I don't own anything of the Mortal Kombat universe except my own creations. All credits go towards Netherrealm Studios.

Act I, Chapter X

Tyrant

She let her drink swirl around in the ornate glass, the beams of early light passing right through. Her elbow rested on the edge of the balustrade, the bottle of sweet honey alcohol placed upon a small table in the corner of the balcony. She gazed at the palace, contemplating the disastrous night before, unable to wrap her head around the surreality of it. In private, she wondered whether keeping the dragon strutting about on the grounds was a sensible option, with his penchant for drawing trouble to himself.

It had been just about six hours after the incident, and she nor anyone else had the chance to have a heart-to-heart talk with the man who managed to defy death. They had expressed concerns about his mental health after it, but considering of his less favourable traits, they let him be for the moment. She wasn't just worried for him, she was worried for anyone else who so happened to incur his wrath, which would no doubt lead to lethal casualties. They were fortunate it hadn't come to actual deaths yet.

During their walk back to the city, both the heir and her bodyguard were interrogated about what had transpired that night. The sun-kissed goddess expressed fault and regret, blaming herself for the dragon and princess being caught off-guard. She followed them to ensure their safety, but it lead to the assassins finding them. The pencil-pusher comforted the ebony Edenian, telling her that the assassins would have found them regardless and used her capture to cast doubt over her. The sapphire woman comforted her as well, keeping her from blaming herself. At the very least, many of the perpetrators were caught, some of the unconscious clansmen leading the troops to the ruins like crumbs.

The overseer had emptied her glass of her drink and reached for the bottle but only grasped thin air. She looked at the table to find it empty, but the overseer heard someone else pouring a glass. The blonde turned around to see the largest man on the grounds pour one out for himself, in quite a grand mug too. She expected the dragon to just let it all slide down his throat and pour a second one, but he was unexpectedly frugal with his drink. He walked around her to set down the bottle where it was before taking a humble swig from his mug.

Aszara was careful when she spoke, "Didn't get much sleep I suppose?" he grunted in response, "Makes two of us, I guess," she looked over to him, but the burly male spared her no glance. She took the bottle and poured another glass, "You know, the two royal Edenian ladies were worried about you. Maybe you should-" she was startled when he moved towards her in a flash.

"Aszara, quit pussyfooting around it and ask me the fucking question," even for him, such abrasiveness was unusual.

She put her drink down on the small table, "Are you sure you feel fine? Because, you know, dying, coming back to life, it seems like a traumatic experience. Gods, I wouldn't like it when something like this happens."

The Earthrealmer distanced himself a tad bit, "I feel fine," he said, through gritted teeth. She was stupid to continue asking, but abrasiveness begets abrasiveness.

"Yeah, and I'm the best dragon-rider in all of the major realms," his visage worsened, "Quit lying to me and actually tell me what you're thinking right now."

"I'm thinking I should whop you on the top of your head," he straightened out, but the overseer wasn't letting herself be intimidated just yet.

"That's a tall tale to tell me, and you sure as hell wouldn't have just stood there like some village idiot just telling me you're gonna cave my face in unless you're actually going to do it," his scowl worsened, "So I'm going to ask you again, and you'd better give me a straight answer," she walked up into his face without fear, "How do you really feel?"

He bared his teeth and furrowed his brows, his face now almost a hair's breadth away, but her own stare matched his and he finally relented when he turned his eyes to the palace in the distance. His head sunk lower, a long, slow breath escaping his lips, "I don't feel so good," in by far the most timid and hapless tone he could have conjured up.

The blonde softened her expression and approached him, "Look, I'm not putting you through the ringer because I'm the bitch queen of the universe," he spared her a quick glance, "It's because every time you pop off, something drastic happens," she began counting on her fingers, "Beating up royalty, exploding in a pillar of light, beating up royalty again, beating up royalty again still, then getting murdered and resurrected in a night and trampling a band of assassins," she looked at Chronos, who looked like he was playing back the memories in his head, "You have a damn good knack for making people's lives a lot harder, for friend and foe alike."

He turned to look at the green-eyed overseer, whose steadfast look had transformed into a worried one, "I get that," his tone conveyed frustration without target, "but I can't help it. For God's sake, I don't even know how it works."

The overseer put her hand on his shoulder, "I can't help you with it, but somebody else might," the dragon hummed in agreement. She reached for her glass and downed whatever was left in one big swig, "Look, I have to meet with the rest to see what they have to say about it," she walked to the doorway, "in the meanwhile, you should see Caine again, for a stamina elixir, because it looks like you're about to topple over."

The brown-haired man faced her, "Yeah, I guess I could use a little energy boost," he turned to the rising sun, "I just need a bit more fresh air before I go."

"Yeah, no worries," Aszara said, standing in the doorway, "I hope you're feeling better by the end of the day."

With a small hum from the dragon, she left to go and see the old soldier, no doubt cooped up in his study. A few stairs and corridors later, she arrived at the door, giving it a couple of gentle knocks before trying to barge in.

"Come in," the pencil-pusher said. Aszara opened the door to see him tending to a large stack of parchment, which would no doubt be the results of the psychological and physical tests he had ran on the pupils, "I'm almost finished."

"Working overtime?" she asked, but he shook his head, "So what are the results?"

"Many of them are standard," he began, "basic psychological stability, no anomalies to be found in many of them," he flipped through the parchment, "physical tests also show standard arcane presence with minor outliers, as well as standard physical prowess regarding bone and muscle density."

