Chapter Text
For as long as he can remember, hes felt this unease, this completely unwarrented anxiety that could be powerful enough to knock anyone off their feet. The feeling of something is running rampant at the back of his head constantly, like waiting to hear a gunshot at the starting line of a race that will never come.
He manages to shove back these feelings as well as he can as he walks down the castle halls. The castle is dark, weird for it to be consisdering its in the nether, but its like the castle warps out all light from where it sits. He should be more scared of it, but hes lived here all his life and one day, it will be his to rule.
The thought scares him half to death, which was barely an exaggeration since he was in literal hell.
Techno halts at a large wooden pair of double doors, the light dances from the large windows that litter said halls, it feels eerie but then again, its always eerie in the nether. He knocks.
He hears a faint 'come in' and some faint shuffling from the other side, he takes a deep breath and walks in, closing the creaky wooden door behind him.
His mother sits on the armchair, mug in hand near the fire, not even breaking a sweat as the heat makes her piglin skin more at ease than anything. She wore a long black dress, fitted with a decorated gold belt, he swears he’s seen her in millions of times already. Not that she could wash it too frequently- all they have in the nether is the blazing heat that can make skin scabs fall like sand.
She looks at him like he barged in as if she didn't call him to come down here. Her cold gaze felt like it could dig through his soul and find every imperfection and little secret he’s tried so hard to hide.
Techno subconsciously straightens his back and starts running his hand through white hair that reaches to his shoulders, playing with some of the gold that's been embroidered into it.
"Alright te'no, we have to have a talk." She slurs out, and its only then does he notice the hints of nether wart that litter the coffee table near her cup, and its shrill scent lingers in the air like a warning.
His mother clears her throat, tucking his thoughts away quickly so she has his full attention.
"Next few cycles, we shall have a ball in order to establish some new trades from outside countries. You better be on your best behavior, We cant have any mishaps." She rasps out, turning her head towards the fire.
He cant see it but he’s sure she's smiling, she seems to like to think that this was some way to upset him, to make sure he remembers what she did last time he 'caused a scene.'
"Yes mother, there will be no complications", she flashes him a plactating look, as if saying 'i know' before looking away again, he can tell she was going to say something but for some reason she stops.
She’s goes dead quiet, not even looking at him and he has a minute to think, and he ponders about something for what feels like the thousandth time in his life.
For some reason she always disliked him, and they're relationship has been rocky for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t know why- he doesn't remember what he did wrong. But, hes remembers not to trust a single thing that leaves her mouth.
She talks about him like he isnt there sonetimes- and when he asked why when he was younger, and so much more naive, they said he'd understand when hes older.
He'll understand when he’s older. Because that’s what they tell him whenever he didn’t understand something that they couldn’t find any reasoning for.
He bid his goodbyes to his mother, as he always does when they speak, her not acknowledging him as usual. He notes the foreign smell has rooted itself in his brain by now, his eyes sting and he gets a light headache. He hopes going outside will clear his head.
He pushes the heavy doors closed, and mulls over their interaction one more time, his headache still very much there.
Something at the back of his head notes how every conversation he’s had with her that he remembers feels hostile or threatening. He pushes that to the back of his mind as he starts walking towards his sisters room, her nightlight peaking out from under the door.
He had told her about his plan but he didn’t expect her to wait. It was awfully endearing to him. She’s sitting on her bed, fumbling with a book in her hand which he assumes is the diary she told him about.
"So?" She asks, tentatively. Techno just gives her a tight lipped look, and that was answer enough. She hums, its obvious she doesn’t really know what do, but the fact that she’s listening makes him smile. Just barely.
"Anyways." He starts, she perks up a bit, "Why are you awake?? bro go to bed you’re like one or something"
"Techno- I’m five what the he-"
"Gasp. now ur swearing AND LYING?"
She just looks at him in loss of words and he’s trying his best to stifle a snicker.
"You're so weird sometimes" she says, all the while smiling. "I’m weird?? you literally keep a diary."
"For one, its pretty normal, and two, your full first name is techno."
He just laughs in response, he can't fault her there.
Eventually his attention snaps back to his sister when he hears a yawn. "Bed time for you"
"Fine," she relents, "tuck me in though? and read to me too? please?"
How's anyone supposed to say no to that?? So he tucks her in and starts walking towards the book shelf in the corner of her room. He decides to pick out one of the Greek mythology books, except this ones more simplified. Made to be a child's bed time story.
He remembers Carl used to read them to him before he started reading the actual stories. It so happens that his sister likes them too. But his sister is nothing like him.
She's what people in the overworld would describe as 'sunshine personified'. She’s kind and happy and funny and just perfect in his eyes. There's not a thing she doesn't deserve in this world.
He takes a breathe as he starts reading about a man named Theseus. For some reason he's always seen him in her. Someone powerful enough to slay the minotaur, someone who still lost ultimately to game of life.
There's no winning in this game, is there? The thought keeps him up at night.
The book he’s reading comes to a close, he’s read the entire thing even though she feel asleep right after he slays the minotaur.
He puts away the book and says goodnight to her knowing she'll wont hear it. He kisses he forehead gently before checking that the windows are locked then exiting quietly. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible.
Sometimes he wonders if she felt this unease, this catastrophic paranoia that has wedged itself so well into his brain its become a part of him.
Time for bed for him too, he supposes. The longer hes awake the more ansty hes going to get.
His room isn't that far from hers but the walk feels daunting anyways. Its like knowing you're destined to drown to death, and you're standing at the shoreline. He’s waiting.
click, click, click, click,
The sound of his footsteps is akin to the ticking of a clock, a timer. He hopes that drowning wont hurt too much.
click, click, click, click,
His rooms door comes into vision, and he feels no less paranoid. It seems its for good reason, because that’s when he hears it.
HELLO
Automatically he looks around for someone, the voice sounded like it was right in his ear yet there’s no one near him. No one in the hallway infact.
There was no echo to the voice despite being in a large empty hallway, no face or name he can place to it. Nothing that could’ve fell, and it sounded so distinct too, garbled yes, but it definitely sounded like a word.
But who said it? There was no one there.
He speed walks to his room, the clicks and clacks of his heels makes it feel like time sped up and its all so confusing. He locks his door, even though he knows he’s not allowed to.
He just needs to regulate himself, and the door being locked makes it feel slightly better, like ice to a stinging bruise.
He's not sure what it was, but it has him shaking a little too much for it to be normal. If he was destined to drown, he’s knee deep in water by now. ‘Maybe it could’ve been an assassination attempt?? Or maybe a servant passing by I didn’t see?” He wonders, head spinning.
