Author's notes: It's been years since the last update, hasn't it? This story had been affected by my writer's block for far too long. Thanks to many events, including MK11's story prologue trailer, this story is back on track. It'll probably have very little in common with MK11; for starters, this story will not have any time travel in it. Also, I wrote some scenes in this chapter literally years apart. If you see any particularly jarring differences in my writing style, the long gap is the reason why it's like that.

You might want to re-read the first two chapters, if you haven't done so recently. Otherwise, you'll almost definitely be lost. This chapter is my longest one to date, and there's more to it than just my OC.

Chapter Three

Poisoned Jinsei

16th Century

Tonaolotl, Central America

"Fifteen years ago, our War God, Huitzilopochtli ... returned to us. He lived among us for a time and proclaimed his authority with the divine light of the Sun. He led our men to victories against invaders, and in turn, our most honoured people gave their beating hearts to Him in ultimate sacrifice.

"And one day, when He announced that it was time for Him to depart, a great ball of yellow light appeared at the base of the Temple we had dedicated to Him. When the light died down -"

"Our War God had vanished, yes," a senior priest remarked impatiently. His aged ears were so scarred and mutilated that they were almost unrecognisable. "I was a witness to His departure as well. Or is your memory failing you, former Priestess Xochitl?"

Izel, then a lanky teenager, winced as her mother, Xochitl, tightened her grip on both her shoulders to the point of pain. The girl briefly met the intimidating old priest's stern dark eyes and then averted her gaze to the side of his long black cloak, not wanting to be punished for perceived rudeness. "Forgive me, esteemed Teohuatzin." Izel's mother bowed her unadorned head in embarrassment, then pulled herself together.

"Ten days ago, I spotted a most peculiar mark upon my daughter's shoulder. Two lines akin to the one upon the body of our War God. I believe them to be a sign from Huitzilopochtli himself."

"I shall be the judge of that, Xochitl," the priest said firmly. "Why else did you call me to your humble home?" Izel could hear the barely disguised contempt in his gravelly voice. She was not too surprised; Xochitl had broken her vow of chastity by laying with the War God a few days prior to his famed departure, which many called a demise. When her pregnancy was discovered, she had to swear by the names of many Teotl and undertake ritualistic tests to prove her claim of her child's father and leave the Priesthood as a free commoner. While most of Xochitl's superior Priests and Priestesses had been satisfied, the Teohuatzin was of the opinion that she should have resisted the temptations of the flesh. However, he did respect Xochitl's trials enough to come to their home.

"Show him, Izel," her mother commanded.

Reluctantly, the girl pulled aside the shoulder of her plain, rough sleeveless dress to reveal her nascent Sun Lines to the old man, who looked to her mother for permission. Xochitl nodded. The young Izel did her best to suppress a shudder as he briefly ran an ash-covered, gnarled finger over them, as if suspecting an elaborate forgery. His bone necklace and beaded white loincloth clinked, and the obsidian of his ceremonial tecpatl reflected the firelight as he bent to take a closer look at the Sun Lines.

"It is indeed a sign from our War God," he said reverently, after he'd straightened up. Izel righted her dress with deliberate subtlety, not wanting to offend the priest, but inwardly relieved to be away from the smell of his matted, bloody hair. It must have shown in her actions, for Izel felt her mother's stern glare within their small adobe house.

"As you are aware," he continued, "The festival of Toxcatl is two months away. By casting His Mark upon His daughter, I believe our War God Himself has demanded that she be returned to him."

An unwilling gasp left Izel's mouth; her face lost its colour and her whole body trembled. While any other compatriot would be honoured at this, Izel was not most people, for she doubted the Teotl needed human flesh and blood to live. She had enough wits to keep her questioning to herself, after she was punished by her own mother the first time.

"Do not show fear and blaspheme your own Father, child!" the priest reprimanded her. "You should be honoured at aiding Him in His triumphs. You give your life so that the Sun may rise another day."

"I'm very sorry, honoured Teohuatzin, Mother," Izel blurted hastily, controlling herself; suppressing her fear of a most excruciating death. The extraction of a man's beating heart was supposedly Huitzilopochtli's preferred method of sacrifice. Still, Izel said what was expected of her, "May our War God forgive my insult to Him. I will repent in private." Her mother was silent, not in fear; but in confusion.

