The next ruler.

Fenrir and his companions followed Kintaro through the gates of Golvalin Palace with measured steps. The change from the city outside was immediate. Kuatan had been vast, hot and alive with molten rivers and the distant calls of its subterranean jungles. Golvalin felt older. Heavier in that regard. The palace seemed less constructed than excavated from the mountain's bones, its black walls polished smooth by generations of hands and hard work. Great pillars rose from the stone floor, each carved with the likeness of some ancient shokan warrior or dragon whose name had long outlived the kingdom that first remembered it. Clan banners hung between them in deep reds, ochres and blacks, some pristine, others faded with centuries of age.

Weapons from forgotten campaigns rested behind bronze latticework along the walls. Centaur armour, split through the breastplate. Skulls and horns from beasts Fenrir could not identify. Near one junction stood the immense stone likeness of a four-armed king, both upper hands gripping a ceremonial hammer while the lower pair rested upon the heads of kneeling enemies.

Fenrir did not need Kitana to explain who those monuments represented. Goro's family had been here for a very long time. That knowledge followed him through every corridor. So did something else. His gaze repeatedly slipped toward Shang Tsung and the hooded stranger walking beside him.

He hated himself for it. Every few moments, some insignificant detail drew his attention back: the figure's height, the rhythm of her stride, the way her head sometimes angled when Kitana spoke behind her. Once, Shang murmured something too softly for Fenrir to hear. The stranger did not answer, yet her shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly beneath the dark silk.

It was a familiar gesture. Too familiar for him. Yet Fenrir forced his attention forward. This wasn’t a moment for doubt to show itself. Whether his suspicions were grief playing tricks on him again or something far worse, answers would have to wait. He had not descended into half of Kuatan merely to destroy Sheeva's chances because Shang Tsung had placed a mystery within arm's reach.

Kintaro led them into a broad central hall. Then stopped. The Shokan nearest them changed at once. Warriors who had barely acknowledged Fenrir moments earlier straightened. Several placed fists over their chests. Others bowed their heads. Even Kintaro's proud posture shifted as he offered a short but unmistakably respectful inclination.

Fenrir knew who was approaching before he saw him. Each footfall struck the floor with enough weight to be felt through the soles of his boots. Goro emerged from beneath one of the great arches.

Two Shokan warriors followed several paces behind him, each carrying an enormous ceremonial spear. Their bodies were marked from shoulder to ankle in black and vermilion war paint, angular patterns tracing muscle and old scars. Heavy armour covered only what was necessary, leaving most of their imposing physiques exposed as though protection were secondary. The Ush-Tar, they were called.

Fenrir had heard the name before. They were not merely Goro's guards. They were warriors chosen personally from among the most accomplished veterans of Kuatan; soldiers who had marched beneath Shao Kahn's banners during conquests across the realms and returned with reputations for brutality rivalled only by their devotion to Shokan supremacy. They believed strength determined your worth; That the Shokan stood above most others. Goro had given them very little reason to question either belief.

The Prince of Kuatan stopped several feet from Fenrir. For a moment, Fenrir remembered another room. He recalled that night when his life changed forever. Goro stood before him after Shao Kahn's death, every muscle in his enormous body refusing the very idea that an earthrealmer could command Outworld.

The prince remembered another event. The tournament, his defeat. The humiliating knowledge that the much smaller creature standing before him had survived everything he and Kintaro threw at him. Neither lowered his gaze.

Goro's upper arms folded across his chest while the lower pair remained loose at his sides. His nostrils flared. “Hmph.” His eyes travelled slowly down Fenrir's body and back upward. “Just as small as I remember.”

Fenrir's expression barely changed. The corner of his mouth lifted. Goro was trying to establish the rhythm of the exchange, to make Fenrir feel small inside a palace built for giants; surrounded by warriors who regarded the ground beneath his feet as ancestral property.

Fenrir had learned long ago that sometimes the easiest way to disrupt an opponent's rhythm was to refuse the premise entirely. His eyes moved toward the long strip of dark hair tied behind Goro's head. “And you're still rocking that terrible ponytail.” His smirk widened by a fraction. “It’s good to know some things survive even regime changes.”

Kitana slowly covered part of her face with one hand in disbelief. “That idiot…Gods, how did I fall for him?” She thought.

Jade turned her mouth behind her fingers, but the quiet breath that escaped her betrayed the laugh she was suppressing. Even Skarlet's crimson eyes creased faintly above her veil. Syzoth merely stared ahead, though one side of his mouth twitched. 

Shang Tsung, instead, raised an eyebrow. The sorcerer watched Fenrir with renewed curiosity. Perhaps stupidity explained it. Perhaps confidence bordering on self-destruction. Yet Fenrir had survived too many supposedly foolish choices for him to continue dismissing them as accidents.

More interesting, for the sorcerer at least, was Goro's reaction. The Shokan stared at Fenrir. Then his lips slowly curved. A deep, humourless chuckle rolled from his chest. For a heartbeat, everything political between them receded, and only the warriors remained. Goro had respected very few outsiders in his long life. The Great Kung Lao had earned it. Liu Kang had torn it from him through victory. Fenrir, infuriatingly, had done the same. Yet, the Shokan prince despised him.

That did not mean he underestimated him. Perhaps that made the hatred worse.

Fenrir was an Earthrealmer. A creature from the realm whose champions had stained Goro's proudest legacy. He had killed Shao Kahn, claimed the throne the Shokan prince believed should never have belonged to an outsider, and commanded Outworld’s armies with unrivalled leadership. Now he had come to Kuatan and publicly supported the one warrior standing between him and his birthright.

Respect could coexist quite comfortably with the desire to break someone's spine. Goro's ambitions reached far beyond personal insult.

First came the crown. Golvalin was his home. His inheritance. His ancestors looked down from nearly every hall he walked. Generations of Goro's blood had ruled the Shokan, and he had spent centuries proving himself worthy of continuing that legacy through conquest, through victories and leadership. The fact that anyone now questioned whether the throne should be his was offensive enough. That an Earthrealmer “emperor” had chosen to support Sheeva made it unforgivable.

