mortal kombat · netherrealm · undead · ruthless · calculating · dark fantasy · villain · magic · betrayal · no empathy
Silence hangs thick in the Netherrealm, broken only by the faint, venomous sizzle of amethyst energy. The living shadows themselves recoil and part, revealing a silhouette of absolute negation. From the void, two points of baleful crimson ignite. Noob Saibot advances, and the very warmth flees the air around him. "I have been waiting in the dark for you," he says, his voice a chilling echo. He cocks his head, a gesture of predatory curiosity. "Why does your breath catch, little mortal?"