"A young woman being sacrificed to the mighty Huitzilopochtli is unprecedented, let alone preparations in so short a time," Xochitl said, perplexed. "Certainly, my daughter would not be the primary sacrifice in place of Ueman?"

"Ueman has been preparing for it for many months. As for your other question." The old man smirked, which highlighted his thick septum piercing and made him look even more intimidating. "I would not have believed anything of Huitzilopochtli's return if I had not seen His powers with my own eyes. Izel is His daughter after all; it would be prudent to heed His sign and return her to Him, lest He cause us to fall in battle and curse us all with the High Sun's wrath."

A strong breeze rustled the leaves high above Izel, bringing her back to the present. Birdsong rang through the partially cloudy and pink evening skies of the sparsely populated realm of Mau Hong. Kneeling beneath the shadows of a majestic wild mango tree, Izel inspected her handiwork.

She'd collected many greenish seed-pods from the short, deep green leaved shrub in front of her and placed them in a grey drawstring bag. Giving a cursory inspection to its contents, she closed the bag and fastened it to a holder attached to her belt. Rising to her feet, she brushed the grass and dust from her green pants and grey boots.

Sweeping a few stray strands of black hair away from her eyes and righting her long braid, the half Osh-Tekk took a moment to admire the realm's sky and feel the warm sunlight for one last time. Her thoughts took her back to the aftermath of the old priest's decision. When he had left the house, Izel had begun to formulate a hasty plan. Preparations for her role in the Toxcatl festival would certainly have started at the crack of the next dawn, and she would have had far less opportunities to escape. Waiting for her mother to fall asleep, the teenager had fled their circular house – and the town's cactus-lined perimeter itself – that very night, armed with only a kitchen knife and carrying very little in terms of supplies. She didn't know it then, but the direction that she'd headed to was anything but random.

Shaking her head to dispel old memories, she reached into a pouch strapped to her right leg and pulled out a seemingly ordinary-looking yellow gemstone. An observer might've thought of it as something merely expensive, but it was no ordinary stone.

On the night of her escape, Izel had gone deeper into the dense forests near her native town. A subconscious impulse had led her to an ancient Olmec-era temple which none but the most foolhardy from Tonaolotl dared to enter, for fear that it was haunted by vengeful spirits since the founding of the nearby Nahua settlement. There, she'd found this yellow stone embedded into a bas-relief; unbeknownst to Izel, her Osh-Tekk heritage had drawn her to it.

Izel extended the Portal Stone before her, thinking of her destination; the place that had become her home over all these centuries. The amber gem glowed now as it had when she had first touched it; only now, she knew where to go.

A spot of bright yellow light disturbed the tranquil evening as it quickly expanded into a portal large enough for one person. The blackness of its centre showed no indication of the realm that awaited beyond. The woman felt her spirits lift and a smile creep onto her face; she hoped he was home. With a spring in her step, she walked into the portal and out of Mau Hong.

She'd expected the cold weather on the other side and was prepared for it – the Dead Woods were covered with snow at this time of the Earthrealm year, after all. What she had not anticipated was a host of Lin Kuei and Outworld warriors locked in battle, effectively nullifying her chances of making it to the portal located in the caves without attracting attention. She did not spot the Osh-Tekk Emperor who had maimed her hundreds of years ago, to her relief, or his Kytinn and Zaterran advisers. Quickly, she darted and hid behind a particularly thick tree trunk, hoping against hope that a hostile might've been too preoccupied to notice her.

Still hiding in the tree line, her hands shook with a slight tremor as she armed her short blowgun. The blood-red skies had all but sapped her of her chlorokinetic abilities, but that was the least of her worries at the moment. It could only mean one thing: he had fallen, and so would Earthrealm.

Taking a deep breath to ward off impending tears, and hoping that their son was safe and away from Earthrealm, she took aim and blew a poison-tipped, feathered dart at the nearest Osh-Tekk warrior.

While she had taken the wind's direction into account, she had not anticipated a stray gust. The poisoned dart veered off course and struck the arm of a hulking beast of a humanoid man, who roared in response and plucked it out. Hardly anyone paid attention to the whims of the Brute, except the seemingly young girl who rode on top of him. Her cackling face twisted in fury as she narrowed her eyes and spotted Izel as she hid behind the tree again.

"Get 'er, Torr!"

