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For as long as he could remember, he had always yearned. This longing was inseparable from his greatest love. In his life, Kuai Liang loved two people above all else—his brother… and the one who took him in a fit of rage and vengeance. Bi-Han, Sub-Zero, warrior of the Lin Kuei. Protector and mentor. Older brother. Steadfast and unshakable. Honest and direct. Hot-headed and stern. But over the years, he became cold, measured, calm.
And Hanzo Hasashi. Warrior of the Shirai Ryu. Bi-Han's killer. A specter from the Netherrealm named Scorpion. A man who walked through hell—both literally and figuratively. Fierce and emotional. Sincere. Giving himself to love and hatred with equal passion. Protector and lover. The one Kuai Liang wanted to kill. The one he hated. And the one he loved so deeply that he would have given everything for him—down to the very last drop of blood.
He loved them both more than life, more than the world, more than anything. He ached for them until his chest burned and his heart trembled. Warmth and agony intertwined. Impossible to tell apart.
Both had tried to kill him. The specter Scorpion. And Noob Saibot, the embodiment of darkness that had forever warped his brother's soul. And both had protected him, saved his life time and again. Just as he had saved theirs.
Longing had been woven into his love since childhood. When Bi-Han left on missions, Kuai Liang counted the days until his return. He feared his brother might never come back. And he felt overwhelming relief when he saw him—alive, tired, unharmed or wounded, pleased or frustrated, but alive. Above all, alive. Bi-Han would ruffle his hair, smile, and later they would practice cryomantic techniques. Bi-Han had learned them from their father, who had died on a mission. And Kuai Liang learned everything from his brother. From there, he explored the possibilities of ice on his own, pondering new techniques for hours, training relentlessly to master cryomancy. Just like his brother.
He and his brother rarely spent time together. They were always sent on different missions. But every hour beside Bi-Han was precious to Kuai Liang.
He had grown used to the constant ache when his brother was away. He prayed for him to the Elder Gods. Back then, he didn't yet understand that they weren't listening. They never listened.
Bi-Han kept much from him. Enemies he had made during his most dangerous missions. The grandmaster's schemes. Sektor's machinations. He tried carefully to keep Kuai Liang out of it all. Away from mortal danger. Though risk was an inseparable part of their lives. But some secrets were worse than death. Bi-Han knew that well. And Kuai Liang only learned it after his death.
The Cyber Initiative. Cyborgs. Once living men. His brothers in arms. Comrades. Turned into machines to serve the clan wholly, utterly, completely.
Bi-Han knew about it. He did not agree. And yet he had hoped that if he completed his final mission—killing the sorcerer Shang Tsung in the tournament—he could disappear: take his younger brother with him and vanish into the depths of Earthrealm. Fade away. Pretend they were dead. But his plan failed. All hope burned to ash. His body was incinerated by a specter, the dangerous Scorpion. And his soul was taken by the Netherrealm. Shadows swallowed Bi-Han forever. His light dimmed in the ink-black abyss.
Kuai Liang didn't know then about Bi-Han's plan, nor about the Cyber Initiative. He had been forbidden from leaving the Lin Kuei temple. Yet unease gnawed at him. His brother had disappeared in Outworld. His heart ached with longing. Familiar. Habitual. But now it was different. Kuai Liang didn't notice then that the intensity of his yearning, the intensity of the danger they faced every day, had grown. Accustomed to risk, he failed to see that everything had shifted—become far more lethal.
He disobeyed the order, and his best friend Tomas helped him. They wanted to find traces. Unravel the mystery of Bi-Han's disappearance. Understand what had truly happened.
Kuai Liang put on his brother's garments, though until then he had worn only black. He didn't know then that blue was a color he would wear forever. He intended it as a disguise. In case the Lin Kuei came after him. Later, that resemblance to his brother would draw both his enemies and his allies. He would learn of his brother's fate. Be able to intervene. To save him.
He didn't know that by then, his brother was already dead. The champions of Earthrealm told him of Bi-Han's death. He had fallen at the hands of Scorpion. And grief crashed down on him with unimaginable force. He had always longed for his brother when he was away. And even when they were together, he longed for him, knowing the time was finite—slipping through his fingers. Relentless. Inevitable. But now his brother would never come. Now he would never return. Never again embrace him after a dangerous mission. Never agree to spar, to compete over whose new ice techniques were better, who had devised the more successful combination. Never smile—barely perceptible, but sincere. Never again would warmth flicker in his pale blue eyes. The cold would remain with him forever. Kuai Liang had lost him. Forever.
He knew loss was inevitable. That Lin Kuei warriors must always be ready for their own deaths. They lived constantly on the edge, balancing between life and death, with only a thin thread of luck stretched over the abyss. Thin, fragile, and easily snapped. For Bi-Han, it had snapped—and he had plunged into the void.
He did not dwell long on what to do next. Though he and Tomas were meant to meet again in a few days at a hidden place, Kuai Liang went to the Coliseum. He knew Scorpion was a warrior fighting for the Netherrealm. He wanted to challenge him. Defeat him and avenge his brother's honor. Or die trying. Reunite with his brother in death. Strike down the one who had severed the thread of his life—or fall by those same hands. In that moment, his mind had narrowed to only two alternatives. He did not know there were far more. Elaborate intrigues were weaving around him, around his clan, around the whole world. He did not yet understand that there were fates far worse than death.
