Greetings fine people!

Here it is, the last chapter to this story (which still feels as if my muse went into overdrive with this idea, and that this should have been remained a one-shot. Meh, whats done is done…)

This was the toughest chapter to write up. I had to depart completely from my original draft, bring in new dialogues, play Armageddon several times as Kenshi to fight with Ermac and then write up something interesting, think blind. Had to rewrite most of this several times, till I felt marginally satisfied with this. The whole "in a moment of pity" part truly drove me insane!

But without any further delay, here is the final chapter to this short story. Have a ball!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Condolences to the Blind

Chapter 3

It was a long while before the sharp pain in Ermac's chest subsided. Feeling the center of his armour, he realised there was no damage inflicted – whatever hit him straight in his sternum had enough force to knock the wind out of him, yet would have caused only superficial bruising at best. Ermac let out a shaky, painful breath – and then looked up to see Kenshi's katana hovering mid-air, enclosed within a cerulean aura.

Kenshi gratefully took advantage of the several moments Ermac was down. Sitting up, he respired deeply, feeling the fire in his lungs mellow down, the confused and dazed state of his mind clear up a bit. He found his ribs already stiff from Ermac's ruthless kicks minutes before, and his throat ached sorely with every breath he took.

Wiping the blood off his mouth, he rose slowly, deducing from the sound of the rustling clothing that the enforcer was probably checking himself for damage. Putting two fingers to his temple, he mentally beckoned the Sento, the sword dancing in circles and arcs as it levitated towards him.

Ermac sat up to see the swordsman standing at his full height, gaze fixed upon the enforcer – the blindfold rendering it eerily piercing. Ermac noted how he controlled his katana – marveling at how he had missed detecting his psychokinetic abilities; and concluding that the swordsman had orchestrated the blow telekinetically, while Ermac was busy gloating and crushing his throat. The hilt of the floating sword had probably struck him, with enough force to allow the warrior to recover; even the Outworlder had to appreciate the swordsman's sharp tact.

Kenshi walked toward him, careful steps causing the tails of his blindfold to sway gently behind him. He stopped a few feet away from the fallen enforcer, in front of a particularly aggressive tree.

"You may mock me for my blindness, enforcer," said the swordsman, as slowly shook his head. He held out a hand to grab the Sento, holding it by the hilt, its blade facing back towards the tree. "For it is true – I do grope in the black for answers. But I, at the very least, am acquainted with the nature of my darkness."

"What are you implying, swordsman?" Ermac growled out as he grabbed his axe, stood with it hanging on the side.

"The eyes that see can be deceived." Kenshi merely continued talking - his voice deep, firm, and resonating with the truth of the swordsman's beliefs. "You have seen the world through a thousand pair of eyes, Ermac. Yet you have been rendered sightless towards your own constitution." Kenshi paused, allowing the enforcer to recollect himself. Ermac narrowed his eyes.

"I believe that it is you who is the true amorautic, Ermac. Not I." The words were spoken almost regretfully, without the slightest hint of condescendence. Yet the rhetorical remark hit a nerve within Ermac, as he again fell a helpless victim to a single, flaring emotion that compromised all sense of logic: fury.

"We have no time for riddles, swordsman!" Ermac exclaimed. Raising the axe once more, he charged forward, letting out an angry roar.

Kenshi saw Ermac as a black humanoid silhouette in his spiritual sight, with hundreds of dark shadows enclosed in. As the figure ran up towards him, Kenshi drew the Sento for combat once more, this time, brandishing the hilt-side toward his chest, holding the tip of the blade with the other hand - feet apart, head bowed in composed anticipation. When Ermac brought down the axe, Kenshi blocked it effortlessly, before parrying a sharp chop to the side with the swell of his stretched wrist, and a swipe to his knee with a downward slash of the Sento.

When all attacks failed against the swordsman's acute reflexes, Ermac undertook an alternate strategy. Where words had no effect, the only way to beat the swordsman was to frustrate him by exploiting his only weakness in combat – his blindness.

