To Shao's fortress.

Chapter 3: Introductions.

The chamber materialized in a violent burst of white-blue lightning, thunder cracking against ancient stone as Raiden’s energy tore a temporary wound through realms. The light slowly dimmed, dissolving into faint sparks that drifted upward like dying fireflies.
Silence followed. Heavy and Oppressive on both our airlines.

“So… this is the place,” I muttered, stepping forward as the last remnants of lightning faded from my skin.
The air was thick, not just warm, but metallic. It carried the scent of iron, ash, and something older… something that reminded me of dried blood baked into stone. Braziers lined the obsidian walls, their flames burning an unnatural crimson-orange that cast long skeletal shadows across the hall.

Ahead of us stretched a vast corridor of blackened marble veined with dark ebony crystal. At the far end stood towering, ornately carved wooden doors leading to the throne room.

“To be honest with you,” I added dryly, glancing at Raiden, “I preferred it when this wasn’t my home. At least then I wouldn’t have to spend my days here.”
Raiden raised an amused yet intrigued eyebrow at my comment, providing lightness of banter to the darkness.

We stood within the fortress of Shao Kahn.

To call it hostile would have been generous.

The structure did not simply intimidate, it asserted dominance. Every archway was crowned with skull motifs. Every pillar bore carvings of conquered realms and kneeling armies. Massive banners still hung from the vaulted ceiling, Crimson dark red in colour, bearing Shao Kahn’s sigil: the hammer and dragon emblem etched in crimson against black warcloth or in some of them his distinctive crown.

Some of the statues lining the corridor were cracked, not from time, but from deliberate defacement. Onaga’s likeness had been shattered, its draconic face cleaved in half. A reminder that even former rulers were not spared humiliation under Kahn’s reign.

Outside the fortress walls, through the massive open archways, Outworld stretched beneath a bruised purple sky. Lightning flickered in distant storm clouds that never seemed to fully break. The realm was beautiful in a violent way, jagged mountains carved the horizon like broken teeth, and strange moons glowed faintly above.

And yet… beneath the ordinary rhythm of torches and wind, One could see that there was potential in this shattered realm.

A low vibration could be felt under the stone, A distant tremor.

Like something chained far below.

In the distance, at the fortress gates, a patrol of Tarkatans marched across a bridge of black iron on patrol. Their guttural voices echoed faintly, blades scraping against armor. They had not yet noticed us, but the realm itself felt alert, like a beast sensing a new predator entering its territory.

Shao Kahn had ensured his fortified palace embodied dread. It was not simply a home; it was a monument to tyranny. A statement carved into stone: Power conquers. Mercy is weakness.

The fortress stood between two of Outworld’s most significant cities, both bearing scars of that philosophy.

To the east lay the ancient city of Sun Do.

Once the proud capital under the Dragon King Onaga, Sun Do had been a place of scholarship, art, and draconic reverence. While those were it bases, the Dragon King made it feudal in certain aspects, Military training for starters… that was once the birth place of Shao Kahn. Raiden had told us stories of it during training, of how its towers once shimmered with emerald crystal and gold. Of how its people honoured balance in warfare rather than domination and ruthlessness.

Now, from the balcony, I could see its distant silhouette.

Half its spires had collapsed. Sections of the outer wall were left deliberately unrestored, not from inability, but from cruelty. Shao Kahn had ordered portions of the city dismantled as a symbolic erasure of Onaga’s legacy. Markets that once thrived now flickered dimly, and smoke curled lazily from districts that never fully rebuilt. Only the martial aspects were left, the only ones that matter to the old Kahn.

“A reminder,” Raiden had once said during our Earthrealm briefings, “that conquerors despise the memory of those they overthrow.”

To the west stood Lei Chen.

Unlike Sun Do, Lei Chen still breathed, barely.

A mountainous city carved directly into black rock cliffs, protected by colossal stone walls and iron gates. Strategically brilliant. Nearly impenetrable.

Beneath it lay what had once been Outworld’s most secure prison system, engineered to contain warlords, sorcerers and enemies of the empire.

Under Shao Kahn, it had become something else entirely.

The tremor I felt beneath my feet? That likely came from there.

