Chapter Text
Technoblade has lived thousands of years. Seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations. People who destroyed themselves and their communities for power, money and fame. It barely fazes him anymore.
He had only been 23 when his mortal life had ended. The memories of that night still burned into his brain despite it having happened a millennia ago. He doesn’t remember the pain but his brain remembers the feelings. The feeling of your neck being slit open. The agony that rippled through him, something so mind numbingly profound that he had prayed to a god he didn’t believe him.
On some level, someone had been listening to his weakened cries. Albeit, it was far from any god he had read about.
He had met the eyes of the Angel of Death. Someone that shouldn’t have been more than a mere myth. A story that parents told their kids to make them behave.
“If you don’t behave, Death’s little angel will come for you.” His village's version of the bogeyman.
Techno had wanted to back out. To call off his desperate plea for mercy. He had heard the stories of the Angel. The stories of the Angel who’d drag people to the underworld, flaying them alive and enslaving them to his eternal empire. Those very stories that Techno had merely scoffed. Yet, faced with that very being, he had begun to plead for forgiveness. For whatever he had done to deserve this visit.
Death would have been more merciful than this.
Yet, those stories never came to fruition. What he was met with was a gentle hand, curling under his chin. His wings shielding him away from the world.
There was no cruelty, no promises of endless torture.
He was gentle. Handling the broken, dying body as if he were made of glass. In some ways, as he looks back on these memories, he had been as fragile as he was treated. The Angel looked down at him and spoke words that would forever change his life.
“My child, you are not longed for this world much longer. I can save you but only if you wish to survive.”
Techno had been weak, slowly slipping away under the dim glow of the moon. His body cold as the world stood deadly silent. Without hesitation, he had accepted the Angel’s death.
___________________
The moon stood high in the sky. Gently casting its glow to the sleeping world below it. Most days, Techno would find comfort in the dim glow of a full moon. Reminding him of simpler times in history where anger didn’t burn bright within his unbeating heart.
Even the gentle hum of cicadas couldn’t quell his anger. The creaking of the porch under his feet as he fumbled with the key. The doorknob twisting in his palms as he walked inside, kicking the door with the back of his foot shut behind him. He ignored the way the photos on the wall shook as he stormed through the house’s foyer. Dropping his bag next to the door as he rushes by.
Ophelia, a small black kitten with a big red bow wrapped around its neck, stares impassively at him as he strides past into the kitchen. The pristine glow of his white hair fading as it shifted back to salmon pink. The hair color he had been born with no matter how many people had insisted otherwise. His hands slamming onto the countertops as hair draped around his face.
The kitten leaped up, her tiny paws landing beside his head as she impassively stared at her owner. His head rotating to stare at her through pink strands of hair. His piercing red eyes staring back at her as she swipes at his hair. He watches her momentarily before he peeks down to the kitchen floor. Her food bowl was empty.
“Let me guess.” He whispers and her head shoots up, her big yellow eyes staring back at his. “Instead of comforting in my misery, you want me to fill your bowl again. Am I right?” She doesn’t respond, obviously, but she drops down onto the ground and trots her happy little butt over to her bowl. Sitting almost politely as she paws at its sliver edge.
His chest rumbles as he pushes himself up, his hand reaching up into the cupboard to pull out a small can of wet cat food. Ophelia jumps to her feet and quickly walks over to his feet, rubbing her face against his ankles. He pulls back the tin can’s lid and the smell of tuna and gravy fills his nose.
Ophelia follows him as he walks over to her food bowl. Crouching down as he turns it over and shakes the can’s contents into the bowl. She digs into the bowl before he’s even finished getting it all in. “You act like I never feed you.” He comments as she devours her food like she hadn’t eaten in days.
It’s hard to stay angry when Ophelia was around. She was just the sweetest kitten he’s ever had (The only one he’s had). He can recount a couple of instances when he had returned home feeling like crap and she just demanded to be fed or held. It weirdly makes him feel better.
“Technooo! Are you home!?” A voice booms from behind him, quick footsteps following after from the stairs. Techno turns back, throwing the used can away in the trash bin as Wilbur strides into the kitchen, “Well are you?”
“I’m in-front of you— yes. I’m home, Wilbur.” He says, rubbing the bridge of his nose as anger slowly builds back up into his voice. A smirk finds its way onto Wilbur's face as he held up his hands in a mock surrender.
“Is that anger I hear?” Techno closes his eyes, groaning as he turns away from his brother. Way too frustrated to deal with this sort of bullshit so late at night. Though, this only seems to fuel the flames, “Oh wow! The ever so stoic Blade is angry!” Wilbur laughs breathlessly as he steps forward only slightly.