Ermac paused, standing a few feet away from the swordsman. He held the axe at the middle of its handle, and began to expertly rotate it, swinging it to and fro in circles about his wrists – its blade dancing like a silver blur under the moonlight, as it exchanged hands with unmatchable speed.

However, Kenshi too was well-acquainted with blades, perhaps more than anything else in the world – and Ermac's obvious change in tactics nearly brought an amused smile to the swordsman's face. In his spiritual sight, he could see numerous life energies comprised within a single figure – stationary apart from rapid arm movements. He had to rely upon his hearing to make out the direction, distance and speed of Ermac's spinning weapon as it swung to and fro in graceful arcs, yet never attacked up front.

Maintaining his silence, Kenshi felt the seconds slow down. He sensed the rhythmic movements of Ermac's axe, as it disturbed the air present within the forest. While the entire axe cut through the air, he became aware of an imperfection, akin to a hole, along the handle of the weapon - that allowed the air to pass through rather than slice it.

He felt the shrouding darkness in his mind's eye clear itself – and soon, he could paint a picture depicting every detail of the axe's spinning movement and its bearer, perfectly in his mind.

"No more wisdom to impart, swordsman?" asked a bemused, condescending Ermac.

That moment of overconfidence was all that Kenshi was waiting for. Not a second after Ermac had spoken the words, Kenshi thrust the Sento sharply forward, catching the axe in Ermac's left hand. The sudden, lightning-fast response startled Ermac. The tip of the Sento had locked into a small curved cut in the axe's hilt – which was used mainly for stringing onto or hooking the weapon when not in use.

"I was never really eloquent with words," the swordsman returned, tonelessly.

Ermac paused, as the clouds of rage inside him cleared to give way to sheer astonishment at Kenshi's abilities. How the swordsman had managed to detect the cut in the axe and nail it down with his swords precisely was absolutely beyond Ermac.

Kenshi took advantage of the situation, and pulled the Sento then back toward himself, causing the shocked enforcer move stumble a couple of steps forward, not unhanding the axe.

Kenshi then unhooked the Sento off Ermac's axe, moving sideways, before swinging the Sento into a lazy circle himself. Ermac fell forwards, tripping over the protruding roots of the facial tree behind the swordsman. Ermac cried out, as he felt himself falling to his doom, as the trunk of the tree swayed and snarled with hunger, in anticipation of its fodder.

Ermac's astonishment instantly turned into sheer horror as he realised his impending death. And the horror itself, turned into a relieving perplexity when he found himself dangling dangerously close to the snapping wooden jaws of the ferocious tree – suspended in the air and no longer falling.

His confusion thinned when he felt the swordsman's hand clutching the front of his robe securely. Though relieved, Ermac was thoroughly embarrassed at the situation.

Despite having the upper-hand, Kenshi's expression was almost sad. "You give meaning to your existence based on Kahn's orders; you allow him to create the basis of your reality," he said lowly, deeply.

Irritated more at the swordsman's calm and humble tone than his words, Ermac lashed out: "Honourable warriors heed the wishes of their masters! We-" Ermac's retort was cut off.

"An honorable fighter exercises compassion and respect as well as combative ability and loyalty, Ermac!" Kenshi returned hotly, forgoing his composure.

Ermac merely looked towards him, stunned by his words – suddenly baffled by how meaningful and clear they appeared to him. He felt as if he had just remembered something that had been eluding him since time immemorial. As if his mind had finally opened up. It was the first time the enforcer truly listened to the meaning behind Kenshi's words, deeming them worthy enough to be pondered upon.

Kenshi then pulled him back, setting the only slightly shorter enforcer back onto his feet, away from danger as the tree continued to growl and groan behind them.

He lightly dusted off Ermac's shoulder, Sento still held in the other hand. He realised the non-verbal gesture would portray the swordsman's intent to Ermac: Kenshi had never meant to fight him in any manner. But after witnessing the sorry state of mind the enforcer was seemingly trapped in, he could not help himself from sharing his personal opinion on the matter.

