Shao Kahn, seated imperiously upon his iron throne, exuded an aura of unyielding dominance. The chamber, suffused with shadows and foreboding grandeur, seemed to bow to his presence. His eyes, smoldering with the fire of unspoken threats, locked onto the figure ascending the steps to his dais.

In a voice as commanding as the thunder of a storm, he rumbled, “Speak, mortal. What dares to interrupt the might of Shao Kahn? Present your purpose, or be consumed by the fury of my wrath.”

His tone, imbued with an unassailable authority, brooked no challenge or equivocation.