Scorpion answered his challenge. Ready for battle. Sharp. Filled with anger and wrath. And he… recognized him. Kuai Liang was used to being mistaken for his brother. By enemies and allies alike. Especially in these garments. With the title taken in his brother's honor. But Scorpion, who knew his enemy, who had studied him, understood on some instinctive level—instantly—that this was not Bi-Han. And he demanded an answer: the identity of the man before him. Kuai Liang gave it. He was filled with pain and hatred, sorrow and grief. He clung to vengeance as if it were salvation, because he did not know how to go on living in a world without his brother. A world where he would never wait for him again.
They fought, and Kuai Liang won. He prepared to strike. He knew honor demanded he kill his enemy. He was rooted in the present, unaware of the shadows gathering over him. Of the doom that would strike him down. For years to come. Before him stood only his enemy. Scorpion. The last of the Shirai Ryu. A specter of vengeance. An embodiment of pain and fury.
He did not think about what he would do after killing Scorpion. How he would explain his escape to the grandmaster. Where he would meet Smoke. As if his own life would end along with that of his enemy—Hanzo Hasashi, one of the strongest warriors of the fallen Shirai Ryu clan. Their eternal rivals.
He had only a moment. Only one step. Even that was taken from him. He had forgotten that a sea of possibilities exists. A churning ocean of chaos and the unforeseen. Probabilities tangled together. He had forgotten everything but Scorpion, his brother's killer. But he himself had not been forgotten. His clan was waiting for him. To turn him into a cyborg.
Shao Kahn handed him over to the Lin Kuei. And as electric impulses tore through his body, shackling his movement, paralyzing his will, he saw the look in his best friend's eyes—filled with unimaginable grief. The one who loved him. The one he had forgotten, consumed by thoughts of his brother's death.
"Kuai Liang!" He could not hear him now, but he knew Tomas had called out to him. Longing and regret enveloped his soul. He should have warned his friend. He should have held onto their bond. But he was wrong. And now he saw, in those pale gray eyes, a deep sorrow. A sorrow so familiar to him. One he himself had felt. Their connection was breaking, right here. He would die. And leave a wound in the heart of one who was dear to him. One who understood him. One with whom he had shared the burdens of missions and victories.
"Forgive me, Tomas. Forgive me."
He was unable to say it aloud. And then he saw the stunned look of the specter he had forgotten. Astonishment, fury, rage. And burning sparks settling into ash. He was gone. And Kuai Liang… was gone too… as a person… as a man.
He awoke later, trapped inside a metal body. He remembered being torn apart. Remembered the pain. And the horror. But now he was a cyborg. A machine. He saw objectives. Numbers. Data. Calculations. His voice felt alien. His hands felt alien. He was no longer human. But his soul remained intact. He remembered following orders. His consciousness slept, but his hands moved on their own. His mind analyzed probabilities. He served Shao Kahn. The same man he had once defied with his insolence in the Coliseum. The one many feared. But not Kuai Liang. As if, that day, he had cared about Kahn, about his bloody amusements and grudges, when he was meant to avenge his brother. He served Sektor. The one he despised. But now he could not disobey him.
He remembered it all as if it had happened to someone else. As if it were not his hands that had killed at his masters' command. As if he himself were not here.
But now he was awake, seized by a violent surge of claustrophobia.
Once, he had been forced to hide in a coffin. Four days he lay there, watching the enemy. Spying. Slowing his body's processes. Remaining cold as ice. He could go without food or water. He knew how. The Lin Kuei had taught him much. Lin Kuei warriors could push beyond the limits of the human body. And he, a cryomancer, could go even further. Hold his breath underwater longer than any man ever could. Survive hypothermia even in the deadliest cold. See shapes and outlines clearly even in the darkness of the polar night. He had always been capable of more than other men.
That mission was the worst he could remember. He had learned much, playing dead. But how he had wanted to climb out of that metal coffin. To shatter that glass lid. To prove he was still alive. Not a corpse. Not a statue.
Now he felt the same. He wanted so badly to leave this place. This shell, this metal. To shed it and feel the warmth of wind on his skin. To take a drink of water. To even feel pain. But he was incapable of it. This alloy, these wires, this code—this was him now. Feeling no pain. Feeling none of what he had felt before. When he was Kuai Liang. When he was Tundra, not Sub-Zero.
His best friend's hand rested on his shoulder. It was Tomas who had saved him. It was Tomas who had persuaded the champions of Earthrealm to help him, to reprogram him and free his identity. Smoke did not know if it would work. But he had hoped. In his gray eyes there was relief, warmth, joy at being reunited. And Kuai Liang so wanted to embrace him. So wanted to feel the warmth of his touch. But cold metal did not transmit nerve impulses. It was useless. It would cost too much energy. He could only see the extent of his body's damage on a display and use it to orient himself in combat. But not feel pain. He was no longer capable of touch as he once knew it.
Yet he had a purpose. Clear and precise. To save Earthrealm from invasion, from annihilation. To fight against Shao Kahn and his army. He was ready. It was not so bad. His friend was by his side. He had regained his free will. He was fighting for a righteous cause. For the first time in his life, he felt absolute certainty in his actions. He was not afraid to die. But he did not wish to perish. Knowing he had something to fight for, someone to fight for. He loved Smoke. He was grateful for the chance he had been given, for the faith placed in him. He believed they would do everything to achieve their victory. Or die trying. And once again, he failed to consider that there are things worse than death.
