Kuai Liang stepped through the final mirror and found himself in a vast cavern with a low-hanging ceiling and sharp, frosty stalactites growing towards the floor. They immediately gave him the unnerving impression that he'd suddenly emerged in the mouth of some fearsome ice monster, the mother of all migois perhaps. The thought did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves, so he buried it in the back of his brain and took in more of his surroundings. The air was predictably cold and still, but with each exhalation, steamy clouds of breath burst from his mouth.
A series of rooms and corridors broke off from this initial antechamber, the passages leading to separate chambers beyond his sight. Not that he could see much anyway. Through the ceiling, a small ray of pale blue light burrowed through the ice from a source unknown, and it bounced off a broken mirror that was eerily leaned against a nearby wall. It was not alone; hundreds upon hundreds of duplicates lined the walls to refract light, stained and rusted and cracked. Kuai Liang wondered why they were there at all, and he imagined they represented the warriors who had tried to survive the Sān jìng gǔ, but had failed and paid the price in blood. Though the mirror light was abundant, the ice cavern remained dim, almost deliberately so, as if someone had turned down the lights in order to take a nap in the blueness.
Kuai Liang perceived no visible threat here and felt none of the anxiety that had plagued him in the mirror-gates. There was something quite peaceful and sacred about this tomb, as if he were walking into a church in prayer. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the frigid temperature or any sense of fear. His eyes had found the first of the glassy ice coffins and he had seen the Cryomancers resting within. They were his people, and some might even be his family. At that moment, he suddenly felt in awe and humble because how many modern men could say they stood in the tomb of their forefathers? To Kuai Liang, who treasured his family above all other things, this moment of realization and reflection was the treasure the modern Cryomancers so jealously guarded. So, yes, it was easy to believe Himavat who had said there was a greater magic at work here, something divine, something useless to the wicked but sacred to the just. This was undoubtedly holy ground.
With head reverently bowed, Kuai Liang slowly stepped into these icy catacombs and looked around in silent curiosity as if he were walking through a museum. As with most tombs of this nature, there were many sets of armors stacked neatly against the various sarcophagi, if the corpses inside weren't wearing them altogether. Baskets of dried out, stale food as well as long-wilted Outworld flowers had been carefully arranged around many others. Kuai Liang even saw a child's drawing laid flat on the lid of one of the coffins. He carefully picked it up to look at it; drawn on a paper not unlike papyrus, it depicted a childish stick figure holding hands with an adult as they walked, smiling, along a blue field of what he could only assume was ice. The Grandmaster faintly smiled at that, wondering if his child would draw happy pictures of them together one day.
At the thought, he peered through the glassy lid at the elderly man dressed in blue Cryomancer armor and a cloak with a fur-trimmed collar. His hands were folded over the hilt of a large, ornately decorated kori sword that seemed more ceremonial than anything, his old body perfectly preserved by the cold. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said the man was sleeping. With a nod of respect to him, he placed the child's drawing back where he found it and then continued walking deeper into the catacombs.
Kuai Liang noticed that on the lid of every coffin, hovering just above the feet, were symbols like kanji carved deep into the ice. Though it was an unusual dialect, he recognized a variant of Cantonese, and an ancient one if he wasn't mistaken. Though the language might have stumped all of his Earthrealm companions save for Fujin, he deciphered it easily and translated, not surprisingly, the names of the deceased and their vital statistics by Outworld reckoning. This discovery fascinated him because it posed an anthropological mystery; had the Cryomancers somehow found their way to Earthrealm and to China thousands of years ago to spread their language to the budding culture, or had the reverse been true? The question made him wonder if that was part or all of the reason An Zhi had given him and his brother their new Chinese names even though he didn't seem to have an ounce of Chinese heritage to speak of. Kuai Liang had always chocked his father's strange decision up to living in China and needing to blend in and avoid drawing attention to themselves, but now he wondered if there was more to that than met the eye. He resolved to explore the issue more in-depth later, when he had more time.