Lei Chen’s lower levels had been converted into **** chambers and labour pits for mining or worst. Rebels disappeared into its depths. Entire families were
imprisoned over unpaid taxes. The realm’s economy fed the emperor’s war machine, and the common folk starved while arenas flourished.

“Conquest without stewardship rots a realm from within,” Raiden had once warned us.

Shao Kahn had never believed in stewardship, Only power.

I decided to play it swell to not let fear defeat me, portraying a mask to my hide my real doubts underneath it “It’s charming,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “In a deeply twisted sense of the word.”

I let out a frustrated sigh and added, quoting my fellow teammate Johnny Cage under my breath, “I’m royally fucked, aren’t I?”

“Calling it charming would be… a generous interpretation,” Raiden replied, shaking his head in faint disbelief.

Even now, he struggled with the Elder Gods’ decision. That I , of all his warriors, was the one standing here as Outworld’s appointed Emperor.

The God of Thunder straightened, his presence sharpening once more.

“Do you know what lies beyond those doors?” he asked.

I followed his gaze.

The throne room entrance towered before us; two massive crimson-stained doors reinforced with dark metal bands. Carved into the wood were two demonic heads, fanged and snarling, their jaws clamped around enormous golden rings that served as handles, intricates ornaments and details of a golden leaf were part of its structure and form.

On either side, colossal pillars burned with undying flame, fire that did not flicker with wind, but pulsed like a living heartbeat of a dark crimson orange colour.

“I believe I do,” I answered quietly, my eyes fixed on them. “I have been there once. Back when Jax faced both Reptile and baraka in the start of the tournament.”
Raiden studied me carefully.

“Then you know it leads to the former Emperor’s throne room.”

The word former felt strange in the air.

Even Raiden seemed unsettled by it.

Shao Kahn, dead.

And in his place, an Earthrealmer.

“And at this very moment,” Raiden continued, “his generals and closest allies are gathered within. They debate succession, questioning your legitimacy. They prepare for instability.”

“You’re sure about that?” I asked, half hoping this was still some cosmic misunderstanding.

As if to punctuate his words, a thunderous roar erupted from inside the chamber. Not from combat… but from argument.

Voices raised in fury and disbelief; metal clanged against stone.

Someone slammed a weapon down in emphasis.

Raiden stepped beside me, faint lightning flickering across his shoulders.

“I am certain.”

Another distant tremor rippled beneath the fortress, subtle, but there.

Outworld was restless.

Raiden turned slightly, preparing to return to Earthrealm.

“You’re going to leave me here… alone?” I asked.

The question came out steadier than I felt.

For a moment, Raiden did not answer.

The braziers flickered, and the faint aura of lightning that constantly danced across his shoulders sputtered, weaker than before. In Earthrealm, his presence filled space like a storm on the horizon.

He exhaled slowly, the sound heavier than thunder.

“Unfortunately, I must,” he said at last. “My power is diminished in Outworld.”

I could see it, The air resisted him.

The realm did not welcome him.

“In Earthrealm, I am sovereign in my strength,” he continued. “Here, I am… tolerated.”

A faint spark cracked between his fingers and died prematurely.

“And as much as I would like to remain and guide you until I deem you fully prepared,” he said, voice tightening slightly, “I have duties in Earthrealm that cannot be neglected. Forgive me, Fenrir… but from this point forward, you stand on your own.”

The silence that followed felt enormous.

The distant roar from the throne room echoed again, louder now.

This was it.

No more training grounds.

No more Earthrealm warriors at my back.

No more Raiden stepping between me and ****.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly, though something in my chest tightened. “I understand.” …Did I?

Raiden studied me, not as a commander, but as something closer to a father **** to let go.

“If it brings you any measure of comfort,” he said, folding his hands behind his back, “I will contact you daily when possible. The barriers between realms will strain communication, but I will not abandon you to silence.”

He paced once, thoughtful.

“There are matters we must discuss before I depart.”

I nodded, forcing my focus to sharpen.

His expression hardened.

“The first is vital to your survival.”

The lightning around him intensified suddenly, reacting to his tone.

“Do not reveal your inheritance.”

The words struck harder than the distant war cries.

I had known this conversation was inevitable. Still, hearing it aloud felt like exposing an old wound.

