Chapter 64: Vibranium in Hand, Designing Clothes
Namor led his people toward the waters near Africa.
The Atlanteans who followed him brought all their belongings, including several underwater vessels.
In less than half a month, they had settled on a habitat.
Among them were some researchers who used energy sensors to pinpoint Wakanda's location.
During World War II, most of Africa was still in a primitive state, so any detectable energy fluctuations had to be significant.
Of course, industrialized European nations might only find such reactions in their power plants.
They chose a site 150 meters below the sea.
Atlanteans had a different physiology. They could operate normally at depths of up to 500 meters, but staying beyond 1,000 meters required either using vehicles or surfacing every half-hour to decompress.
For humans on land, an average person would struggle to dive more than a few meters, and even professionals could only reach a little over 100 meters for a few minutes before resurfacing.
As long as they didn't deliberately provoke Wakanda, there was no way the surface-dwellers would suddenly decide to develop underwater weapons.
Allen, equipped with a breathing mask, could move underwater like a normal Atlantean, but diving beyond 300 meters would put too much pressure on his lungs.
He relied entirely on the attribute bonuses from his profession level, but in water, he was far less agile than the Atlanteans.
Atlanteans breathed through their skin and regulated water molecules, enabling them to live underwater. Their denser bodies allowed them to withstand water pressure, and even a fatal gunshot wouldn't necessarily kill them. However, they had an obvious weakness—they couldn't stay out of the water for too long, much like fish.
To develop their technology, they modified underwater vessels into engineering machines, hollowing out underwater mountains and installing oxygen systems to create land-like environments.
After all, many scientific experiments couldn't be conducted underwater.
Allen piloted a Flying Fish submersible, towing a cargo compartment behind him. Through the communicator, he directed Nanaue to mine the seabed for vibranium deposits.
On land, vibranium veins were often exposed on the surface. However, those hidden underwater were buried in rock and had to be located using instruments.
If the vibranium were exposed, it wouldn't have been their turn to claim it.
"We found vibranium in Exploration Zone 151."
The moment the notification sounded in his earpiece, Allen immediately called for Nanaue to stop digging.
"Nanaue, hop in the back. We're heading home for dinner."
The fish-shaped submersible could only seat Allen, so Nanaue had to ride in the cargo compartment as they headed back to their living quarters.
Allen had already spoken to Namor—he only needed around a hundred pounds of vibranium to craft armor. He had no intention of hoarding it.
To be honest, vibranium falling into human hands wouldn't mean much at this stage. Modern human technology couldn't fully harness its potential, and most of them weren't even aware of its true value.
Allen piloted the submersible with ease, weaving through tight spaces, occasionally performing 360-degree spins as he slipped through cracks between rocks.
There was a wide-open path right next to him, but he insisted on taking the difficult route—because why not?
He didn't drive on land because he lacked a license. But submersibles? No license required.
Upon arriving at the living quarters, Allen hopped out and walked over to Nanaue, who was still sitting in the cargo compartment.
Grinning, he asked, "So, how was my driving?"
"Ugh…"
Nanaue's eyes were unfocused, and the moment he opened his mouth, half-digested food spilled out.
That driving had nearly shaken the poor shark's soul out of his body.
"Judging by your reaction, I'd say you're speechless with awe."
Allen nodded in satisfaction and strode toward the research zone.
By now, numerous scientists were already analyzing the vibranium samples.
A lump of black, coal-like ore lay on the table, extremely hard even at room temperature.
After multiple scans and confirmations, there was no doubt—it was vibranium.
With vibranium in their possession, they had a chance to develop at a rate that could one day rival Atlantis.
In the dry research facility, Namor approached Allen as soon as he entered.
"You're back."
"Why so eager? People might get the wrong idea."
Allen crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back dramatically.
Namor, already used to Allen's erratic behavior, ignored him and stated, "I've decided to stay and protect my people. I won't be heading to the surface anytime soon."
Allen straightened up and adjusted his nonexistent monocle. "Every decision… is merely following the script of fate."
"..."
Namor had to admit—Allen's madness was wildly unpredictable.
Sometimes, he was sharp, capable of seeing through complex matters in an instant.
Other times, he spewed absolute nonsense that made no sense.
Just then, Allen's gaze locked onto an elderly Atlantean who had just surfaced from the water.
Without hesitation, he walked up to the old man and said sternly, "Take off your clothes."
"What are you doing!?"
The elder recoiled in alarm. "I'm too old for this! Don't do anything crazy!"
"Allen, show some respect to Wise Elder Weinstein."
Even Namor had to step in—Weinstein was an expert in multiple fields and essential to their technological advancements.
"It's his clothes I'm interested in," Allen clarified.
"Oh… you scared me."
Weinstein visibly relaxed and explained, "This is a special Atlantean fiber, woven through a unique process. It's waterproof, breathable, and extremely durable. We have some extra fabric—we can make you a set."
"That's awesome."
Allen's excitement grew. "I'll draw up a design. You guys follow the pattern."
He grabbed some paper and started sketching.
Namor watched curiously, but after a few strokes, he frowned.
"Why is there an extra… part in the middle?"
Allen paused, then turned to him with a serious expression.
"It's big, isn't it? Normally, I keep it coiled up, but I want it to hang loose, so I designed a special crotch sash."
Namor's gaze instinctively drifted downward, his brow furrowing slightly.
He couldn't see it. Was Allen overestimating himself?
"I see the doubt in your eyes."
Allen suddenly dropped his pencil, hands moving toward his belt. "Wanna see a five-strike lightning whip?"
"No, no, stop! I believe you!"
Namor quickly waved his hands in surrender. He had no doubt Allen would actually pull off such a stunt in public.
"Shocked by my greatness, huh?" Allen smirked smugly.
"…Yes, deeply humbled," Namor muttered, deciding it was best to humor him.
Allen casually flipped his hair, exuding confidence.
"In this world, the only one who might outshine me… is the Hulk."
Who?
What kind of species was a Hulk?
Never mind.
Namor wasn't even going to ask.
All that mattered was keeping Allen from doing anything insane.
After all, he had been the one to bring this lunatic here.
If anything embarrassing happened, the entire tribe would gossip—
Their king had lost his memory and ended up tangled with a crazy pervert.
Just the thought made Namor feel profoundly uncomfortable.