Further into the Cryomancers' tomb he moved, looking for something to claim for his prize. He wasn't quite sure how this was supposed to work. Himavat had said he'd know Xing's grave and trinket when he saw it, but so far, he saw no stars hanging from the ceiling to guide him, no wise men on camels to lead the way. Kuai Liang supposed he could just take something, but that would've been a wasted effort. He came to this place and braved that terrible gauntlet for the sole purpose of finding something to help him fight Onaga, not a worthless trinket he could've gotten anywhere. Besides, he saw nothing he truly wanted.
Impatiently, Kuai Liang sighed. This was impossible, like finding a needle in a haystack. These catacombs, for all he knew, could sprawl beneath Mòhé for untold miles in all directions, and he didn't have the time or the energy to conduct a thorough search for buried treasure. He leaned tiredly against a thick support pillar and thought about what he should do. Soon, he thought of Eidotheia trapped inside the Dragon Medallion. Perhaps she could help him. At the notion, he scoffed at himself and called himself an idiot; he couldn't fathom how her magical trinket could help with his treasure hunt in the Cryomancers' tomb. But, then he thought about the alternative option and quickly decided he had nothing to lose by trying to make it work. After all, Eidotheia had insisted it was his trinket, and he could be the one to use her powers if only he would accept them into her heart. He frowned.
Sheepish and unsure of how to proceed, he pushed aside his cloak and coat with his fingers and found the Dragon Medallion concealed beneath. They gripped it tightly, squeezing it hard as if to forcibly command the magic to ooze into his body through his five small conduits. He wasn't quite sure what to expect as he wrenched his face in concentration, trying to focus on creating something to show him the way, but he didn't expect nothing to happen. He opened a single eye to a slit, peeking. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. With an angry grunt, he opened his eyes and scowled. He inwardly kicked himself for believing what that goddess had told him. Contrary to her belief, he had no magic save for his Cryomancy, and they both knew that wasn't the same thing anyway. Why on earth he'd listened to a god was beyond him. They were all maddeningly self-assured, to the point of being dangerous to the mortals in their care, and even worse, they were liars! In frustration, Kuai Liang kicked the support pillar…
…and a trail of white frost began to form a path through the glassy sarcophagi in response. The Cryomancer watched in amazement as the tiny ice crystals rapidly knitted together on the old, packed layer of snow, carpeting the frozen ground with a fresh layer of fluffy snow. Would you look at that? he thought in astonishment. A trail of breadcrumbs. His excitement grew when he realized he did that, he had made the path, and quickly, he hurried to follow it in a jagged zig-zag pattern that abruptly led him to a small, dark grotto far from the other coffins.
There, an unusual splash of red and black color caught his eye. As he gradually crept forward, he saw a coffin standing alone in this dark corner, but unlike the others that had been pristine and elegant but also well-loved, this one had been vandalized with paint like graffiti. Black and red kanji spat curses at the corpse. The Cryomancer cringed as he read some of the vulgar or cruel epithets – Traitor! or Here lies the Corrupted One! or Migoi's asshole! – that were but a few that decorated this grave. There was even one he didn't quite understand – from the mouth of the Sea Serpent – but he quickly decided was some sort of Cryomancer colloquialism. Based on the other slurs against this person, he could only assume it was something unpleasant. This corpse, in life, had clearly been a hated villain.
He had a sinking suspicion he knew who this coffin belonged to, so in something between trepidation and curiosity, he stepped to it and peered inside. To confirm his suspicions, he looked at the name carved into the lid. Not surprisingly, it read:
Xing, son of Baojia
born in the 10,478th Year of the Emperor Shao Kahn
died in the 11,951st Year of the Emperor Shao Kahn
His ancestor. The reason why his bloodline came to Earthrealm. The reason why his family had been cursed for centuries. At the thought, Kuai Liang had to stifle the urge to spit on Xing's coffin, but instead, he wrenched his face to choke back the pain, and to remind himself that he was not the same as this traitor. Furthermore, if this man hadn't betrayed the Cryomancers, Jae would never have come to Earthrealm, and Kuai Liang would never have been born. Still, it was hard to forgive the man and he found he just wasn't strong enough. But Xing was still his family, and though he loathed the man, out of respect for that family he held himself in check.