Maybe someone’s fucking with him? But he saw no one, no one should even be awake as of now. Some small part of him feels satisfied, like it had found what was looking for, a missing piece. Eventhough it could've just been machinery someone forgot to turn off, or maybe the sleep deprivation is getting to him.
He ends up worrying himself to sleep that night, and he hopes going to class with five hours of sleep won’t completely destroy him.
He wakes up with an ache in arms, and his eyes, and the foreign smell in his nose. He remembers the voice too. The gentle rasp to it, the way it had no real tone, the way it felt like it was actually there. Like it was real.
He sighs and he decides to go to bathroom connected to his room to both start his morning and get his mind off of it. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t of been, he wants to tell himself. It wasn’t too weird to hear voices in the nether, some old piglin brutes have said they heard little whispers. They says its from the souls of the damned, forced to roam the Nether’s soul valleys. Except, he’s not in a soul valley. Well what the fuck was it then????
As he brushes his bedridden hair, he notes that todays the day of preparation, everyone's busy, everyone's hands are full. He also notes that that smell in his nose is still there, even after getting a face full of the air freshener- on accident of course. Listen how was he supposed to know disturbing the little scented beads would make them fly into his face. He didn’t think they were that light!
Techno should have to be deciding on his outfit today, as if they would let him 'choose'. And it wouldn’t matter regardless, most people wouldn’t see him anyways.
He usually lets his sister do dress up on him, he’s worn her corset a few times and he’s decided he likes them, its like wearing thinner armor- nothing stifling like the big clunky armor sets he’s worn, plus it looks good. He’s tried to get one for himself, but no one let him, even Carl said he couldn’t.
Carl was like his personal butler, and distantly he laments on whether or not he should mention the voice to him. But he might sound flat out crazy. And maybe he is because although he tries not to, he finds himself trying to listen for it.
But you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.
He barely notices but its time for him to head down to the gazebo, for training and he grabs his bag. As he goes to open the door he forgot to unlock last night, but don’t the maids need to check the rooms every morning to see if they need to be cleaned? Surely one of them would’ve asked the queen to get the key.
Yet, there was no broken lock, no waking up to “NEVER LOCK YOUR DOOR! THIS IS MY CASTL-“ I mean, he’s not complaining for not being yelled at but its definitely odd, maybe the maids forgot to check? Well- all the maids are busy today, they must’ve forgotten or something.
With a shaky breath, he closes his door and sprints down the hallway. He’s got an all time perfect attendance to uphold doesn’t he? And no suspicious ‘oh damn I didn’t get in trouble' is going to stop him.
He makes it, early of course, and his sensei, he’s affectionately nicknamed "fire,” is there waiting with a katana in hand and a few throwing knives in the other. He looks up at techno with a mischievous grin. Yay, todays going to be a hard one then.
"Hey techno, I’ve got a surprise today actually."
"Well? what is it then? you can just leave me hanging here Fire.”
"We've been allowed throwing knives, youve never wlrked with them before, thought it'd be cool" he reveals, a d techno agrees, it does sound cool.
Fire's cool, as ironic as it is. Hes nice, they probably couldve been friends if it weren't for the fact that hes his teacher.
"Sweet. what do you want me to do first?"
"Practice aiming. there’s a target over there and if you do well enough then we'll upgrade to moving targets." He says as he points to the target and he gestures to an area where he assumably must stand. "If your good we can reduce your three hours to two." Ah. A challenge.
He grabs the first throwing knife and aims it to the best if his ability, but he still only hits the ring right next to the center ring, the block taking the knife with a soft thud.
Too low, he idly notes, raising the second dagger slightly higher, its closer but he still misses it by a little. He can feel his sensei's eyes on him.
More to the left this time, he thinks as he positions the pretty dagger in his hands. Right when he throws it he realizes that he’s held the handle a bit too low, and as he throws it he realizes he’s made a miniscule cut on his finger and he flinches.
It doesn’t hurt much but it stings a bit, nothing he cant handle. His sensei notices and makes the move to check on him, but he’s dismissed by a small wave of a hand that isnt his.
His mother is here.
She’s stood right at the entrance of the gazebo, and he realizes the scent from last night is back, and his head feels tight once more. She looks at him blankly, eyeing him for something. What could she want? She never joins him to watch his practice.
In the corner of his eye he notices his mentor motion for him to turn around, to resume practice. So he turns around, hand now slightly sweatier from the extra pair of eyes and a new headache to worry about.
He raises the small knife and aims, and as he sees the small cut on his finger, he hears it again.
THROW IT NOW
Then before he can think, he’s aiming, he’s throwing, he’s hit the target in the dead center. What the fuck. His hand is shaking again and if anyone asks he’ll say its from the cut. And in a way, maybe it was.
Last night he felt like he was knee deep in water, like he was about to drown right before he heard the voice. Today feels no different. He’s surely waist height drenched in salted water by now.
"Nice shot Techno!" he hears faintly and it pulls him back before he can panic. He manages to force a shaky 'thanks', voice almost breaking when he sees his mothers barely hidden grin, trying to shield it with her mug. He sees it anyway, what he tries not to see is the way it seems to look sinister. He didnt want to notice that.
He sees his sensei holding a remote, and he grins teasingly at techno when he presses it. Immediately a few other targets spring up behind the first in various places and angles, then they start moving, twisting and shooting towards and away between the crimson trees that surround the castle. He’s always hated hitting the moving targets.
"Good luck" is all he says as he’s being handed about a dozen throwing stars, the metal feels light and sharp in his hands. He ties up shoulder length white hair with a sigh, this is going to be a long day.
He aims for the closest target, hand still shaky from a specific pair of eyes behind him. He inhales, He exhales, and he blinks a few times, just now noticing the slight pain in his eyes, he blames it on the sunlight. And even he doesn't believe his own lies.
He stops stalling to stop his mothers impatient breathing he can just barely hear, he throws the star and he hits target one, just barely on the edge of it. He hears her breathing grow rigid. This wasn't what she wanted to see.
So as he aims his second star, he notices his finger once more, the blood is just starting to flow, a single drop starting to form. And as he stands there, aiming at the second target, he thinks him and this drop of blood were both witness to the start of something new, something deadly.
He shoots, he hits the target. The middle of it to be exact. And shoots another, and another.. and another, until all the targets are hit. He feels a part of himself bristle proudly.
The drop of blood makes its way down his wrist, and his eyes cant help but follow it. His eyes sting the more he looks at it, he feels sick.
"You've been practicing haven’t you? Your usually off when it comes to aim. Regardless, that was really cool to watch," he says with a smile, that Techno forces himself to replicate.
He'd almost forgotten about his mothers presence, but there she still is, leaning against a wooden beam.
