Chapter Text
The caverns echoed with moans of despair, grieving the loss of memories, everything after passing on being wiped from their forefront. Rock jutted out, dangerously sharp to outsiders. It was the same old as always, the ground bare of any grass that the Overworld boasted about, the air damp and heavy. Most would be depressed, angered, and spiteful that this is what they rule, a barren land filled with the anguished screams of those who toed the line of their own mortality, but he cherished it. He liked how the darkness never left his skin, the ground solid beneath his hooves, the air cooling his heated blood. Most of all, he loved how he was left to his own, no excess energy making him restless whenever his brain convinced him the eyes were focused on him.
Best of all, whenever the screams and moans were unbearable, he was able to spar with the fallen heroes in Elysium, days when he accepted their challenges to a duel. It wasn’t common, which is why they still held foolish hope that they could best him. Nevertheless, he admired their determination, a trait that they all seemed to share despite their multitudes of misgivings
If there was one thing that he truly didn’t like 一never hate, he could never hate what had saved him一 was the loneliness that seemed to plague the Underworld. Never in a millennium would he admit this out loud but in the safety of his mind, he missed the interaction that humans need to live without going mad. Companionship.
He wasn’t completely isolated, that would be a task impossible for even him, but the conversations he had with Eret weren’t the same. There were many times where they were able to pull him out of his head when he was spiraling. When the cries of agony and yells for justice were far too much for him to handle. When he felt like his entire body was electrified, far too tight. He was grateful for Eret, truly, but they couldn’t always be there. The days when he had to stop his hand from unsheathing his blade and proving the rumors true. Days when he would be holed up in a dark corner, numb to the world and letting the darkness caress his touch-starved skin. He knew that if this went on, he would break, the string would finally snap.
Shaking his head, he sighed and stood up from his throne, made of the skulls from his enemies when war was rampant.
Letting his hooves guide him, he let his mind wander, still too caught up on the inevitable. He wanted to spare everyone from cleaning his mess. A smaller part of him also didn’t want to deal with the myth that would be created. Gods know that there were far too many for the others, he quite liked being left alone.
Squinting at the bright light- wait, light? This was the Underworld, the only light here was the soft glow coming from the souls, nothing bright enough for this.
Readjusting his eyesight, he blinked and saw what caused the reaction. It was the door to the Overworld, the sunlight bleeding through the gaps.
It had been a while since he had ventured out, maybe it wouldn’t be so horrible. Thanking his subconscious for leading him here, he opened the door, tamping down his essence as to not alert anyone that the Underworld God was taking a stroll. He might be leaving but he does not want to deal with the onslaught of gods to pester him, curious as to what made him come out.
Immediately he was attacked with the difference of everything. The ground was softer, much softer than the unforgiving rock. He sunk slightly, his weight pushing down on the earth. Blades of grass swept against his ankles, tickling him slightly. It seems as it might’ve rained, the grass cold and wet. His cold hooves and ankles contrasted the rest of him, warmed from the bright sun shining. The air was lighter too, it was almost as if he was floating. He knew the Underworld was oppressive in every way, but he forgot how he never left.
He breathed and it felt fresher. He felt freer, in a way.
He didn’t stay for long, as amazing as it felt, it was too much. Without the constant weight, he felt more open, vulnerable. Fleeing back inside the moment the ball of anxiety started to form, he stayed away for a few days, keeping himself busy with helping lost souls and overviewing the council, and doing his daily visit to Floof.
It felt like forever when he went back, and the clench of his stomach didn’t return until much later. The third time was much better, almost like fitting a glove.
The sixth time he left on his own terms. There was no ticking time bomb pushing him to leave, no invisible eyes watching him. He was just bored. The moment he realized what that meant, the elation that grew and swelled in his chest was welcomed.
He didn’t tell Eret yet, and that was mostly because he was too busy to really stay and chat. But that was fine, he could wait. It was difficult to not just blurt it out sometimes, however. He wanted to see the pride shine in Eret’s eyes, the shocked expression they would don. The only thing stopping him from sharing the news with them was that they seemed more jittery than usual, and that usually meant one thing. Dream.
While only the God of Harvest, they all knew he was much more powerful than George, pulling the strings connected to everyone. If Eret was starting to get antsy that meant it had to involve the God of Spring, Philza.
It had been a few centuries since Dream took Philza under his wing, though from what little he saw, it seemed more like he gripped him in an iron fist. In the rare meetings he’d been invited, the Spring God looked more like a prize Dream was showing off. He would sit straight and proper, wings folded over his back but not hidden. The young god would wear ostentatious clothing revealing his back, and wings by virtue. He didn’t have any proof of this, but the god’s limbs were a little too tense, and his arms would start moving to hug himself before realizing and putting them back where they were. With all of this in mind, he would say Dream was showing his protege off. He doubts the young god would exhibit such uncomfortable displays and still choose to wear such clothing.
As pessimistic he was about the situation, he doubts the situation is as horrible as he thinks it is. The young god, as much as he tried to be the good protege, the stories that Eret told him said otherwise. Occasional pranks the young god would pull and situations so ridiculous that he started to wonder if the young god was pulling a facade.
Sighing, he only relaxed further into the tree trunk he was resting on. It was the twentieth day that he was out in the Overworld. The wildlife was slowly warming up to him, getting used to the dark aura he couldn’t hide.
He was bathing in the sunlight, half-awake when a shadow fell over his face.
Slowly opening his eyes, he expected a cloud. Instead, he got a curious face near his. A face belonging to a certain god he was just thinking about.
Hastily backing away, he only pressed himself against the tree, caging himself between the trunk and the god.
“Hello!” Phil chirped at the confused and panicking Techno.
The God of the Underworld was feared for a reason. When they were battling the titans he was on the front lines along with Niki and Sapnap. His skills did not rust from the new duties that he took up, if anything he’d say he’s gotten better, dueling against famous heroes means he has to change his technique with every duel, never being able to settle in one style. If he did, they would not hesitate to take advantage and pick at it until he broke.
As fearsome as he was, he did not like social interactions, as much as he craved it.
So the only possible way to get out of this situation was by summoning a gateway back home, and he did just that. The last thing he saw was a forlorn expression on the young god before the gaping hole swallowed him.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid!
Completely ignoring the sad expression on Philza, he paced his room, too worked up to sit.
How did he not notice? He was the God of the Underworld! The young god would’ve been a beacon of ‘hey look at me!’ not being able to fully control his essence yet. Was he letting his guard down too much? Was the lack of anyone other than interaction with Eret and souls messing him up so bad? How did he even find him?
All of these questions haunted him, mocking at his inability to notice a young god.
Crouching to make himself as small as possible, he curled into himself. Oh no, will they tell the others? Everyone already knew he didn’t like anyone, but they still respected him out of fear. As much as it panged his chest, it was better than being mocked for fearing the others. At least this way he could pretend his mind wasn’t racing with all the possibilities they could laugh at him when he had to attend any gatherings.
The room grew infinitely darker, shadows coming out to completely block out any amount of light. They twisted against him, all gathering to surround him completely.
Surprisingly, the shadows didn’t linger after he calmed himself down. Most of the time they refused to leave him until Eret brought some more souls along. They didn’t drip away from him like molasses, clinging onto him for as long as they could. He felt them caress him before slipping away, acting more like water droplets, falling and falling and falling until they went back to acting as shadows. Odd.
Thinking nothing of it, Techno went back to his duties.