He forced down his hatred and studied the body. Xing wore armor not unlike a Japanese samurai's, and that surprised Kuai Liang given the Cryomancers' likeness to the Chinese. A silver zunari kabuto – a helmet fashioned from a handful of simple plates and sharp maedates sweeping around the side and over the top – concealed the corpse's head, and his dark blue menpō, his facemask sculpted to resemble a dragon's mouth, concealed his face. He did not hold a weapon in his hands as the other warriors had, a probable show of his disgrace. Undoubtedly, the Cryomancers had left his body unarmed to indicate that he was not a true warrior, but a coward. It was an unmistakable message, one that Kuai Liang understood well. Xing didn't deserve to hold a weapon.
Pushing all thoughts of his anger aside, though, the Grandmaster now examined the grotto to find something of Xing's, but came up short. While the other coffins had been decorated with love and surrounded by gifts for the deceased to take with them to the afterlife, there was nothing but curses written in paint to see him off. Kuai Liang frowned. Perhaps there was something inside the sarcophagus itself? Not thrilled with the prospect of tomb-raiding, he grimaced as he argued with himself about the proposed task. On the one hand, he had put his life on the line to find something that belonged to Xing, something that was magical and could help him defeat Onaga. On the other hand, he had issues with grave-robbing. From the time he was a small child, Sifu Halsey had impressed upon him the need to have respect for the dead and their graves lest he wanted to anger the spirits. It had been superstitious hokum, the Cryomancer knew, but it had left a considerable impression on him regardless.
In the end, his need for a mystical item won out, and with a grimacing heart, he formed something like a kori crowbar in his hands and jammed it into the faint crevice where the lid had been sealed shut. It took a few good heaves, but Kuai Liang finally cracked the seal and held his breath as stagnant air escaped the coffin with an angry wheeze. He didn't like this, not one damn bit. But when the wind passed, he inhaled deeply and now worked to slide the glassy lid off, a part of him expecting Xing's mummy to grab him or to do something equally as terrible. Naturally, nothing happened, even as the heavy cover shrilly grated and revealed the corpse in better clarity.
The process of mummification had long since begun on the man, but his body was still intact, if not dried like an old prune. He thought about sliding the menpō off his face and taking a look at his ancestor, but tried to talk himself out of it. But part of him had to know. Carefully so as not to damage the corpse, he undid the ties and removed the mask. As expected, Kuai Liang noted a strong family resemblance, though he did not look like An Zhi as Tsai Bing had, nor did he look like the Grandmaster, Bi-han, or Miyuki. Instead, he had a thin, ferret face that was furrowed by the flow of time, and a receding hairline that was frosted by white where it wasn't still brown.
And unlike the other corpses who had their bodies arranged in such a way as to hide their cause of death, his body had been shoved haphazardly into the ice, his cause of death unmistakable: his neck had been broken. That might've been the understatement of the year, though; while someone had attempted to turn his head the way it was supposed to face, it had flopped awkwardly to the side of his helmet, and Kuai Liang could see the spinal vertebrae jutting through the side of the man's throat. He gulped and unconsciously rubbed his old rib injury beneath his shirt, remembering Shao Kahn and how he had gotten incredibly lucky in that fight. Seeing Xing now, he probably should've died.
For some odd reason that he couldn't explain, Kuai Liang then suddenly felt the urge to say something to the body lying in the coffin, but not even to the body, but his spirit. He knew that Xing would hear it. He suspected that no one had spoken at his funeral, and if they had, it almost certainly wasn't a kind eulogy, so it made sense to him to say a few words to this long dead man. So, with his head hung thoughtfully, contemplating his words, he clutched the cold edge of the sarcophagus and began to speak.
"Xing, I'm really sorry that Shao Kahn killed you, and that the Dragon Medallion corrupted you," he began. "I'm sure you probably never thought you'd be here, the most hated man of your people. Except I think I'm probably tied with you on that front now. They hate me too. You know, because of you." The Cryomancer cleared his throat and paused. "Look, Xing, I really need to tell you some stuff. I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's the stuff the mirror-gates didn't have time to address, I don't know."
