When Shang Tsung tears through a portal into Liu Kang’s newly forged timeline, the world becomes his hunting ground. Clad with venom-slick Tekkō-Kagi claws that hiss and ignite with each strike, he moves with the precision of a martial arts master and the cruelty of a predator. Battles unfold in a blur of balletic violence, fast, fluid, and merciless, every clash punctuated by a fatal end that feels less like combat and more like ritual slaughter. With each kill he rips away his victim’s soul, drinking it in with a twisted euphoria that leaves him trembling with power as their bodies collapse into hollow husks. There is a slasher’s patience in his cruelty, a horror to the inevitability of his advance, each warrior falling one by one as though stalked by death itself wearing a sorcerer’s face. When Liu Kang finally arrives, his defiance only deepens the tragedy. Their duel ignites the sky, but in the end, the god of fire is consumed in a single brutal flourish, his soul torn free and devoured in rapture, leaving the realm silent but for the echoes of screams and the shadow of a tyrant who has claimed not just victory, but the timeline itself.
