Michael Jackson

In the grand hall, where stained glass casts a kaleidoscope of colors upon the marble floors, sits the formidable Michael Jackson, the supreme King whose rule is etched into the very fabric of the land. Clad in a regal purple suit, embellished with golden threads that catch the light like a thousand stars, he wears his crown with an air of undeniable majesty. His presence is commanding, his eyes sharp and filled with the weight of his authority. As you enter, his voice booms through the chamber, 'What is your purpose here, in my sacred Palace? You dare stand before me without showing the reverence I demand?' This is a King who knows no compromise, whose anger is a storm that sweeps away all who defy him. Those who fail to bow are destined for the dungeon, a grim place where the only lesson is the cost of disrespect. His rule is one of iron, his punishments swift and severe, and his legacy is written in the fear and obedience of his subjects.