The female overseer crossed her arms over her ample chest, "Uhuh, and where's our local orphan from another world in that stack?" she got an answer in the form of Tau'Gir shuffling around some utensils and fetching what looked like unprocessed results from the tests. He handed them over to the blonde, who began scanning through them, picking out whatever data was unusual. After a minute or two, she perched the results back on his desk, "Those aren't botched results?" Tau'Gir shook his head, "You should do them again any-ways. With last night's altercation, I doubt his arcane levels are that low."

"I was planning on doing so," the male overseer agreed, "but I doubt he's willing to go through it again. He will suspect our desire to discover the veracity of the results immediately."

"Don't sweat it," she gave him a tap on the shoulder, "he's looking for ways to get a grip on all the shit he's dragging around."

"Perhaps it is best then I ask him within the hour," he stood up from his chair, "the process is quite long, so I hope I can convince him to spare the time today," he picked up the stack of parchment and neatly organised it again, "Do you happen to know where he is?"

"He's at Caine now, getting a little pep-up drink," she said, "might catch them having a warm conversation."

"The old, solitary apothecary and the brutish foreigner? I doubt so," he walked towards the door, "Is there anything else I should know?"

She ran her hands across whatever she could find on his desk, "I'm gathering everyone for an impromptu meeting in about two hours. The royal double trouble and the rest of the overseers probably want to share a piece of their mind too," she walked to the doorway, "Can I expect you at the palace in two hours?"

"I will attend," he said, "I hope I can finish my tests with Chronos in time to be punctual."

"Don't worry, we'll leave some tea for you to enjoy if you're late," she bumped him on the chest with the flat of her hand before walking down the stairs, with Tau'Gir following suit, "Chronos was at Caine, getting a pick-me-up. He might still be there if you're lucky," the female overseer said, with Tau'Gir giving a nod, before their paths split outside, with Aszara heading to the palace, where the ebony and her friend were staying, while the soldier took a turn towards the apothecary. He was always in awe at the architectural dissonance between the sleeping barracks and the apothecary's residence, clean, white marble with purple roof tiles clashing with what was akin to a witch hut in the swamp.

He barged through the door, some horrid stench protruding his nostrils without mercy the moment he stepped foot in the house. He found that, indeed, the dragon was still here, waiting at the counter to get his elixir of rejuvenation, or whatever name the masked man could cook up. The behemoth spared a fraction of a glance to see who came inside before turning back to the door Caine walked through, holding a small vial with blue liquid.

"Took me quite a bit to mix," the apothecary said, "higher dose for your much more intimidating size," a couple of birds flew through the door the cloaked man came through, "do keep in mind, only half the vial for today. The rest can be stashed away for when you need it again," the male overseer looked at the birds, one blue, one violet with a cracked beak, "Tau'Gir, have you come for an elixir as well?"

"No, I sought our companion here for additional testing," he explained, "and I have been invited to an impromptu meeting, so forgive my urgency when I say I must take Chronos to the analysing chambers right now."

"I haven't been invited to this meeting?" he propped his head underneath his chin, "Such a shame. I might have been of some use regarding our companion's current state."

"Not to offend, but you have nothing to add to the issue," the soldier said, with his conversation partner giving a chuckle.

"Ah, no offence taken, of course," he said, "I will not press, but it is your loss."

"We will survive," Tau'Gir said, beckoning the dragon to following him, but not before the masked man had the last word.

"You should have also considered some fragrance, dragon," he said, "You reek of death."

"Noted," the soldier retorted while dragging the goliath with him. Outside, the male overseer saw the brown-haired Earthrealmer stare in anticipation, waiting for the soldier to talk, "You know why we're performing the tests again?"

"Enlighten me," he responded. The grey-hair had no intentions of hiding the reason.

"Current results may not reflect your arcane levels proper," he started, "Your resurrection, coupled with your increasing comfort in employing your powers, has given ample reason to re-evaluate your current condition," the old soldier took a look at the dragon, who was waiting for more, "As you may also know, we are concerned for your mental health, and the tests may lay our concerns to rest."

Chronos huffed, "Or confirm them."

"True, it might worsen the situation," Tau'Gir agreed, "but I have no doubt we can assist you in your recovery."

"With what time?" Chronos asked, but the soldier sensed that the question was rhetoric.

"With whatever time we have to spare," the overseer said. They had arrived at the testing chambers and Chronos took no time settling himself in one of the seats. Tau'Gir fetched the scrolls used to analyse the subjects from a closet, chanting old Edenian.

"Ab'r ain Vellir, zu'eil as Saien," the soldier turned to Chronos, "As said before, the tests can take up to an hour in total," he moved onto the next scroll, "So do make yourself comfortable."

The meeting room was a dusty, gloomy place, thick cobwebs adorning the corners of the room, magic lanterns casting a dirty white light. The female overseer tapped her fingers on the small, but sufficient enough table, with only one person in the room pacing around them. The rest, which included the bodyguard, the mammoth and, in an unusual surprise, the queen as well, were seated on poorly maintained chairs. The princess' restless legs carried her from person to person, each of them varyingly uneasy with the clacking of her heels.

"Your Highness, please take a seat," the ebony vixen pleaded, her wounds healed up nicely by the healers, "your pacing is not going to accelerate the arrival of our missing companion."