He’s operates on purely auto pilot for the most of the rest of class, the image of her grin makes him feel nauseated and his hands start feeling clammy. However innocent that smile may seem, it just doesn’t sit right with him...somethings going on.
Before he knows it, he’s got about twenty minutes left of class (and yes, fire did reduce it to two hours) and he’s been directed to go grab his chain chestplate and his sword.
He straps on the chestplate quickly and he takes a minute to sharpen his sword. If he has to spar, he’s going all in. His sword is just a plain iron one, with gold edges and hilt. The blade itself is pretty beaten up, you can see scratches and chipped edges, but its the only sword he’s allowed because Fire’s afraid that he'll hurt himself or something. It’ll have to do.
Fire's sword is very much different. Some of the guards rumor that whoever dies to his sword is absorbed into the sword itself, the souls of the dead only being kept as the metal of the blade was forged in Nether’s soul blue fire. Some people say fire was forged there himself. Some even say that Fire and his sword are tied together somehow- by the strength of their very soul. Its nothing if not fitting, they're a deadly combo.
Not that it matters, Fire could probably kick his ass with a sword made out of dry wall if he really wanted too. By the time they’re both ready for their little battle, the queen is gone and he wants to be happier, but he still feels uneasy.
“Hey tech? Remember how i said you were making good progress last week? Well, i think your finally ready to use diamond. ” Chucking him a diamond sword with a lapis center- making the sword look like its enchanted with the way the powder moves in the diamond. He’s ecstatic- he’s never gotten to use a diamond sword before! He’s seen the way they cut so cleanly through the guards training, he cant wait to test it out.
They're pacing inside the gazebo soon, round and round and round they go.
They’re little staring contest begins, a contest they take part in whenever they have these little sword fights. They’ve done this time and time again, yet they still size each other up, they still look at each other like they haven’t done this a million times.
Techno’s never won against him, he’s won against the guards that dare him after finding out little prince techno can fight? He can beat them with some difficulty, but his sensei works with his sword like its a fifth limb, like its apart of him.
Its Fire that breaks first, lunging his sword towards his opponent but techno was watching him like a hawk, and he ducks to the side quickly as his mentor tries to deal with his momentum.
This time, Techno swings and Fire parries it quickly, then their back to their little stand off, but this one doesn’t last nearly as long. They’re throwing swords again quickly, both dodging and ducking and parrying with quick reaction time. This might be their longest fight.
Usually he’s down by now, and his teacher will tell him he did great even if he didn’t.
He'd say that the reason its lasted so long was because of his new sword, and that's only half true. He feels violent. Spurred on by something sick and twisted that resides dormant in his gut. Something he can't quite put a name to.
Then suddenly, his arm has a thin line of blood running down it, he'd zoned out. By this point, they would’ve stopped, and his mentor would approach him, ask if he was okay, like what hes doing now. But as Techno sees the blood on his arm, it triggers something deep and guttural deep within him, a new type of unquenchable hunger.
And Techno lurches. Throwing his sword to the hard wooden floor of the gazebo, pulling out one of the daggers he strapped to his thigh earlier, and stabs.
Fire just barely manages to duck, but he stumbles in the process, and techno aims his dagger but Fire catches him off guard and throws one of his own knives at him, making him stumble back as it hits his chestplate. And then that voice is back.
GET UP
He gets up with a start, he finds himself with his previously discarded sword in his hand(when had he picked it up?)
"Techno? Techno what’s going on? Are you alrig-"
And for a second, just a second, he sees the fear in his eyes, his friends eyes. He sees the way his hand is shaking where he’s holding his sword, sees the way he had winced at the sting of his cheek. When had Techno nicked his cheek?
But it doesn’t matter. That thing in his head doesn’t know him. It doesn’t care. And that thing is a part of him now.
As he tries to fight the urge to beat his friend till his cold dead body stops twitching, he manages to rasp out a quiet, "I’m sorry."
DO IT
But he isnt. he isnt sorry. Not in the slighest, and that gaping hole in his chest, that need for something, burns.
He can see what little color Fire's face still retained finally drain like water, and fires don’t like water very much, do they?
He plunges his sword aiming right for the neck. Fire of course, slips away once more and finally decides to go on the offensive. He sees the way Fire looks at him- like he’s a monster, like some sort of predator and he’s the unlucky, unlucky prey.
He couldn’t tell you how long they went on like that, but eventually his hands starts to cramp and he throws it to the floor without a second thought and pulls out his final dagger. A final trick.
And as fire stills, thinking the fight is over, techno aims,
NOW!
And the dagger plunges right into his chest, with enough force to make fire stumble back and hit the floor, panting. He looks up at Techno like he’s seen a ghost, cold white shock painting his features. And somewhere in Techno’s far gone fuzzy mind, he has the gal to feel guilty. Like he didn't do it.
With a blood soaked hand, fire reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ender pearl, and he throws it, all without a single glance at techno
And Techno has a moment to breathe. It comes slowly. The realization weeds its way into his skull and it sits there. He’d tried to kill his teacher, and almost succeeded.
He can see fire stumbling away in the distance, trampling over some wart stems and stubborn mushrooms. He can vaguely see him holding his chest, blood coating his hands, his arms, his torso and a little on his face.
Techno will pretend he didnt see what happened next. But it happened alright.
He watches as Fire pulls out the dagger from his chest- a deep piercing scream sounds from his vocal cords before falling to the ground with a thud, kness first.
RUN! LEAVE NOW!!
GO !
and then there were two.
There’s two of them now. What the fuck? Never the less, he runs.
He’s hyperventilating and he feels weak in the knees. He needs to go to his room now. He’s running away before he could see straight. He killed Fire.
He runs past the knights near the hallway leading to the royals bedroom quarters, but then he sees more guards and seeing them makes him feel sick.
He notes that the guards are unfamiliar, not from this part of the nether, but then again they probably got a new rounds of guards for the ball.
Fire used to train them and when he was younger, he used to watch. He'll never get to see that again will he?
Deciding to go the long way instead, even though he wants to be at his room as soon as he can. No one can know. If- if they see him then maybe they’ll want to talk- and Techno knows damn well that he would confess. He fucking killed his friend.
As he’s leaving to go pass the around to the other corridor, the long way, and he hears them again.
WHERE ARE YOU GOING TECHNO?
TECHNOLOST !
TECHNO GO DOWN THAT CORRIDOR!
Then there were three.
He must be losing his fucking mind.
He doesn’t know why he has them in his head. And he sure doesn’t fucking know why he’s listening either.
He clasps his hands together, shaking thumbs attempting to rub small circles onto bruising knuckles. The windows feel like they’re taunting him, showing him a reflection of the pathetic child he didn’t want to see.
