jungle with surprising speed for its size. Necalli groaned under his breath and shot a glare at Tepe, who stood frozen, hands raised in a sheepish attempt to apologize.

"You're supposed to warn me before you charge in! I almost had it there!" Necalli hissed, already sprinting after the fleeing animal.

Tepe, laughing nervously, took off behind him.
"I thought I did!"

The two of them tore through the jungle, branches whipping at their faces and mud splashing beneath their feet. The tapir, now spooked, darted between trees and thick foliage, forcing Necalli and Tepe to abandon any attempt at stealth.

"How is it this fast?" Tepe shouted between breaths, stumbling over a root as he tried to keep up. "It's like it knows we’re terrible at this!"

"It definitely knows how bad you are at this, it and the whole of Dorado!" Shouted back Necalli, letting out a small laugh in between panting as he sprinted. "Maybe if someone didn't trip on every branch in the jungle, we'd have caught it by now!"

The chase carried on, with Necalli and Tepe crashing through the greenery, each misstep becoming more ridiculous than the last. Necalli's spear arm had long since been lowered, this wasn’t a hunt anymore, it was a race, and a losing one at that.

Finally, they skidded to a halt at the edge of a ravine. The tapir had managed to slip away into the underbrush on the other side, its snorts of triumph faintly audible through the trees.

Panting, Tepe doubled over, hands on his knees.

"Well...that was...graceful."

Necalli, shaking his head, leaned against a tree, catching his breath.

"Next time, Tepe, just watch where you put your feet." They both laughed, with Necalli giving Tepe a playful slap on the back.

"Think we have time for another hunt?"

"Nah, I'm already on thin ice with my dad, I wasn't strictly supposed to leave the city today after last week."

Necalli leaned back against the tree, still catching his breath as the two let out another giggle, when a voice called out from the shadows of the jungle.

"Thin ice, huh? That's an understatement. I think the tapir will be the least of your problems when we get back."

Necalli jumped slightly, startled by the sudden appearance of his older brother, Itzcóatl, standing with his arms crossed, a wry smile tugging at his normally stoic face. His tall, imposing figure was partially hidden by the dense foliage, but his presence was unmistakable. He stepped out into the clearing, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. He was dressed in the sleek, modernized attire of Dorado's warrior elite; a sleeveless tunic made from a dark, shimmering material that hugged his muscular frame, its intricate geometric patterns woven with thread that glinted like silver in the light. Around his waist was a belt holding ceremonial decorations, subtle but undeniably regal. His pants, embroidered with vibrant red and gold symbols of Huitzilopochtli, tapered into sturdy sandals. Around his neck hung a necklace with a pendant displaying his namesake made from obsidian displaying an intricate pattern of intertwined serpents.

"How long have you been watching us?" Necalli asked, straightening up and narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Long enough to see you both lose a perfectly good meal," Itzcóatl replied, gesturing towards the direction where the tapir had disappeared. "I’ll be sure to let Father know how graceful the prince is at hunting these days."

Necalli winced, knowing full well that his father was already displeased with him for reasons far more personal than a missed hunt. "Come on, Itzcóatl, don’t make it worse than it is. You know how he gets."

Itzcóatl raised an eyebrow. "Oh, believe me, I know. He’s already upset about...well, certain rumors." He smirked, and Necalli blushed slightly.

Tepe, ever the awkward friend, tried to help. "We were just having some fun! It’s not like anyone’s keeping score, right? What's one failed hunt among friends!"

Itzcóatl chuckled softly, his serious demeanor momentarily softening. "Oh, I'm definitely keeping score. Or at least trying to, I think I lost count at maybe the 73rd animal you lost?" He grinned, Necalli rolled his eyes. "You being caught with that girl didn’t exactly earn you any favor either. He sent me to find you because you’ve already been gone longer than you were supposed to."

Necalli groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Of course he did."

Tepe, forgetting the trouble Necalli was in, reacted with a shocked expression, almost turning his entire body to face his friend as he spoke. "Wait a minute, Necalli. You were caught with a girl? You didn’t tell me! Who is she?"