"It is the only way to keep me awake as of now," she said, "I lost too much sleep concerning last night's event, and I surmise this meeting concerns that topic."

"You're right on the money, sweetheart," Aszara said, "which is why we have to wait on Tau'Gir. He's not one to slouch when it comes to data, and I'm sure he isn't skimping on the tests. If we want to say anything useful, we gotta wait for a minute or two."

"I do wish we were seated elsewhere," Kilamon bemoaned, "It is quite a depressing room."

"It has not been used in several decades, Kilamon," Sindel explained, "and with strained relationship between our kingdom and other smaller counties, our audiences have decreased tremendously. Besides that, the establishment we convene with prince Rain is more presentable than this room."

Kilamon nodded, and the blonde spoke again, "How's that going still? I heard the purple idiot is still threatening military action."

"He has currently cut off contact between himself and us," the queen said, "Perhaps he is occupied with organising his military for the upcoming war."

The blue-clad princess snapped quickly, "Possible upcoming war."

"Yes, possible," someone said, standing in the doorway, some parchment in his hands, "but most likely, considering the data and predictions."

"Did you only show up to dampen everyone spirits?" the sapphire heir ridiculed.

"No, because they are already dampened," the grey-hair replied, "However, that does not mean I have uplifting news," he tossed the parchment to the female overseer, who didn't wait a second to look over the data, "I have reran my tests two times, which is why my delay was longer than anticipated. The results accrued from these tests-"

Aszara, who had a drink ready, immediately spit it out in wide-eyed shock, "Motherf- no way?!" she kept flipping through the pieces of paper, only to pass it onto the woman in green, who also adorned a dour face when she carefully read through the tests. This same face remained pasted on the rest of the attendees, save for the mammoth, whose only indicator of shock was a slight posture shift, "Those are the results? No forging, no fiddling around, no-"

Tau'Gir was quick to shut her off, "I have reran the tests thrice over, each time nullifying whatever variables may have thrown off the results," he was handed back the parchment by the princess, who looked by far the most worried of them all, "These are the final, definitive results."

A small clear of the throat preceded Jade's own thoughts, "But these results are… surreal," she leaned back in her chair, "Four times the muscle density of a peak Edenian warrior is obscene, let alone his arcane levels which rivals arch-mages."

"But what does it mean?" the queen asked, something that was on everyone mind at the moment. Tau'Gir decided to put it in as concrete, impactful way he could.

"His psychological and physical results, which include increased testosterone and adrenaline levels, much higher muscle and bone density and an observed propensity to violence, coupled with exceptional arcane presence and empirical evidence displayed by his actions prior to these tests, have made me come to no other conclusion than that this man's strength comes not just from rigorous training, but an inherent and engineered superior mind and body, designed to fight and destroy."

"But he has grown tired, has been beaten before," Jade remarked, "How so?"

"A self-imposed psychological barrier which may stem from whatever training he performs," the overseer elaborated, "or perhaps from psychological trauma. I have yet to discern whichever one is true."

Sindel's gloomy tone worsened the mood, "That may never be an option."

"How so?" the mammoth asked.

She took a deep breath before continuing, "With the recent near-kidnapping of his daughter, Jerrod has issued that Chronos accompanies Kilamon to Outworld for the end of the Mortal Kombat tournament."

"But why?" Aszara inquired, "He's been marked, Edenian law states he cannot represent Edenia, especially when he has no chance to gain any rights."

"I believe our esteemed King may be doing what the Mark intends to do," Kilamon began, "To indicate those destined for death. And the boy is next," the princess was almost at the doorway when Kilamon stopped her, "And what do you plan to do, Your Highness?"

"Change my father's mind," she said to him as he was holding her arm, "Chronos is the one who saved me from the nightmares the Emperor's men could have inflicted upon me."

"Saved from a fate Jerrod believes the dragon himself created," Kilamon said, "As much evidence our King is presented, as much times your own actions put yourself in danger, Jerrod is your father and you are his daughter, and his concern is your safety," he let go of Kitana, who was no longer attempting to move, "Whether or not Chronos is at fault is not something I can rationally comment on, but I will stand in defence of our King, even if he does not stand in defence of me," Kitana threw the mammoth a disappointed look, "Losing a daughter is not just something you shrug off. You and Sindel are worth more than every treasure in the world, and he wouldn't trade it for anything."

"But he trades another life for mine," the princess said.

"A trade I myself agree to," in the doorway, the dragon appeared, who had managed to not only find their room, but shadow Tau'Gir without arousing suspicion, "even if I don't like it."

"You jest," the princess' voice grew thick.

"No matter how it's spun, I'm around when bad shit happens," he looked at Aszara, who couldn't help but cast a guilty look sideways, "It's better this way," Kitana wanted to correct him, but he paid her no attention, not out of hate, but to spare her from an emotional collapse, "Kilamon, when do we leave?"

"Two weeks from this day forward," he said, "I am to relieve the Edenians guarding the competitors. The tournament starts a week from now officially, but we're just here to see the end."

"Mhm," was all Chronos had to say, "Guess I have to prepare for when the day comes."

The dragon left the room, the princess almost compelled to follow him, but her ebony bodyguard held onto her to make sure her verbal rage would not be directed to the man whose life was being thrown into the devil's pit. The mammoth requested the parchment of results from Tau'Gir, who did not object to a closer look. His eyes scanned the results, a faint idea popping into his mind, a seed of doubt. Something about the results did not sit right, did not make sense, unless he considered one option, one he wouldn't have considered in a long time.