“Wilbur—“
“Wait!!” Wilbur shouts, holding his hands out, “Don’t tell me!” Techno just stares at him over his shoulder. Raising a brow as if to ask if Wilbur was really playing this game right now. Quite frankly, he’s too tired to deal with it and really, he just wants to meditate.
“Don’t tell me you lost that fight to Spitfire of all people—“ Wilbur pointed vaguely at him before gesturing towards the front door, using his hands to overdramize his words. He’s always been a big hand talker which was both endearing at times and highly annoying at others.
“I did not lose—“
“Because that would be so embarrassing! He’s like the weakest guy they have!”
“I didn’t lose the fight!! That’s not why I’m frustrated!” He spins around on his heel, hair whipping against his face as he raised his voice. Wilbur didn’t even have the respect to look even slightly guilty either! “..I’m frustrated because of someone I encountered during the fight.”
That seemed to instantly intrigue Wilbur as his expression turned from teasing to oddly serious, “What? Was there another hero? They didn’t try anything, did they?” His voice picking up in volume before Techno pressed a flat palm to his brother’s chest, a means of silent comfort as he adamantly shook his head, “No, nothing like that.”
“Then what?” Wilbur glanced down to his hand before back up to his eyes. Stepping slightly back and brushing his brother’s hand away with the back of his hand. He’s never been too terribly big on physical touch so it wasn’t surprising.
“Some kid protected this guy who tried to strike me and he didn’t—“ He trailed off, a frustrated whine leaving him as his hand slowly retracted. Wilbur crossed his arms, his expression still serious but less so than a few seconds earlier. “.. My ability didn’t work on him.”
Wilbur’s expression tightened as he bounced his heels. Trying to process the words that had just come out of his mouth“..Intimidation didn’t work?” He spoke those words slowly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Techno just nodded, moving forward to the counter once more.
“But—“ Wilbur spoke, “That should be impossible—“
“I know that! I just don’t understand why it happened!” His voice boomed, his knuckles white as they gripped the counter. Feeling the cheap marble crack under his hands as something ugly filled his chest, “I have lived thousands of years, seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations. Met people from all different corners of earth and not a single person could do what he did.”
Wilbur leaned back against the counter, his elbows resting as he stared up towards the ceiling. “Maybe it wasn’t him,” He tried to reason, “Maybe you haven’t been drinking enough blood?” Trying to come up with some sort of explanation for this.
“It’s not that.” Techno huffed, “I was able to use it just fine on the man who tried to hurt me.” Wilbur sighed, searching his brain for some way that could explain this away. Yet, he couldn’t come up with anything reasonable, “Maybe he wasn’t looking—“
“He was. We made direct eye contact and there was nothing in between us that could have gotten in the way.” Techno rebutted, his hands pushing him up as he pulled his hair behind his ear, trying to keep it out of his face. Which was practically impossible given how long it was.
“Wait, What did this kid look like?” Wilbur’s eyes switched back onto Techno. However, it's more accurate to say he was looking through him. Deep in his own thoughts. Which, granted, made Techno want to laugh as Wilbur was never the type to think too deeply about anything.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he thought back to the kid’s appearance. He had gotten a good, long look at him since Techno had been shocked into stillness about the whole.. ability not working thing. “He had slightly curly hair.. blonde maybe?”
“Maybe?” Wilbur stared at him, like actually stared at him. Techno rolls his eyes as he shrugs, “The lighting was bad. It’s either blonde or light brown.” Wilbur groans but gestures for Techno to continue on.
“He was scrawny looking. His clothes practically hung off of him and he couldn’t have been taller than..” He thinks for a moment, “about 5’4?” Wilbur snaps his fingers, pushing himself up so quickly that Techno hands shoot out on instinct to catch him.
“I think I’ve met this kid before!” Techno just stares as Wilbur continues on, lowering his hands back down, “When I was in Logstedshire, I was went to this place called Mcpuffy’s or something—“
“Why were you in Logstedshire?” Techno cuts in sounding baffled as his eyebrows furrowed, “We live in Kinoko Kingdom and I thought you said that place was dirty—“
“It is dirty but that’s not what you should be focusing on!” Wilbur waved his arms in the air before resting them back at his sides. A glare given Techno’s way as he continued, “Anyways! There was some kid behind the register and something was just off about him! You know I have that ability of being able to see blood pumping in the veins of human bodies—“
“We all do. We’re vampires—“
“Anyways! While he was turned around, I looked and noticed something odd about it.” Techno raised an eyebrow, eyes only momentarily flickering down to Ophelia who had walked back over to him from the bowl. Clearly very content with her meal “His blood was sparkling! Like it looked like it had glitter in it—“
“I don’t really care if his blood was sparkling—“
“Would you stop interrupting me!?” Wilbur squawked to which Techno just shook his head. A sly smile on his face as he fulfilled some form of payback for earlier, “Back on topic, I tried to use persuasion on him to get a lower price on the drinks I ordered and he just laughed it off!”