“I suppose this was coming sooner or later,” I said quietly. “You wouldn’t have accepted me into the tournament without knowing… that detail.”

Raiden’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Detail?” he repeated.

A sudden flare of lightning burst from his shoulders, illuminating the skull-carved walls.

“The half-blooded son of the Demon King Argarath walking openly upon Earth is not a detail, Fenrir.”

He spoke my father’s name; it carried restrained distaste.

“he’s not some mere oni or demon Fenrir… he’s the Dark Knight of Fire and Steel. General of the Netherrealm’s infernal legions. A warlord whose campaigns scarred entire provinces of that realm or unify them depending on the myth. There’s only few in hell that match or surpass his prowess and power and one of them is a fallen elder god…” he stated, watching my reaction.

The braziers dimmed slightly, as if reacting to the name.

“I have no love for my father,” I said coldly.

Raiden’s tone softened at once.

“I know. Your mother told me.”

At the mention of her name, something in his expression shifted, reverence replacing tension.

“Kimiko Akamatsu fought for Earthrealm with unmatched resolve. Her legacy stands next only to warriors such as the Great Kung Lao and Liu Kang. She was fierce… and honourable.”

A faint smile tugged at my mouth. “I figured you let me compete because of her.”

Raiden’s gaze warmed.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I promised her I would watch over you.”

He hesitated, rare for him.

“What she saw in Argarath… I never fully understood.”

My jaw tightened.

“He is the reason she died.”

The words left my mouth sharper than intended.

Raiden did not immediately refute me.

“I cannot confirm that,” he said carefully. “Her **** remains… unresolved. There are forces within the Netherrealm even Argarath does not fully control.”

That gave me no comfort.

“Nevertheless,” he continued, regaining his composure, “your lineage must remain hidden. To Outworld, you are an Earthrealm warrior. The champion of Shao Kahn tournament or just a demon hunter, the choice is yours."

I nodded.

Underestimation could be useful, especially here.

“How can we be certain it remains secret?” I pressed. “Argarath is not some low-ranking demon.”

“No,” Raiden agreed gravely. “He is not.”

He let out thoughtful pause.

“Yet the existence of his heir remains unknown, even to Shinnok.”

That caught my attention.

Raiden stepped closer.

“It’s been a least a century since a Nephilim was born,” The word felt ancient. Yet familiar to me, I was one of them by blood. “even longer for one to be able to live beyond his 18th birthday. Millenia since it was from royal demon descent.” He said still solemn yet this time pondering thoughtful with his arms crossed.

“The existence of Nephilim is forbidden. Your existence.” He stated solemn. “Feared by demon kind for their unpredictability. Distrusted by certain Elder Gods for their potential.”

My gaze matched his yet I felt judged by his words and tone.

“There was a time,” Raiden said, his voice lowering, “when beings of mixed infernal and mortal blood nearly fractured the balance between realms. Some among the Demon Lords demanded their eradication. They hunted them to prevent rival claimants to power.”

His gaze hardened.

“Parents and children alike.”

The braziers hissed softly.

“There were others?” I asked.

“At first,” Raiden answered. “Few survived.”

The implication was clear.

If the truth emerged, Netherrealm would not see a ruler.

They would see a threat. Something that I knew well since I was a teen.

“I’ve been hunted my entire life, Lord Raiden,” I said calmly. “I know exactly what I am.”

He studied me carefully.

“You can fear demons when you are a child,” I continued, voice steady but darker now. “But fear doesn’t keep you alive.”

I met his gaze fully.

“I stopped being afraid when I realized the only way to survive them… was to hunt them first.”

A faint smirk crossed Raiden’s face, not amusement, but recognition.

There it was.

The part of me that did not bend.

The part my mother had tempered and nurture for virtue.

The part my father had unknowingly forged.

“You carry both fire and restraint,” Raiden said quietly. “That balance is rare.”

He placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Very well. I trust your judgment.”

Raiden studied me for a long moment before speaking again.

“One thing moving forward,” he began, his voice quieter now, more deliberate. “From this point on, you are my equal in status. Perhaps not as a god… but as a guardian of your respective realm.”

The air around him shimmered faintly with restrained lightning.

“You may still address me as Lord Raiden if you wish,” he continued, “but understand this, I will not be insulted if you choose otherwise.”