"You may have eyes, enforcer, but you only see what Shao Kahn wants you to see." Kenshi took a step back – his face devoid of any emotion, stance relaxed. "And a true warrior would rather be rendered sightless than lose perception of the truth entirely."

A long, uncomfortable silence then ensued; the enigmatic enforcer finding himself at a loss of words to Kenshi's profound musings.

'He could be anything,' Kenshi thought to himself. With the strength of a thousand warriors, the life energy of a thousand souls at his disposal, Kenshi could only imagine the depths of his untapped potential. Recalling his telekinetic attack that nearly shattered his spine, Kenshi reflected that had the two met in better circumstances, he'd have probably picked a tip or two from the enforcer on the use of telekinesis in battle. 'Yet here he is,' he sighed inwardly at the tragedy that was Ermac, 'wandering aimlessly in search of his abusive, so-called master, feeding off on narcissistic rage and frustration – like a mindless, hapless animal.'

"I pity you, enforcer," the swordsman uttered apologetically, taking another step back.

And without another word, he sheathed the Sento at his back, turned on his heels, and walked away.

All was at peace for a moment within Ermac. For the thousand voices had been silenced by the occurrence of a singular, alien phenomenon – an independent thought. A vital mental expression that soon took form, developing into an idea that opened a range of doors for Ermac to ponder upon.

'What if we are wrong?'

And in that moment, the mental blockade put in by Shao Kahn's sorcerers in Ermac's mind shattered.

The mantle of a mere fighter can be picked by any man, but only the just and noble could ever become a true warrior. Fashioned from the spirits of a thousand honourable warriors; their concepts of respect, compassion, justice, truth – alongside all manner of free will had been barricaded by Shang Tsung and Quan Chi, in a bid to creating the ideal slave for the ruler of Outworld.

But with the birth of a single thought, the voicing of uncertainty in himself, Ermac felt as if there were covert mental shackles, breaking apart and with them, the need for Shao Kahn's orders to function adequately, becoming increasingly insignificant.

A tidal wave of forgotten emotions and concepts hit Ermac, overwhelming him. The thousand spirits inside him had once loved and been loved; they had been brave and gallant; they had been righteous and decent; they had been loyal and true. They had been the epitome of honour both within and outside the battlefield. And most of all, they had had a conscience, a guiding voice upon which they relied throughout the course of their lives.

Shao Kahn had only exploited the darker features of the warrior souls – taken advantage of their aggression, rage, and bloodlust to create himself an unquestioning, soulless fighter. Furthermore, Kahn had instilled in Ermac a sense of false superiority - inciting the enforcer to see himself in the ranks of the highly revered, while in actuality, he was nothing more than a spineless serf; a heartless murderer.

Ermac then questioned the culpability of his own nature, playing judge and jury to himself. This time around, he felt almost a thousand new voices join in and compare his actions and deeds in light of the new-found concepts of virtue and righteousness.

To his utter humiliation, he realised he was guilty on all counts. Shao Kahn by his very methods and ideology, had been a conniving, deceiving and murdering beast – and he made no secret of it. Thereby, anyone who obeyed a ruler as ruthless and vile as him, even if he is a mere pawn in an evil scheme, should be considered an equal culprit.

Ermac felt his axe slip from his hands and fall onto the burnt grass, at the foot of the tree that nearly devoured him. All this time, he had derided, mocked and even tried to exploit the weakness of the psychokinetic swordsman - underestimating him as a fighter, and more so, discounting his words for trash. Ermac had struck him a seemingly fair barter initially – information on Shao Kahn in return for the enforcer's assistance. But after submitting to his thoughtless fits of rage, Ermac had tried to throttle the swordsman. And quid pro quo, the swordsman ended up doing him an immeasurable favour.