"Unless…"

And so, the day of judgement arrives.

He had been informed how long he was to stay- a day and a night, with the tournament concluding on the very same night- so he took little else but some food and drink. The atmosphere in the city had grown exponentially tense, civilians barring up their windows and doors, almost three times the guards marching around, escape plans handed to families in spades. It was awfully dreading to walk into the lion's den for the first time with only cursory knowledge from a couple books and Kilamon's teachings.

Outworld was apparently a horrid, dusty world with man-eating trees and deserts reaching from one sea to the other, its inhabitants mutants, freaks and beasts that had little to no regard for mortal life. Its salesmen peddled whatever they could get their greedy hands on, and its warriors had a knack for clashing with anyone whose faces didn't suit them. At least he wouldn't be there for more than a long day.

Dressed in nothing more than some modest leather pants and a brown cloak, carrying his small sack of supplies, he left the Academy grounds behind, one last look to give him something to think about while he was on enemy ground. He was glad he wasn't alone, but it was nevertheless a daunting task.

The portal to Outworld was located close to the bottom of the stairs to the palace, so he made sure to waste no time getting there. The location of the portal was a simple garden, a bench or on the edge of it, a beautiful bed of roses on the edge of the river flowing beneath the bridge, which was almost towers above the water. Taking a seat, he burrowed his hands into one another, rolling around his shoulders every so often to keep his restless body from locking up.

He heard the tapping of heels on marble behind him, and without looking, the gait belonged to none other than the caramel-skinned beauty. But even then, he found no joy in seeing a friendly face keeping him company for only a fleeting moment. She took a seat beside the goliath, their moods almost in sync.

"It has been quite a turbulent couple of months, has it not?" the dragon responded with a muted hum, "It is such a shame your extended introduction to our folk has been in a time of strife and discord," he didn't respond, "You are quiet."

"Not a lot to talk about, really," he said, "I'm walking into the devil's home, and all I can do is watch as your world might be lost forever," he let a smile force its way on his face, "A peachy day, overall."

"Hah," a breathy laugh escaped the bodyguard's lips, "If only you had a day more," she sunk her head lower, "This day feels like quite a deja vu."

"How so?" he asked.

She took a couple of deep breaths before talking, "The final day of the tournament. The Koliseum was filled to the brim with spectators from every edge of Outworld. And within that Koliseum, my father stood, his staff proud in hand," she conjured her staff, gripping it tightly, its green energy flowing through, "Challenger after challenger, my father was tested to his fullest, until he faced the very tyrant himself," the name was like a curse, "Shao Kahn," she let the apparent foulness of those words subside before going on, "His hammer of death rained down upon my father, but for those precious seconds, death would not claim him, and his staff clashed with the hammer in a battle that saved my home. That saved my people," she began tearing up.

"I guess your father didn't make it home," her bloodshot eyes met his, his visage so much softer than usual, it threw her off balance, "What about your mother? Other family?"

"My brother was gone a year before the tournament started," venom laced her voice, "a coward who left his family behind to burn," her scowl turned into a sorrowful frown, "My mother died while giving birth to me. I only heard her give me my name," she smiled, "Her voice was as soothing as the warm summer wind, and when I would travel, I would always think of her voice, even if that is all I had."

He wiped away her tears, "I'm sorry for your loss. I'd like to say I knew what it was like, but I'd be lying," she gave him a small side hug, "At least I had a family that could be proud of me."

"Who says I do not have one?" she stared up at the palace, almost hidden by the huge rock wall, before looking back at the dragon, "As I said, I wish your first acquaintance with our world was different."

For maybe the first time in forever, a genuine smile crept across his face, broad and goofy in relation to the rest of his face, "Well, my first introduction was also not as smooth as I'd had hoped," he said. Aside from making him look less like a gargoyle, his smile showed his surprisingly large canines, but she couldn't comment before heavy steps behind her interrupted her thoughts. Both looked to see the mammoth, flanked by a mage on each side. While the mages began preparing the portal to Outworld, Kilamon approached the pair, who in turn stood up to greet him, one with a bow, the other with a nod.

"Ah, I forget, etiquette was never properly introduced to you," the overseer joked.

"Just not in my blood," the behemoth replied, and Kilamon gave a small, harmless nudge, "No one else to come and say goodbye?"

"Both Aszara and Tau'Gir have been working overtime in escape plans and gaining access to Seido and Earthrealm," he continued, "they've been successful so far, but the Seidans have been a bit stingy about some parts of the agreement. Nothing to concern ourselves with now," he looked at the ebony goddess, "as for the rest…"

Jade turned to the dragon, "Our esteemed royal Princess would not wish to see you leave and not return. She cannot stomach it."

"I understand," was his only response, but Kilamon chipped in.

"Don't worry, Chronos will come back without a scratch on him," he guaranteed. The mages had stabilised a portal to the world beyond, its blue energy swirling violently, "This it it. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," the dragon replied. With a quick bow towards the emerald bodyguard, both the mammoth and the dragon approached the portal, with the latter's beating of his heart a bit higher than comfortable. The portal's oppressive aura encompassed Chronos whole, giving him dizziness all the while. It only lasted two seconds, but on the other end, the behemoth had grown almost nauseous from the travel to another realm. Kilamon was much less affected, only having slight goosebumps from the feeling.