The words did not strike me with pride.

They struck me with weight.

Equal.

The title felt heavier than any crown Outworld had **** upon my head…for a brief second, I almost rejected it.

Raiden reached up slowly, and removed his hat.

It was a small gesture. But from him, it was monumental.

Not a god addressing a mortal nor a teacher guiding a student.

An equal acknowledging another.

“Raiden, one way or another, I still answer to you,” I said lightly. “I’m only emperor in name. I’m still an Earthrealmer after all.”

He shook his head faintly, something between disbelief and **** amusement crossing his features. I made it difficult for him to be solemn for too long. It reminded him too much of Johnny Cage, in the best way, I suspected.

Yet he understood, respect did not always require formality.

“One last thing,” he said.

He paused.

“Two, if you must.”

His tone shifted again, strategic now.

“You can trust Princess Kitana… or Empress, as she is now.” There was quiet approval in his voice when he spoke her name. “Her heart remains aligned with justice.”

He folded his arms behind his back.

“I cannot fully vouch for Jade’s every action, but I believe her loyalty to Kitana is unwavering.”

He hesitated. “Though Kronika’s statement of her fate aligned with yours it’s still a mystery to me, one I hope only leads to good things. For both of you and the realms.”

“And Mileena?” I asked, finishing the thought for him.

His jaw tightened slightly before he answered.

“Yes.”

Lightning flickered faintly along the floor beneath his boots.

“She is not entirely evil,” he said carefully. “But she is hungry. Hungry for validation. For legitimacy. For belonging.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And hunger can be more dangerous than hatred.”

He let that statement sink in.

“I believe she is misguided… or at least I hope so.”

That hope carried uncertainty.

That unsettled me more than if he had condemned her outright.

“And be mindful of the generals,” he added. “Reiko in particular watches everything. He is loyal to power, not to peace.”

“And the others?” I asked, thought-out.

“Those are left for you to decide, perhaps they are more reasonable and their decisions were only based on Shao Kahn’s dreaded tyranny over their people.” He expressed, politics in Outworld were more lethal than blades.

I nodded slowly. “I suppose that caution extends to the… marriage negotiations as well?”

For the first time since the conversation began, Raiden chuckled.

“That,” he admitted, “is a battlefield I have never traversed. Matters of the heart are beyond my jurisdiction.”

“Fair enough.”

The moment of levity faded quickly.

I straightened.

“What about the Elder Gods… and Kronika?” I asked. “Can we trust them?”

That erased the humor entirely.

Raiden’s expression hardened, not with anger, but with doubt.

“I do not know, Fenrir ,” he answered honestly.

That frightened me more than any prophecy.

“This decision defies the principles they claim to uphold. The Elder Gods allow mortals to act freely unless balance is irreparably threatened. And Kronika…” His gaze shifted slightly, distant. “Kronika does not move without purpose.”

The air grew still.

“I fear,” he continued quietly, “that even she does not fully see where the threads of time are leading.

A chill ran down my spine.

“If time itself doesn’t know,” I asked carefully, “does that mean I can break it?”

His eyes snapped back to mine.

For a moment, lightning pulsed brighter, not in anger, but in realization.

“Perhaps,” he murmured.

Then, more firmly.

“No fate should be written in mystery.”

The words lingered between us.

“One way or another,” he continued, gathering himself, “be ready. The road will be long for both of us.”

The massive doors to the throne room trembled faintly behind me.

The world was not waiting for my emotional closure.

I bowed slightly.

“Thank you… Lord Raiden.”

He looked at me one last time, a faint smirk breaking through the solemnity.

“And to answer your question from earlier.”

Another rumble shook the chamber.

He grinned. “You are royally fucked.”

And then, Thunder cracked.

Light engulfed him, he vanished back to earth realm.

I took a moment to look once again to the window in the hall, stepping outside to the balcony of it. This palace was now mine, and this realm now hang in the balance. It was in that moment that I felt a presence lingering on me, I was being watched.

For a split second I looked to the side, managing to catch a glimpse of a crimson dressed female figure. I only knew one warrior in Shao Kahn ranks that looked like it, Skarlet.

She was watching me for a split second before fading away feeling my eyes on her.

“I guess the time has come.” I muttered to myself, making my way to the doors.