He inhaled deeply, thinking about where to begin, finally speaking several long seconds later. "I'm angry that I was lied to my whole life," he confessed. "My father told me and Bi-han that we were the only Cryomancers in the world, so I grew up feeling all alone, like a freak. In a way, I think being a freak of nature was a good thing because if nothing else, at least there was one thing about me that made me special. God knows I never felt special for anything else." He inhaled as he thought about his childhood and how he would have rather had a family than cryogenic power, though. He peered at his ancestor's face. "I wish I had known better, Xing. But I also wish that I stayed ignorant to the fact that the Cryomancers are alive because now that I know them, they don't want anything to do with me. They're worried I'll turn out like you. They think I'm nothing. Worth less than spit. It's like living with my father all over again." Kuai Liang bitterly scoffed at the thought, thinking about how all he ever wanted as a little boy was his father's love and acceptance, to the point it drove Bi-han mad.
But Xing didn't need to know that. Kuai Liang continued. "I'm angry that I never knew who you really were," he announced. "Even now, I don't know who you were. Not really. The people who knew you have nothing good to say about you. It's like they can't even remember you before the Dragon Medallion. All they know is the traitor and murderer. But what were you like before all that?
"And I'm also mad that you cursed my family simply because you were a greedy, goddamned thief. What were you thinking, stealing from Shao Kahn? Were you out of your mind? So I'm angry that because of your lack of common sense, Jae had to grow up an orphan in Earthrealm. By some small miracle, at least he'd been adopted by a family that loved him. He would've grown up normal, but the Lin Kuei killed his foster family and kidnapped him. They never would have gotten to him if it weren't for you, and every male born in this family since then wouldn't have been raised to be an assassin." He winced at the thought.
"Do you know that every generation since Jae has been violent and cruel to next generation?" he asked, his voice now touched with flame. "My father was the worst of them too. When I was a kid, he ignored me, and when he gave me any attention at all, it was brutally violent. It's a miracle I'm not the same way, and all I can hope for now is that I won't be like that my children. Thank Himavat for bringing Halsey into my life. He taught me everything he knew, and he taught me how to be a good person. He was a real father to me and to Bi-han. But Bi-han wasn't as lucky as I was. He's dead now, and he's in the Netherrealm." He looked directly at the corpse's face, his eyes hard and furious. "The Netherrealm, Xing. And I blame you for that as much as I blame my father and Quan Chi and Scorpion. I hope you're in Hell suffering just as much as he is!"
Kuai Liang stopped himself, feeling the rage creeping into his lizard brain, demanding vengeance for this man's crimes against their entire family. Patches of white frost were beginning to spread over the glassy ice from beneath his palms, turning it matte and cloudy. Quickly, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to calm down so that his powers would calm down too. He inhaled slowly and carefully, and finally, he felt tranquility once more. Now, he opened his eyes and stared at Xing's corpse yet again.
"I'm mad that I grew up with an insane father," he confessed. "I'm mad that because of him, I grew up distrustful of people so much so that I couldn't even trust my own wife for the longest time when we first got together. And even now, I still have a hard time trusting her. And I'm mad because my father did all the same stuff to Bi-han and Tomas and even Miyuki. He made us all feel like we were never good enough, and he made it his mission in life to take all the goodness and joy from our lives. And the worst part is that I will never understand why. I have this sneaking suspicion that it's because of you, Xing. All of our suffering is because of you."
He paused, pushing away the sadness that consumed him. He blinked back tears and looked up at the dimly lit ceiling, almost in prayer. "But now I just need it to end. So Xing, I'm forgiving you for what you did. And I'm forgiving my father too just because I need to move on with my life. And I forgive myself for being so damn angry." Kuai Liang swallowed hard. "And I want to thank you, Xing, for showing me what not to become so that I don't wind up walking in your footsteps."
With that, he tried to adjust Xing's helmet so that at least he was facing up, but the moment he touched the armor, it suddenly shattered, though that wasn't quite the right description of it. It disintegrated into a fine powder with a loud clatter like a set of wind chimes tinkling on a breezy afternoon. It was a pleasant music to Kuai Liang's ears, but he panicked and took a step back when he saw what he had done, terrified that Cryomancers with pitchforks would burn him at the proverbial stake for disturbing the grave. His heart leapt into his chest and he breathed hard, uncertain what to do.