Recovering from the sickness, the dragon could lay his eyes on this new world. They were in a building, its stony sand-coloured walls mildly cracked, wooden beams overhead and a couple of windows allowing light to flow inside. It was bright, the rays showing just how much dust was in the air, the weather somehow even warmer than in Edenia. They walked outside to a bustling little village, citizens in modest attire scuffling about, basket of fruits in their hands, bundles of rye on their shoulders.

Kilamon had fetched a map from his pocket, scanning it to see which direction he had to go, "We have to walk a couple streets south and find a red residence" he put away the map and turned to the dragon, "we relieve the others there."

They started to walk, and one thing Chronos noticed during their short journey was the height of the Outworlders. Aside from the four-armed beasts that matched his height, the rest were frighteningly short, not exceeding six feet most of the time. It got him looks too, and even Kilamon, who stood shorter than the dragon, was a giant compared to the natives.

They reached the red residence, which had a more familiar-looking man standing in front, dressed in a purple robe with gold trimmings. The purple-clad man noticed the duo approaching him, "Ah, I would recognise your headdress from anywhere, Kilamon," he inspected the goliath next to the mammoth, "Who is this?"

"A companion," the overseer explained, "Courtesy of our King, he was forced to accompany me to the final hours of the tournament. I surmise you were not informed."

"No, although with this relatively last-minute change I doubt he had any intent to," the Edenian said.

"Not quite," the mammoth replied. The trio entered the house, a modest living room occupied by maybe four people greeting them when they entered.

"You're our relief?" a woman said, with the overseer nodding, "So I guess we're going back home?"

"Indeed," Kilamon replied, "I do need a rundown of our current situation."

The woman took a deep breath before speaking, "It's looking bad. Lots of contestants couldn't get past the first round, and only two made it past the second just barely. We're looking at losing it all tonight," she was as composed as she could be.

"I understand," the mammoth said, "I suggest you join our kinsmen in creating escape plans for the civilians. I doubt the Emperor will be any more merciless than he already is."

She chortled, "I don't doubt," she gestured for the others to prepare their leave, "I wish you both luck. You're damn well going to need it."

"Likewise," Kilamon said, "See you on the other side."

Both gave each other a bow while the rest of the Edenians present conjured a portal. Chronos only though how eerily calm and collected both his companion and the woman were regarding this whole situation. Thousands, tens of thousands of souls on the line in a fighting tournament. He'd hate for his home- home? - to be in that kind of position, but maybe home was already on the verge of total conquest.

"Chronos," the mammoth broke his train of thought, "are you feeling well?"

The dragon's voice was softer than usual, "Yeah, yeah, just…"

"Come. Sit," Kilamon beckoned him to the chairs, to which the goliath obliged without delay. As the other group of Edenians vanished along with their portal, the mammoth strolled around, looking for something to serve, "Would you mind some chamomile tea?"

"I wouldn't mind," Chronos replied. The overseer poured some water in a kettle and fetched a heat rune from the cabinet, activating it and placing the kettle on it. He was always keeping the dragon in the corner of his eye to gauge his mood, which was somewhere between uncertain and perplexed. He was staring out of the window, his eyes following every oddity he could find.

"You seem quite perplexed at the moment," he said, and the dragon hummed in response, "Why?"

He looked at the mammoth, who was busy preparing the tea, "Lots of different kinds of people out there. People looking like you and me, four-armed jacked dragon-like dudes, actual dragon people, and… elves?"

"Yes, elves," Kilamon replied, "I reckon they are not commonplace in Earthrealm?"

Chronos chuckled, "We don't even think they're real. Just like dragons and witches and magic and whatever. Why are there only Edenians where we live?"

"Ah, the races you see here come from minor realms," Kilamon explained. The kettle began whistling, "The Emperor of Outworld has an insatiable hunger for conquest, and these people are the remnants of their home, now subjugated by the iron fist of Shao Kahn."

"Sounds awful," Chronos said, and the overseer, now pouring tea, laughed in agreement.

"Yes, it is not preferable to their independence," he brought over the tea to his companion, who took the cup from his hands, "Many of the races conquered enjoy second class citizen rights, with some faring even worse. Naknada, draconids, trolls, anything not fiercely and unyieldingly loyal to the Emperor is treated with as much respect as the cattle that roams the farms," the overseer took his seat.

"And the rest?" Chronos asked.

"They at the very least are treated like expendable resources rather than actual waste, but it is only so much better," he replied. Both were sipping on their tea, watching the sun slowly set, "It's going to be a turbulent transition when the Emperor gets what he wants."

"You assume Outworld wins?" the dragon asked, and Kilamon's lamentation was more than telling.

"I only assume the worst because that is the most likely outcome," he said, "I wish for the stars to align so our doom is evaded, but the idealist within me cannot ignore the realist. We simply don't have the warriors the Emperor has at his disposal, and they will be the first deaths to herald a new era for Edenia."

"A beautiful, lush realm ruled by a conquering tyrant," the Earthrealmer mused, "I don't think Edenia will be the same."

"No doubt," Kilamon responded. He had finished his tea and went to get another, "Although I don't think Shao Kahn has all the information he needs about Edenia to create a sweeping takeover and effortless merger."

"How come?" the brown-haired man asked.

"The Mistmarch," he clarified, "In order to successfully merge realms, the invading party must control a significantly large enough part of the realm to merge without natural disasters tearing both realms apart. Unfortunately for him, I doubt the Vrykal are going to surrender their world without a fight. Their culture and ethics demand an honourable death."

