Chapter Text
It was time. Quan Chi had ensured that his selection of Revenants were perfectly obedient. Liu Kang, Enenra, Kitana, Nightwolf, Stryker, Kabal, they would be sent to their targets.
”Your plans are simple. Go to your targets, and inflict pain. They abandoned you, left you behind while others got to resurrect.”
The power of dark sorcery was certainly powerful to tip the scales in someone’s favour, but Quan Chi respected the power of words as well. Even with the mental manipulation of his spells, implanting the negativity into his puppets was something that never ceased to entertain.
He longed for the day he could capture Raiden in his clutches and make the God of Thunder, so proud, so noble, suffer as any damned soul.
Once, Raiden had offered his own soul would be Quan Chi’s to use if he fell in the Outworld invasion. While the deal had never been agreed on, it was a tantalising prospect to imagine.
Nevertheless, Quan Chi let his servants go when the time was ready, and he had pinpointed the locations of the mentors, he would open the portals for his servants to hunt.
Revenants were not the living dead. They were not what other realms were call zombies. They were souls, lost souls, perhaps twisted souls, implanted into new bodies.
New bodies that were faster, stronger, infused with the energy of the damned realm itself alongside the gifts their resurrector had given.
Liu Kang’s flames brought from his chi were darker, nearing hellfire, yet not quite. Once Earthrealm’s champion, now Quan Chi’s greatest weapon, only to be used at discretion.
Enenra’s abilities were now increased in lethality, able to briefly inhabit bodies. The netherrealm had unlocked his potential and his memories of his true origin were child’s play for Quan Chi to manipulate.
Kitana’s assassin skills were now untempered by the compassion that had once turned her from Shao Kahn’s hold. Her mother was convinced that this reunion with Kitana was something to be repaid.
Nightwolf had gained new abilities, broken from the Great Spirit who had granted his original abilities over the souls of his ancestors. He could gain power from the darkness of other souls, and forge weapons from spirit magic.
Stryker was moderately unchanged, lacking any spiritual or supernatural powers beforehand. He had lost his sense of self, only following duty to the one he owed.
Kabal had returned to vindictive ways, his lethal weapons and high speed abilities a deadly combination.
The six revenants selected for this task had been provided with the blood of those they sought. With it, and Nightwolf’s spiritual attachment, they could open portals to where their prey had been.
Liu Kang sneered, hatefully.
”Raiden will pay for abandoning us. Those who follow him will learn the price of loyalty to a fool.”
It was in a moment of meditation that Raiden sensed something. He could not place where, or when. But a God had a certain attunement, able to tell when their name was uttered.
Raiden had long since learned to “tune out” excess noise of his various names being asked by various Earthrealm cultures. Raijin. Thor. Haokah.
But he sensed it. Small, faint, untraceable, but he felt his name uttered. Not prayed for, not exclaimed. But uttered, like a curse.
Raiden did not fear curses or superstition. Yet; he couldn’t help but feel curious.
Something was coming, he could feel it like an oncoming storm.