Necalli shot Tepe a warning look. "It's not like that, Tepe."

Tepe's eyes widened, his tone teasing. "What? Not like that? Come on, man! You’ve gotta tell me everything! How did I not hear about this?!" Necalli responded with a look that could kill.

Itzcóatl patted him on the shoulder, his brotherly side showing through despite his teasing. "Don't worry, little brother. If anyone can charm their way back into Father's good graces, it's you. But maybe you should cool it on the whole 'getting caught in bed' thing, yeah? It doesn't exactly reflect well on father to have his heir fathering a child before he even wears the crown."

Necalli felt a knot tighten in his stomach at his brother's words. It was a truth they both understood but rarely discussed: Itzcóatl, despite his strength and skill, would never wear the crown. He loved Itzcóatl fiercely, not just as his brother but as the one who had always stood by him. The thought of him being unable to fulfill his rightful place as king, not due to a lack of ability but because of circumstances beyond his control, stung. Necalli never felt like he should have been the heir, if he could have been the bastard and let Itzcóatl be the next in line he'd have done it in a heartbeat. Still, he admired his brother for having the grace to joke about it, and for always being there for him.

Necalli grinned sheepishly. "I'll try my best."

"Let’s just hope your 'best' is enough this time." Itzcóatl replied. "And maybe next time, try to keep your activities to a more...discreet location."

Tepe nodded vigorously, eager to add his two cents. "Yeah, man! What's the fun in getting caught? That's like, the opposite of being smooth!"

Necalli let out a groan, shaking his head. "Trust me, I’m aware." His frown turned to a smile as he playfully punched Tepe's arm. "Plus, if anyone knows what the 'opposite of being smooth' is, it's definitely you, Tepe."

Tepe looked back at him, mouth agape as he rubbed his arm.
"I'm smooth! I'm totally smooth! I'm as smooth as pulque brother!"

With that, Itzcóatl turned and motioned for them to follow. "Come on, you two. We should head back before Father sends a search party into the jungle."

---

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue across the dense jungle, Itzcóatl led his younger brother and his friend through the thick underbrush. The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of chirping insects and rustling leaves, but their movements were careful and deliberate. One wrong turn and you'd be face to face with a panther in this maze. Necalli's heart raced in anxiety, knowing they were nearing the secret entrance to their home, inching ever closer to the wrath of his father.

They arrived at a moss covered rock face that seemed indistinguishable from the rest of the jungle. Itzcóatl stepped forward, pushing aside the thick vines and foliage that concealed the entrance. A narrow opening yawned before them, leading into the darkness of a hidden cave.

"Almost home." Itzcóatl said as he ducked inside. The cool air greeted them, filled with the earthy scent of damp stone.

Inside, the cave twisted and turned, the walls glistening with moisture. As they ventured deeper, the cave was dimly lit by patches of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the rock, illuminating their path with a soft, ethereal glow. The faint sound of dripping water echoed in the background as they exited the passage into a grand cavern adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering crystals embedded in the walls. The vibrant patterns depicted tales of bravery, love, and sacrifice, stories that defined the history that Necalli was due to continue.

At the far end of the chamber, a heavy stone door blended seamlessly with the cave's walls. Itzcóatl approached, pressing a sequence of symbols hidden within the intricate carvings on the walls. With a rumble, the door slid open, revealing a blinding light beyond. They stepped through the threshold, momentarily shielding their eyes from the brightness.

As their vision adjusted, they found themselves standing at the edge of their home, Dorado. Towering, brightly colored buildings rose around them, adorned with intricate patterns and reliefs that celebrated their culture. Huge trees intertwined with sky bridges and buildings, seemlessly blending the nature within the jungle and the advanced technology of the hidden city. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the hum of technology, a stark contrast to the silence of the cave.