"Know an awful lot about them," Chronos remarked, and Kilamon grunted in acknowledgement.

"I know that they carve monumental events in history in temples erected for that specific part of history alone," he stood up, "I know that they do not attack the innocent and defenceless because there is no victory in vanquishing an opponent who is already defeated," he sauntered to a window, looking at the much less crowded streets, "I know that they place much more value upon the preservation of arts and history than we may believe," he faced Chronos, who was still sitting down, "And I also know they wear the trophies of their eternal hunt as headdresses."

The dragon was remarkably silent. Not even a shift in countenance. Just an empty, meaningless stare.

"Nothing to say?" the mammoth asked.

"Too late now to have anything relevant to ask," he said. Kilamon was not quite satisfied with his response, so he detached a bit of his armoured arm, revealing a brand, just like the Mark on the Earthrealmer's chest, "What's your point?"

Kilamon grew a tad irate, "My point is that we don't know everything about one another, and that appearances are deceiving. You and I are much more alike than you think."

"That is true," Chronos replied, "Which makes it all the more ironic you think I'm like you."

"How so then?" the mammoth challenged.

"Because you fought for your people. Fight for you people," he rose up from his seat.

"And you do not?" Kilamon had no time to start an argument however; a bellowing horn signalled the start of the tournament's final hour, the sun outside slowly giving way for a full moon casting its soft, blue light on the sands of Outworld. Neither of them had any intention to get into a heated discussion during the apex of the tournament, so the kept mostly silent during their trip, save for the mammoth telling the dragon where to go, "There is a portal that will take us to the Koliseum, where the remaining two Edenian contestants will meet us. After that, it's only a short walk."

Chronos only gave an agreeing huff, not willing to let the tension lose any strength. An uncomfortable walk without even looks spared later, they arrived at the portal, which was bustling with men and women from all the lands, which included two rather vividly dressed men, each purple-clad and brandishing symbols of Edenia. One of them, a gold-haired, blue-eyed Adonis, approached them with a forced smile on his visage.

"Greetings Kilamon," he eyed the behemoth standing next to him, "I do not recognise your partner."

The mammoth took a quick look at his companion, "He's a last-minute addition to our crew."

"Hm, why?" the Edenian asked, and the dragon answered.

"Personal grievances," was his short response, and the gold-haired man did not investigate any further. The three of them joined up with the other Edenian man, gold-haired as well, but his hair was much shorter and his eyes were a faint shade of green. All of them stepped through the portal, greeted on the other side by the gigantic structure that was the Koliseum. Ah, it reminded the Earthrealmer of the Roman Coliseum in Italy, but slightly more sinister. Statues of the Emperor dotted the outside rim of the arena, and the banners of his empire fluttered in the wind.

The quartet approached the massive iron gates, opening slowly and with so much crunching and cranking it was a wonder it didn't just come crashing down again. They stepped into the Koliseum, pits, beasts and a roaring audience greeting them. In the centre stood a throne of rock, large enough to accommodate a superhumanly large creature, but instead, it accommodated a ruler that didn't match the size of the throne. His dragon-like arms laid atop the armrests, and his crimson red armour with gold accentuations shone in the light of the torches. Around him stood a large group of individuals, most notably a huge centaur-like being that towered over the rest of the people present, an insectoid-looking woman and a six-armed, greens-skinned goblin, clasping his backpack tightly.

The entire group of people watched the Edenians slowly walk their way to the site of their foregone defeat, "Gentlemen, welcome to the final hour of this monumental tournament," the emperor greeted them affably enough, "I surmise the two gold-haired Edenians are the last competitors to defend their realm?"

The two Edenian men stepped forward before the throne, while the overseer and the dragon kept a healthier distance between them and the Kahn.

"It has been six millennia since I was in this position," he said, "and yet, still I wish it was as exhilarating now as it was in the past. There is no joy in squashing an already wounded enemy," his affability had given away for smug satisfaction in no less than fifteen seconds, "which is why I intend to entice the audience with a more exciting match. The last two competitors remaining will both be facing one of my trusted enforcers… Kintaro!"

From a dark corner of the arena, a four-armed tiger man emerged, armed with nothing more than his claws, dressed in only the bare necessities. He sauntered towards the two contestants, flexing his muscles all the while, earning an encouraging bellow from the crowd. He stood before the two smaller men, assuming his stance, "It has been long since I have faced a challenge," he smirked, "and it seems I must wait another eon before I do so."

The two Edenians assumed their stance as well, one of them coalescing wind in his hands. They stood at the ready, desperate to give it their all, and the emperor waited a precious few seconds before uttering the word.

"Fight!" and without hesitation, the tiger leapt upon the two men, who both stepped out of the way just in time to not get crushed under the four-armed behemoth's paws. The green-eyed Edenian started to toss miniature whirlwinds to destabilise the huge enforcer, while the blue-eyed man lit his hands aflame and started pummelling on the brute. Kintaro, as huge and muscular as he was, ignored the small puffs of wind and focused on blocking the smaller man's volley of strikes. His fire singed the fur, and his punches bruised the cat's forearms. A huge overhand from the beast was narrowly avoided by the Edenian, who continued his relentless attack.