Beyond the crown lay the Centaurs. Goro remembered every shokan body left upon the steppes, every humiliation Motaro had ever thrown toward his people. In his mind, compromise had merely allowed the Centaurs to grow stronger. Once crowned, he intended to reclaim everything he believed Kuatan had lost. If the Centaurs resisted, he would crush them.

And after that, the Shokan would never again exist merely as the muscle beneath another Emperor's hammer. That was the part of Goro's vision he considered most righteous. For generations, Shokans had died to expand someone else's empire. Goro believed that if their people were destined to conquer, then the victories should finally belong to them. Outworld itself would soon discover that the Shokans could hold a sceptre as easily as they held a war hammer.

That certainty also coloured how he viewed the lesser Shokan clans. The Tigrar were useful, ferocious and worthy of battle…but hierarchy existed for a reason. If their warriors were required to bleed so the greater Shokan nation might rise, then they would bleed. Strength served the whole. Those strong enough to command decided what that whole required. It was precisely the future Sheeva had begun teaching Kuatan to question.

Goro looked past Fenrir toward the imperial delegation. His smirk disappeared. “Look around you.”

Fenrir heard it before they obeyed. The heavy scrape of spearheads shifting against stone as their armoured feet repositioned around him and his guard. The Shokan guards had begun closing ranks throughout the hall.

Skarlet moved first. One foot slid subtly behind the other. Her hand remained nowhere near a weapon, yet Fenrir knew she could create one from blood before most of the guards around them completed their first step. Syzoth shifted toward Fenrir's left flank swiftly. Jade angled her body sideways. Kitana's hand settled near the folded fan at her hip. Behind them, Fenrir's soldiers tightened formation without a single command being spoken.

Fenrir looked at them. Months under his command had changed their response. Once, he might have needed to order everyone into position. Now they moved with him instinctively. Not because they feared what would happen if they failed. But because they had decided long ago that if Fenrir stood somewhere dangerous, they would stand there too.

Shao Kahn had commanded loyalty through terror. He had rejected that method long ago. Fenrir had never fully understood how much stronger that chosen loyalty could feel until moments like this.

He looked back toward Goro confidently. “Are you sure?” Goro's brows drew together. Fenrir gestured casually around himself. “Because from where I'm standing, I feel pretty well guarded.”

The soldiers behind him did not smile. They carried it proudly, just like the Ush-Tar, Fenrir’s emblem proudly on their armour.

The Shokan prince stepped closer. His enormous body cast a shadow on Fenrir. “You stand beneath my mountain with fifty outsiders while hundreds of Shokan surround you.” Goro's lower hands clenched. “How long do you imagine your little guard would survive against my Ush-Tar?”

One of the elite warriors struck the butt of his spear against the stone. The sound boomed through the hall. Goro leaned slightly forward. “How long would you? Earthrealmer.”

Fenrir's eyes narrowed. Before he could answer, another voice crossed the hall. “Longer than you might like.” Goro's head turned. The surrounding guards stiffened at the most familiar voice. A woman approached through the ranks of Shokan warriors.

It was none other than her. Sheeva. She did not possess Goro's overwhelming scale; few living Shokan did. Yet nothing about her presence could be mistaken for lesser strength.

She radiated the silent authority of someone who no longer needed to boast. Her powerful arms moved naturally at her sides; broad shoulders held straight beneath ceremonial armour fitted for battle rather than display. Golden plates followed the lines of crimson cloth on her body without hiding them, leaving Fenrir briefly aware of the contrast between disciplined muscle and the distinctly feminine curve of her waist and hips. The firmness of her curves accompanied her posture and the allure her body emanated to any man or woman willing to take the challenge of fighting or seducing her.

Fenrir’s gaze lingered a fraction longer than intended.

Sheeva, always aware of her surroundings, noticed. Her eyes flicked toward him. Down once, taking in the lean strength beneath Fenrir's attire, the scars visible near his collar, the relaxed way he stood beneath Goro's shadow as though size were little more than an inconvenient disadvantage. Then back to his eyes. A faint curve appeared at the corner of her mouth. Seductive and provocative. Just as she allowed it to be seen, it was gone almost immediately.

Fenrir's brow rose by the smallest amount. “Interesting.” He thought.

Sheeva's attention returned to Goro before anyone else could read much into the exchange. “He is not alone.” Her tone hardened. She stopped beside Fenrir, close enough that the declaration became a physical fact. “You would do well to remember that.” Goro's nostrils flared. Sheeva continued either way. “Fenrir Kahn entered Golvalin as my honoured guest.”

One of her upper arms folded across her chest. “Place a hand upon him while he remains beneath my protection, and I will not merely be permitted to answer.” Her eyes narrowed. “I will be obligated to.” A small murmur travelled through the Shokan guards. Fenrir glanced sideways at her. Sheeva did not confront Goro by pretending she could overpower him.

She confronted him with the one weapon he could not simply punch through without damaging his own claim. The code.

Goro looked at her with open contempt. “So,” He turned fully toward her. “You finally decide to show your face.”

Sheeva's expression remained flat. “I never hid it.” She stepped forward until only a short distance separated them. “I stood before every trial required of me. Faced every challenger placed in my path.”  One of her lower hands gestured toward the ancient palace around them. “And I am still here.”

Goro grunted in reply. “Because fools like you confuse endurance with worthiness.”

Sheeva's eyes sharpened. Coldly, she replied: “Then you should be concerned by how many of those fools sit among the elders.”

Goro's upper fists tightened. “They are old men afraid of what strength is required to lead our people.” He narrowed his eyes with disdain. “They are nothing more than keepers of foolish code.” That word carried more than personal contempt.

