Chapter Text
Technoblade never dies. That was the phrase he repeated to himself for his own sanity. Not just a phrase— it was a promise. A vow.
His first two lives were wasted in youthful skirmishes. Back then he had no understanding of how precious and fleeting existence was. He was as free as the wild tundra winds, young and nonchalant, with no idea of what the future had in store. Fighting in tournaments for the entertainment of omniscient, all-seeing spectators was an unexpected development, as was his success in the Antarctic Empire. He got pensive around the potato farming era, which put him back in contact with his old friend Philza.
“How does it feel,” he said one day, his strong hands busy with uprooting potatoes from the earth, “bein’ immortal?”
To Techno, immortality was the ultimate prize. It was a state only gods achieved, yet somehow Philza Minecraft had been bestowed the honour.
Phil thoughtfully rubbed a hand to his cheek, leaving behind smudges of dirt. He was eager to get back in touch with his old comrade and help him on the farm while they caught him. “It’s alright, I guess. I suppose I don’t know much apart from it. I spent thirty years as a mortal and... several thousand as an immortal. I’m still in the early ages of immortality, though- there’s a lot I haven’t experienced.”
Techno raised a thick pink eyebrow. “You weren't always immortal?”
“Well, no one’s born immortal, Techno. Did I not tell you about how I died?”
“You— what? Phil!”
The blond man tipped his head back and cackled. “Yeah, yeah! I died ages ago, way before I met you! I did something stupid, I don’t know, maybe I fell off a cliff or something. My life flashed before my eyes and I remember thinking, Ah, there’s my last life gone. But it wasn’t. Death was merciful.”
“How can death be merciful? That seems counterproductive.”
His face reddened as he said, “She was lovely, Lady Death. Beautiful brown locks of hair and eyes like burning coal. She took me by my hands and told me that I wasn’t done yet. She said I’ll give you one more life but nothing more, one lifetime and then we’ll be together for all of eternity.”
“Geez, Phil, she in love with you or somethin’?”
“Eh, well… she was very pretty. She gave me one final life and sent me back down to the mortal plane. After I hit sixty, I realised that I wasn’t dying of old age. I was immune to any plague sent down by the gods. She’s been protecting me for all these years.”
“Keeping you immortal,” Techno mumbled thoughtfully.
“Yep. Immune to any kind of natural death. But don’t get the wrong idea and stab me as a joke! I have no idea what will happen if I'm killed. Dying and getting killed are two totally different things, you know. You don’t want the blood of an old man on your hands.”
“An ancient man.”
“Hey— show a little respect to your elders! I’m not ancient yet.”
The conversation was a pleasant memory from the long, languid days of farming that Techno missed with all his heart. He wanted to return to his farm after the messy DreamSMP wars were over. He wanted the chance to rest.
He’d known for a long time that rest would never come. A time traveller with crazed eyes came to him bearing a warning.
Techno had just returned from a long day out with his hounds. It was important that they were exercised frequently and were prepared for all types of weather, including severe snowstorms. Slamming the door to his cottage shut, he let out a sigh of relief. The tundra’s weather was often brutal but today it was fiercer than usual.
When his eyes fell on the weary time traveller, he froze.
“Oh, hello.” He said nervously, “Karl, is it?”
Karl Jacobs was barely an acquaintance yet here he was, heating his feet by the fire. He sat on the armchair with his shoulders pulled up to his ears. A storm was brewing behind his blue eyes.
“Technoblade.” He spoke like a man possessed, “The first to land on the beaches of L’Manberg shall be the first to die.”
Something about Karl’s tone struck a chord in Techno. He murmured, “How do you know this?”
“Because I saw it. I saw it in the future— I was there.” He ran a trembling hand through his brown hair. His eyes darted around the cottage interior as his chest heaved. “I was there, Techno. I saw it all. I saw the deaths, I saw the killings, I saw you. I— ” His eyes settled on Techno. His pupils were dilated infinitely. It almost looked like there was a little galaxy living in there. “I need to go.”
He left before Techno could interrogate him further. Dressed in only a colourful hoodie and flimsy jeans, he left the cottage. Techno raced after him, but the dazed figure quickly became lost in the white snow.
The experience was chilling. Terror took root in his bones that night. He spent the next few days trying to sleep it off, but the feeling never left. When Phil asked him what was wrong, he— for the first time in years— chose to hold back. The pain of lying to his best friend was almost as intense as the fear the time traveller’s prophecy struck in him.