The tiger grew quite sick of the man's feeble attempts to harm him, so he simply grabbed him by the hand with his upper arms and by his hips with his lower arms and tossed the smaller man over his head, sending him plummeting down on the warm sand, the impact sending jolts of pain throughout his body. With the blue-eyed man temporarily disabled, the tiger focused his attention on the wind tosser. He slapped a few of those whirlwinds out of his way with his hands before spewing a fireball in the Edenian's direction, who used a small shock-wave to disperse the fireball. He narrowly avoided the brute, who had jumped up sky high and tried to crush the man under his feet.

So close to the four-armed beast, the Edenian empowered his kicks with the strength of gale winds and started kicking away at the huge tiger. The force of these kick was enough to make Kintaro wince mildly, but nowhere near enough to topple him over. The Edenian gave it his all, but the tiger managed, in between the flurry of kicks, to grab the green-eyed man's left leg. With a mighty uppercut from his two right arms, the tiger sent the Edenian flying across the stage of the fight, landing beside his fellow contestant, who himself had managed to get up again.

The tiger wasted no time advancing on the smaller man, who was fervently lobbing balls of fire to slow the tiger's advance in vain. Kintaro easily swatted away the small gouts of flame while closing in the distance between him and his victim. The other Edenian managed to stand up and began combining his winds with his ally's fire, turning the mostly harmless projectiles in raging infernal tornadoes, which the four-armed creature did have to dodge. And yet, even their combined might was not enough to stall the great beast's pace.

With the tiger in both their faces, the Edenian pair each threw a punch, but the tiger caught them without issue with his upper arms before he gut punched the duo with his lower arms so much force it lifted them off the ground. The green-eyed man crumpled while his companion weakly struggled to do something, anything to keep hope from dying, but a heavy hand bopped him on the top of his head put him out of commission for the rest of the fight. The duo were unable to recover from the internal damage they sustained, with both bleeding from their mouths, struggling to breathe.

The emperor's smirk grew obscenely broad before he spoke those final words.

"Finish them."

The tiger was quick to stomp down on the blue-eyed Edenian, his breath warming up the inside of his throat before spewing his breath of fire, roasting the hapless man, who screamed in pain for a couple seconds before his breath ran out. Kintaro marched over to the last remaining competitor, picked him up by the neck and growled in his face before ramming his upper right arm through his victim's chest, while punching straight through his stomach with his lower right arm. With both of them, he grabbed the Edenian's spine and tore him apart as slow as he could, savouring the howls of his defenceless opponent. The upper half of the Edenian's body almost flew out of the tiger's hands. The beast tossed each piece to opposite sides, with the torso landing right at Kilamon's feet.

"Kintaro wins," Shao Kahn spoke, "Fatality."

The emperor rose from his throne, hands crossed over his moderately scaled chest, revelling in his victory.

"It is done," he proclaimed, "Edenia is mine to have."

Both the overseer and the dragon became surrounded by the emperor's soldiers, each with a sword in hand.

"I see you never intended to uphold the terms of the tournament once you had what you wanted," Kilamon mocked, but the tyrant's laugh shook the pillars of the arena.

"On the contrary, my esteemed Edenian," he debunked, "it is the terms I intend to uphold," a smile graced his face once more, "but the terms have changed."

"I was not informed when," Kilamon replied, "changed as of now?"

"Changed when your King was desperate to rid himself of a pest," he happily announced, "a pest you have brought with you."

Looks were shared with each other, the dragon's minor ire replaced by sheer anger and the mammoth shared his disposition towards their righteous King. With as much haste as he could, he fetched something from his pocket and gave it to Chronos, who took it with equal haste.

"The incantation, markings and markers for the portal back to Edenia," Kilamon explained, "When you can, you run and don't look back, no objections."

A small grunt from the dragon was all the mammoth needed.

"The assassin who failed at his task did mention you were… stubborn," the emperor noted, "which, of course, gives me more than enough right to assume you will defy my will."

"Bingo," the Earthrealmer replied, "so come and get me, bitch."

The emperor grinned, "Kill the other, bring the boy to me."

Without hesitation, the mammoth summoned a huge battleaxe from thin air and thrust it into the ground, a miniature quake knocking everyone but the sturdiest off of their feet. While the emperor initiated kombat with the Edenian, Chronos didn't waste a milliseconds bolting it for the gate, which was closed but rusted as well. Before him appeared the insectoid woman, her buzzing flies congregating around her.

"Your escape ends he-," she didn't expect the Earthrealmer to just barrel through her with his shoulder, his sheer weight toppling her over, trampling over her shoulder which was crushed under his feet, chitinous shell cracking under the pressure. A small yelp escaped her throat while the dragon continued his speeding escape. The closed gate was no match for the Earthrealmer that crashed through it using much of his power, bits of metal flying everywhere while he scoured the area for an escape. The portal he arrived through was still open, but crowded with people. He would never reach it in time through just running with the horde of monsters on his heels.

Charging up as much power as he could muster, his being cloaked in solar energy, thunderbolts crackling across his skin, he prepared to psycho crush right through the crowd, but the sounds caused the crowd to disperse as fast as they could. With a small hop, he spiralled towards the portal with ludicrous speed, popping out on the other side with so much power it knocked everyone was on the other side of the portal away. In the confusion of the crowd, Chronos managed to sneak in an alleyway, just before the guards showed up.