The first crack appeared when he saw his deceased brother. Noob Saibot. A shadow. A wraith, resurrected by Quan Chi's hellish magic. Bi-Han, who denied his own name.
"Who gave you the right to bear that title? Those robes?"
You did, Kuai Liang wanted to cry out. You gave me this right. With your life. And with your death. My love for you, my grief, my efforts—all of it led me here. So that your memory would not die, but endure through time. So that the deeds done for Earthrealm's good would belong to you as well—through me. So that your name would not be erased.
But Bi-Han was no longer the same. Was no longer himself.
"We share the same blood, but we are not brothers."
They fought, and Noob Saibot's movements were achingly reminiscent of Bi-Han's. Only instead of an ice sickle—a shadow sickle. Instead of ice—the crushing embrace of darkness. Portals that left him suspended between sky and earth, robbed of bearings, of any sense of direction. Bi-Han had become stronger. More ruthless. More merciless.
But he, too, was mortal. Still mortal. Kuai Liang did not have time to fully feel the grief anew. Bi-Han's soul had been torn apart by the Soul Tornado during the ritual. It had been dragged into the vortex of deadly magic. And Kuai Liang faced the same fate—but Nightwolf saved him.
He had no time to process it. No time to grieve or wonder. Because the clock counting down his life would soon stop. Revived Sindel was already coming for them.
It all happened so fast. The dead empress of Edenia, gone for so long, had become their most dangerous enemy. Her power had multiplied tenfold, for she had absorbed the energy of countless souls. They discussed their next plan. Prepared for the next stage of battle, awaiting Raiden and his champion, Liu Kang. The Thunder God was to consult the Elder Gods. He had hoped for their aid. But while the Thunder God was away, nearly all of Earthrealm's defenders fell.
Kuai Liang fought desperately. He hoped to win. But around him, his allies were falling. Sindel, like a witch, like a banshee from legend, was tearing everyone apart. There fell Stryker, an honest and brave policeman. His friend Kabal, once a Black Dragon mercenary. Jade, a warrior from distant and forever lost Edenia. Smoke… No, Tomas, not you, not his best friend… But reality was merciless. They were not strong enough.
Sindel tore his metal body apart. Wires sparked, and his mind went dark. In his final glance, there she was—the embodiment of a natural disaster, bringing death to all that lived. For the first time in his life, he felt fear so vividly. But even that did not last long.
And then came hell. His harrowing afterlife. Crimson rivers of fire, a pale sorcerer commanding his soul. His friend held him in place, obeying the sorcerer's orders. He stood bare, exposed before them all, and felt like a mare being inspected by a less than conscientious buyer. Quan Chi studied him appraisingly. Kuai Liang's human body had been recreated when the sorcerer discovered his soul had remained intact despite cyberization. His new body—unnaturally clean. No scars, no birthmarks, nothing. Only pallid, deathly skin. Golden irises. He was a hellspawn, a revenant. Not human, yet still a cryomancer. Fire burned in his veins. But ice still obeyed him. He fought desperately, struggled to break free, cried out fiercely that he would never serve Quan Chi. But the sorcerer only smiled.
"A puppet," he said. "You will be my puppet."
And worst of all, after those words, Kuai Liang's mind was veiled in a haze. So peaceful. No need to resist. Quan Chi always knew best. His voice came out detached when he answered:
"Yes, master. I will serve you."
Scorpion led him to the armory, following orders. His eyes burned with rage. He had no desire whatsoever to deal with a former Lin Kuei warrior, the younger brother of Sub-Zero, his mortal enemy. Kuai Liang would have been his enemy too, had Quan Chi not forbidden it.
He clumsily caught the bundle of clothes, then dressed just as clumsily. After resurrection, he was still weak. The hellish heat did not help. His fingers barely obeyed him. He tried to finish this humiliating ordeal as quickly as possible. He was unarmed, naked, dead. And his enemy saw it all. His searing gaze was impossible to ignore. Hatred and rage. Fury. Disappointment. Anger.
He struggled with the armor. But he had grown so accustomed to a different body. A cybernetic one. And now he could barely feel his own movements. He did not understand what was wrong with him. Perhaps his cryomancer nature made the process of adjustment slower than for others.
"Do not test my patience!" Scorpion snarled. And stepped forward himself to fasten the armor. His hands touched Kuai Liang's skin, pulling straps and metal rivets tight. Scorching hot, felt with shocking clarity through the numbness of his own foreign body. It sent him into a violent shock. He could not breathe. Scorpion's movements were rough, almost painful, though the specter caused him no physical harm. At least not now. But he had grown so unaccustomed to touch as a cyborg that this sudden, invasive contact felt like a burn.
"Do not touch me," Kuai Liang forced out through clenched teeth, gathering what remained of his will. "You have no right."
And Scorpion stepped back. His work was done.
"Your weapon," he gestured toward the armory rack, "you will choose it yourself."
And vanished in a vortex of fire.
For the first time in a long while, he felt no familiar longing. His emotions were bound to his master's will. But they were still his own. Quan Chi merely amplified what already lived within his soul. Hatred for his own death. For the Lin Kuei. For Scorpion. The cold of loss. Numbness of the spirit. Anesthesia—eternal, yet liberating.