They stepped further through the entrance and Necalli turned his head upwards and traced the huge dome shield that enveloped and concealed his home. The shimmering barrier pulsed with energy in vibrant purple hues. It had been built centuries ago, and improved on continously since then. Never had it been penetrated and very rarely had they even came close to being discovered. Vibranium was a hell of a thing. It was entirely invisible from the outside, looking only like an impenetrable wall of trees.

"Welcome back, princes!" a guard called out, standing tall in his ornate armor, the insignia of Huitzilopochtli proudly displayed. His tone was respectful, with an undercurrent of familiarity.

"Thanks, Xipil" Itzcóatl replied, giving a nod as he moved ahead. The two had known Xipil since they were little boys. He'd suffered a nasty leg injury early in his career that prevented him from being a more active member of the Dorado guard, but still stood proudly at the gate, ready to catch any invaders as they entered, or any mischevious princes as they exited.

"A little heads up lads, your father's not in the best mood" Xipil added with a chuckle. "I'd steer clear of him for a while if I were you."

Necalli grimaced. "I wish I could" he muttered, knowing all too well that avoiding his father was nearly impossible.

They walked through the bustling streets glancing at the various people; merchants peddling vibrant fabrics, artisans crafting intricate jewelry, and children laughing as they played in the plaza. The scent of spices wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of music drifting from a nearby celebration.

"Man, I really hope we don’t get into trouble." Tepe said, glancing around nervously. "I'd rather not face your dad right now."

Necalli chuckled nervously. "You think I want to? The most you'll get from him is told off for leaving the city without permission. He’s probably already written up his next big lecture about my 'responsibilities.'" He stopped for a moment, weighing up what he was about to say next before he did. "You know, sometimes I wish I could just blend in like everyone else." He sighed. "No responsibilites, no royal drama, no eyes on me every time I take a step-"

"No class, no brain, no idea what you're doing." Interjected his older brother with a grin. "None of that and none of the good food at the royal feasts. I'll take the royal drama for that at least."

As they approached the grand entrance to the palace, the imposing structure loomed above them, a testament to the rich history and power of their lineage. The palace's façade was adorned with intricate carvings of their gods and ancestors, shimmering in the fading light. Large, ornate doors of polished obsidian stood at the front, flanked by guards in ceremonial attire, their spears resting against the ground as they stood at attention. One of the guards nodded at Necalli and Itzcóatl.

"Your father is expecting you, my lords." he said his voice tinged with sympathy. As they entered the guard placed a firm hand on Tepe's shoulder. "Not you I'm afraid, Huey Tlatoani Moquihuix has already spoken to your parents, Tepe. I'd hurry home now if I were you."

Necalli caught Tepe's expression as he stepped further into the palace. He looked like he'd seen several thousand ghosts all at once.

They passed through the grand hall on the way to see their father. It was lit by torches and golden light fixtures embedded in the walls. The marble floor was inlaid with gold, and at the far end sat the throne, carved from a single massive piece of jade. It was empty, far too late in the day for their father to be present here. He'd be in the council room no doubt. Necalli's eyes locked onto the throne, almost like they were drawn to it. He'd sit there one day, and he hoped it wasn't anytime soon.

They rose up a large winding staircase and opened the door to the council room. Inside, the room was illuminated by natural light pouring in from high windows. His father, the king, sat at the head of the long table, flanked by advisors. He looked up, his expression shifting from a mixture of weariness and stern authority to surprise at the sight of them.

Necalli approached, head slightly bowed, with Itzcóatl flanking him. "Father, I—"

His father raised a hand, silencing him. "You disobeyed me again, Necalli." His voice was calm, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. "You left the city without permission, despite the warnings I’ve given you." He rose from his seat and waved off his advisors. Most of whom took a quick look at Necalli before quietly gathering their paperwork and scurrying off out of the door.

Necalli felt the weight of his father’s gaze, a mixture of disappointment and worry that made his stomach churn. "I know, Father. But it was such a nice day and I just got this new bow I thought I-"

He was cut off again. His father's voice becoming harsher, and more direct.