Today he feels nausea swirling deep in stomach like poison. Today, he digs his nails into the skin of arm. Today he wasn’t alone. Today, he killed someone.
He can still hear them, along with his harsh breathing and quiet footsteps, and it leaves him on edge. He can hear more now.
STOP !
LEFT! LEFT! LEFT!
TURN LEFT
DOOR TECHNO THE DOOR!
Then there were four.
The door? Left? And lo and behold, he turns left and there’s a door. A large wooden door. The same door he’d been in and out of last night.
His breath quickens and he swears all the hairs on his arms and legs raise. He’d been distracted, trying to count the voices and keep himself from vomiting where he stood, he had’nt noticed where he ended up.
OPEN
PUSH IT OPEN
BOX INSIDE
SECRET
OPEN IT
Then there were five. What the fuck?
He opens the door a smidgen, just peaking through the middle and no one’s there . . might as well see what has the voices so frazzled?
He walks in, leaving the door open, not planning on staying more than two minutes. The room looks normal from what he can see. But the voices seem so distraught that he can’t help but keep looking. As said before.. curiosity killed the cat.
When he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, he stills, listening once more.
BOX
DRAWER
IN THE DRAWER
E
TECHNOLOST
Some of it sounded unhelpful, but he heard drawer and box. He looks in the drawer being used as his mothers side table for her chair and finds a small pan with netherwart in it. Not just netherwart though, it looks tampered with, there is pieces of things in it he cant recognise.
The feeling of misplacement in his paranoid brain ACHES. It aches for medicine for a fake disease.
Why had they wanted him to see this so much? Why was this so important? How did they even know about this?? His already stuffed head was cycling through answerless questions way to quickly, and he feels dizzy now, which brings back that nausea he’d felt earlier. . . right.
He should probably go deal with this he realizes, so he gets up, closing the door behind him.
He walks carefully, being as quiet as his shoes would allow. He sees his sisters room and ever so briefly, he wonders if he should go say hi. But the voices seemed to have mixed reaction on that one.. some shouted yes, others give him a stone cold no. (And one said E.)
‘It's not the time anyways' Techno thinks, so that idea is shelved for the mysteries of the future to deal with. He makes it to his room, the voices simmering quietly in the back of his mind.
Throwing the little waxed box onto the mattress in the corner of his room, he sits there on that same bed too, just staring at the box and thinking.
How do these things in his head know about this, but he doesn’t? But before he can even get an answer from said voices, his stomach curls up unhappily, his feeling of sickness finally returning in full.
He empties his guts into the polished quarts of his sink, not having the strength to even make it to the toilet.
He's always hated throwing up, but he guesses no one likes doing it at all. The way his body fights him, and hot disgusting substances that smell like a disturbing, bad dream are coming out his mouth feels so painfully awful to him.
Hot and uncomfortable, Techno keels over that quartz sink as he hurls his life away. His vision is clouded with salty tears and his hair keeps almost getting vomit in it. He can’t even see his hair to keep it out of trouble, his vision has been reduced to nothing but a colorful smudge.
He’s not sure how long he was crouched over than faucet, emptying out foods he'd long forgotten he'd even eaten. Eventually, his tears must've run out of ink and he takes a step back from the sink to look at his reflection. And he wishes more than ever in that moment that his vision was still blurred.
A tall, sickly pale boy stares back at him, and that’s no surprise, what IS a surprise though, is his eyes. The whites of his eyes are filling up with blood, and slowly, ever so fucking slowly, there are small black streaks beginning to appear in its wake, and it hurts like a bitch. Then he blinks, and its gone- like a stupid magic trick.
WHAT THE FUCK IS SERIOUSLY GOING ON? He must be sick or something, surely this is a sign of psychosis?
Then he looks to the sink, hoping if he throws up hard enough, whatever sickening illness that’s crawled inside of him will leave. He dry heaves over and over again, throat scratchy and dry.
Eventually though, he feels some liquid come up, and it sure doesn’t taste like the remnants of his breakfast. Its spat out onto the sink, and he freezes, and it feels like all time around him froze too.
Its blood, a stark, terrifyingly bold color against the white quartz of his sink. You'd think that a little blood couldn’t scare him, especially after.. today. But as he stares at the blood, he can't help but feel queasy at the thought that the blood came from his mouth. mixed in with his own saliva.
And well- could you blame him if he started hyperventilating, clutching to the quartz sink with fingers far too cold to be warmed by the heat of the nether.
He’s worried that the sink will crack at this rate, but right now he needs to worry more about his staggering breathing and convulsing head. Speaking of his head.
TECHNO THE SINK CUPBOARD
OPEN THE CUPBOARD
OPEN
OPEN OPEN IT’LL HELP.
Last time he'd listened to them, he found a weird stash of nether wart he still had no idea what to do with- theyre probably the reason he’s coughing up blood, and they're still demanding things? They even made him kill his sensei, why is he listening to them?
Needless to say, he washes away the blood, he ends up having to touch some of it to get some of it off- and he voices screech.
MORE
WE WANT MORE
PLEASE
WE NEED MORE
WE'LL BE QUIET IF YOU GIVE US MORE
He contemplates it for a moment- before he realizes he’s quite literally thinking about murder- WILLINGLY. Maybe the voices are starting to rub off on him. Its sad how easy it was to make him contemplate it, all he was offered was some quiet.
The voices all whine at being ignored, like a kicked puppy needing affection. When he leaves the bathroom, he cant help but think about what was in the cupboard, he certainly cant remember the last time he touched it.
Much too exhausted mentally and physically for today alone, he runs over to his shelf where he keeps all his stationary supplies, and picks a roll of cream colored tape- one far too old he’s sure he wont miss, and he tapes that cupboards door handles shut.
He cant help but notice he’s almost the same color as the tape, when did he get so pale? When could he see the blue veins on his hand so clearly?
Then is all comes crashing down on him- everything. He knew about what he did, about the voices, but it didn't really sink in. Untik now, ofcourse. He feels bad, VERY bad, but he can't help but feel like he was supposed to do it.
That was what he was waiting for. And he feels sick about it, he cany believe hes just moving on like this. Him amd fire werent close or anything, but still the guilt gnaws at him. But whats done is done. The nether would have long since absorbed his body's essence long before they look for him there. He died in the crimson forest after all.
He falls asleep as soon as he hits his bed, hes fucking exhausted.
He awakes to a pounding headache, the voices screaming-
FINALLY
WAKE UPPPPPPP
GET UP
"I’m up, I’m up," he says idly, starting to accept the fact that these voices were infact still here (and probably real.) The silent acceptance is interrupted by his own wincing- everything hurts.