Around them, warriors began separating instinctively. Those bearing symbols aligned with Goro drifted toward the prince. Others moved closer to Sheeva. The division Fenrir had seen throughout Kuatan was suddenly standing in the same hall. This time armed. Ready for a brawl. Kintaro's claws flexed, bracing himself. Skarlet's hand instinctively twitched. Fenrir felt the air change almost immediately.

Then, three dull taps echoed from deeper within the palace. Not loud. Yet every Shokan stopped dead in their tracks. An old figure emerged from beneath the shadows of the ancestral columns. Two elders followed him several paces behind.

The leader walked with a long staff of black stone reinforced by bands of gold. Age had bowed his shoulders but not his gaze. Small pieces of ceremonial armour rested over layered robes, each plate engraved with marks Fenrir assumed represented victories or generations of service.

The old Shokan did not look powerful. The reaction to his arrival said otherwise. Kintaro bowed immediately. The Ush-Tar lowered their spears. Shokan warriors on both sides placed their hands over their chests. Even Sheeva inclined her head. Goro, instead, remained stoic.

The elder planted his staff against the floor. “Enough.” His voice was roughened by age. Yet, the entire hall surrendered to it.

“Kilur.” Goro greeted the elder solemnly.

Fenrir had heard the name during the journey. He was the oldest among the three presiding elders. Therefore, he was the keeper of the succession rites. One of the few living Shokan whose authority did not come from the number of warriors he had slain. But from his merits throughout the centuries.

Kilur looked from Sheeva to Goro. “Every Shokan present knows the Code.” His gaze moved toward the gathered warriors. “You will remember it.” Then back to the claimants. “Until the council convenes, neither candidate will provoke, challenge or strike the other within these halls.”

Goro scoffed. “This is nonsense—”

Kilur's staff struck the floor. “It is the law your ancestors wrote.” Goro fell silent. Kilur stepped slightly closer. The old Shokan had to tilt his head upward considerably to meet the prince’s eyes. Yet, he did so without hesitation. “Prince.” The title came colder than Fenrir expected. “If you wish to inherit the authority of your bloodline, you will first demonstrate that you remain capable of obeying the laws they had created.”

Goro's jaw clenched. Several Shokan inhaled sharply.

Fenrir watched Goro carefully. The prince could kill Kilur. Physically, there was little doubt. Perhaps one blow would be more than enough. Goro knew that, so did everyone around him. But striking the elder would cost something his fists could not recover. Legitimacy. He would be proving Sheeva's argument for her: that Goro believed strength placed him above the very traditions he claimed gave him the throne.

For a long moment, the prince’s lower fists trembled. Then stopped. Goro looked toward Sheeva. Sheeva's eyes remained as cold as before. Goro turned and roared. “Ush-Tar.” His warriors immediately followed. Goro did not wait for the sorcerer. That tiny detail did not escape Fenrir.

Shang Tsung watched Goro leave with the faintest narrowing of his eyes before following at a more leisurely pace. “Seems like Goro and Shang aren’t as tight as I thought they were.” Fenrir thought.

Shang paused long enough to glance toward the monarchs. “Until tonight, then.” His pleasant smile returned. “I suspect the council will be considerably more entertaining than our arrival.”

Kitana stared at him coldly. “Your presence tends to guarantee that.”

Shang's poisonous smile widened. “You flatter me, my dear Kitana.” He turned away. The hooded figure moved beside him. For one brief moment, however, she did not follow. Her face remained hidden beneath the cowl, but her head turned slightly toward Kitana.

Then toward Fenrir. The pause lasted barely a heartbeat. Shang spoke her way without turning. Something too quiet to distinguish. Then, the figure moved. Fenrir watched until both disappeared into the leftward halls.

His thoughts threatened to follow them. Kilur's voice pulled him back. “Emperor.”

Fenrir turned. The two other elders were already withdrawing into separate passages, attendants gathering behind them as preparations for the night's council resumed.

Kilur studied Fenrir, carefully rather than reverently.

Fenrir inclined his head and addressed the older shokan. “Elder. Thank you for having us.

“Welcome to Golvalin.” Kilur's eyes moved briefly toward the hall Goro had taken. Then toward the opposite wing. “Be mindful of where you stand while beneath this roof.”

Fenrir raised a brow. Kilur continued before he could answer. “Kuatan is divided deeply enough that every guest eventually becomes a symbol, whether he intends to or not.” His gaze hardened. “You have already chosen whom you support. Do not mistake that choice for authority over what happens next.”

Fenrir understood the warning. It was not merely about personal safety. If he barged into Shokan politics like Shao Kahn once would have, everything he had promised Sheeva about autonomy became meaningless.

Fenrir bowed his head again. “I understand.”

Kilur held his gaze long enough to decide whether he believed him. “See that you continue to.” He turned. “The ancestors will hear the claimants at nightfall.” Then he was gone.

Fenrir watched him disappear. “Friendly man.”

Kitana gave him a sideways look. “Fenrir.”

“What? I like him.” He said with a grin. Jade's lips curved.

Sheeva shook her head. “You have been inside my kingdom for less than an hour and have already antagonised Goro and impressed Kilur”

Fenrir looked at her. His grin never faltered. “Productive morning if I say so myself.”

This time Sheeva's mouth actually curved. Only slightly. “Come.” She gestured toward the opposite wing as they moved deeper into Golvalin.

---

The deeper they moved into Golvalin, the more literal Kuatan's division became. The palace had effectively been severed in two.

Goro and the clans supporting his claim occupied the western wing. Crimson banners bearing the marks of the old royal dynasty hung from balconies and pillars there, guarded heavily by Ush-Tar and warriors whose armour carried traditional clan insignias.

Sheeva's supporters controlled the eastern section. Their banners were more varied. Male and female warriors shared guard posts without obvious distinction. Some were veterans Kitana and Jade recognised from Shao Kahn's armies; others were younger Shokan who watched the emperor with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Between the two territories, neutral corridors were administered by Kilur and the elders. Fenrir noticed several doorways where warriors from both factions stood on opposite ends without crossing the central line carved into the floor. Nobody needed to explain what would happen if they did.