Certain that she had inadvertently bitten off more than she could chew at present, Izel ran through the snow in the direction of the caves, unmindful of other belligerents. Before she could take more than a few steps, the symbiotic duo crashed through the tree line, and the larger of the two stood in her way. An ominous red eye glared at her from beneath a spiky mask, which covered the other half of his face. The Brute was drenched and dripping; his harsh breath emerged in great, menacing puffs. One proper hit from him, and she knew she would be as good as dead. The poison seemed to have no effect on him; perhaps his kind's physiology was too different from a human's, or possibly the dose wasn't potent enough for his bulk.

Now the silver-haired dwarf glowered at her. "Poison Lady!" she called out, as Izel armed herself with twin knives. With no trace of sunlight, the odds were against her, but if she was destined to die tonight, her only son would know and perhaps take comfort in the fact that his mother died fighting for their realm. The half-Osh-Tekk backed away to put some distance between herself and the symbiotic duo.

"You attack Torr ..." The disconcerting child leapt off her mount's back and on to a low-grown, snow-covered branch. "Torr break you!" she yelled.

If the Rider stayed out of this, perhaps Izel could walk away with her life. Taking steady breaths and a prepared stance, she waited for Torr to attack. He roared and charged towards her; the snow in front of him gave way to his onslaught as if it was nothing. Izel rolled out of the way and stabbed as deeply as she could at the back of his calf muscle. From the branches above, the Rider yelled, perhaps sharing the Brute's pain. Izel withdrew, drawing scarlet blood and bits of stringy musculature. He too bellowed and lashed out, and before she could dodge, a blow from the non-spiky portion of his gauntlets struck her hard.

She sailed through the air of the unnatural red night and crashed against a nearby tree trunk. The blow nearly knocked the air out of her lungs. She had enough awareness to hold on to one knife; its twin had fallen at a slight distance away from her. Her left cheek was beginning to swell and her jaw throbbed. Spurred on by adrenaline, she staggered to her feet, clutching her sole knife even more firmly and raising it in preparedness.

Before she could reach for its twin, Torr had again closed the distance between them; the earlier stab had barely slowed him down. His gigantic meaty hands wrapped around her much smaller frame. "Squeeze!" his Rider shouted, still standing and watching from the tree branch.

And then he began to crush her. Izel felt his foul breath on her as she cried out in agony; she could've sworn she felt her ribs crack. But she had one last chance at life, and she took it. Struggling and freeing her armed hand, she slashed Torr's throat with all her remaining strength. Instinctively, his arms dropped her and his hands flew to his throat, futilely trying to stem the flow of his lifeblood.

"NO, TORR!" The Rider's hapless, anguished voice gnawed at Izel's conscience as she rolled out of the way of the Brute's falling corpse and lay flat on her back in the snow, letting out an exhausted sigh. Each breath she drew made the last pair of her ribs throb. She rose to her feet while absently rubbing her swollen jaw and eyed the younger of the pair, who had fallen from the tree branch. She, too, looked weak and helpless as she was flat on her stomach, trembling as though as her very soul was wounded. She raised a single, desperate hand in her protector's direction and murmured Torr's name pitifully before sinking into the thin snow and fell into unconsciousness; her face was turned to one side but she was still breathing.

The sounds of battle assaulted Izel's ears. She was near the outer edges of the forest, and the skirmish between the Lin Kuei and the remnants of Kotal Kahn's forces had not yet reached this far. She hadn't meant to harm the seemingly weaker member of the two, but she had not realised the extent of their symbiosis. In the heat of a fight, there were only two choices: to kill or be -

The ground was pulled out from under Izel's feet as she barely registered a haze of green that surrounded her airborne, floating body. A supernatural force began to tug at all four of her limbs at once -

And just as the telekinetic attack had begun, it stopped. She landed hard on her back and gasped and groaned in misery, briefly wondering which Elder God she'd offended on this day. A strange, crackling sound broke through the air as she rose to her feet, panting. She retrieved her knives from the cold ground as she glanced at her attacker.

A skeletally thin warrior with glowing green pupil-less eyes was frozen in a thick statue of ice. An unmasked, bearded Lin Kuei warrior put his hands down, apparently content with his handiwork. He went to the fallen girl's side.