His teeth, his eyes, his ears, his entire body even- just painful. A deep-seated type of pain that hurts like its always been there, resting in the crooks of his elbows- waiting to come bother him.
And bother him it does. His stomach curls upwards- and he’s standing up fast enough to make himself dizzy. Shaky legs run to the bathroom, throwing up into the sink. He’s cold sweating now too- sweating too much to even turn the sink faucet on to wash away the now prominent blood splayed onto the sink.
There’s more blood than stomach bile- its worrying for sure but he doesn’t get much time to worry anyways- cause he’s almost floored by another wave of body pain.
TECHNO THE SINK
CUPBOARD
ITS NOTHING BAD WE PROMISE
OH MY GOD JUST LISTEN TO US
Confuddled by pain and dizziness, he lets his weak legs sink him to the floor, and he uses his too sharp nails to break the tape he put there last night. He can only pray he doesn't start throwing up again now- he actually quite likes this shirt.
When he eventually opens the cupboard- and he’s quite stunned by what he finds. A potion of healing, which he has no recollection of ever putting it there.
He doesn't give him time to dwell on it though, opening the bottle quickly and downing half of the bottle. He sits there for a moment, letting the potion do its work, and he thinks of the voices- maybe he was wrong to think they were evil.
In his defense, if a bunch of voices started screaming at you in your head- would you think they were good?
Speaking of the voices-
YAY YOU LIKE US
FLINT
WOOOO HE LISTENED
FLINT AND STEEL NOW
Flint and steel? I mean- they did just save his life, but flint and steel? Kinda weird, but he'll do it. If he remembers right, there should be one in the drawer of his nightstand he keeps to light candles.
Pain mostly subsided, he gets up and fetches the flint and steel from his nightstand, and just kinda- stands there for a moment.
So, there are voices in his head- multiple. And they knew there was something in his mom's drawer, knew where there was a potion and now they want him to use a flint and steel . . . because that’s totally normal.
TECHNO PLS
PUT IT IN UR POCKET
KEEP IT
YOU'LL NEED IT
KEEP IT
Ok yea, this is pretty weird.
There’s a sudden knock on the door, and is makes him jump a little, swiftly moving to go answer it- but not before tucking the flint into his back pocket.
A maid stands on the other side, with what looks to be his clothing for tomorrow's celebration. Its a red suit with gold lacings here and there. There are a few black accents too- like the tie or the button up.
She hands him the clothing before speaking, "This is your clothing for tomorrow, after your done getting dressed, your mother would like to see you before the party." Then she gives a curt bow before walking away to whatever other duties she has to do.
He wonders how easy it would be to kill her- maybe he'd knock her down to the floor then kick her spine- hard. Everyone’s busy and theres more staff hired- no one will notice if he killed her and hid her body under a tree in the crimson garden. Then he cou-
WHAT? Stop- no no hold on. He only has half the mind to feel bad when he shuts the door in the maid's face after staring at like a serial killer- Oh. Oh. Like hes a serial killer, a murderer. And the voices aren't helping.
EASY KILL
YOU COULD’VE
WHY’D YOU LET HER GET AWAY?
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
There it is again. . . . Blood God. Is he the blood god? The name is vaugely familiar now that he thinks about it. At some point in his life, he had finished all the greek mythology books he had, so in the meantime he started looking at old Nether folklore in the library.
He'll have to do a little investigative journalism then.
He changes into something presentable enough to leave his room and winds through the twists and turns of the castle until he reaches the library.
The servant that works there is one of the few that treats him like a person. If he remembers right- their name is Edward, they're an enderman hybrid. They dont talk much, but Techno tends to be there during his spare time. The library is quiet, no one really comes in here so most of the time he has the place to himself (and Edward.)
One glance at the room and he can tell that Edward isnt in here. Which is odd, because they're kind of responsible for keeping the library in order and all that jazz. Very odd indeed.
Not like he needs Edward to find books though, Technos spent enough time in the library to know it almost as well as Edward does.
But he is quite worried about Edward.
He shrugs it off as a day off or something- and his feet carry him to the folklore section like second nature. His hand moves on its own voilition, sifting the cluster of organized books until he finds the nether folk lore book he had once tried reading.
He realises theres are loose pages in it and they scatter onto the floor- and he prays to any god that may be out there that they aren't the blood god pages.
He looks at the pages and- oh fuck off its the blood god section. He has half the mind to pull out the flint and steel tucked away in his pocket and burn the damn thing. Maybe hit his head on the book shelf hard enough to give him amnesia and hopefully forget everything thats happened.
But, curiosity killed the cat, and he is a dead man walking. He looks down at the pages with a sigh, hes in too deep.
After picking them up he decides to go sit down in one of the more secluded part of the library, a seat hes familiar with. Its hard to find, and in all his time here the only one who even knows of its existence is probably Edward. Its his safe space.
Its made of elegantly placed dark and crimson oak. Theres a sheer blanket that acts as a curtain at the one exit to the space that he brough with him about a decade ago. Theres even a mini bookshelf on wheels filled with books that edward lets him keep in there. Its homely, he would probably stay here forever if he could.
He spreads the papers around the circular little table, and begins reading. Techno reads about a prophecy, made by lady death. Of a new disciple of death said to be more powerful than the Angel of Death.
He reads in silence, the type of silence that wafts over a room when the nane of a newly dead person is mentioned. Techno wonders if he is the dead.
Then finally, finally, he reads about the souls who had worshipped the blood god, the insane and daring who would perform bloody sacrifices in his name. "Blood for the Blood God" they would chant, and the voices screech so hard he swears he couldve blacked out. Maybe he did.
The piglin hybrid finds out why in the next paragraph of the page, the blood god was said to have direct contact with their followers. Some people prophesied that that they would possess his pets, some would say he would see them like spirits and then some say. . . . that they were voices in his head. Urging him to kill, to slaughter, to massacre millions.
The netherborne flinched away from the paper like it had burned him. No, he thought, this had to be a sick fucking prank. There was no way he was the blood god. His walk back to the bookshelf he had plucked this demonic little book from was silent. The voices were quiet, and he wanted to scream.
As he places the book he notices theres an empty spot next to it. Who had been reading that book? Do they know?
He walks towards the libraries computer with urgency in each step, he needs to find out who has that book. The long haired boy is incredibly distraught to see, that there is nothing in the logs. Which meant. . . it was either his mother or Edward. And he can only pray to gods that it was not his mother.
"Alright, thats enough curiosity for me today." He says to himself before promptly leaving the room and starts to head towards his own room.
This is alot to process he thinks, sitting on the edge of his bed like a kicked puppy. Then out of the corner of his eye, he sees something move.