“You’re so unbelievably cheap.” Techno groaned, rolling his eyes as Wilbur squawked on about how they were totally overpriced and that two drinks shouldn’t cost nearly 9 dollars. “Okay so, it’s the same guy.” Wilbur paused before nodding, “So it’s not a coincidence that both of our abilities didn’t work on him.”
“It can’t be a coincidence, that’s too convenient.”
“Alright, What are we going to do about this then? He’ll be bad news if he joins the hero committee with an ability like that.” Techno bends down and gingerly picks up the kitten at his feet. Allowing her to rest in his arms if only to stop her from trying to climb up his pant leg. Wilbur hums in agreement.
They stand in momentary silence before Wilbur has a lightbulb go off, “I got it!” Techno raises a brow, “We’ll just kidnap him!” Wilbur beams and nearly pats himself on the back like he’s solved world hunger. Techno levels some form of a deadpanned stare back at him.
“Kidnap who?” A voice calls out from behind them both. Techno’s head snapping up as Wilbur turns around. There, in the doorway of the kitchen, stood the Angel of death. In his full pajama glory. If Techno didn’t know any better, he would have thought he had just woken up.
“Dad!” Wilbur shouts in surprise, “What are you doing up? I thought you had gone to bed?” Wilbur tried to mask his nerves, some half-assed smile on his face that poorly covers up how his own voice betrays him. “For the record, I didn’t agree.” Techno mumbled as his dad turned to stare at him, narrowly avoiding a jab to the rib from Wilbur.
“I had gone to bed, But I was woken up when somebody slammed the front door.” Techno had half the mind to look ashamed, turning his gaze away from Phil’s, “Sorry about that.” Was whispered under his breath as Phil just shook his head before turning his attention back onto Wilbur. A look in his eyes that told Wilbur he had mere minutes to explain himself.
“Just some kid.” Phil’s wing rustled behind him, curling against his back, “We think he has some sort of ability that makes him immune to other abilities. We were just coming up with ideas of how to take care of him permanently.” Techno groaned, moving Ophelia into his off hand before slowly bringing his free hand up and bringing the palm down on the back of Wilbur’s head.
“Ow— what the fuck?!” Wilbur screeched, whipping his head back to Techno.
“Anyways, I didn’t agree to that just yet.” Techno grinned before turning back to their dad, who looked like he was trying not to laugh, “I don’t think that’s the best way to go about it.”
“Why do you think that?” Wilbur asked, rubbing the back of his head like he had been truly wounded. Techno just paid him no mind in that regard, “Because if we kidnap him and he escapes, He’ll go straight to the heroes. Not only will we be handing him over on a silver platter but we’ll be signing our own death certificates!” Wilbur frowned, his hand still rubbing the back of his head.
“He has a point, Mate.” Phil chimes in, still not having moved from his spot in the doorway. “Besides, you can’t just go around kidnapping people because you feel like it.” Wilbur lets out this high pitched whine and it almost makes Phil want to rethink everything from it alone. The keyword being almost.
“But dad—!”
“Dad, I hate agreeing with Wilbur,” Techno pressed a hand to Wilbur’s chest, signaling to him to shut up and let him do the talking. “but he’s right on some accord. We need to do something to ensure that kid doesn’t join the heroes. It’ll doom our entire coven.”
“I don’t kidnap children, Techno. That is not up for discussion.”
“What if we didn’t kidnap him?” Techno says slowly which makes Phil pause. His wings slightly puffed up behind him despite being against his back, “What if we befriend him and have him join our coven?”
Phil’s wings flare up at those words as Techno winces, feeling the pulse of uncertainty and hesitation on his father’s end of the bond. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Phil says simply, almost in a way that leaves no room for argument. Techno understands full well why.
“Dad, I know you don’t like strangers in the nest but I think it’s the best option we have.” The worst part about their dad wasn't that he’s overprotective.. it’s that he was stubborn. Trying to get Phil to change his mind was like trying to count every grain of sand on the planet. It’s do-able but way too frustrating to even attempt.