Time passed. Battles were fought, lives were lost, Techno remained fearful of Karl’s abrupt warning. He purposefully avoided the man now.
One day Phil slammed a scroll down on the Syndicate meeting room table. A map of L’Manberg was inked onto the old parchment. Techno’s heart sunk to his feet.
“At sunrise, we storm the beaches,” Phil exclaimed. The other Syndicate members grinned and hummed in agreement. Techno stayed silent as Phil demonstrated his plans on the map. He was enthusiastic, crystal blue eyes filled with passion and pride. Techno didn’t know what he’d do if those oceans ever faded to grey.
Phil’s strategies were ingenious but, knowing what he knew, Techno couldn’t find the energy to cheer for him as the other members did. At the end of the meeting, Phil pulled him aside and asked, “You alright, mate? It’s not like you to go this long without cutting in with a witty joke.”
Looking around to make sure the others were gone, Techno placed a firm hand on Phil’s shoulder and said, “Let me lead the invasion tomorrow.”
Phil pulled away, looking hurt. “But- this was my plan. I was going to lead us.”
“I know— and it’s a brilliant plan, Phil— but I just feel it would be appropriate-”
“Hey, I get you’re used to spearheading our attacks but leave this one for me, alright?" Seeing Phil look so irritated hurt Techno deeply. Knowing he caused the frustration hurt even more, “Tomorrow’s invasion will be a great success. Trust that I can handle it.”
It’s not that I don’t trust you, Techno wanted to cry, I care about you!
The night before the invasion, Techno was restless. Every time he tried to sleep, his pillows and mattress suddenly felt like stone. With sleeping out of the question, he took to repairing Phil's gear. He knew that he would be fine no matter what happened— Technoblade never dies— but Phil was vulnerable. Heaven knows he'd need every advantage he could get. He took the extra precaution of slipping a totem of undying into the kidney pouch that was always looped onto Phil's belt. After so many years of narrowly avoiding death, it was the last totem he had left. He kissed the gold before hiding it among spare parchment and metal nuggets. For good luck.
By the time the sun rose, Techno’s exhaustion had turned into exhilaration. Time to see if Karl’s prophecy held any truth. He was briefly amused at the thought of it all being a lie. Imagine you spent years fearing the beaches of L’Manberg for nothing, the voices jeered. The frustration would frankly be a better outcome.
He felt Phil’s gaze on him as they sailed towards L’Manberg. The army of anarchists rowed two longboats across the arctic waters: one with Phil at the helm and one with Techno. The blue water sparkled in the early morning light. Techno considered taking some time to enjoy the scenery but decided against it. He would be back here soon, sailing across the waters during a time more appropriate for feeling slimy seaweed and the tickle of air bubbles against his flesh.
L’Manberg was still asleep as they approached. Techno wondered who, out of all of the country’s large population, was fated to deliver the killing blow.
He scoffed at the thought. The killing blow- yeah right. The gods have no doubt heard his prayers and recognised how legendary he was. There was no doubt that he'd won their favour. Deliver me this honour. You know I am deserving of it.
The beaches of L’Manberg were more pebbly than sandy. It made for uneven terrain. Their one advantage was the element of surprise. Wasting it at this point would not be smart. So as they approached the country, the anarchists’ whispered died down into silence.
Techno looked across the water to Phil. His longboat was only slightly ahead and, as outlined in the battle plan, the formation was supposed to stay this way. Phil was to be the first on the beach.
Techno stepped down from his parapet and said to his boat’s rowers, “Speed up.” They looked at him with uncertainty written across their faces but, even though Techno was their equal, they would still never dare to cross him. So they put more force into their rowing until they were tied with Phil.
Techno ignored Phil’s anxious attempts at communicating through hissing. He looked ahead to the beach, where fate awaited him. Karl’s words replayed in his mind, as clear as they were when he first heard them. He mouthed the words to the gods. Not as a prayer- he feared he was all prayed-out. The gods were surely sick of his words now.
As they pulled ahead of Phil, Techno readied his rocket launcher and instructed his rowers to slow down. Soon the splashing of oars against water diminished into silence. As they neared the shore, the boat’s bottom scraped against the pebbles. Ah, that was Techno’s cue. He took a step off the boat and onto the shore.
The first to land on the beaches of L’Manberg shall be the first to die.
But Technoblade never dies.
Instantly arrows came raining down from L’Manberg’s beach watchtowers. With the grace of a ballerina, Techno danced between the barrage and laughed maniacally. As the archers reloaded, he sent the first series of fireworks into the air. They exploded, casting the white sky in red and black.