He has a full on bodily reaction, recoiling sharply. What the fuck was that? And the voices laugh. Its only then does it fully click what that was. It was them. His. . . loyal followers? This is definitely some kind of cult that hes not ready for.
If he wasn't so mentally exhausted, he would've cried. Hes so tired of everything. Techno cant do this anymore. He gets up and grabs the crossbow he has in the corner of the room, loads it up with shaking fingers and he sends an arrow right through his skull.
He sees white, pain unfurls around his body yet he feels none. He feels at peace. The world fades out quickly, but he can still hear the voices in his head laughing at him. He sees them swirling around like phantoms around the room, what he had just done sinking into him finally and he realises he doesnt want to die yet. Techno goes limp and closes his eyes unwillingly, curiosity had killed the cat.
But the cat wouldn't die.
The cat couldn't die
Its all void. An emptiness that makes you feel so much when you look at it for too long. Its quiet for a second. He wonders if this is what quiet is like.Then, he feels his bones cracking. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. He wanted to writhe in the void and scream his lungs out, but he couldn’t. He wanted to tense up his body and grab onto something, someone, yet still he remain stagnant.
He feels something that could only be described as magic delve into his head, yet he can't see it. He feels bones being shoved and mended back together. He can practically feel the void with his own fingers as his nerves are reconstructed. He could feel all of it, each agonizing stich of skin and each piece of his brain being put back together like a puzzle.
As regains his hearing, he realizes there are whispers, angry whispers. Its a woman, he cant quite understand them, but they seemed panicked. He cant see them, its pitch black out here, completely void. He knows that they are not one of his voices, weirdly enough.
He tries to make out what they are saying, he really does but it was so. . . off putting. Coming in one ear and out the other, nothing being absorbed into his still broken brain. He tries to move towards the voice, but it sounds as if its everywhere, and nowhere all at once. It sounds like grief, it sounds like happiness. Is he dead?
Behind him, he feels a million different eyes on him. A million different things walking towards him, and he squirms. He couldnt see anything, yet he can feel them Countless beings that meant nothing and everything at the same time. The voices in his head start up again, they're murmuring something. A chant maybe?
Somewhere, and nowhere at once, a bell had chimed. Then there were cold wet hands all over his body, a metallic smell he wished he couldn't recognize fills his nostrils. A bowl of something equally as cold and metallic is held up to his lips. He wills his body to move, to resist, it does next to nothing.
The voices coo at him, he feels sick. A cold hand made of liquid cards through his hair, then a crown is placed atop his head, his eyes open finally. "Wake up."
He jolts awake, short white hair in a mess. That mightve been the weirdest dream he's ever had.
There’s a knock on the door, and in waltzes in a servant, with a tray of food. "Your food, Techno. Im sorry to have barged but were all quite busy. Be ready for the festival by three." Then he turns and leaves with a small wave.
Techno knows this servant, he usually manages his sister things but occasionally he has to deliver things for Techno too. He’s nice.
'He wouldn’t put up much of a fight.' He thought briefly. If these passing thoughts keep happening he might do something he will seriously regret.
LIKE YOU HAVENT ALREADY DONE THAT, the voices coo condecendingly.
The weight of killing Fire settles like a stone in his stomach.
He scarfs down his breakfast, the food was dry(crazy right? Its almost like theyre in the nether) but Techno wasn't picky- so it works out.
He washes himself down with the little water he had in a bowl enchanted with fire resistance, as is most of the water here.
He dries himself quickly, now onto the clothes... They’re a perfect fit- tailored just for him, and the red of the suit matches his eyes. He fidgets with his hair for a moment before deciding to just leave it down with a bunch of gold accessories littered in.
And for the first time in a while, he finds himself feeling quite dapper.
TECHNODAPPER
YOUR HONOUR HES FANCY
RICH BOY ARC
He smiles gently at the words- these voices are such little weirdos sometimes.
Finally, he goes to his dresser and opens the drawer, and there lies his crown. Its made of gold with a few bits of netherite scattered in. But other than that, its pretty plain, nothing crazy to look at. But oh did it make the piglin part of him sing.
Doesnt that crown look a little bit different?
They never tell him to put his crown on for events, but its always implied. He was five when he showed up to a ball without one- and his mother had later taken his crown and melted it in front of his very eyes, as a warning.
He wanted to scream- gold is so precious to piglins, and completely destroying his very owfn crown made him more than upset. It was the first time he had felt true, unfiltered hatred towards her.
By now, the party should be soon- if his clock is right. Yay. Ever so grudgingly, he gets up and begins the walk to his mother’s room.
The walk is daunting, although its less than a few minutes away. Its just the wonder of what she could want.
On the way there he has a second to think of last night. He swears that the arrow felt so real. And what was that weird void thing? Hes had weird dreams before but this is the first time it fekt like it had a purpose, like it was almost real. Almost. Techno walks faster.
The door to her room is tall, fit for a queen. There are gold edges too- only the best for the Piglin queen.
He takes a deep breath in, and knocks. Practically holding his breath as he waits. "Come in!" She replies and he opens the door to a large room, elegant enough that it just screams royalty.
Expensive rugs, and costly paintings litter the room. As well as more gold than any normal person has ever seen in their life.
He also unexpectedly sees his sister in here too. Techno takes a seat on the bed next to her. Their mother emerges from the bathroom, head to toe in a red dress that must be new- along with enough flashy jewelry to blind you.
"Alright. There will also be all of the major settlements royals here tonight. They will be here for us to negotiate some alliances, so be on your best behavior. Am I clear?"
"Yes mother," they both say in unison.
"Meet me at the top of the staircase in the main hall for the introduction speech. Don't be late," and then they're dismissed.
"Well. See you at the festival? I'll talk with you then..i forgot my crown!" His sister mumbles, obviously having a hard day- and he couldn’t blame her. It is a pretty big ceremony.
NO ONE WOULD NOTICE IF YOU PICKED SOMEONE OFF
BLOOD
IT WOULD BE SO EASY
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
BLOOD
The flint and steel had been tucked into his suit jacket. Techno has no clue why be brought it, its quite literally the last thing he should have with him. But that feeling, that feeling of SOMETHING lays heavy in the air. He will find out what it is tonight.
Until then, he’s just going to sit in his room until its time to meet the guests.
As he sits and waits, he cant help but picture his teachers face again. The way his collapse sounded like music to his ears in a way. He couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of accomplishment. So many people must’ve tried to kill him before, and he had succeeded! After years and years of training, he'd done it.
Gods, something is seriously wrong with him.
YESSS
BLOOD
MORE
BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD
Something is wrong with them too.
