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The piglin man stood on the second floor of his house, laughing occasionally when the voices in his head delivered a snarky comment or two.
After many years of conflict, success, losses, and victories, the SMP was coming to an end. Dream had finally been slain, and upon his death, it seemed as though the actual issues came to a stop. Everything else could be resolved through speaking, and whenever someone even mentioned something related to the government or something similar to a hierarchy, Technoblade was always already there to confront it and negotiate. With his constant interference, the world seemed to naturally slow down, and eventually, people began becoming less and less politically active. Meanwhile, the only exception to the rule was an area called Snowchester, which had the man incredibly skeptical, but upon having a meeting with the founder Tubbo, they came to a mutual agreement.
As long as Tubbo promised to refrain from stealing land, starting unnecessary wars, and bringing issues on purpose, it could remain. In fact, Techno quite enjoyed Snowchester, which had evolved into a much larger commune that also happened to house nukes. The nukes didn’t bother him, since he found he could easily steal them if he wanted to. He never had a reason to.
He spread his left fingers and a small panel popped up that read: ‘TommyInnit: Are we ready?’
Rolling back his right shoulder he typed a ‘sure.’ in the chat before watching the rest of the people on the server follow right afterward.
Techno shuffled toward the windowsill that had a bell sat by it. The floorboards groaned and his ears naturally pricked toward the sounds of the snowflakes gently hitting the windows before falling to the ground. All around him were hills of pure white snow with an obvious indent that showcased the trail many took to travel to and from his home. Leaning forward, he took a deep breath in through his snout and watched the breath leave a circular disk mark on the frosted glass. The voices in his head echoed words consisting of ‘E, ‘so pretty, ‘when is it ending?’, and ‘snow’.
It was all finally coming to an end, and he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Staring out, he sniffed before responding to the voices, for he didn’t care if they wanted his story or not.
“This reminds me of the fall of Greek Mythology, not like the DreamSMP could ever come close to a whole religion, but I’m sure it could if you tried hard enough. Long story short, it was thriving until the leader decided, ‘oh I guess I’m Christian now’ and ended it, since he was the leader and everyone listens to him, I guess.”
The voices always became silent when he told his stories and shared the mythology. It was tooth rotting-ly sweet and it was moments like these that made his heart swell.
Techno wiped his snout on his shirt sleeve before continuing, “When Christianity became the official religion of this whole roman empire, kind of like the Church Prime here. Which sounds incredibly cringe now that I say it out loud, but it’s whatever. Anyway, I wouldn’t call it a fall, more so it is just the ending since they went and converted everyone. So, here we are, about to end this and everyone will move on, eh?”
Resting his eyes, he could hear the echoes of both excitement and sadness in his mind, the screams, the conversations. It was hard to imagine that at one point, these voices were too loud and overbearing, consistently overwhelming him and causing bloodshed. But now, it felt like second nature to have these words constantly in his head. The voices seemed about even when it came down to the final decision.
‘What happens to us?’
“What happens to you?”
Suddenly an influx of voices arose and swarmed him, and he had to wave them off and shake his head in an attempt to clear it, “You’ll just follow me, you’ll be fine.”
It seemed to calm them, but he felt bothered.
Techno himself has no clue what will happen once the SMP closes. Truth be told, he hadn’t ever had these voices before, and now that he was there, they were always there. They guided him, gave him tips, watched over him, and harassed him. It was a steady balance.
What would he do without them?
But, the piglin wasn’t given time to think any further, as the chat began counting down from ten.
TommyInnit: Ten.
Actually, he was given too much time to think. Reflecting, it was an odd feeling first joining the server to both help his friends and incite chaos. He only wanted to eliminate a harsh democracy and saw the opportunity for it.
Fundy: Nnie.
JackManifoldTV: Nine*
Afterward, he had been easily betrayed, and although he could vaguely feel a victim complex shining through after a harsh scolding, he did feel hurt. Thus, he blew up everything, and he found it completely justifiable. Techno was incredibly clear since the beginning on what he thought of government.
Nihachu: Eight.
Even then, he did several things to the country. It was hard to believe people forgave him after all of it. Forgive, he decided, but never forget.
Ponk: Seven!
Rubbing his arms, he had a whole-body tremor. ‘Cold?’ they echoed one after the other.
Antfrost: Six :)
Techno was genuinely surprised at how quickly Tommy could push aside their differences and ask for help. It bothered him though that he was betrayed once again. He was used for his items, weapons, and their friendship. He could never forget how he felt, even if it wasn’t the boy’s intentions. It was the first time he felt vulnerable.
HannahxxRose: five
Then, the butcher, Quackity, had attempted to assassinate him, before losing and moving onto the next opponent, Dream. He could still remember the people screeching in his head that sent his blood pumping, the way the adrenaline kicked in when he realized he could potentially die there, the overwhelming instinct to protect his horse, all of it. It was so satisfying? He couldn’t think of a proper way to describe that feeling of fireworks and nothing but pure instinct, following the voices mindlessly, like a puppet tethered to strings. Techno despised being controlled by someone else, but the people had the same idea as him.