“Technoblade never dies, baby!” He cried. Now that the curse was lifted and nulled, they would win easily. Techno felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He was free! Free of doubt and fear and, most of all, worry for Phil.
He turned back to face the water, where anarchists were disembarking from boats in large waves. Phil charged ahead of them, his face full of fear and shock. Techno wanted to tell him all about Karl’s prophecy and how hilarious it was for him to believe in it for so long. It was stupid of him to take Karl so seriously- the guy claimed to be a time traveller, for Pete’s sake. He probably spent all of his “trips” tripping-
The first arrow did not hurt. It was more shocking than anything. Techno pulled it out of his arm and crushed the thin body in his fist. Head snapping up to the watchtower it had come from, he roared, “You think you can kill me?”
Then the next arrow came. And the next. Like little tiny knives slicing into his chest, travelling through the air at miraculous speed and with a high-pitched whistling sound. The attack was focused entirely on Techno. The other anarchists raced up the towers but by the time the barrage ended, it was too late.
Techno’s knees buckled helplessly and he fell onto the beach pebbles. Arrows stuck out of every part of his body. He focused not on the pain, but instead the pebbles. There were lots of pretty ones. It was a shame his dripping red blood stained them.
“That’s- that’s a lot of blood.” He wheezed. The simple act of talking drained so much of his energy. He flopped onto his side feeling helpless.
Phil swooped down to his side like an angel. Techno smiled when his face came into view.
“The prophecy is null. Technoblade never dies. The gods have granted me immortality.” He said through laboured breaths.
Phil gathered his limp body in his arms murmuring, “No, no, no, it doesn’t work like that. Oh, gods, oh no.” He pushed Techno’s pink hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. His eyes were prickling with tears.
“It- It hurts really bad, Phil. Why does it hurt? Technoblade never dies. How come it hurts so bad?”
Biting back a sob, Phil pressed their foreheads together. “What were you thinking? What prophecy? Please don’t go delirious, Techno. I can’t-”
“The first to land on the beaches of L’Manberg shall be the first to die- that’s what he said. The time traveller. The oracle.” Techno’s vision was starting to swim. He reached a bloodied hand up to hold his friend’s cheek, “Hey… why are you cryin’? ‘Blade never dies.”
Phil’s blue eyes displayed so many emotions. There were so many things he could’ve done. He could’ve scolded the man for keeping secrets or yelled at him for his stupidity. He could softly break the news to him that the story of Lady Death bestowing him a final life was a story he concocted for his children when they asked about their mother. In truth, he had no idea why he was bestowed with a final life that lasted so long. But Technoblade was bleeding out in his arms, dying and too naïve to see it. Phil would not let him die knowing how pointless his sacrifice was.
So he smiled against Techno’s bloody cheek and whispered, “Of course. Technoblade never dies. But you can go to sleep now. You can go to sleep and dream.”
“Wake me ’n the mornin’?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning, mate. Let go, go to sleep.”
Technoblade, first to land on the beaches of L’Manberg, died with one hand holding his best friend’s cheek and with the other hand stretched up to the gods. The gods who ignored his pleas for immortality.
Phil screamed into the man’s battered chest until his throat was raw. He screamed to the gods, begging them to make the catchphrase Technoblade never dies into scripture. Give him one more life. He felt so guilty for making up that story. If he’d known Techno would cling onto it, he would’ve never told it. He would’ve let it die when his son Wilbur did.
But there was nothing Phil could do. Techno was very much cold, grey and heavy in his arms. Soon his body would start to deteriorate in ways Techno never imagined would happen to him.
That’s what made the death so poignant. No one believed Technoblade never dies more than Techno. He died thinking he was a hero, that his sacrifice saved someone else from harm.
He gasped as he remembered the argument they had the night before. Techno didn’t want Phil to lead the attack— he believed the first person to reach the battlefield would die— he sacrificed himself for Phil.
He dug his head into his fallen friend’s chest and let out a choked wail. A wail he hoped reached the gods and made them regret ignoring Techno’s prayers for immortality. He wanted them to see his pain and remember it for millennia to come.
But his cries did not reach Olympus. The Syndicate experienced many casualties and returned to their meeting room without a single drop of motivation left among them. What was their organisation without Technoblade? What was the point? Phil went to bed that night wishing Lady Death was real. That she would come to him now as his lover and deliver death in a chaste kiss.
His cries did not reach Olympus, but, many hours later, they finally reverberated throughout the underworld. Lady Death had heard his prayer. And now she would answer.