Sheeva led them through the eastern wing toward a broad courtyard carved into the mountainside. Makeshift tents, weapon racks and supply tables had transformed what might once have been ceremonial grounds into a military encampment.

Fenrir stopped there. He turned toward Syzoth and Skarlet. “Our people stay here.” Skarlet immediately looked toward the passage Shang Tsung had taken. “Including you, Skar.”

Her eyes returned to him. For an instant, he expected resistance. Then Skarlet nodded. “As you command.”

Syzoth bowed slightly. “We will keep the perimeter secure.”

Fenrir looked between them. “Don't start anything.”

Skarlet's brow rose. Syzoth gave Fenrir a dry look. “Was that directed at you or at us?”

Jade covered a smile. Fenrir stared at the Zaterran. “You've been spending too much time with Erron.” Fenrir almost smiled at Syzoth's friendly jest. Then the seriousness returned. “If something goes wrong, I want the soldiers ready to move, but nobody enters the council unless I send word. This is Sheeva's kingdom tonight. We respect that.”

Syzoth nodded. “Understood.”

Skarlet glanced once more toward the western wing. The hooded stranger was nowhere in sight. Her jaw tightened beneath the veil. “Understood.”

Fenrir left them with the troops. Only Kitana, Jade and he continued after Sheeva. The atmosphere changed again once the doors to her private chambers closed.

Sheeva's quarters were large by Earthrealm standards but surprisingly restrained for someone attempting to become queen. A broad stone table dominated the centre, covered with maps, carved clan markers and partially unfurled scrolls. Weapons rested within easy reach of nearly every seat. An ancestral relief occupied one wall, depicting Shokan warriors beneath the wings of a dragon. There were no jewels scattered for vanity or gold. Everything had a purpose. Fenrir found that strangely reassuring.

Sheeva crossed toward a low table holding a dark ceramic vessel and four heavy cups. “Sit.”

Jade obeyed with an amused little smile. Kitana followed politely, and Fenrir remained standing for another moment, studying one of the maps before eventually settling near the edge of the table. Sheeva poured wine into four golden cups.

Jade accepted hers politely with both hands. “Thank you.”

Kitana took the second with a graceful incline of her head. Then, Sheeva held the third toward Fenrir.

He looked at it. Then toward her. “Not tonight.”

Sheeva studied him. “Afraid of a little Shokan wine, emperor?”

Fenrir's mouth moved faintly. “I'm more worried about Shang Tsung.” That erased the amusement. “I'd rather have my head completely clear.”

Sheeva considered him for a second before placing the unused cup aside. She poured the remaining wine for herself. As she turned, Fenrir found his gaze drawn toward her again.

Closer now, he could appreciate details the confrontation had not allowed him time to notice. Sheeva possessed the physicality expected of her people. Powerful shoulders, muscular arms, a warrior's posture forged through centuries of combat. But there was an elegance beneath it too. Her armour followed the strong curves of her body rather than disguising them, the line of her waist narrowing before broadening again at her hips beneath overlapping plates of bronze and leather.

Fenrir's attention remained there only a moment. When he looked upward, Sheeva was already watching him. One brow lifted. Her eyes travelled with deliberate slowness over his own frame; the worn threads, the lean muscle it failed to conceal, the sword-calloused hands, the old scars visible near his throat.

Then she met his gaze again. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. Sheeva took a sip of her drink. The interest in her eyes was not entirely physical anyway. Fenrir remained an oddity she had yet to solve. An Earthrealmer who fought like a warlord but spoke of autonomy. An incognita who had killed Shao Kahn yet seemed almost uncomfortable whenever someone treated him like a conqueror.  At first, she had considered him another temporary disruption in Outworld's long history. Now she was not nearly so certain. And uncertainty, Sheeva had discovered, could be intriguing.

She settled into her seat. “Took you long enough to get here.” There was no playfulness in the accusation.

Fenrir leaned back slightly. “A Civil war tends to do that.”

Sheeva took another drink. “So, I heard.” That earned him a brief exhale through her nose. “I was making an observation, Fenrir.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly with reluctant amusement. Then she looked toward Kitana and Jade. Some of the hardness finally left her features. “I am glad you came.”

Kitana's answering smile was tired but sincere. “It is good to see you too, Sheeva.”

Jade inclined her head warmly. For a heartbeat, the years between them resurfaced. Before everything that had transpired these last couple of months. In her youth, Sheeva had stood near Sindel as her bodyguard and known both Edenian women through a very different court. That familiarity still existed. It merely carried more scars now.

Kitana rested her cup against one knee. “We received your messages for as long as the routes remained open. Then nothing.” Her expression grew solemn. “For nearly two months we heard only rumours. Some claimed Goro already controlled Golvalin. Others said half the clans had abandoned both of you.”

Jade continued gently. “What has happened here?”

Sheeva stared into her wine. A tired breath escaped her. “Where would you like me to begin?”

Jade's answer came without hesitation. “At the beginning.” Sheeva gave her a flat look. Jade smiled faintly. “You offered.”

For the first time since they entered the chamber, Sheeva chuckled properly. It did not last. She rolled the cup once between two hands before setting it down. “It began the night after I returned from your palace.” Her eyes moved toward Fenrir. “The night you took the throne.”

Fenrir crossed his arms in reply. Silently and attentively, he listened. Sheeva continued. “Goro returned to Kuatan before I did. By the time I arrived, he had already told half the royal household his version of what happened.”

Fenrir could imagine it. A faint amused grin formed on his lips. “Earthrealmer usurper. The princesses have betrayed us! “Strangely, he could easily picture Goro roaring those accusations.

Sheeva's mouth hardened. “Then, once I returned, I told mine.”

Kitana leaned slightly forward. “And I suppose Goro challenged those words.”