He defended Quan Chi, he defended Hanzo, he fought alongside the other revenants. Yet somehow the sorcerer kept him away from Smoke. Though he did not forbid Liu Kang, Kung Lao, and Kitana—who had been close in life—from speaking. All three were efficient and fierce in battle. Kuai Liang could not look toward Smoke, now a demon called Enenra. And Tomas did not look his way by choice, having utterly forsaken all human attachments in life.
Hanzo fought beside him. Kuai Liang did not wish to call him Hanzo, yet somehow that was the name that surfaced first in his mind when he thought of him, not the title. Scorpion. Hellspawn. Kuai Liang wanted so badly to break his neck. Freeze him to death. Pierce his heart with an ice dagger. Hot and unliving.
Hanzo always looked at him with rage. Insults spilled from his lips, and Kuai Liang answered them with cold hatred. But they were forbidden from fighting outside of training matches.
His flames burned—hellish and merciless. But the ice did not yield. Their bouts were charged with intensity. Hatred. The passion to destroy the other. A restrained impulse to kill. A hand gripping a throat. Stopping halfway. In those moments, Kuai Liang felt everything with sudden sharpness. He felt almost alive. The white haze receded. Hot rage coursed through his veins. Poisonous, alien, vile—like the one who provoked it. The specter's burning palm twisted into his hair. Blood dripped from a wound he had left. But Kuai Liang had left his marks, too. Hanzo would not forget.
They waged war against Earthrealm. They brought chaos and destruction. And it was almost… intoxicating.
Scorpion carried him in his arms after battle—wounded, nearly killed—so Quan Chi could patch him up. And Kuai Liang wanted to scream from how much he hated it all. He wished the specter had left him to die. He did not want to feel any of this. Pain he was used to. But forced contact was unbearable. The heat of another's body was too intense. The beating of another's heart was an intolerable torment. It hurt. Not physically. Differently. All his nerve endings, usually dulled, for some reason responded at full force.
"I will kill you," he whispered, knowing Scorpion would hear. "I will kill you. Just know that. One day I will find a way."
"Try," Scorpion grimly smirked. "Just don't die first, cryomancer."
The sorcerer had restored his body only to exact his own torment. For making him waste his power. For failing him. For taking his precious time. Kuai Liang emerged from the throne room exhausted and met Scorpion's gaze—he was standing by the door. He expected mockery, but Scorpion tossed him some kind of potion.
The cryomancer caught the vial automatically and tucked it into his belt. He did not know if Scorpion intended to poison him. In any case, it was pointless—no one truly died in hell. Quan Chi would not allow it.
Only later did he discover what the potion was. It eased residual muscle pain after the sorcerer's torture. But by then, he had already handed it to Jade, in exchange for her showing him a lake of water that did not boil away in hell. It was Jade's enthusiastic remark about the potion's rarity and properties that made him realize what exactly the specter had thrust upon him. He had given it away freely—by that moment, he no longer had need of it.
He often came to this lake afterward, grateful to the warrior woman for showing him the place. The churning water soothed him. He would never have found ice here—not unless he created it himself. Never. But water, not lava, was at least some comfort. A reminder of his past life.
Scorpion found him by the shore, as if he had been waiting for him. His gaze was filled with feverish flame. The specter's hands gripped the edges of his clothing, pulling him closer. Kuai Liang expected a fight, but Hanzo only looked at him—fiercely, with a shadow of something like resignation.
"I hate you," he hissed. "Lin Kuei warrior, you drive me insane. I have never hated anyone more."
"Tell me something new, specter," Kuai Liang smirked.
He was irritated that Scorpion now knew about his secret place of respite. That he had caught the cryomancer in this secluded spot. He did not want to get into a fight here, where the lake at least remotely reminded him of another world—not the Netherrealm.
But he forgot that Hanzo, too, had once been human.
"You are the most… insufferable… insolent… repulsive… cryomancer…" The words came out like bursts of flame. Scorpion gripped the back of his head, pulled at his hair—just like in a fight. Kuai Liang, for some reason, listened to it all with a strange, spellbound attention, making no attempt to break free or snap back with something cutting. Even though Scorpion's presence, as usual, infuriated him. His accustomed silence was broken, irritation flaring up like sparks—tenacious, prickly, unbearable. "Your very existence is an insult to me."
"The feeling is mutual." For some reason, Kuai Liang felt a surge of laughter—inappropriate and strange. He had rarely laughed in life—let alone in the afterlife, in hell.
"What you're doing to me is disgusting," Scorpion breathed out. "I will always hate you for this. Are you doing it on purpose? Deliberately torturing me? Making me feel all of this… for you?"
It was all too much. Kuai Liang finally wrenched himself free from the other's grip and glared back fiercely. He did not know what to say. He understood nothing at all. Was Hanzo looking for a fight? Or trying to provoke him, as usual?
"I don't want to see you," he finally threw out and literally ran away, overcome with a strange turmoil. From the sudden surge of emotions, his heart pounded wildly in his chest, and these emotions burned him like poison. He wanted so badly to tear him apart. He wanted so badly to pull him closer, until nothing remained but the two of them.
Kuai Liang froze in confusion, realizing the meaning of that last thought, and drove an ice shard into his own wrist, knowing the skin would regenerate if the cut was not deep. But physical pain was a pale flicker compared to the heat of another's touch. It did not drown out that strange, soul-piercing… irritation with the specter? He frowned.