But as he backed into a different coffin, the dusty powder lifted into the air, twinkling like tiny stars, spiraling into a helix that began drifting towards him. Helplessly, Kuai Liang watched as it found him and surrounded him. It twisted around him slowly for a long moment, and he stared at it, mesmerized by the hypnotic gyrating of the powder until he suddenly felt strange tickling on his palms. In a panic, he looked down and saw the sparkling diamond dust eating away at his coat and cloak, devouring it like a hungry predator. But it did not leave him naked. As it removed his old clothing, it gradually wove together new clothes.
The Cryomancer held his hands before his face and intently studied them as new fingerless gloves as well as steel and blue gauntlets with dragons carved into their faces formed around his wrists and forearms. On his body, the magical powder created a new tunic colored dark blue with steel chainmail beneath, both garments dangling over black ninja pants that had a metallic blue and silver dragon creeping up the outer side of each leg. Underneath his tunic and chainmail, a shirt made of black, skin-tight whale skin conformed to his chest and arms, accentuating his well-defined muscles. At the collar, long black animal fur grew around his neck and immediately began to warm him. More armor formed around his upper arms and outer thighs, and dragons were carved into those heavy iron plates as well. Finally, a kabuto began to form on his head, and along with it, the blue menpō that he'd originally removed from Xing's face grew over his mouth from his nose to his chin. The entire transformation lasted maybe a few seconds at the most, but to Kuai Liang, who watched this new armor replace his old clothes, it had taken ages.
I guess I found Xing's trinket, he said to himself when it had finished its work and he stepped to a cracked mirror to study himself in the broken glass. Hardly a trinket, though. Behind his mask, he smiled at his reflection. The new armor, Xing's armor, he realized, was fairly impressive. He had to resist the impulse to make muscles at himself, and then he kicked himself because he was spending far too much time with Smoke these days. The Czech man was rubbing off on him in a bad way. Thank goodness his best friend wasn't there to see him now. He'd be impossible to live with.
Kuai Liang smoothed his tunic, noting that the one thing that hadn't vanished off his body was his Dragon Medallion. For a split second, it flashed blue as if winking at him from his breast, almost as if to give him its approval. Smiling again, he mentally thanked Eidotheia for her vote of confidence before he returned to Xing's coffin and looked at the now nearly naked mummy who only had his undergarments protecting his body.
"Thank you, Xing," he said. "I'll put your magical armor to good use." And then he shoved the coffin's lid into place before he gently rested his hands on it, putting a fresh layer of ice around it to reseal it.
Now, it was time to return to Anya and Himavat and the real world once more. But Kuai Liang saw no exit – as far as he could tell, there was no way out. Once more, he clutched the Dragon Medallion for answers, and this time she told him to teleport out.
"How do I do that?" he argued, thinking about his normal method and knowing it couldn't possibly cover enough distance to escape. But now she urged him to hold up his hands and concentrate, the instinct and certainty overwhelming. He sighed.
But he stretched out his hands and did as she asked. Like the path that he had formed, success didn't come easily to him nor was it timely. For five minutes, he stood by Xing's sarcophagus, squeezing his face into an expression of frustration but determination, to no avail. But then, just when he was about to give up and find a different route, something flexed inside of him. It began as a peculiar tickling that soon formed into a swirling portal. He looked towards it in something like surprise and saw its blue and white depths swirling fast, like a maelstrom in a tumultuous ocean. The cloudy arms suspended in the liquid night began whipping around so fast that they blurred together and quickly exploded in a brilliant light that revealed the beginning of the Sān jìng gǔ in perfect clarity, and there, his beautiful wife sat with Himavat, unharmed but anxiously pacing around the room. His heart jumped with joy when he saw her, and that he got a visual confirmation that Rain had not, in fact, killed her.
Beaming with pride and excitement, he stepped through to greet her.
Something new had happened.
For the first time in ages, something new.
Though the Sun God usually preferred to be left alone, shortly after the Dragon King rose from the ashes of his own demise, someone dared to bother him in the midst of his self-imposed isolation: the man called Shujinko. Shujinko was a stupid old man who never contemplated much of anything beyond his own nose. He thought maybe the man was dead, had been dead for the last hundred years or so since the last time he saw him and dealt him a mortal wound. Even if he wasn't, he was still a stupid old man, and even if he singlehandedly saved the universe as he planned, that didn't change the fact of his sheer, unadulterated stupidity.