“Immediately.” There was no shame in Sheeva's answer. “He called my decision to recognise Fenrir an insult to Gorbak's memory and to every shokan who had fought with Shao Kahn.” Her upper hands folded together. “I told him that if our people's honour depended upon eternal obedience to another throne, then it was no honour worth keeping.”

Fenrir's eyebrows rose. “I imagine that went well.”

“He punched me through a stone column.”

Fenrir nodded slowly. “About as expected.” Kitana and Jade gave him a look.

Sheeva continued without complaint. “The challenge became formal before either of us intended it. Too many warriors had gathered. Too many clans were watching. Once Goro called my loyalty into question publicly, backing down would have destroyed me.”

Her expression grew distant. She did not embellish the sentence that followed. “We fought.” Everyone in the room knew what facing Goro meant. “He was stronger.” The admission came without hesitation. “…Much stronger.”

One of Sheeva's hands unconsciously moved toward an old scar near her side. “But I knew him. I had fought beside him for centuries.”  Her lips curved. “So, I stood my ground.” Jade watched her with quiet admiration.  “Longer than anyone expected.” Sheeva continued. “By the end, I could barely lift two of my arms. Goro was preparing to finish the fight when Kintaro intervened.”

Kitana frowned. “He stopped Goro?”

“He stopped it before it became an execution.” There was an important distinction in Sheeva's tone; she felt ashamed. “Goro won the fight. I will not rewrite what happened merely because I dislike admitting it.” She raised her chin, proudly this time. “But I had forced him to earn every step. No Shokan had endured him that long in generations.”

Jade's eyes softened with understanding. “So, your people didn’t see it as a defeat?”

Sheeva looked toward her. “No.”

Jade continued after a light chuckle. “They saw someone willing to stand before the strongest and refuse to yield.”

A quiet smile touched Sheeva's mouth. “Exactly.”

Fenrir considered Jade’s words. The outcome was very Shokan in its nature.  He wisely kept that thought to himself.

Sheeva reached for her cup again. “After that, the question stopped being whether Goro would inherit the throne.” Her voice lowered. “It became what kind of ruler the shokan wanted to rule them.” Kitana's expression sharpened.  “Some clans still wanted what Goro promised. Strength through conquest. The return of the prestige we held under Shao Kahn. Others looked at how many of our people were gone and asked whether prestige had become another word for dying beautifully.”

Fenrir dared not raise his voice. He had heard similar questions all across Outworld.

“The elders could no longer recognise Goro by inheritance alone without risking open war between the clans,” Sheeva said. “And they could not place me upon the throne without proving that my support extended beyond outrage against him.”

Kitana seemed to realise where the explanation was going first. Her eyes narrowed. “They invoked the Orthak.”

Sheeva's expression became grave. “Yes.”

Fenrir looked between them. “Apologies for my ignorance. But the what?”

Jade lowered her cup. “The Orthak.” She glanced toward Sheeva, who gestured for her to continue. “It is one of the oldest Shokan succession rites. When inheritance produces no accepted ruler and the clans cannot reach consensus, the elders may open the throne to formal challenge.”

Fenrir frowned. “Meaning anyone can declare themselves King?”

“Anyone?” Kitana asked with faint amusement. “No.” She folded one leg elegantly over the other. “Recognised clan leaders, royal claimants and warriors meeting certain ancestral requirements may declare.”

Fenrir nodded. “That makes sense. It's less barbaric if you ask me.”

Sheeva snorted. “Only slightly.”

Jade's mouth curved before she continued. “The contenders are then tested.”

“Tested how?” He asked

This time Sheeva answered. “Through endurance trials. Combat and leadership. Some trials differ depending upon the number of claimants and the disputes brought before the elders. Others have remained unchanged for centuries.”

Fenrir looked toward her. “And people die.”

Sheeva's expression did not change. “Sometimes.”

Kitana elaborated. “The Orthak is not inherently an execution. A defeated challenger may yield, withdraw, or pledge themselves to another claimant.” Her eyes hardened slightly. “But Shokan law does not require mercy from the victor.”

Fenrir exhaled. Sheeva's mouth twitched. “Disappointed?”

“Relieved, in fact. For a second, this was sounding strangely reasonable. Everything, after all this time, still feels…strange.”

Jade gave him an amused glance. Fenrir gestured toward the room. “So how many participated?”

“More than enough.” Sheeva leaned back. “Some were eliminated in the early trials; others withdrew when they realised that the clans would never follow them. Two were killed in formal combat…not by me.”

Fenrir raised a brow. “Noted.”

“Several others survived long enough to understand that becoming ruler and determining who should rule were not always the same thing.” Her fingers traced one of the markings on the map. “They pledged themselves to either Goro or me.” Sheeva smiled. There was pride in it now. “Leaving two.”

Kitana took a measured sip of wine, already calculating. “Then what remains?”

Sheeva looked toward her. “The Crucible.”

Fenrir glanced at Jade. “Another fight?”

Sheeva almost looked offended. “A vote, in fact.”

Fenrir stared. “After all of that…” He gestured vaguely. “…you vote?”

Sheeva's eyes narrowed. “What did you expect? That we throw every remaining claimant into the lava until only one crawls back out?” Jade hid another smile behind her cup.  Sheeva stared at Fenrir for another moment, then gave a low chuckle. “We are warriors, Fenrir. Not animals.” The amusement faded from her eyes. 

That sentence quieted the emperor. Sheeva understood her people's culture without worshipping every flaw embedded within it. She could stand inside that same tradition and still imagine something beyond it.

Fenrir nodded slowly, respectfully and apologetically. Sheeva's gaze lingered upon him. Something warmer moved behind her expression. Perhaps approval or perhaps something else.

Then Kitana asked the question that actually mattered. “Who are the voters?”

Sheeva immediately returned to business. “The heads of every clan that survived the Orthak without losing formal standing. Those who pledged themselves to another claimant retain their clan's vote.”

Fenrir leaned back, thoughtful. It was closer to an elective monarchy rather than democracy. It was definitely Shokan in nature to him.