If this was Quan Chi's influence, it was not funny at all. He would rather kill himself than feel any kind of warm emotion toward Hanzo.
He was simply overheated and delirious. The Netherrealm was always unbearably hot. This thought was merely a side effect of the intolerable heat.
After the unwanted meeting at the lake, he avoided Scorpion. But the other, as if out of spite, sought his company himself. Insults, threats, fights, battles side by side and against each other—all of this relentlessly accompanied his usual hellish routine. And then… it happened.
They had failed a mission—for the first time in a long while. Kuai Liang was responsible and prepared to face his punishment. But Hanzo stepped forward and declared that the blame for their failure rested entirely on him.
A cold dread and numbness enveloped his soul. Hanzo should not suffer for his mistake. Kuai Liang cried out what he had to, without a second thought. Justice. He wanted justice. The full weight of the consequences should fall on him, not the specter.
"It was my fault! Not Scorpion's. It was because of me that we failed the mission. Punish me, Quan Chi."
And perhaps there was too much fire in his voice. Because Quan Chi suddenly smirked, stepped closer, and touched his fingers to Kuai Liang's chin. His gaze was full of keen, appraising curiosity—as if he were seeing Kuai Liang for the first time.
"Interesting," Quan Chi clicked his tongue. "What else will you tell me, puppet?"
The dread of the sorcerer only intensified. But he knew he had acted with honesty. Hanzo would not suffer because of him. He already caused everyone pain. He would endure pain fully now, but for the first time, it brought something close to relief. And yet he refused to look at Hanzo, though he felt the specter's gaze upon him.
"I am ready to face my punishment. You may torture me—I deserve it."
He did not want to say this. But he hoped Quan Chi would be distracted and narrow his focus solely on him. Not on Hanzo.
"You know, Sub-Zero," the title sounded like mockery. "I will not harm you today. But you will amuse me. Answer a few questions."
Kuai Liang went cold. This was unprecedented in his memory. What did the sorcerer wish to know? But his tongue moved of its own accord.
"Yes, master."
"Good," Quan Chi settled onto his throne, propping his chin on his hand. "Tell me, Kuai Liang," the cryomancer flinched, hearing his name from the lips of one he hated and despised. "Do you hate Hanzo Hasashi?"
This was a simple question! It was a known truth, requiring no proof. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. And Kuai Liang hated Hanzo.
"Yes, I hate him," slipped easily from his tongue. Hanzo stood behind the sorcerer, looking grim, arms crossed over his chest. "Why do you need to know this? Everyone knows it anyway. What's next, are you going to ask if I'm from the Lin Kuei?"
It was insolence. Blatant insolence. But Quan Chi seemed amused by it.
"Do you consider Scorpion your friend?" came the next strange question. Kuai Liang, for some reason, again felt a surge of inexplicable, unnatural laughter.
"Friend? Ha, of course not."
He did not understand the trap in Quan Chi's interrogation. Yet Scorpion himself, for some reason, only grew darker, and this stirred a vague unease. What did he know that Kuai Liang did not?
"Would you kill Scorpion, if given the chance?" Quan Chi looked thoughtful.
"Of course," Kuai Liang shrugged. "Of course not."
A spark of something dark flickered in Quan Chi's eyes. Something mocking.
"I would kill him," the cryomancer tried to answer again. "If I had the chance. For Bi-Han. I would try. But his death… is unbearable. I…" Panic seized him. What was he saying? Why couldn't he stop this? "I… would kill him… I couldn't… no…"
His head began to ache. Scorpion clenched his fists. But he did not move from his spot.
Quan Chi watched him with great interest. As if all of this deeply amused him.
"Do you feel an attachment to Hanzo Hasashi?" This question was like a blow to the gut.
"No, I don't," Kuai Liang felt an intense pain in his chest. "I hate him… I want him to be okay… for him not to be in pain… he irritates me… I can't look away…"
He clutched his head. Why were his lips forming words that weren't the ones they should? Why, to seemingly simple questions, was he answering with something… utterly terrifying?
"Stop… you're making me say all this. Just to mock me," he closed his eyes. This was worse than physical torture. Humiliation, heat, agitation, the feeling of having your entire soul laid bare—every part of it, every dirty secret.
"Oh no, Kuai Liang," Quan Chi sounded almost gentle. "Right now, my magic is merely revealing what is already within you. I never created new motives. Only amplified what already existed. You know this yourself."
And the cryomancer could feel it. The accursed sorcerer spoke the truth. It was not compulsion. The magic forced him to reveal what was already within him, what already existed. It mercilessly dragged into the light everything that Hanzo Hasashi had engendered in him. A perverted connection, an impure hatred, a disgusting attachment. He felt drained, turned inside out. And it was unbearable.
"Enough, master," Hanzo stepped forward. "This is vile. I do not wish to hear it. It is an insult to me."
"An insult, Scorpion?" Quan Chi purred. "Then why did you try to take the blame for him? Or would you have preferred I torture him instead? I am feeling generous today, and I am bored. You have both failed me. So you will endure."
"Very well, master," Hanzo lowered his head.
"That's better," Quan Chi smiled, but the smile was mocking. "Would you give your life for Hanzo Hasashi?"