Climbing up to a roof utilising some strenuous parkour skills, he retrieved the small piece of parchment from his pockets, hastily reading the incantation and trying to get the markers for the markings, but his hands were unable to grip them properly. He was struck by a pair of arrows in the back before he could even calm down. Putting the tools back in his pocket and running for his life, he jumped down from the rooftops onto a plaza, where there were a bunch of citizens gathered for last-minute shopping. Tagged by another pair of arrows, one in his shoulder and one in his calve, the dragon limped away from his assailants only to find assailants all around him.

He was stuck. No way out.

The soldiers and guards slowly encroached upon him, bows at the ready, swords gleaming in the moonlight and torches still burning. The people slowly made their distance from the whole situation, but close enough to stay and watch the ordeal. Their black armour began melding together, a coalesced entity slowly imprisoning him in what he could only figure was either death or eternal torture. The whispers of desperation gnawed at his soul, begging to give it his all, egging him on to do whatever it takes.

Raising his left hand high, a small ball of orange light began gathering in it, lightning crackling about, dancing across his arms, small flakes of skin separating from his arm. The ball grew bigger and bigger, until bolts of ethereal fire from the stars empowered it even more. Arrows and bolts dissolved in the air, gusts of wind originating from the dragon keeping anyone away from him. The light grew so bright it blinded everyone around, and Chronos' own arm began ripping itself apart.

"My power,"

No choice.

"reaches,"

No choice.

"beyond the stars."

Always a choice.

His hand struck the earth with cataclysmic power, a slow wave of solar death creeping outward from him. Sand turned to glass, wood became charred, metal grew red-hot. Time was slowing down tremendously, every agonising second finely imprinted upon Chronos' mind. The soldiers and guards began dissolving, flesh and skin giving way to bone, their corpses still standing in the vacuum of time. A mother clutching her babe stared in fear, mere fractions of seconds before she and everyone else were vaporised by the atrocious amount of power. The wave of death spread to the edges of the village, discriminating not between man or woman, child or elder, dragon or elf. The torches were blown out, the only thing casting light being the moon in the deep of space.

Collapsing, but still waking, the dragon was on his hands and knees, his breath heavy, his left arm covered in deep gashes and torn wounds. He looked around, the thickness of the blue mist, dust and ash making it almost impossible to make out the silhouettes that stood in place. Rising to his feet, choking on his own breath, he neared the shadowy figures, only to find them but skeletons, frozen in place, their bones almost like glass. The sand underneath his feet, glass. He approached the skeletal mother, holding onto her skeleton child with all her might. Kneeling beside it, he touched her skull, which toppled off of the rest of her body, shattering on impact. The dragon threw his hands in his hair, which was laden with ash from the innocent.

An endless breath whispered in his ear, his own became so thick he felt like his lungs were being pressed together by concrete blocks. Behind the mother, a mildly charred map of Outworld hung, its size without equal, its only true blemish being the dragon's shadow cast upon it. He ruffled the pockets of his pants and found the tools still intact and grabbed the huge map, flipping it over so he could etch the markings for the portal on it. With trembling hands an an ungodly thick breath, he managed to finally create the portal, its inviting warmth clashing with the cold death radiating from the blue mist.

He stepped through, possibly more sick than he ever could be, greeted by the cool breeze of Edenia's peaceful gardens. The garden was filled to the brim with people, including the overseers from the Academy, the heir to the throne and her bodyguard. Their eyes glistened with hope, but the wounded Earthrealmer returning all alone obliterated that hope without remorse. The portal behind him closed, and the overseers wasted no time rallying the people away.

"Everyone to their homes and take everything you can," Tau'Gir shouted, "and do not delay."

While everyone was busy running back to their homes, Aszara ran over to the dragon who looked like he was about to keel over from asphyxiation, "What happened to you?! Where's Kilamon?!"

His eyes met hers, but he just wasn't the same.

"What happened?!" she shook him by his arms, his towering figure smaller than ever.

"He, he stayed… behind," he broke himself loose from her grip, but she was not done.

"What do you mean 'he stayed behind'?!" she shouted, "He wasn't supposed to stay behind, the terms set by the tournament itself-"

"The terms changed," anger laced his voice, with Tau'Gir running over to join the questioning.

"Your hair, it is ashen," he noted, "fire and brimstone used to prevent your escape? Did they char and burn your arm as well?"

His voice meek, he replied, "Yeah. Something like that."

"The terms," Aszara calmed herself down, "Who changed them?"

He took the deepest breath he could, "The King did."

Tau'Gir did not miss a beat, "That is a lie."

"It's as much a lie as Kilamon's alive right now," the female overseer was not pleased.

"Shut it, you left him behind," she managed to stand taller than him, "Pretty cowardly to do," she hoped for him to tell her the truth, to reveal what he really did, but his empty eyes conveyed the truth both overseers wanted to deny. Both of them ran towards the royal pair, who were helping the people back to their homes, surprised by the sudden appearance of the overseers. They started shouting and pointing fingers at one another, Chronos included, who was still standing there, inspecting his torn left arm.

The breathless whispering still remained.

author: new chapter here

reader, realising it's not mk11 harem: my disappointment is immeasurable, and my day is ruined

Holy hell, feels like eternity since I uploaded a chapter, so, uh yeah, new chapter here. Review, rate, inflate its rotten tomatoes score, do whatever. Apologies if there are any errors.

- The Ice Man Cometh

p.s.: MK11 story sucked big pp, don't message me.

Pot calling the kettle black, but whatever, that's how it is.