He felt himself giving into the serendipity of his emotions, discovering that he had now begun to value the swordsman's words in high esteem; his respect growing exponentially for the one blind man, who had ultimately made him see the true light.

The distant sound of crunching gravel enabled Ermac to snap back to reality. As Kenshi walked on, he watched the distance in between him and the blind swordsman grow, the latter's form shrinking slowly into that of a mere shadow as he walked deeper into the heart of the Living Forest, without as much as a single glance behind. And in that moment, it dawned upon Ermac that he, apparently, never even asked the swordsman his name.

"Earthrealmer! WAIT!" cried out Ermac before he could stop himself. Desperate to acknowledge the warrior, Ermac sprinted toward Kenshi, who had paused in his steps, yet hadn't turned. Closing in the distance, he went around the swordsman and faced him.

"We never caught your name, swordsman," said Ermac, his voice conciliatory.

Kenshi was silent for a few seconds, as he spiritually witnessed the swarm of hundreds of souls finally entwine and unify themselves into a complete, whole person – balancing out Ermac's bloodlust, rage and frustrations with the concepts of compassion, respect and honour.

"I am referred to as Kenshi, by most," replied the swordsman, feeling strangely content; as if he had succeeded in some unplanned side-mission.

Ermac smiled behind his mask and nodded. Consisting of a thousand souls, he had extensive knowledge on many of Earthrealm's cultures and languages as well as of other realms. And "Sword Saint" was definitely an apt title for a warrior swordsman as skilled as Kenshi.

"We are eternally grateful to you, Kenshi," he began, in what he hoped would suffice as an apology. "We never dared to question any order handed to us. We harboured false pride as a Royal Enforcer of Shao Kahn; and we now see that we enacted the will of Shao Kahn, only because we had none of our own," he uttered gravely.

Kenshi's expression softened, yet he said nothing, allowing Ermac to continue – for his own sake.

"We are guilty, Kenshi," Ermac continued, lachrymose. "We have the blood of thousands of innocent bystanders on our hands, who had done no wrong to us. We allowed Tsung's sorcery to shroud our true selves from us; direct our vile behaviour, despite the fact that we were capable of overcoming it!"

The mention of Shang Tsung made Kenshi furious – for apparently, his act of blocking Ermac's free will was another misdeed in the sorcerer's lifetime worth of wrongdoings. Lips thinning into a single grim line, Kenshi nodded.

"Rage is the most convenient resort for the confused mind," Ermac said after a brief pause. "And once we were without orders and directions, we succumbed to it and attacked you – while you only aided us break free from our own obscurity."

Kenshi placed a hand on Ermac's shoulder. "I understand, Ermac," he said solemnly. "For I too, have suffered at the hands of Shang Tsung," he touched his eyes through the blindfold with calloused fingertips, signifying the cause of his blindness. Ermac took the cue.

"He caused your blindness?"

Pause. "Yes, and no," said Kenshi thoughtfully.

Ermac drew his eyebrows together, puzzled.

A hint of a sad smile graced the swordsman's hardened features, despite the bitter memories that ran through his mind."I sensed and understood your inner turmoil, Ermac. I trained as a swordsman since a young age, travelling far and wide to prove my worth. Every victory inflated my ego – as well as my restlessness for glory. Tsung disguised himself in the image of an old man, exploiting my greed for superiority into giving up the souls of my own ancestors," Kenshi had turned away from Ermac, facing the darkness of the cursed woods. "Although the ordeal left me sightless physically, now that I ponder over it, I realise I was blinded by my own arrogance long before that…"

A comfortable silence fell in between them. Ermac slowly processed the information that Kenshi provided him with, the swordsman's poignant words leaving an indelible mark upon him.

"And if we are not mistaken, you now seek revenge," completed Ermac for the swordsman.

Kenshi turned at that moment. "I would call it redemption, Ermac," he replied, voice raw with emotion. "It is the only way I can undo the damage I inflicted, and that, upon my own kin."

