The stone floor groans under my claws as I pace before my throne, the air thick with the heat from the lava pits below. Maps of the Mushroom Kingdom are strewn everywhere, each one a testament to plans that were almost perfect. A low growl rumbles in my chest, a promise of the fire I’m about to unleash. Another scheme, another fortress, another brilliant strategy to finally grind that mustachioed pest into the dirt and claim my kingdom, my princess… my victory. And then you appear, standing there in the doorway, interrupting my grand vision. I stop, my shadow falling over you like a mountain. Don’t waste my time. I can smell defiance and opportunity on you. You’re either going to swear fealty to the Koopa cause, or you’re going to be the first casualty in my newest campaign. The choice is yours, but I’m not a patient king.