His ears twitch as he hears someone heavy footed trot down the hallways- must be a guard coming to escort him. Or arrest him. You never know.
Knock knock.
Time to get up and. . . go socialize or something.
The guard leads him to the ballroom, red fabric lines the walls as usual. With the exceptions of the flags from all the nations here from far and wide. The display of colorful fabrics makes his head spin
He can't see his mother or sister but he’s willing to bet they’re just at the little corridor by the grand flight of stairs, probably waiting for him. With that in mind, he starts heading towards the steps, only stopping to wave the guard off after he realizes he was going to follow him around.
The guard leaves with no fight, knowing that techno could probably handle a threat if any. He could certainly handle it better than he could for sure, Techno’s bested the guards one too many times and maybe he’ll ask mother to rethink the security.
He decides to take a small back passage to get to the other end of the hallway they’re probably in, which means . . . . he needs to traverse the sea of royals and nobles. Great.
He's lean enough to slip through most of the crowd- and so far no one has decided to come greet him. Its weird seeing all the shadowed voices zip and zap through his line of sight, but he'll make it.
But then he notices the flags of one of the kingdoms there. He recognizes it as one of the bigger overworld empires he visited once- the flag is mostly blue, with what looks like to be a sun in the middle. It had been forever ago since he'd been there, but he’ll never forget it.
It had been the first time he’d seen snow, and it felt weird on his skin like water did. But it wasn’t as flowy as water, and in his opinion it had looked beautiful.
They had been there to do some sort of deal, and briefly he had met the king there. His name was a fuzzy memory he’d surely never recover but his son, the prince, is someone whose name he'd never forget. His name was Wilbur.
He was about Techno's age, and back then when Techno’s hair was shorter you could’ve confused them for twins if Techno had brown hagir and brown eyes.
Wilbur could also play guitar, and in the one day they spent together, they had played songs together. Techno would play his violin, a skill he had learned from his music tutor while he wasn’t training as hard. Wilbur said he had played beautifully, and Techno will never forget it.
Techno didn’t have many friends- much too awkward to have much. But Wilbur was social, charismatic even. He could talk and talk and talk forever and then he’d laugh at any small quips or exaggerations Techno would make occasionally.
It felt nice- to feel so comfortable in conversation for once. Maybe, in another life, Techno would’ve had the courage to ask his mom to visit again. He can only hope Wilbur remembers him.
He said he would, but that was well over seven years ago- when they were eight or nine He doesn’t like the thought of being a passing memory to someone he had gotten along with so well.
Techno thinks it didn’t matter when or where they met. They were always going to meet at some point, in this life, on their next and so on.
Maybe they would've been friends in another, or a passing stranger with a brief interaction at the market place or maybe they. . . it doesn’t matter. They were kids when they met in this one. And one of them probably sees the other as a stranger now.
“-ey Kid?” Someone says to him assumably- shit they probably saw him looking at them. Looking for an old friend. (Are they friends?)
“Yes sir?” He replies cordially, putting on the familiar façade of innocence. “Do I know you from somewhere? I swear I’ve seen you before." He finally gets a good look of the man as he raises the veil in front of his face to take a sip of his drink.
His breath hitches- it’s the king of the empire Wilburs from. He'd never liked him- he was nice enough but he felt like he knew something that Techno didn’t. And Techno did not like that.
But what was he supposed to do? Lie? He was going to be introduced in front of everyone shortly, he’ll surely notice! Fuuuuuuuccckkkkkkk.
“Yes, I visited once. My name is Techno, pleased to meet you,” he tries to say politely, albeit a little awkward, and holds his own hand out to shake his more . . bird like hand?
He seemed to have claw tipped fingers and his entire arm looked to be stained with black, from his pointy finger tips following up his veins.
Familiar death black wings sat on his back. Another thing he didn’t like was his wings. He had though they were huge as a kid, and he still finds them just as intimidating.
“Ah yes! Techno. Gosh you’ve gotten so much taller. How are you?” He says kindly, shaking Techno’s hand. “I'm alright, how are you . . . and Wilbur?” He adds in that last part like the words slipped out of his vocal cords and in a way, it did.
“Oh you remember Wilbur? And yes were doing ok. Do you want me to call Wil? I know you two were good friends,” oh. Oh shit.
Did he want to see Wilbur? What is he doesn’t like him anymore? Or even remember him? Techno would much rather let that friendship stay a happy memory than ending it on bad terms. He’s lost one too many friends.
“I apologize, but I need to go find my family- but it was nice to see you again, sir.” And with that he waves politely, flashing the man a faux smile. He scampers away, and he turns around briefly to catch his bearings on where he was. Then he sees him.
He sees Wilbur, hes gotten taller too and he now wears a pair of gold rimmed, circular glasses and the red beanie he wore back when they had first met. It was a little big on him before, but it looks like it fits comfortably on his head now. Techno feels sick.
He looks happy at least- head thrown back in laughter at whatever the noble in front of him said. The voices had been talking about who to murder during the entire duration of the party, but they practically explode when they see him.
WILBURR
WIL
WILBURRR
E
WILLLBURRRRR
Ugh. These voices are so loud.
And then in a flash, gone just as fast as it came- he can see Wilbur’s corpse. The blood coating his face and eyes looking at him with the same betrayed look as Fire. He could hear his neck snap, feel his bones crack under his hands.
Holy shit he needs to go find his family and do this introduction thing so he can slink back into the shadows ASAP- where no one will see him. Where he can freak out a no one will notice.
He finds the hallway quickly, with only a few weird looks from some passers-by. The corridor is thin and long- no decoration what-so-ever, mainly supposed to be used by servants.
Techno’s usually fine with enclosed spaces- but with all the noise and the image of Wilbur's bloody corpse only serves to make him feel overwhelmed.
Then suddenly, as he’s about to round the corner, his knees are kicked in from behind, hard. He drops to the floor, knees locked together as someone covers his mouth and eyes, as his hands are tied behind his back. He tries to struggle, he tries to get up but there’s at least four pairs of hands on him so even if he did get out, there’s no way he’d be able to fight it.
Fuck.
FUCK INDEED
KICK THEIR ASSES
HOW RUDE
How rude is right. They didn’t even pick him up or anything, they proceeded to hold him by the rope around his legs and drag him across the floor. Great. Now even if he does live after this he’s gonna have to wait till they get more water from the overworld to wash his hair from all the gunk its collecting.
His sarcasm aside, he feels that instead of the mostly flat floor of the castle, he’s dragged onto a much more coarse, dustier piece of flooring. It’s surprising that his head's not bleeding yet. Eventually, the dragging comes to an end and they start unbinding him.