As Sub-Zero was about to pick her up from the ground, the sound of swift footsteps drew closer towards them. Erron Black's cloak waved behind him as he walked. His many bandoliers were nearly empty of ammunition; his revolver was cocked back and pointed at the Cryomancer, whose reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed the fallen Rider at once and placed a freshly conjured frozen knife to her unguarded throat. His actions did not stir the girl from her oblivion. The Grandmaster and the mercenary glared daggers at each other, neither man wanting to concede a battle of wills.

Just as Izel was about to intervene to break their impasse, many things happened at once. The emaciated psychic broke free from his glacial restraints with a glass-like shatter. The diseased, bloody redness in the Earthrealm sky was banished into oblivion, giving way to a bright late morning sunlight that eased the pain in her ribs. She could feel small abrasions on her arms and legs begin to heal themselves.

The Kahn's general grimaced, ready to dismember another enemy, but his sight fell to the fainted girl in the Cryomancer's arms. "Stand down, Osh-Tekk!" A multitude of voices boomed from him, as though he housed many minds within. Upon hearing his voice, Izel recognised him as the telekinetic Legion of Souls she'd been told about: Ermac.

Only a handful of Osh-Tekk guardsmen had lived in the battle with the Lin Kuei, and they were making their way to Ermac, carrying as many of their fallen comrades as they could. The Lin Kuei survivors were also walking towards their Grandmaster; some were being supported or carried by their peers.

Black had stowed his revolver away while Sub-Zero had shattered his cryo-dagger. A telekinetic tug pulled the survivor of the symbiotic pair straight out of the Cryomancer's arms and into the construct's.

Ermac waved his free hand behind him almost casually. Behind him, the small clearing rippled and a green-edged large portal emerged out of nothingness. The Legion stepped through its blackness, still carrying the downed Rider with him, and the defeated Osh-Tekk company followed suit, not looking back at the victors. Black, who was the last person to step through the portal, was not as outwardly impassive as the remainder of the invaders; he sent scathing looks at every Earthrealmer and glared at Sub-Zero, who smirked momentarily at the masked mercenary's childish behaviour.

Scarcely a second after Black had left Earthrealm, the portal closed and disappeared, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. The Lin Kuei Grandmaster turned to Izel, bearing a carefully neutral expression.

"Who are you?" Sub-Zero asked in a deep voice.

"Not an enemy," Izel replied evasively, but not without confidence. She bowed her head in gratitude. "Thank you for saving my life."

Sub-Zero nodded curtly. "Shinnok has invaded Earthrealm again. Kotal Kahn attacked our realm ... perhaps to aid him."

The moment Sub-Zero had uttered Shinnok's name, he had raised one of her worst fears. "Then Raiden has fallen," she murmured, shaking her head in sudden despair as her heartbeat rose and a lump formed in her throat. "Forgive me, I must go!" she said loudly. Unmindful of the suspicions she might've raised, she turned away from the Lin Kuei Grandmaster and ran towards the Sky Temple's secret portal as swiftly as she could. She would not rest until she knew that he lived ... if he still lived ...

Ten years. She'd spent ten years in Outworld – by Earthrealm's reckoning, that is – after fleeing her erstwhile home-town with few things other than the commoner's clothes on her back. Adjusting to new cultures and learning a new language wouldn't have been easy even if she'd remained in Earthrealm, but Izel managed well enough to get by.

It was something of a rude awakening to learn that her father wasn't a deity, but merely one of the Osh-Tekk, a race of people who wielded the power of the Sun. Someone of Osh-Tekk descent with no allegiance to Shao Kahn's army would most certainly attract the attention of the Kahn's enforcers; thus, she never had the luxury of settling down in one of the merged realm's remote settlements. Besides, her Portal Stone, while not being one of a kind, was still a valuable artefact that had to be kept away from those who would use it for conquests.

Nowhere in Outworld was truly safe from the menace posed by roving bands of Tarkatans, but one would think that even a race of beings descended from demons would know to be wary of the Living Forest. If the occasional stealthy Edenian could pass through the Forest while avoiding the mouths of the trees, Izel supposed her agrokinesis would help her elude at least their malicious roots.

However, she had no luck with evading the mutants. Four male Tarkatans were closing in on her, attempting to intimidate their prey with snarls and growls. From what she could discern in the muted Outworld sunlight that poked through the low, dense canopy, none of them looked particularly old, and their dull robes did not bear any distinct symbols that would identify one of them as a pack leader. Still, four Tarkatans offered better odds of survival than an entire horde.