Kuai Liang froze.
"Yes," he whispered. And it was a surrender. "I would."
"Why?" Quan Chi asked with false concern. "If he is your enemy?"
"I don't know," Kuai Liang felt despair. "He is my enemy… I hate him… but… my heart beats stronger because of him… he is the only one who makes me feel something beyond silence or rage. There is… some kind of life in it. It sprouts like a hideous poisonous mushroom. It should have remained in the dark. But you dragged it into the light. I hate him. I so desperately want… contact with him. His movements, his words… I am too focused on him. This hyperfocus is unbearable. I want to tear it out by the roots. I want to pull him close and destroy him. No, not destroy. Preserve. As a part of myself. As something vile and alien. He provokes disgust… attraction… I hate myself, but not him… him I… love… But it is an ugly love. It should never have existed. If only I could erase it from the face of the earth. Better kill me… Just kill me. I cannot bear this. I was not meant to know this, especially not like this. You… are cruel."
He did not understand. He did not understand why he was saying this. He could not love Hanzo. Yet his lips were forming what he had hidden from himself. What should never have been dragged into the light. His psyche had protected him from this horrifying knowledge. He was never meant to realize this. But now his will, his consciousness, his identity were crumbling apart. He felt broken.
"I do not love him," he whispered, desperately trying to protest. "But that is a lie. I would give my life for him without hesitation. Though his value to me is negative. I would not give a single coin for his life. But my own life I would give. Oh, Elder Gods… I have gone mad. I do not understand, I do not understand… I do not love him… and I am lying. I would tear his enemies apart… but not him… never him…"
"Well then," Quan Chi rose and approached Kuai Liang—curled up in agony, on his knees, humiliated, exhausted, crushed by the horrifying truth. This was worse than any torture. This was moral annihilation. "You have amused me. I think you have been punished enough. You are both free to go."
Hanzo helped him up and led him from the hall. Kuai Liang did not resist. What difference did it make now… if even his hatred had proven to be filthy, wrong, diseased. Bi-Han… Tomas… the people close to him. Lost forever. Though one of them was near. But he would never look at him with warmth, as before. Enenra had completely consumed his best friend's identity.
"Kuai Liang…" Hanzo said quietly. There was none of his usual fury in his voice. Only brokenness, confusion.
"Don't," the cryomancer turned away. "Despise me, mock me, hate me. I am pathetic. You couldn't hate me more than I already hate myself."
"I… don't hate you," Hanzo faltered. His gaze reflected turmoil. It was clear this was costing him greatly. "I hate Quan Chi. Bi-Han. The Lin Kuei. But not you. Or rather, I hate you differently. For what you do to me. I… would give my life for you. And I… hate that," his hand cautiously touched the cryomancer's cheek. Kuai Liang shuddered. His heart pounded in his throat. The first impulse—to push him away—never came. "I hate that you… draw me in… it makes me feel like… a traitor. To my clan… to my loved ones… I…" he drew a ragged breath. "Love… you," horror was visible in his eyes. "And I hate… us both… for this," his thumb traced along Kuai Liang's cheekbone. It hurt. Because it was all too much. Sensations. Raw nerve endings. It was like the scream of a frostbitten man plunged into hot water—it was meant to warm, but brought only agonizing torment.
"Stop…" Kuai Liang shuddered. His tongue barely obeyed him. "Enough."
"I can't…" Hanzo lowered his head. "I tried."
It was all too much. Kuai Liang stepped back. He wanted to run away. Tear out these feelings, these thoughts by the roots. Wrong. This was all so wrong. His brother… He was betraying his brother's memory by feeling anything toward his killer other than hatred.
"Quan Chi…" rage flared in the specter's eyes. "Humiliated us both. He thinks he has broken us. You and me. Driven us apart. Made us despise each other. He… is wrong. I owe him. But… I will free you… I swear it to you. I will protect you. From him. You will not suffer like this again. I will find a way. I swear it, Kuai Liang."
Kuai Liang merely nodded curtly. He was completely drained by that interrogation, that confession, that mutual admission. He was no longer capable of denying the connection that existed between them.
Kuai Liang did not know where any of this might have led in the end, because the war planned by the God of Death had begun. Raiden and his defenders protected Earthrealm from their invasion. For months, the Thunder God's conflict with Shinnok, with the revenants, with the Netherrealm itself dragged on. Quan Chi no longer tried to manipulate them. He was occupied with the commands of his god.
Kuai Liang and Hanzo fought together in that war. Kuai Liang felt hatred and a thrill from his own power. He could not disobey orders. But it was unbearable to him that he was using his skills, his body, his mind to destroy what he would have wanted to protect in life. These contradictions were driving him mad. He hated himself even more. For the thrill of destruction. For the feeling of power and might. For being unable to resist it.
He felt an intoxicating rage whenever Hanzo was incapacitated. He intervened immediately, protecting his life. Because his pain belonged to him. No one had the right to hurt him. No one except the cryomancer himself. And Hanzo acted the same way. His protection of Kuai Liang was deadly to others. They became even more coordinated in battle, even more lethal, and their obsession with each other only fueled the chaos of rage that drove them both. Kuai Liang no longer resisted his perverted love, but neither did he speak of it. Their interaction remained almost unchanged—they still stayed close, fought with each other and against enemies, but now they no longer insulted each other, showing a resigned, almost silent care.