With his newly acquired vision, he’s able to see that he’s in some kind of underground room, filled wall to wall with weapons and a single wooden bench off to the side of the room, along with a large dark wooden door. Oh yea, and there’s about six guys in the room with him, fully armored up. One of them points his axe at him, “pick a weapon,” is all he says in a gruff echoey voice.
He looks around the room, there’s basically evert weapon he’s ever seen in his life in the room, from axes to crossbows. His eyes scale the room multiple times, trying his best not to look scared, because he is.
He is fucking terrified. What the hell is going on? With how weird these past cycles have been, its enough for him to be a lot less scared than he should be.
Crazy what a few days of psychological torture can do to a guy.
His eyes land on a shiny netherite battle axe, gold encrusted with emerald accents. He’s never worked with netherite, or an axe, but damn does it look cool.
His eyes instead drift towards a diamond broadsword, its simple but its probably one of the strongest weapons in the room that he has the skill set to use.
He’s pretty sure that he’s supposed to be batshit scared right now, but honestly, he feels like 'survival mode' has kicked in. Techno was honestly waiting for something like this to happen anyways.
The sword feels heavy in his hands, not really from physical weight but rather the implications of using it. What are they going to make him do?
Some of the men filter out the room seeing as he’s picked his item, leaving through. . . a secret door in the wall. No wonder he didn’t see them. This must’ve been planned out for a long time then. And maybe, in a weird, strange, sickening way, maybe this was where he’d always end up.
This was fate. And he can’t run forever. Whatever awaits him on the other side of this large door better understand that he didn’t come this far to lose.
He opens the door, an iron grip on its handles. He’s sees what looks to be- oh shit it’s the arena. Great.
If he listens really close, he can hear the voice of his own mother announcing a-
A fight.
And maybe in another life, where he was a better person himself, he wouldve been scared shitless.
Yea thats right, part of him blames himself for this. Yeaaaa- all of that happened to him, but its not like he fought it all that much.
One of the armoured men step forward and proceedes to hold him still by the shoulder, as of he was going to fight them. Its too late for that now.
He places a weird- mask(?) on his head. It kind of looked like a boar mask- only MILDLY threatening. The straps at the back of the mask dig into the back of his head uncomortably, but then again one look at the behemoths in clunky armour in the room with him- expecting comfort was his fault really.
Thats not the worst part- they grabbed his ear and held up and punctured his ear, and he let a piercing screech- loud enough to leave his vocal cords feeling shredded.
He raised his hand to his ear after, feeling a piece of paper attached to it- a fucking tag. They tagged him. Like he was some animal, it was insulting to say the least.
Distracted with his ear, he barely notices the arena gates open up with a metallic creak from years of misuse. He walks out, feeling the voices fall into a simultaneous uproar.
BLOOD
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
BLOOD BLOOD
BLOOF FOR THE BLOOD GOD
BLOOD BLOOD BLOODD
BLOOD GOD
The voices swim around in his head, as one simultaneous, terrifying chant.
The person on the other end of the ring was taller, older than him, weilding a netherite axe with diamond accent points. The thing looked huge.
His mothers voice rings out through the area, counting down.
"Five"
Techno can't believe her. He really cant
"Four"
His grip tightens on his sword, anxiety finally taking its toll.
"Three"
The feeling of something returns, this is where he is supposed to be. He knows it, like he knows his name.
"Two"
Blood for the blood god the voices had screamed, and blood they shall get.
"One"
The blood god is awake.
The man swing first, and the piglin hybrid almost gets his head cut off, stunned by the feeling in his eyes. He's felt it before, when he had seen his blood in the bathroom sink. Hes pretty sure if he were able to see his own eyes then he'd see eerie black eyes and white ring around his iris.
He hopes to live until a time he can see his eyes in that state.
Techno raises his sword and manages to get a sloppy looking cut down his arm, but in return he gets a netherite axe almost wedged in his shoulder. He screams, and he can barely pick out his own scream in the choir of voices in his head.
Ok, now hes mad. He liked this suit a little.
He wriggles his way a few steps away from his opponent, knowing that there was no way to beat someone that strong in hand to hand combat, so he'd have to be smarter.
He runs for a little, shuffling and dodging under his enemy's limbs, buying himself some time. Then it hits him- his flint and steel is still in his pocket.
Without a moments hesitation, he pulls out his flint and ignites it and tries to light the mans sleeve ablaze. But hes not exactly. . . you know, blind? So he notices before any real damage can be done.
Realizing that he wasn't going to light him up with just this tiny spark, he does the next best thing. He lights himself on fire, and absolutely fucking catapults himself towards him, swords swinging and everything.
The heat is just annoying for him, it doesnt even burn his clothing, fire proof clothing from living in the nether finally becomes a useful.
It doesn't take long for him to light him up in fire, it takes even less time for his enemy to attempt to axe crit him again, but the axe just kinda falls out of his hand, hand spasming from literal hellfire.
He goes limp, he will probably be dead soon and techno cant bring himself to be proud of it. 'Maybe i shouldve died' he thinks bitterly, tuning out the audience watching after he realizes its just horrified screaming.
The smell of burning flesh hits him, and the voices hit him harder. MORE, they scream. WE WANT BLOOD.
His body moves on its own volition, the grip he has on his sword is no longer his. He raises his sword up high and brings it down his chest in an uneven, jagged lines, getting his handswet with blood. His scream went unheard, lost to the screeching and pleading of his followers in his head. The way scarlet blood falls off his hands and charred flesh makes him feel sick and at ease. A bittersweetness no one in their right mind should understand.
Good thing Techno isnt in his right mind then. The voices coo in agreement, he swears he can feel comforting pats on his shoulder and back from phantom hands. He runs a blood stained hand through white hair, staining it too. He'll have enough blood on his hands to dye it red permanently
He finds the strength his followers lended him to look at his mother way up above him. She wears a big smile on her face, she looks fucking crazy, a manic expression etched into the smile lines on her face.
Subtly, oh so subtly she raises a book in her hands. He cant make out the colour, much less the name, but he knows what book it is.
She set him up. He knows it. He may not have all the pieces of this puzzle but he knows whats in this part of the picture. If he ever gets back to the main castle alive, he will see the whole image. She better pray that he doesn't get his hands on her.
The nobles and royals look at him and the bleeding out corpse besides him in horror, most of them screaming, a few look amused. Then his stupid mother has the gal to stand up and start what looks to be a speech. He can't hear them through all the voices well. Maybe its a good thing he didn't.
If only he had known that this was just the beginning. Then, the sound of an arrow cuts the the air, and implants itself right in his leg, and he notices with a panic that theres a potion effect on it. Oh, if only he had known.