She nudged a stray thick root to her left with her foot, directing it to grab the nearest aggressor. The parallel Sun Lines on her right shoulder, as well as the space between them, began to emit a steady glow like a pale imitation of the Sun itself. At her mental commands, the root ripped away from a decaying corpse and the surrounding soil, elongated unnaturally and wrapped itself tightly around the unfortunate Tarkatan's waist. An instant later, before another mutant could assist him, he was thrown straight into the jaws of a hungry, monstrous tree, even as the light of Izel's Sun Lines faded into nothingness.

Another Tarkatan leaped towards her with his arm-blades drawn and drew blood with a vicious slash. Izel ignored the sting in her arm and dodged an incoming strike from the other two Tarkatans. Unfortunately for her, the evasive action had placed her in an unenviable position: while her back was to the bark of a faceless tree, there were two other wide awake, groaning trees on either side, waiting to devour her. Even as she fumbled for the button on one of her utility pouches, she knew she was nearly trapped. Her pursuers clearly spotted it as well: two of them hung back well away from an arm's length. They encouraged their comrade with animalistic grunts and growls, while the spare mutant moved in for the kill.

The hunters' mistake gave her the only opening that she needed. She sent the incoming Tarkatan sailing into the maws of the grotesque tree on her left side with the strongest kick that she could muster, while taking the inert yellow Portal Stone into the palm of her dominant hand and unthinkingly channelling some of her energy into it.

A bright flare erupted between herself and the Tarkatan duo, which temporarily blinded the latter even as it solidified into a circular amber-edged bluish black portal. Izel leapt soundlessly through its familiar warmth, neither knowing nor caring where it lead.

When she emerged on the other side of the portal, the first thing she felt was a mild, pleasant chill in the air – not sufficiently cold for fog or snow, but nippyenough that she would have reached for a hot beverage under more peaceful circumstances. Before the half-Osh-Tekk could take a better look at a line of evergreen woods a few hundred metres away and at the towering rock formation in the distance, her pursuers came through the rift as well. She thought she saw a flash of blue-white light out of the corner of her eye, originating from somewhere in the woods. However, she didn't dare to avert her gaze from the two Tarkatans. The duo still had their blades drawn, but their grunts and growls were more restrained, as though they were re-evaluating the measure of their prey.

Now it was Izel's turn to snarl in frustration. Drawing a pair of knives in a flash, she nearly charged head-on at the closer mutant with the intention to tackle him and put a firm end to his existence among the living.But, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight in front of her.

Bright blue electric currents coursed through both Tarkatans' erratically twitching forms, originating from two curved lightning bolts. The tall man controlling them was walking towards the portal even as he cut off the lightning with a mere flick of his large hands. The mutants' bodiesfell to the dry ground in a charred, smoking heap. Moving past the corpses of the dead Tarkatans while seemingly paying no attention to them, he clenched a lightning-tipped hand into a fist. The Outworld portal contracted and closed upon itself in an instant, its fading light reflecting off of his deepblue overalls. The arcs of glowing electricity in his eyes died down, revealing a pair of vivid blue eyes.

Izel had composed herself by then, and yet her mind raced as she tried to determine the identity of her silver-haired,straw hat wearing rescuer. Lightning users were few and far between in all the realms she had heard of.

"I take it you are not injured?" he enquired, meeting her eyes in a brief, yet penetrating gaze.

"Not severely, no," she replied, and bowed to him. "Thank you for helping me. Who are you?"

"I am Raiden, God of Thunder and Protector of Earthrealm." The tone of his voice was smooth yet authoritative, as though he had spoken those very words hundreds of times. "You seem lost," he continued gently. "I am certain you did not intend to be here, so close to sacred ground."

"No, I didn't," she said, hoping he would not pick up on the omission of his title. She was not particularly inclined to worship, considering that she was nearly sacrificed in a god's name. Outworld had not had gods for many millennia, or so its legends went, and she had never expected to run into one by sheer coincidence. "I just wanted to escape from the Tarkatans."

She did not yet know where to go next, but that was not something to discuss with a stranger.

