Just a MKA fanfic I started, and will work on. An idea I got from chatting with GG… and thanks for editing, buddy.
Well, enjoy… and don’t kill me.
Prologue: Blaze of Destruction.
That’s how long ago it all happened. What everyone here calls the Final Kombat, the Blaze of Armageddon. The last unknown battle, the strongest fighters the realms produced, clashing for a prize no one really knew about, fighting a fiery automaton that ended up causing that he wanted, in his created heart, to stop.
It was during that final heated battle, that macabre game of King of the Mountain, that the bloodlust of everyone there, their overwhelming passion for combat boiled over, and in their attempts to reach the top, fighting friends and foes to climb, that they met their end. No honorable duel, no glorious battle. Just the mother of all brawls, and a pyramid surrounded by corpses.
But, it didn’t end there, like those that were once called Elder Gods planned. The creature known as Blaze, meant to be the final wall against the wave of destruction, found himself alone, and with power he did not know how to use. With no further purpose, no outlet for his artificial rage and programmed wrath, he self-destructed, believing he had no further use.
But, if it was the constant fighting between the fallen warriors that caused the walls between the realms to weaken, it was this suicidal act that shattered them. In the resulting explosion, worlds once separated by ethereal walls, and held in place by mystical powers collided, the nails holding them in place now removed.
And, in one brief, yet violent night, hell literally broke loose.
Outworld and Edenia, the eternal enemies, found themselves fused, the borders of their worlds crumbling down, as their realms were forced into one. Soon, Earthrealm followed, violently colliding into both, the tremors and continental shifts causing death and rapid destruction on all sides. And, it kept coming. Chaosrealm, Orderrealm, even a world of vampires, attached themselves to the growing landmass, nothing holding them back. And, when it all seemed over, two final lands joined, ones that we never expected, and never wanted. Heaven, and the Netherrealm. The worlds of angels… and devils.
Any wars between races, any political or clan loyalties were erased, with this sudden convergence of blessed and tormented souls. Like moths drawn into each other’s flames, good and evil flew into each other, screams of undead rage filling the air, and soon the sky was filled with the visceral images of skeletal forms, some encased in infernal fires, others cloaked in a holy glow. It seems, even in death, the kombatants would face each other.
The ones still alive from the fusion were caught in the cross fire over this Soul War, and all we could do, be it Edenian, Lin Kuei, White Lotus, or Shoakan, was seek shelter, and wait out this storm.
A storm that lasted for 100 years, for how can battles end if both sides are already dead. All of us, despite our pasts, despite our disputes, sought shelter underground, forced together like this new world, which we named Realm. All of us looking outside, and waiting. Waiting, be it from a new hero, or even the long-silent gods, for our hope.
For a Revelation.
Chapter One: The Thinning Blood of Heros
Chill, by the Elder’s strength, stop preening yourself, and get moving!”
The deep growling caught the attention of the young man, who turned away from his own reflection, wiry gray-blue hair staying in place, only shifting slightly. He just grinned, lazily, with no sign of any care or concern. “Aw, come off it, Big Al. You never know when some beau….”
“STOP CALLING ME AL!” The caravans shook with the violence of the roar, as Chill’s companion, a four-armed man who looked strong enough -and almost angry enough- to rip the limbs off his smaller friend. “For the last time, call me Algor! Show some respect, for once in your life.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… blood of the Lin Kuei, noble blood of the Shokans. Stop dealing in the past, bro. You know none of that matters now. We’re just two, strong, good looking guys.” Chill adjusted the dark blue scarf covering his lower face, looking at his friend with a devil may care attitude, his care-free attitude showing up in his dark blue eyes.
The Shokan, Algor, just sighed, and shook his head, completely shaved except for the ponytail leading down to his waist. “If our mother was not the same, I would have ripped your torso in half years ago. Why, for once, can’t you be more like her?”
Chill grinned, the smile obvious behind the makeshift mask over his mouth. “Hey, you know I would’ve saved you like she did. Taken you in, all that. I’m not cold, Four-Arms, just cold-blooded.”
“And hot-headed, and always in heat! How can you call yourself a cyromancer… ACK!”
Algor quickly found himself pelted with small ice pellets, fired quickly from Chill’s fingers… the extent of his ability. In the past, legends told of ninjas skilled in the art of cold capable of freezing a man alive, rendering him helpless. Now, all their successor could manage was shooting playful pellets. Indeed, the mighty have fallen, his natural ability limited to playful taunting.
The young man laughed again, and folded his arms behind his head, walking past his friend and adoptive brother, ignoring the disapproving glare of the Shokan. Honestly, he liked the huge guy, but he needed to relax. All this talk of honor, of lineage….it was just a bunch of fools clinging to a past that would never come back. Why couldn’t they face the future? The fact they were held hostage by the fighting of said lineage? Man, these people were stupid… there was nothing left, just silly pointless games, a dying flame… and himself being the final flicker.
Chill shook his head, and continued on. Algor and himself were supposed to be training, but he decided to skip… again, it was pointless. When you get down to it, that was the truth about everything, so might as well do what you can to enjoy yourself now, before you die.
Chill shook his head, and kept walking.
Elsewhere, yet still there, he awoke. He felt… yes, he was complete… but, fragmented. Like pieces of a puzzle, not yet in… but close. He and they were one, but not… something was holding them back.
He thought, and found it. A piece… of his food, his jailers, remained, preventing his completion… somewhere within him. He needed help… he could not reach it himself… he was not fully whole.
There was fighting within him… the damned and the blessed. Maybe, amongst them… he can find help. He looked within, and found four amongst the tortured.
One, chaos’s strongest supporter. A holy man of insanity.
One, putrid while still strong, flesh decaying, flies swarming, but carrying an Oni’s strength.
Another practically a monster, a constant companion to the putrid one. Forever fighting, violence its only reason to survive.
And a fourth, forever vengeful, always angry at someone, seeking to destroy one person, no matter the cost.
These four would complete him… and he would be one again.
The One Being.