Their liberation came by pure chance. They had not counted on it. They never thought they would ever be able to leave the Netherrealm. Shinnok was defeated. And Hanzo, Kuai Liang, and Jax became alive again. Human, not revenants. In an attempt to undo Quan Chi's spell and save Johnny Cage, Raiden had mixed his divine magic with hellish forces. And everyone within the radius of that power had their lost humanity restored.
Kuai Liang opened his eyes in the Special Forces base. He felt confusion and disorientation. He grew tired, he needed food and water more often than once every few days. It was disheartening. The white walls of the complex left him feeling lost and disconnected from reality. He could not believe what was happening.
He was interrogated, giving statements about the Netherrealm, about Quan Chi, kept under observation. But they did treat him, after all. And Kuai Liang felt… longing. So intense, as if every faucet in his soul had burst open uncontrollably. Longing accumulated over the years, crushing, yet pure—without the taint of hatred and magic's poison. Longing for his brother, for Tomas, forever left behind in the Netherrealm. For… Hanzo.
Hanzo came to him at night on the seventh day after their resurrection, unsteady but nearly recovered. He cupped Kuai Liang's face in his hands, looked at him desperately and long. In his gaze there was warmth and pain. Everything was so tightly intertwined.
"I love you," he confessed quietly and seriously. "I love you and I want to be with you. I have no right to ask this. But if you allow me, I will do everything to protect you. I will cherish you."
His living brown eyes blazed with fire. Kuai Liang was suffocating from emotion. From the heat. From passion. He should push him away. Seek redemption and meaning in solitude. He should remain pure. Stay loyal to his brother. This love, sprouted on the ashes, should have been torn out like a weed. But it was alive and vivid. Poisonous and yet strong. It had not remained in hell, but had passed through with them to life, to the light, greedily burst toward the sun and bloomed on scorched earth. New conditions had not killed it.
He pressed his forehead to Hanzo's. Looked at him with warmth and longing, hiding nothing of his feelings, his emotions.
"I love you too," it was a surrender, a defeat. He had spoken these words only once before, when Quan Chi's magic had mercilessly dragged that confession from the hidden darkness of his soul. But now it was a promise. "I will always love you," he held Hanzo's hands with a tenderness unknown to himself. As if he could not do otherwise. "Always."
And it was the truth. Terrible. Unbearable. Sincere. The truest truth. They were together. They always had been and always would be together. It was an act of desperation, he wanted to say. This was all wrong. Yet still they intertwined their fingers. There was so much. With Hanzo, everything was always too much, beyond the limit, pushing toward the edge—both love and hate. He remembered wounding this man with ice. And remembered the burns he had received from him. But now their skin was clean. He did not remember the placement of the birthmarks he once had. Not a single one remained on his skin. The old Kuai Liang had died in that tournament. And Hanzo had fallen by his brother's hand in the Sky Temple. Their bodies had long ceased to be what they once were.
Who were they really? Murderers, monsters, homunculi? Or human? They had yet to find out.
After their resurrection, life did not become easier. They had many enemies. Both external and internal. Hanzo was plagued by nightmares of his family's death. He would fall into fits of rage. And Kuai Liang would hold him in the midst of their trashed apartment—another refuge, but not a home. Their home had always been in each other.
"Shh," he would repeat in a whisper, gently, resignedly, not listening to the meaning of his own comforts. It was his voice that soothed Hanzo, not the words. "Shh. I'm here. With you."
He would carefully bandage Hanzo's wounded hands, checking if any shards had gotten into the cuts. He was not afraid of Hanzo's rage. He knew that he would never harm him, even in the darkest hours. But he did not want his beloved to break.
Sometimes he himself would feel a agonizing tremor from random details. Circular saws. Medical instruments. A scalpel. He had not expected his human psyche to be so fragile. It had all been so long ago. Images in his memory—his body being torn apart. Cyborgs. The Lin Kuei. Former comrades. They were not to blame. The same fate had awaited them. Hanzo would grasp his hand in such moments, firmly, reminding him of reality, erasing the phantom pain with the warmth of his touch.
He would wipe away Hanzo's tears at night. Whisper softly that he was not to blame. And sometimes Hanzo would catch his hands, kiss them and confess, begging forgiveness for everything. That was especially unbearable. Kuai Liang still felt the pain. Of his brother's death. A longing that would never be healed. His brother would not return. Not even as Noob Saibot. His soul was dead, torn apart. He would scream and weep himself. He almost hated Hanzo for this—for the fact that he would never see Bi-Han again. For the fact that his hand had deprived the person closest to him of life and a worthy afterlife. But still, Kuai Liang was incapable of hating him completely. He could not even bring himself to blame him for his brother's death. The words would not leave his lips. Because it would inflict new wounds. Somehow, Hanzo's pain always felt stronger and sharper than his own. He loved Hanzo immeasurably and could not cause him even more suffering, knowing full well how cruel the world had been to him.
They carried out missions for Raiden. And in between, they fought their own enemies. The Cyber Lin Kuei had placed a bounty on his head. Hanzo fought the cyborgs and mercenaries with selfless fury. He was the embodiment of a storm—a shield and wrath directed at protecting his love.
"No one will take him from me. No one," he would growl.
And Kuai Liang sought a way to free the cyborgs, his former comrades, from a fate worse than death itself.
