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Die for me.
It wasn't exactly what Kung Lao said. But the intent behind his words was just the same. His eyes widened as he looked at the man in front of him. There wasn't a hint of his former shixiong. He must be in hell. His shixiong wasn't like this—it must be the sorcerer's doing. His shixiong, tainted by the sorcerer's filthy touches. It enraged him to no end. Blood boils as the image conjured on the back of his mind.
Nose scrunched while his gaze turned sharp and deflected every hit. Kung Lao's features are still the image of neutral. He didn't even blink an eye at his refusal to say anything in response. The hits gradually became harsher, fiercer than he ever had when he sparred with Kung Lao. Lips turned into a thin line, words seemed couldn't be uttered—as it would end in vain.
There was nothing to be said; it couldn't change. The outcome that is. Even with how intense Kung Lao's hits and his razor-edge hat—that intended to split his body. It was either his death or… Kung Lao's.
A difficult decision bestowed upon him. It made him suppress his tremors and anger; every sense of his were occupied by every punch and kick. He couldn't slip. No, more like he couldn't afford it. The earthrealm's fate depended upon them. A short breath slips from his lips, eyes carefully taking in Kung Lao's current appearance.
Swiftly he blocked Kung Lao's fist. Another hand being blocked, fluidly he dodged the incoming hat. It infuriates him slightly to treat this as a real battle—mind still reeling in slight disbelief. It would be much easier if—no, there was no what if.
Kung Lao is dead.
No matter how much he hoped it would be otherwise. He saw it himself—how Shang Tsung swallowed his shixiong's soul. The current man in front of him was just an empty shell. There was no soul, just his body being played like a puppet.
"I'll find a way to save you,"
He swallowed thickly while fire covered his palms. Gaze fixated on Kung Lao's stance; he could hear how his shixiong's hat spun behind him—planted on the ground.
"I'm going to bring you back,"
The bleakness of it made him feel helpless. He wished there was something—something that could change the trajectory of this madness. Alas, he was simply a mortal man. He couldn't do anything and let fate take its course. Even if that meant—
Abruptly a metallic smell filled the air, he could hear the wet sound of Kung Lao's body—it sickened him—a thin smile, eyes pooled with tears as he held his shixiong's hand tightly. Thumbs rubbed Kung Lao's hands as he looked into the pitch black eyes.
Was he shocked? Perhaps.
Nevertheless, it pained him to do this. He knew it was necessary, but the pain—
"But, not today, brother."