But he has to try. For the sake of his coven’s future.
“Techno..” Phil warned, getting annoyed and fast. “I will not have you put your lives at risk for wishful thinking.” It’s true, in full transparency. This plan could fail catastrophically, putting not only their lives in danger but everyone in the coven’s lives as well.
“Dad, he's a danger to our very existence. I’d rather have tried than to have not tried at all.” Techno’s end of the bond bleeds with frustration. Causing the others entangled within the bonds to poke and prod at it with curiosity. “Please. See him for yourself and you’ll understand why this needs to happen.”
Phil stands there in silence for a long minute, which on Techno and Wilbur’s end feels like hours. Something careful in their dad’s eyes that would have their hearts racing if they had been alive. He lets out a long sigh before staring up at his boys with something fond, yet calculated. “Fine.”
Both of them stared, eyes a bit wider as Phil stepped forward into the kitchen. Brushing past Techno and towards the fridge. His hand pulls at the door as the cool breeze of the fridge caresses his face. “I will visit this boy tomorrow night. I will see just how dangerous this individual truly is.” In his hand, he holds up an old, repurposed milk jug. Its contents are a deep red, almost thick looking in texture. Blood, Techno’s brain supplies helpfully.
“I will test him and if he passes.. then we will figure out what to do next.” Techno and Wilbur share a glance, both in a silence agreement. That they wouldn’t have to worry about this kid anymore if he failed.
______________
Thickened woods filled his peripheral vision. Threes that reached up miles above him. Covering the sky in a blanket of branches and leaves. The distant cawing of birds the only noise filling his ears. The dirt is cold under his feet as he turns around slowly in circles. Fog covered the forest floor and surrounding woods, leaving him disoriented and scared
His hands grabbed at the fabric on his chest. A harsh, gross feeling material meeting his palm. Where was he? Wasn’t he in bed? His eyes scanned the forest around him and yet he saw nothing.
His heart begun to beat violently against his ribs, fear so raw filling him that he feels his stomach flip. “H—Hello?!” His voice rings out, something small and raw as it bounces along the tree lines. His own voice a quiet echo that begins to intensify, bouncing back louder and louder, twisting into something distorted. Until it’s in his ears and everything begins to melt around him.
The world warping and twisting as screams begun to fill the once haunting silence. His legs tremble below him, his head shaking as his hands hover over his ears. He takes one.. two.. three steps back before he turns and bolts off into the fog. His hands held against his ears tightly as demonic muffled screams surrounded him.
Yet. He could not find its source. Every flash of something in the corner of his eye disappears before he can turn.
Thick fog invades his lungs, something thick curling around his lungs as his foot catches on a branch. His hands flailing out as he’s sent flying forward, falling deeper beneath the fog and down into a room below the forest floor.
His body cracks against the pavement. His elbows slamming against concrete as pain shoots through him. Nothing but a whine leaves his throat as his eyes slowly fall open once again.
He’s left laying in what looks to be an small room. The thick fog fully enveloping the hole which he felt through— was he underground? His hands (when had they become so small?) push against the ground below him, pushing him up and onto his feet once more. The pain dull and pounding against his skull as he looks around.
It’s dark, cold and leaves him with a terrible pit in his stomach. The floor is damp, stained deeply with something he could not place. He sees the rot that has invaded the walls and ceiling of this room.. yet, the room does not smell. In fact, he can’t smell anything.
He looks down and sees that the floor below him is stained so deeply with something black. Spattered and infested, stretching out like something had been there.
Before he can think any longer, the doors in front of him begin to rattle. Not a small shake, no. The rattle is violent enough to make the door frame creak under its pressure.
Something was trying to get in.
Panic crawled up his spine, wrapping around his throat and squeezing intensely. His body propelled him backwards as his feet pushed at the ground, his back hitting the wall with an audible thud. His hands tremble as they race to his ears. Muffling the sounds of loud bangs that made the frame shake.
“▇▇▇▇!”
It’s deep, distorted voice calls out. It’s words are incoherent. His chest stutters as a dry heave leaves his bruised lips. His knees quickly pulled to his chest as he tries to block out it’s words, “Be a good ▇▇ and open this door, ▇▇▇▇.”
The voice is familiar and yet, unexplainably, it only leaves him trembling as a desperate sob falls out. Tears coming fast and harder than what could be controlled. He shoves his feet against his kneecaps, with hands that still covered his ears.
Please, ▇▇▇▇. Don’t let ▇▇ take me away.