Hanzo taught him Shirai Ryu techniques. Kuai Liang taught him Lin Kuei techniques. The Shirai Ryu emphasized agility and strength. Speed and furious assault. The Lin Kuei emphasized traps and disorientation. Cyrax's bombs, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang's ice clones. Many sparks and lights to blind the enemy, to make them lose their bearings in space. They were shadow warriors, forest demons, as legends called them. They still did not know what to do next. They lived one day at a time.
They fought off enemies. Helped the Special Forces. Hanzo saved his life repeatedly—selflessly, with complete abandon. And Kuai Liang protected him. From nightmares, from anger and grief, from everything.
He felt longing, and pain, and warmth, and love. His life had become tightly intertwined with Hanzo's. When he reprogrammed the cyborgs, they turned against Sektor. And Cyrax led the new Lin Kuei. They were machines, and they were human. They had served evil and become free. But the truth burned his soul. The Lin Kuei were responsible for the destruction of Hanzo's clan, his family. Now Kuai Liang had living proof of this. Sektor had made a deal with Quan Chi. He did not know whether Bi-Han had known about the plan to destroy everything. It tormented him. But Cyrax also gave him his brother's encrypted records. They had created this code themselves, and only Kuai Liang could read it. His brother had left a message before his final mission, in case of his death. He had not known then that Kuai Liang would disappear from the world for years. He learned that Bi-Han was not involved. He had no part in that plan. He knew nothing. He had wanted to leave the clan and take Kuai Liang with him. But Scorpion had killed him. Kuai Liang felt longing as he read the outdated instructions. You must flee, Tundra. With Smoke or without. The Lin Kuei is not safe. If I do not return, know that I have always been proud of you. You are my family and my brother. Everything I did, I did only to protect you. Take care of yourself, Kuai Liang. Live. Just live. Know that I have always loved you. Bi-Han.
Hanzo was crushed by this news. His service to Quan Chi, his killing of an innocent man. He pressed Kuai Liang to himself and whispered brokenly, haltingly.
"I can leave… if you want me to… I can go…"
"I don't want that…" tears streamed down his cheeks. And it was the truth. Hanzo had become his anchor in the vast sea of an alien world. He did not belong to the Lin Kuei. His loved ones were dead. He had much to do. But he had forgiven Hanzo. For everything. "Don't go… But if you think it would be better for you… after all, my clan was involved in the destruction of yours… I would… understand…"
"No," Hanzo answered sharply. "I will not leave. I love you. You were not involved. Your brother was not involved. Sektor is dead. Now all that remains is to collect what Quan Chi owes us. He will pay for everything he did to both of us. For everything."
"He will pay," the cryomancer repeated softly. "He will pay, without a doubt."
They had so much to do. So many wounds. So much love. They helped the unjustly wronged. Avenged the pain of the innocent. One day, they found a girl named Frost. She was crying, bitterly and desperately. Her power had killed her mother, who had treated her cruelly. Completely by accident. But she had nowhere to go. And she was born a cryomancer. Dangerous to ordinary people without control over her power. A potential subject for research, if the military discovered her abilities. Kuai Liang was ready to train her, to protect her, despite all difficulties. And soon, others came for Frost. Lone survivors. Children and adults. The lost. And those who wanted to learn to fight, to defend Earthrealm from countless threats.
They created a new clan. Not Lin Kuei and not Shirai Ryu. A synthesis. Something entirely different. Loyalty and devotion to one's comrades, as in the Shirai Ryu. Discipline and cunning, as in the Lin Kuei. Love and warmth. Protection and survival. The principles of their clans merged into something new. Their home stood on the site of the former Shirai Ryu. They prayed daily for the souls of the fallen, the loved ones they had lost. Harumi and Satoshi. Bi-Han and Tomas. For all who had been close to them—comrades, family, beloved.
Kuai Liang did not know what would come next. Hanzo's soul was fragile. His rage sometimes consumed him entirely. And the cryomancer's past was sometimes too vivid. He feared losing sensation in his body again. Feared becoming a puppet once more.
They had so many enemies. The Black Dragon. Quan Chi and the Netherrealm. The Red Dragon, after they helped fend them off for the swordsman Kenshi, who had become their close friend and an honorary member of their clan, even if he wasn't permanently part of it due to his special mission. But for the first time, Kuai Liang felt no familiar longing. Only warmth. Only love. Because his beloved was by his side. They were always together.
Hanzo took his hand. They both gazed at the rising sun. Another day they were born for. Another day in which they were alive and belonged to each other. The rays caressed their skin, painted the fiery maples gold. His beloved's homeland was so beautiful. Unfamiliar in its richness, yet not dangerous like the lurid brightness of the Netherrealm. Alive and warm. Carrying spring within it.
They said nothing in such hours. Their life was struggle and rare moments of peace. Their dreams were nightmares, after which they would hold each other tight, soothe one another, stroke each other's backs, reminding each other of reality. Hanzo's rage and Kuai Liang's numbness. His beloved's laughter and his tenderness. The cryomancer's own care and affection. All of it was woven into one knot. Hanzo's pain was his pain. And vice versa. And their love was their shared destiny.
They were together. They were home. They loved. They cared. They protected others and each other. And at this stage, that was all they needed. Simply life. Simply a bond. Simply love. They had each other. And that was enough.