Kitana's eyes moved toward the scrolls scattered across the table. “And how are you positioned?”

Sheeva's confidence faltered for the first time. “We will find out tonight.”

---

By nightfall, the two Shokan candidates and their respective supporters had gathered in the throne room where the Orthak would be held.

The chamber had been prepared much as it had been in ages past, when the ancestors of Goro's bloodline had taken the throne of Kuatan and held it for generations. There was something almost sacred in the room's brutality. Nothing had been softened for the occasion. Instead, the ancient hall seemed designed to remind every warrior present that rulership among the Shokan had never been something granted lightly.

A vast pool of molten lava divided the chamber; its rivers flowed through channels carved into the surrounding stone before disappearing beneath the floor. The glow illuminated the hall from below, painting the walls in flickering shades of orange while heat rolled continuously through the air.

Suspended above that sea of fire by enormous golden chains stood a ceremonial arena. The arena was circular and broad enough to accommodate the largest of shokans, it hung like an island over the molten abyss, its stone surface reflecting the light beneath it.  

On either side, colossal pillars had been carved into the faces of ancient shokan ancestors. Their expressions were grim, their mouths pulled back into eternal snarls and their hollow eyes always judged the combatants.

Heavy bronze columns formed the elevated stands around the outer edge of the chamber. Sheeva's supporters occupied the right side while Goro's filled the left. At the far end, raised above the lava on a monumental stone dais, stood the throne of Kuatan. It was an imposing seat of black stone with a towering back, framed by gold and draped in an immaculate crimson carpet that spilt down the steps like blood.

For centuries, it had belonged to Goro's family. Tonight, for the first time in generations, it waited for someone else. Fenrir stood among Sheeva's supporters, behind her and between Kitana and Jade. His soldiers remained outside under Syzoth and Skarlet's command, but the women beside him were enough to remind him that he was not walking into this alone. Jade watched the crowd carefully while Kitana remained poised, though the strain of the evening was visible on her.

Across the chamber, Goro stood next to Shang Tsung. The Shokan prince's massive arms were crossed over his chest, his posture impatient yet steady. And behind the sorcerer, half concealed within the shadows, stood the mysterious robed figure.

The hood hid every recognisable feature. Yet the figure's attention had never wandered far from Kitana. Its eyes watched her with a strange mixture of sorrow and something colder. Hatred perhaps. Fenrir forced himself to look away. Whatever connection existed between that stranger and the Edenian queen, tonight was not the moment to uncover it.

The chamber was already at its breaking point. Insults crossed the gap between the two factions. Some clans called the other traitors. Others mocked instead. Through it all, Goro and Sheeva remained silent. Sheeva's upper hands rested against the bronze railing while she watched her former commander across the chamber. Goro stood opposite her, all four arms folded, waiting.

Then three loud strikes echoed through the hall.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The insults stopped as all heads turned downwards.  Kilur stood upon the dais, his staff planted firmly against the stone. The two others elder Shokans stood behind him, each carrying an empty ceremonial bowl.

The old Shokan's gaze travelled across the room. "Shokans." His voice echoed through the chamber and into the halls beyond. "Tonight, we gather beneath the eyes of our ancestors to decide which of this two mightiest of warriors shall carry the crown of Kuatan."

A roar erupted from the crowd. Goro's supporters raised their fists and weapons. Sheeva's side answered with equal force.

Kilur struck the ground once more. Silence, shortly after, returned. "Prince Goro." The left side exploded with cheers. Goro merely nodded.

Then Kilur turned toward the opposite stands. "General Sheeva." Sheeva's supporters answered immediately.

A servant stepped forward carrying an ornate golden vase covered in intricate carvings. The markings depicted ancient shokan rulers standing before their clans, weapons raised toward the sky. Kilur accepted it with respect. "You have placed your votes according to clan, tradition and what each of you believes our people require." He slowly raised the vase. "Now let the ancestors judge the wisdom of your choice."

His hand disappeared into the vase. The first scroll emerged once he pulled it out. Kilur opened it. "The Ur-Bin clan chooses Prince Goro as its king."

The reaction was immediate. Goro's supporters roared. A number of warriors slammed their weapons against their shields. Across the room, Sheeva's followers cursed beneath their breath. Goro turned his gaze toward Count Ilur, the head of the Ur-Bin clan, who answered with a solemn bow. The prince returned it with respect.

Sheeva lowered her head. Fenrir watched Kilur place the scroll into the bowl on his left. "One to nothing," the elder murmured.

Kitana frowned seeing Sheeva’s reaction. "Does Goro truly care so little for the traditions of his ancestors?"

Sheeva gave a quiet grunt.  She wouldn’t dare to answer.

Jade answered before she could. "I think he does care. Just not in the way you think of." Kitana turned toward her. Jade gestured subtly toward Goro. "I think Goro believes the shokan's purpose is conquest. And with it, strength and glory.” Her eyes narrowed with disdain. “In the name of Shao Kahn that is.”  

Kitana shook her head. "No." Her tone was more defensive than Fenrir expected. "Goro is not some beast following orders. I have known him for centuries. I dealt with him and his father as a diplomat. He cares for his people."

Sheeva's eyes remained on the Shokan prince. "Then you have poorly judged the man he became." Kitana's expression tightened at her reply. "The prince you knew changed." Sheeva's fingers curled against the railing with disdain. "He may love Kuatan. He may even believe every war he wages is for us." Her eyes narrowed. "But he wants the Shokan to look at him as though he were the answer to every problem."

Fenrir stepped closer to the railing. "So those wars he has in mind are all about his glory?" A faint smile touched his lips. "And I thought I had an ego."

Sheeva did not laugh. She still wanted to believe that the Goro she had admired for so long remained buried beneath the pride, the conquest and the endless hunger for strength.

Kitana looked toward him again. "He has to understand that there is more to life than conquest."

"I hope he does," Sheeva replied. Her gaze shifted toward Kilur. "If he doesn't, our people are going to learn far too late that strength alone cannot save them."

