The storm cracked and roared above the ancient temple like the unbridled wrath of a god, but Raiden remained seated in stillness. His legs folded beneath him, his hands rested lightly on his knees, and his head was bowed just enough to seem at peace. To any observer, the Thunder God looked like the storm’s master, untouched by its fury. Lightning danced in sharp streaks across the bruised sky, illuminating the courtyard stones around him, slick with rain. The air vibrated with raw energy.

Inside his mind, however, the tempest raged just as fiercely.

Raiden’s breathing was steady, an anchor amidst the chaos, but his thoughts were anything but serene. The realm stood at a precipice once more, as it always seemed to, and the responsibility of safeguarding Earthrealm weighed heavier than ever. He could feel it—an ominous presence growing in the shadows, a gathering storm far more dangerous than the one shaking the heavens around him. It wasn’t just Outworld’s encroachment or the never-ending schemes of darker forces. No, this was something deeper. Something ancient.

He tried to focus. He tried to let the storm outside mirror the one within and let it wash over him, taking the anxiety with it. His mind drifted back to Liu Kang, to Kung Lao, to the younger warriors he had trained and guided. So many battles. So much bloodshed. He had forged them into defenders of Earthrealm, but were they ready for what lay ahead?

Raiden’s jaw tightened, his calm facade cracking for the briefest moment. They should not have to bear this burden. It is mine. It has always been mine. Yet he knew he couldn’t shield them forever. His role was to protect, to guide—but not to fight every battle for them.

A jagged bolt of lightning struck the temple’s outer wall, the sharp crack startling even him. His eyes opened, glowing faintly with a bluish-white light as he tilted his head upward, observing the skies as though the storm might answer the questions spinning endlessly in his mind.