"No, Necalli, you didn't think. It seems you think less and less these days." He rounded the table, approaching his sons. He was a man of impressive stature, his long, silver streaked hair tied back, and his face etched with lines that spoke of both wisdom and the heavy burden of leadership. He wore a regal robe adorned with vibrant colors and patterns that represented the gods of war and wisdom. His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on Necalli. "This isn't about a simple hunt. It’s about your recklessness. You are my heir. You cannot continue acting as though the weight of this city does not rest on your shoulders."

Necalli's heart sank further. He knew the lecture was coming, and there was little he could say to stop it. He made the mistake of showing this in his expression.

"You think this is a game?" His father's voice grew even stricter, his gaze flicking between his sons. "While you play in the jungle, there are threats out there, threats you've never faced, dangers you can't even comprehend. One day, you will sit on this throne, Necalli, and if you're not prepared, everything our ancestors built will crumble."

Necalli clenched his fists. "I'm trying, Father. I'm just—"

"Itzcóatl was always ready" Moquihuix interrupted, his gaze softening briefly as it shifted to Necalli’s brother. "He understands what it means to lead. You need to learn from him, or Dorado will fall under your rule."

The words stung, more than Necalli would ever admit. He glanced at his brother, who stood silently, not meeting his gaze.

"I'll do better" Necalli said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

His father regarded him for a long moment before finally nodding. "See that you do." He rose from his throne, the weight of his presence filling the room. "Go. Reflect on what I’ve said. We will speak more of this soon."

Without another word, Moquihuix turned and walked toward a side door, his robe trailing behind him, leaving Necalli and Itzcóatl standing in the vast, silent hall with his thoughts swirling. His older brother placed a friendly hand on his shoulder once his father was out of earshot.

"You know he doesn't mean all that, Necalli. He loves you, he just wants to make sure you'll be ready for when it's time to take his place."

Necalli stood in silence, his eyes fixed on the floor. He sighed heavily, his voice still quiet. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Itzcóatl. Being king...it's just so much. The responsibility, the pressure... I feel like everyone's watching me, waiting for me to be perfect. I just want to be normal sometimes, live without all these expectations. But I can't."

Itzcóatl listened quietly, his hand still resting on Necalli’s shoulder. Necalli continued, his voice shaky. "What if I can't handle it? What if I’m not strong enough to lead Dorado the way father does? Everyone expects me to be this great leader, but all I can think about is how easy it would be to mess it all up. I never asked for this."

Itzcóatl took his hand off Necalli's shoulder and slid it into his pocket. Taking a moment to choose the right words.

"Necalli, the truth is no one ever feels ready for this. Not even Father. The crown isn't something you just grow into overnight. It's a process, one that'll take time, and mistakes. You're not supposed to have it all figured out already."

Necalli frowned. "But it feels like I should, like everyone's expecting me to be this perfect version of what a king should be. And the more I think about it, the more I just want to be normal. To live without the constant pressure. Sometimes I think you're the one who should be heir. You seem...better at this."

Itzcóatl chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I've had my share of screw-ups too, trust me. Father might push you harder, but that’s because he sees what you’re capable of, even if you don’t see it yet. It's not about being perfect, it's about learning from every failure, every challenge. And when it's time, you'll lead in your own way. You won't be Father, and that's okay. You're Necalli, and that's who Dorado will need."

Necalli felt some small weight lift off his shoulders. That insecurity still held within his heart, but knowing he had his brother there to support him made everything feel a lot less scary. A smile crept up on his face.

"I guess you're right, I just wish the old man would stop hounding me about it. These lectures feel like they get longer every time!"

Itzcóatl let out a laugh. "Just be thankful you've not got Tepe's parents, remember the last time you two got into trouble? They had him shovelling manure for a week!"

Necalli laughed along with him. "When you put it that way maybe the lectures aren't so bad!"

Itzcóatl smiled, stepping back toward the door. "Come on, let’s get out of here before father changes his mind and decides to give you a similar punishment. We can at least enjoy the night before tomorrow brings another crisis."