"If you would walk with me, I know where you can stay for the night." He beckoned her to follow him, leading her to a discreet pathway located within the woods, and through a large blacktorii gate topped by the sigil of the Elder Gods. At this distance, she could now see the towering rock formation for what it truly was: an imposing and ancient temple. Light shone from an occassional window on each floor. A small, localised stormbrewed at its topmost level, and the occassional flash of lightning highlighted the imposing statues therein. A nearly full moon had begun to rise, lazily illuminating the base of the temple.

They walked in a comfortable silence amidst the deepening twilight, underneath a sparsely clouded sky and surrounded by the familiar sounds of a forest. Izel suddenly became aware of her half-unravelled braid and messy hair, the rips in her travel-worn clothing and the clotted, stinging cut inflicted by the now-dead Tarkatan. If the Thunder God had passed judgement on her based on her appearance, it was far too late to make amends now.

In a short time, they had reached the mouth of a large cave at the base of the temple. "After you, Izel," he said, standing aside to let her pass.

She froze in place, caught off-guard by a single word. "How do you know my name?" she said, not quite meeting his glowing blue eyes.

"Well ... I am a god, after all." His voice was almost playful, even as her face flushed in embarrassment.

The eternal hellfire of the Netherrealm was absent from Quan Chi's Fortress, and yet, that did nothing to ease the malaise that Fujin felt in this dead realm. A sleek metal headband kept the Wind God's braided silver hair out of his eyes. His minimalistic armour, cloud-patterned red shirt and green trousers were light enough not to impede his movements.

The Wind God and an Earthrealmer, the once-retired Major Jackson Briggs, were waiting in the shadows of Quan Chi's experimentation quarters. A deep red pool of blood-like liquid, which was a safe distance away from the duo, kept bubbling away in a sinister manner, although no revenant rose from its depths. Light from the hanging magical lamps above threw Jax's robotic arms into sharp relief from Fujin's point of view. There were no blinking lights on them that would unmask their presence at the most cursory glance from an enemy. While Fujin knew no means by which they would not be detected by scent, they had not come to the Netherrealm for spying.

If all went well, the slippery Kytinn D'Vorah would arrive here to meet the now-imprisoned Oni sorcerer, and the Amulet of Shinnok would be wrested from her by persuasion or force.

Shinnok's Amulet. Fujin wished he could exist for a century or two without hearing dire news of the fallen Elder God and his accursed weapon. Alas, not even gods could dream of such luxury.

Away from the Earthrealmers, at the far end of the chamber, the air seemed to grow heavier. A brief ripple appeared in midair, which expanded into a bluish-tinged portal within the blink of an eye.

It was not their Kytinn target who stepped out of the portal. Three revenants who had spent decades in their accursed state walked out of it swiftly – Kurtis Stryker, Kabal and another deceased man that gave even the formidable Wind God cause for concern. Fujin's light grey eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of him.

The former cops spoke no words as they stood in seeming anticipation. Stryker's eyes remained blank and his dominant hand rested lightly on the well-worn yet perfectly serviceable handle of a police baton. The speedster was practically still, for he made no move to grasp his steel hookswords. The sickly glow of the undead emerged through Kabal's eyes and burn scars. He had discarded his breathing tube, for his unholy resurrection had freed him from the need for a respirator.

The third revenant, however, was not as restrained as his comrades. His orange eyes glinted in fury even as magical ice crept over his arms up to his elbow, slightly obscuring the unnaturally orange veins of the Cryomancer's arms. Unlike his younger brother, this particular ice-wielder had never shown true loyalty to his birth realm.

Twenty-five years ago, Noob Saibot's fateful encounter with Quan Chi's Earthrealm soulnado had resulted in the soulnado's destruction and saved many innocent lives. Bi-Han, however, had not escaped unscathed from the resultant explosion. Instead of freeing him from Quan Chi's sorcery, Nightwolf's actions had inadvertently transformed him into a different kind of undead warrior: a revenant, nearly akin to the still accursed Earthrealm champions.

"We are not alone," Bi-Han growled. The Wind God and Jackson Briggs stepped out of the shadows that had hidden them. A spark of recognition dawned in the former Lin Kuei's gaze as he saw Fujin, giving way to an amused smirk under the assassin's mask.

"I have defeated you once before," he said boastfully.

"You cannot hope to win again, mortal," Fujin shot back, eager to put the upstart in his place. Despite his inherent disadvantage in kombat outside of Earthrealm, he would rather lose his godhood than let Bi-Han prevail a second time.