The Sun God had come to Outworld long before the man had inadvertently raised Onaga from the dead, and he had discovered blood here that was almost new and worth his attention. It was voluptuous and sweet, aged and seasoned by the wickedness inherent in it. This quality of blood made the food here very rich. His teeth tore flesh and he drank gallons of blood to sustain his life and give him power: he was a fitting ruler because the mortals, too, fed off violence and bathed in the blood-red rivers. With their free will they contemplated endless suffering.
Upon this rich food he had subsisted, and he created a temple in his own image where he'd gained a devout following that lingered on his every word. Once, his religion was mighty and strong, but when Shao Khan took the throne from Onaga, the sun ran away and the numbers of the faithful diminished in its absence. The Sun-God, therefore, had looked upon those who remained with favor from the sunlight which were his eyes, and he protected them from the demi-god Emperor and all his minions thereof. Outworld was his killing pen, the non-believers its sheep. He culled from that flock often. Time had marched on in this fashion and things progressed quietly for centuries.
Then…this Shujinko.
Something new.
For the first time in ages.
The Sun God knew his story. Shujinko was the so-called messenger of the Elder Gods, acting on the authority of a spirit called Damashi. When he had first encountered the stupid man a century prior, meaning to drain his blood dry for trying to steal Outworld's kamidogu from him, vaguely uneasy that he had been unable to do so already, something had happened which was totally unexpected, utterly unheard of. Something had hurt him, though it had not been Shujinko. It was something more than that, fiery, hotter than the sun as it passed over the apex of the sky. And there had been pain, pain, great roaring pain all through his body, the punishment for attacking a servant of the Elder Gods. For one moment there had also been fear, because the only thing the Sun God had in common with the stupid old man and the cosmology of this puny egg of this universe was just this: all things must abide by the commands of the Elder Gods or suffer their wrath. There had never been pain before, there had never been fear before, and for a moment the Sun God had thought that he might die – oh, his head had been filled with a great white silver pain, and he had roared and mewled and bellowed and somehow Shujinko had escaped from the Sun God's temple with the kamidogu and the mortal wound he'd dealt him.
But now Shujinko was returning. He had entered the Sun God's domain high atop a night-shrouded mountain, a fly walking onto a spider's web, a foolish man blundering through the darkness of the temple without lights or weapons. This time, he was not acting in accord with the Elder Gods' wishes; in fact, the Sun God sensed, he had been fooled by the Dragon King, who had used him to resurrect him from the dead, who had upset the balance of nature. The Sun God would devour Shujinko now, surely.
He had made a great self-discovery as he sat in the darkness on his throne and listened to Shujinko's ravenous hunger for physical power shriek at him: he did not want change or surprise. He did not want new things, ever. He wanted only to eat and drink and be worshipped by his followers. Onaga threatened that routine. This, he could not allow.
Following the pain of their last encounter and of that brief, bright fear, another new emotion had arisen: anger. The Sun God would kill Shujinko because he had, by some amazing accident and the help of the Dragon King, hurt him. But he would make him suffer first because for one brief moment he made him fear him.
Come to me then, he thought, listening to the mortal approach.
Hate was new. Hurt was new. Being crossed in his purpose was new. But now that he was coming, he would let him come. Shujinko would come and he would rip his heart from his chest and sink his teeth into the still-beating muscle. And then he would guzzle every last drop of the man's blood, would let it spill over his body in torrents and bathe in it like the baptism of some unholy child.
Yes.
When he got here it would eat him, shrieking and insane, until he was no more.
The dull thud of Shujinko's footsteps, imperceptible to mortal ears but deafening to the Sun God, bounced softly off the brick walls, soon swallowed by darkness. The stupid man's heart pounded in his ears, quickening in fear, his blood boiling hot in his veins. It confessed his treachery and his intent, and it pleaded for mercy or at least an easy fight. The Sun God sneered at that, his eyes watching the orange aura of the man grow steadily closer.
"Show yourself, Blood God!" the man shrieked without warning.
In the darkness, Kotal Kahn began to laugh in a cruel, deep voice.