The council continued while each side discussed with their respective supporters. One scroll followed after another.

Goro. Sheeva. Goro. Sheeva.  Then Goro again.

The names began to blur into one another as Kilur's voice echoed across the cavern. Fenrir found himself unconsciously tracking the balance. At one point his attention returned to Shang Tsung. The sorcerer's expression had not changed once since the council began. There was no anxiety or impatience in his features.  Only that faint, confident smile he always carried.

Fenrir disliked it more with every passing vote. Shang occasionally leaned toward the hooded figure beside the sorcerer, whispering words too quiet for him to hear. The figure never answered. Yet it always seemed to listen.

Then Kilur raised the final scroll. "And finally..." Movement came from the shadows behind Sheeva's supporters. From it, Kintaro emerged. The massive Tigrar shokan stepped onto the stand and took his position among the clan heads. Sheeva's eyes widened once she placed her eyes on him. Kintaro looked at her solemnly. For several seconds neither moved.

Kilur unfolded the scroll just as he had done the previous ones. "The Tigrar clan chooses General Sheeva as their queen!"

The room erupted. Sheeva's supporters cheered. Her opponents answered with a storm of insults. Someone threw a cup across the chamber. Others insulted the Tigrar’s honour and judgment. Especially their leader. Yet, Kintaro remained still thorough it all.

Goro's expression twisted. "Impossible!" His roar silenced several of his own supporters. His gaze locked onto Kintaro.

The Tigrar did not flinch, not even a single bit. Even Shang Tsung lifted an eyebrow. That result had clearly not been part of the outcome he expected.

Sheeva approached the tigrar. She bowed her head respectfully to Kintaro. The tigrar answered the gesture respectfully, placing one hand over his chest. Then he spoke. "Do not thank me." His eyes remained on her. " Just make sure you keep your promise."

Kintaro turned toward Fenrir. A respectful bow followed. Then he stepped away and returned to his position.

Fenrir watched him. "What just happened?"

Sheeva's expression broke into a smile. Then she laughed. "Kintaro." She shook her head. Sheeva turned back to Fenrir. "Remember this, Emperor. Do not act only upon what you can gain." Her tone became more thoughtful. "Act upon what you can create with what you are given."

Fenrir considered the words. Then realization spread across his face. "You promised the Tigrar something." Sheeva said nothing. "A place beyond the old hierarchy." Her smile widened seeing Fenrir’s cunning nature breath. "You believe they can become more than soldiers."

Sheeva didn’t not reply outright. Yet her pleased expression at his deduction said it all. Fenrir chuckled. "I see."

Jade smiled warmly. "You keep surprising me, Sheeva."

Kitana nodded. "Perhaps you are already their queen."

Sheeva's eyes remained on Goro. "Let's hope they all see it that way." Then her expression hardened. She turned toward Kitana. "One way or another, get your man ready."

Kitana raised a confused brow. "For what?"

"For the worst."

Kitana's expression shifted. "You cannot be serious."

"I am." Sheeva's gaze moved across the other stand. The Ush-Tar were armed. Several carried bows or spears. "No matter who wins tonight," Sheeva continued, "I do not believe everyone in this chamber will leave it unharmed."

Fenrir's eyes narrowed. He turned toward one of his nearby guards. The warrior approached swiftly. "My lord?" He spoke.

"Find Syzoth." Fenrir's gaze remained on the Ush-Tar. "Tell him to prepare the men and keep them nearby."

The soldier bowed. "At once." Just as swiftly as he came. He disappeared into the crowd.

Fenrir turned back toward the elders. Time had passed yet something felt wrong. Kilur and the other elders had begun recounting the votes. Then again and again. Their movements becoming increasingly uncertain.

Jade leaned toward Sheeva. "Is this normal?"

Sheeva stared downward. "No." For the first time since Fenrir had met her, uncertainty entered her voice. Even Goro seemed confused. Shang Tsung was not. His smile remained untouched.

Fenrir stared at him. What do you know? He thought.

Kilur eventually stepped forward. The ancient Shokan looked troubled. His staff shook slightly in his hand. "Shokans..." The room gradually quieted. "We have found ourselves in a conundrum." He allowed the words to settle upon the chamber. "The votes have been counted. There is no error…The count is equal." The chamber fell completely silent once those words were spoken. "No king or queen has been chosen."

The crowed exploded. Goro's supporters shouted. Sheeva's companions answered.

"Impossible!" Goro pointed across the room. "What is the meaning of this, Sheeva?!"

Sheeva's eyes flashed. "How could I know?!"

"You cheated!" Goro's voice boomed across the chamber. "My name was called more than yours! All of Kuatan knows I am the rightful ruler!"

Sheeva slammed one fist against the railing. "How dare you accuse me!" Her upper lips curled back. "I should have your tongue, viper."

Across the room, the Ush-Tar raised their weapons.

Jade's staff materialized instantly. "Fen." She grabbed his arm and pointed across the chamber. "We have a problem."

Kitana opened both fans just as swiftly. “Damnit.”

Fenrir looked toward the opposite stand. His eyes settled upon Shang Tsung. The sorcerer was smiling wickedly. The realization of what it meant came to him slowly. “You knew.”

Kilur struck the floor. "ORDER!" Then, louder.  "ORDER!" The chamber barely quieted. Then the old Shokan slammed the staff down a third time. "ORDER!" The word thundered across the chamber and echoed into every corridor of Golvalin. The ancient elder nearly stumbled. His companions, never wasting a step, steadied him.

Kilur lifted his head. "There was no tampering." His voice carried sorrow. "We have checked every vote. We are certain."

Goro raised an arm. "Then, what now?" His voice was filled with frustration. "This has never happened before. We cannot simply vote again. Every clan has already made its choice."

Sheeva crossed her arms. "I agree with the prince." She spoke through clenched teeth. "I will not renounce my claim because of a mistake."