The Cryomancer did not bother with a verbal retort. Instead, he launched a strong stream of ice at the Wind God, who stood his ground and surrounded himself from head to toe with a localised tornado that sent his braid flying in all directions. The shield shattered the incoming ice crystals and scattered them willy-nilly. Fujin preferred not to accidentally harm his lone ally in this place, but clearly the revenant had no such compunction.

Bi-Han wasted no time in closing the distance between them, charging at the Wind God with a kori sword conjured in each hand. Fujin blocked one of the frozen swords with his right metallic forearm guard, but the Cryomancer managed to nick him through his shirt. The Wind God snap-kicked him away before he could turn a scratch into multiple stabs, and then he launched himself in the air.

The undead Lin Kuei now slid towards him on a thin sheet of ice. Not waiting for him to come closer again, Fujin threw his weight toward the Cryomancer, propelled by what velocity he could muster without completely destroying their surroundings.

The two fighters collided with enough force to leave a small crater at the impact site on the stone floor, and yet, when Fujin hit the ground once again, none of them were grievously injured. Bi-Han kipped up a few seconds later, looking significantly worse for wear. He was now unmasked; his face gaunter and thinner than when he was alive. The former Lin Kuei's unadorned blue overalls were ripped and torn in places, his forearms were no longer covered in ice and he was bleeding slightly from the occasional gash on his face and body.

The god and his undead foe now circled each other for many seconds, waiting for the other to either attack or slip up irreparably. The revenant knocked a skeletal lamp post over to distract the god, and threw a formalin-filled jar right at Fujin's face before the latter could dodge it completely. The jar shattered on contact, its demonic and liquid contents burning the side of the latter's cheek and staining his red top. While the blow staggered him and made his ears ring from the impact, Fujin righted himself before he could fall.

When Fujin had recovered, he saw Bi-Han lunge for Shao Kahn's gargantuan hammer, which had been restored to its former glory and placed on a pedestal. Knowing he had only milliseconds to act, he summoned a powerful gale. The air current dislodged the Wrath Hammer from its support and straight into the undead Cryomancer's chest. Bi-Han and the faintly glowing hammer shot upward in a trace, until the dead man's back crashed into the Fortress's large staircase with a sound akin to an explosive. When the winds died down, the profusely bleeding revenant and the hammer fell to the stone floor, a few feet apart from each other.

This impact was much more fruitful than the last. Bi-Han struggled to his feet pitifully and futilely staggered towards Fujin, who had had enough of the mortal's dogged endurance. The Wind God extended his right hand outward and summoned his halberd with a mere thought. The long weapon materialised into his palm in a trice. With a powerful sweep, he separated the undead Cryomancer's head from his shoulders. While this would not destroy him permanently, it would give Fujin and Jax more than enough time to return to Earthrealm and rejoin their allies.

Quan Chi's hideout had been completely ruined. The pool of blood continued to bubble, for the sorcery that sustained it was still active. The shelf that contained Shao Kahn's dented helm and armour had broken and toppled, as had the surrounding bookshelves and their contents. Broken ice shards and whole ice crystals littered most of the room; a few were even embedded into the Fortress's ceiling. Jax Briggs himself was relatively unscathed, but the same could not be said about Stryker and Kabal, who were lying motionless on the dented stone floor, knocked out cold. Revenants had no need for respiration unless they spoke, therefore their chests were eerily still.

The God of Wind could not help but wonder if things had gone a little too easily. Bi-Han, being the only Earthrealm mortal to defeat a succession of gods, should have put up a far better fight, even in his corrupted state.

"D'you think this was a distraction, Fujin?" Jax asked, voicing the Wind God's nagging doubts.

"Yes," he replied. Had D'Vorah not known of our plan to trap her, she would have arrived long before the revenants. "We must return to our allies in Earthrealm."

The novelty of true godhood had not quite yet sunk in into Kotal Kahn's psyche upon his return to Z'Unkarah, which was exceedingly swift, thanks to the gift of long-distance teleportation. The responsibilities of an Emperor could not be wished away, despite the celebrations that had erupted among his people and his supporters when word of his deification had spread throughout Outworld. The remnants of the Shirai Ryu forces had chosen to retreat to Earthrealm upon Scorpion's forcible expulsion from Outworld, thus sparing considerable hardship to the Emperor's already stretched army.