CaptainPuffy: 4
He laughed before leaning back on the windowsill, letting these last couple numbers embrace him. He had no clue what would happen to the voices in his head, now repeating utter nonsense that would be a waste to try to follow.
GeorgeNotFound: Three?
Eret: Two!
WilburSoot: One.
Taking a swift glance at the room to inhale one last look, one last smell, one last hear. Techno always had ace natural senses, but even now, he wonders if what he has before him will matter, memory-wise or not. The man was never materialistic, but god, did it feel wrong losing everything he’s worked so hard for.
He’s never lost before.
Philza: 0.
___
Void.
Everything surrounding the pig was black, and nothingness. Looking over his shoulder to see, he spotted black. It was all pitch black. He inhaled sharply and grabbed his throat.
He couldn’t breathe.
A feeling of suffocation overtook him, and he desperately tried to cough, but no sound was heard. In fact, he didn’t feel anything. Nothingness.
“What, what is this? Do I have to enter a new server? Chat where is everyone?” he called.
But nobody answered.
“Chat?”
“Techno!”
In the distance was Philza, dragging his old tundra cape with him, and it took a moment for the piglin to notice a limp crow in his hands. It wasn’t dead, as it still cawed feebly and gave pitiful wing flaps every few seconds.
“The voices-”
Techno was met with a solemn nod and was handed the crow. The creature didn’t even touch his hands before it dissipated to nothing but white particles that puffed up and disappeared.
It was odd, and strange. Seeing his once unstoppable friend, someone who would never bow to anyone, someone would mercilessly kill if he really wanted, into a mourning mound of blood and bones.
With a voice thick with something he couldn’t pick up, the man spread his left fingers before turning to Techno, “Meet me on our server, alright?”
___
Grabbing his shoulder and digging his nails into them, he called out desperately, yearning for an answer. This feeling of emptiness, where his brain didn’t give responses felt wrong, gross, and different. Like some sort of brain fog, but the haze finally cleared.
“Chat!” he called.
Grabbing his throat, he began scratching, harder, and harder with each call. Trickles of blood began gently rolling down his skin as he yelled out in pure desperation. “Chat! Please!”
The crimson began following the lines of his skin, and left light stained streaks. His throat burned like magma and all the yelling was beginning to make him nauseous. Wind pricked at his rubbery skin and caused him to begin yanking the cape off of himself, and he slammed it into the ground before shaking pitifully. The man could do nothing more than scream for something.
“They’re gone Tec. Please, just stop.” Phil choked, hugging himself and held the ugliest face, covered in snot and tears. “Just stop.”
Every night, Techno would wake up in cold sweat and relive the same event a thousand times over. He would run outside and try to fill his ears with words and nonsense, and bring himself to screams in an attempt to bring back the adrenaline rush he missed. Fortunately, Philza was always nearby when he had these episodes, but it never felt easier. Each time, he’d comfort the piglin in the same way, offering sympathy. Then, he’d wash him up and they’d fall asleep with one another on the couch, enjoying each other’s company while Techno rode out his nightmare.
The man finally crumpled under the weight of the world. Wrapping his arms around Techno, he gave a warm embrace, something the pig would usually never accept. Burrowing his face in his neck, his back shuddered with nothing but silent and choked back sobs.
It never got easier.
In arms, the piglin weakly let out a final “Chat”, with his voice hoarse and passed out from exhaustion in his friend’s arms.
___
Frogs croaked in a nearby pool of water, and a bird sat on an unsteady stick, hastily picking through his feathers. In times like these, they, or formally known as voices, would mutter something like “ribbit” or “blood”. But now, it was warily silent.
Silence was comfort before, but now, it was nothing. Truly, nothing.
Techno couldn’t bring himself to call the voices anymore. Instead, they were referred to as ‘they’ and given more personification then they really needed. It was his way of somehow immortalizing them within his memory. But as he sharpened his axe, the repeated motion caused him to begin to dissociate once again.
The way the steel clinked set off sparks and occasionally left small soot marks on his hands. Noises that once filled his ears instead flowed through like floodgates opened during heavy rainfall.
If it wasn’t for the broad hands of Phil steadying him on the stool, he would’ve hit the ground without a single phase. Techno was so out of it, he couldn’t feel how gentle and soft the man was straightening him and leaning against the wall, or how the axe made an ear screeching scrape on the ground when it was placed to rest on the wall.
“Oh, man.”
The blonde turned on his heel and dragged himself out of the room, letting the black feathers scatter among the floor like leaf litter. Letting off a small iridescent shine. Typically, he would go prepare cold water to soothe the boy’s throat if he sensed an oncoming problem.
Techno did feel guilt, he really did. The idea he could be vulnerable and easily killed at any moment bothered him, but for now, he couldn’t bring himself to stomach it. Until then, he would build himself back up again, where he wouldn’t be such a burden.
Techno blinked his sore eyes, mindlessly reached down and picked up the feather, before touching his face with a finger.
“Phil really needs to start picking after himself, huh?”
It was like a desperate attempt to hear a response. After their disappearance, he felt both lost and confused. Not entirely sure where to go from where he sat.
The once mighty king had fallen so far.