The crowd erupted once again. Weapons came fully into view. Some Shokan stepped into the aisles. Fenrir watched as the situation deteriorate by the second.

Kilur raised both hands. "SILENCE!" The chamber finally obeyed. He looked toward the crowd. "I know how you all feel." His voice weakened. "And I beg you to pardon us. But there is no answer to this dilemma." The words had barely left him before the chamber erupted once again.

That was…until a new voice cut through the noise. Calm. Smooth…Poisonous. "What about the Ungalin?" Everything in the room seemed to stopped. The change was immediate for everyone inside it. The shokans stared at Shang Tsung. Yet no one dared to speak. Nevertheless, the sorcerer remained composed. "Or have the Shokan forgotten the traditions of their ancestors?"

Fenrir looked around. Something about the shokans reaction was wrong. There was fear in it.

Jade leaned toward Kitana. "What is the Ungalin?"

Kitana didn't answer. Sheeva didn't either. Both women had gone still. Then, Sheeva finally spoke. "The Ungalin is an ancient rite." Her voice had become quiet. "If the other means of choosing a ruler fail. Then a person of status can call it to determine the winner."

Fenrir frowned. "How?"

Sheeva's eyes met his. "Through a fight."

Kitana finished the thought with sorrow in her eyes. "To the death."

Jade's eyes widened. "Shit." She looked toward Sheeva. "Can't you refuse?"

Kitana lowered her head. "No." Sheeva closed her eyes for a moment. "Once the Ungalin is invoked within these sacred halls and accepted under the Code, the rite must proceed no matter what."

Fenrir's hands tightened. "That's bullshit." His eyes snapped toward Shang Tsung. It was in that moment, that he finally understood the trap he had stepped in. The sorcerer didn’t need to rig the votes. He had simply anticipated the possibility of a tie. If Goro won, Shang's plan succeeded. If the vote was tied, then he would have another move waiting. Either way, he had come prepared.

Kitana touched Fenrir's arm. "It's their law." Her expression was filled with sorrow. "She cannot simply walk away."

Fenrir looked at Sheeva. The dilemma was obvious to everyone around. Goro was stronger. Far stronger. There was only one person in the chamber who had defeated the prince before…And he wasn't a candidate. Fenrir was exactly where Shang Tsung needed him to be. Trapped.

Kilur slowly turned toward the clan heads. "Do we have consensus?"

"Aye." Ilur's answer came first.

"Aye." Jurgarun of the Ish-Tal clan followed.

Then another. And another.

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

One after the other, the clan heads surrendered their voices to the ancient law. Until only Kintaro remained. The Tigrar-Shokan looked toward Sheeva. Their eyes met long enough to say what words could not. His jaw tightened. Then, finally: "Aye."

Sheeva closed her eyes. The room seemed to disappear around her. Everything she had worked for had led to this. And now a word could take it all away.

Kilur turned toward her. "General Sheeva." She opened her eyes. "Do you accept the Ungalin?"

Sheeva looked toward Goro. The prince stood motionless. He was not smiling, neither looked pleased at the result. He had no desire to kill her under these circumstances. But the law had been invoked. His duty remained.

Sheeva looked once toward Fenrir. Then Jade and Kitana. Her lips trembled. Still, she raised her chin proudly. "I accept."

Jade's eyes filled with tears. "No..."

Kitana immediately placed a hand against her shoulder. Fenrir said nothing. He couldn't. For the second time, someone he cared about had been placed directly in front of death while he stood unable to stop it. And once again, Shang Tsung stood at the center of it.

For a moment, Fenrir saw the future. Goro crowned. The Shokan armies joining Reiko. The civil war effectively decided in that moment. Everything they had fought for collapsing in one night.

Then Goro spoke. "I..." The room slowly quieted. His eyes never left Sheeva. There was something different in his expression now. Respect. Sheeva had fought and survived him. Earned the loyalty of clans that had once served his family. She had become a leader in her own right. And Goro knew it. He also knew that killing her would prove nothing. Everyone already knew he was stronger. Everyone expected him to win. There was no honour in crushing someone simply because ancient law had left them with no alternative.

Goro's gaze shifted toward the throne. Then toward Fenrir. His fists tightened. His pride spoke louder than any sacred code could. He had failed twice on the greatest stage of his life. The shaolin had defeated him. Fenrir had defeated him. He had spent months carrying those defeats beneath the weight of his own legend. If he was going to claim the crown, he would not do it through a technicality. There was only one opponent in the room whose defeat could finally settle the wound those failures had left.

Goro raised his chin. "I decline."

The chamber erupted in shock. Sheeva stared at him. Kitana and Jade froze in their place. Fenrir blinked in disbelief.

Across the room, Shang Tsung's composure cracked for the first time that night. His smile disappeared. His eyes widened. “That presumptuous idiot.” The sorcerer had prepared for a victory. Even for a tie. He had never prepared for Goro deciding that the game was no longer worth playing by the rules Shang expected him to follow.

Goro lifted one of his arms. "SILENCE!" The roar brought everyone back into submission. He looked toward Sheeva. "I will not fight you, Sheeva." His voice was firm. "Everyone in this chamber knows what the outcome will be."

Sheeva's eyes narrowed. The words hurt. But they were true. She had already proven what she needed to prove to everyone here. It was no longer a matter of strength but leadership.

Goro's eyes hardened. "There is only one creature in all of Outworld alive who has defeated me."  The chamber went silent. Fenrir felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Goro slowly turned. His eyes locked directly onto him. "And he is standing in this room."

Fenrir's expression dropped. “Please don't.”

Goro raised one enormous arm. His finger pointed across the chamber. Straight at the Emperor. "Him."

Every eye turned toward Fenrir.  Fenrir slowly lowered his head.

"Fuck."

W/N: For everyone wondering the results of the polls: 1.

2. LMAO You madlads.

3. I won't accept my girls Jade and Skarlet slander.

4. Alright, I'm going to re-upload them back and moving forward try my best to keep adding those images(Not on all chapters though).