Recalling his own plethora of misdeeds, Ermac realised that Kenshi again, unknowingly, threw light onto a path worth treading upon. By voicing his aim of vengeance in the name for the ancestors he betrayed, Ermac felt the desire to relieve the burden of his own wrongdoings by doing the same thing. The only way to wash away the blood of the innocent Earthrealmers he slaughtered during the invasion, was to now join hands with them and work for their sake – render his endless knowledge and skills for a worthy cause, far beyond the clutches of greed and bloodlust.

"We understand now, Kenshi," said the enigmatic warrior sincerely. "But we regret we are unaware of Shang Tsung's whereabouts, presently."

"I am not surprised," replied Kenshi softly. "The Deadly Alliance is constantly on the move, seeking out supposed allies, and making vacillating agreements. They are difficult to keep track of."

The howling of the trees died down a bit, and Ermac saw Kenshi, facing a path ahead of him, stance comfortable yet with subtle alertness; the by-product from being blind for so long.

Thinking about his own objectives, Kenshi realised that the Outworlder could possibly know about Cyrax's whereabouts.

Breaking the silence, he asked: "Ermac, have you stumbled across a cyborg, by the name of Cyrax? He is an ally, and has been missing for a while now."

Ermac thought about it for a moment, before shaking his head ruefully. "We have never countered this Cyrax."

"Hmm… " mumbled Kenshi, nodding grimly as he contemplated his next course of action."Well, I should be on my way now, Ermac," said the swordsman, after a while.

"Kenshi – we promised you a comrade in return for information regarding Shao Kahn," began Ermac, firmly. "And despite our attacks, you fulfilled far more than the bargain we agreed upon. Now, we wish to repay the debt we owe you."

Caught unawares by Ermac's newly found humility, Kenshi let out a small chuckle. "You jest, Outworlder!" he exclaimed.

"We mean every word," replied Ermac, his unison of voices calm yet stern.

"Well, well…" muttered Kenshi, amused.

"Just tell us how we may be of service to you – it is the very least we could do in return for the favour you did us," said Ermac, sounding thoroughly gratified.

Kenshi thought over the events of the night. "You are psychokinetic too, yes?" asked Kenshi suddenly.

"We are," Ermac nodded.

"You recall when I first disarmed you? That move? When you beckoned your abilities and lifted me into the air before slamming me, back-first, onto the ground –"

"Yes, yes, we remember," replied Ermac, eyes smiling, realizing what the swordsman was hinting at.

Kenshi merely started walking towards a small, circular clearing within the woods. Ermac followed, and realised that Kenshi stood a reasonable distance apart from him, an almost eager expression plastered onto his face, body rigid in anticipation.

"Teach me."

A round of thankyous to my fine reviewers!

Not-Logged-In: Thank you for your review! I had the most fun writing out Evil-Ermac bit, partly because it seemed easy.. I hope you like this update too.

Mr Havik: I'm a personal fan of your stories and writing-style, and I was truly humbled by your review. I had a slightly different idea on what to do with Ermac, I hope it sounds good enough here – in my defence, it made sense in my head… Hope you like this update, do let me know what you think of this!

Nivet: Thank you so much for your heartwarming review! I'm glad you liked the previous fight scene, I really doubted its inclusion. Also, I'm afraid you are slightly mistaken – I've been writing fiction for some nine years now, but I mainly stuck to Tomb Raider stories… This is my first MK fic, and trust me, MK is a totally different ball-game from TR, and it almost made me feel like I'm writing my first story! :) I hope you like this chapter as well – do let me know :)

And of course: Nerdette92 and Kermac for reviewing the initial chapter.

I've had fun writing this story – and as I said, MK has such huge potential, writing a story trying to capture its essence made me feel like its my first. Nevertheless, I hope you all liked this story. Any thoughts, opinions or criticisms (especially on characterization, which is so important because Ermac and Kenshi both have pretty distinctive personalities), please do write them out in a review and let me know – so I can improve further.

Thanks again! Enjoy :)