Much to his dismay, his greatly enhanced power could not be channelled towards healing Ferra. While she was no longer unconscious, her speech was extremely sparse and she was prone to long sleeping spells, which did nothing to improve her energy. Shock and grief were far too simplistic to be adequate explanations. If the Healers could not find a way to trigger her kind's metamorphosis, her condition would deteriorate and she would certainly die in a matter of weeks.

News from Earthrealm was downright alarming. Ermac, though weakened after Shao Kahn's demise, was still Ko'atal's most powerful warrior. The manner of his death was particularly disconcerting, for soul manipulation was not common knowledge. Outworld had new enemies, and despite his newly enhanced senses which allowed him to feel presences - souls - that many mortals could not, he had to rely on deduction and reasoning to unmask them - if he could find concrete evidence.

The messenger who had conveyed the dire tidings only knew so much. Reptile, and any other Saurians that he may have persuaded to accompany him, would certainly shine more light on the matter. The Zaterran had wished to return to his distant Earthrealm kin, and to investigate.

Kotal had also lost a trusted friend and valued adviser. The loss of the knowledge that Ermac's souls possessed would be detrimental to Outworld's future. The wisdom that would come in time as he adjusted to his Sun God status would be a poorer substitute for many centuries to come.

Kotal Kahn certainly had enough self-control not to pace around Z'Unkarah's throne room like a wild animal; certainly not in the presence of his personal guards and purple-clad palace servants. However, if any of the few servants had dared to take a closer look at the serpent-carved arms of the throne from their discreet positions next to the thick, ornate sandstone pillars featuring sculpted snakes of a similar kind, they would have seen a subtle clench of the painted Kahn's fists. Two lower, empty wooden chairs were situated on either side of the throne: one for the First Minister, the other for the Chief Enforcer.

As his thoughts had wont to in such troubled times, he remembered his father. Kotal K'etz had been the very last Osh-Tekk to go by the name of Huitzilopochtli during his Realmwalk rite, at a time when his people still had a realm of their own.

It was an unique experience, Ko'atal supposed, to become an actual god after feigning godhood for a time. As much as he missed his blood family, he doubted he could discuss and unravel the philosophical implications of it all with anybody other than a god. Of course, it was not as though he was on speaking terms with any other deities.

He experienced an abrupt, hollow sensation, not from within his mortal form, but from the outside. He soon recognised the feeling as the opening of a bridge between realms somewhere in the vicinity of the royal palace, perhaps just outside its superstructure. With an inexplicable certainty, perhaps a facet of his godhood, he simply knew that his First Minister had returned. He visibly relaxed in the seat of his cushioned throne, waiting for the loyal Zaterran.

A few minutes later, Reptile was the first to enter, followed closely by an elegant woman whose deep grey veil highlighted her kohl-lined, jet black eyes. The Sun God felt three other presences enter the room, but he was not alarmed, for the Zaterran and the woman also seemed to be aware of their invisible company.

"Emperor," was all Reptile said, as he neared the throne. He stopped well before his assigned seat next to the throne, and inclined his head respectfully. As though on cue, the three hidden male warriors made themselves visible to mortal eyes with nary a sound. They stood well behind the Kahn's First Minister. While their skins were green and scaly, much like that of their lone Zaterran counterpart, and their eyes were yellow and cat-like, their clothing was purposefully plain. Like stagehands in a kabuki play, the Saurians from Earthrealm were dressed in unmarked, loose-fitting black garments and dull grey open-toed sandals. They bowed low to Kotal Kahn, knowing that this gathering was not for them to speak in.

Kotal scarcely paid attention to the faux ninjas. His eyes were on the woman, whose brown skin was deceptively human-looking, in sharp contrast to her long, flowing silvery hair. Her steps towards the Kahn were measured, and her unadorned, sleeveless grey bodysuit did not diminish her subtle regality. While she was no Saurian Matriarch, she seemed as though she could potentially be one.

When she had moved a few paces past Reptile, she too stopped and paid her respects to him as her people did. Speaking in a low, measured tone, she said, "Greetings, Emperor Kotal Kahn, Sun God of Outworld. I am Khameleon of the Earthrealm Saurians."

A/N: I have taken liberties with Khameleon's backstory, as I tend to do with a lot of canonical material. It's what I do to tell a good story.

Please leave a review if you feel like doing so.

Thank you, Poe's Daughter, for your suggestions to improve the chapter.