Chapter Text
Under the splendor of the waning moon, an Old God wanders the land, searching for something he can never acquire.
There are few who remember the Old Gods. And those who usually do, never talk about the Old God of Blood, in fear of summoning him. He is no more than a bloody legend, passed through hushed whispers around campfires.
Some say he tears through the battlefield, spilling the thick crimson liquid in his wake.
Some say he once massacred an entire kingdom by himself, and a force of two hundred well-trained soldiers was not enough to stop him.
Some say that his lust for blood is enough to defy death itself.
But, as the mortals say, those are just stories. As time continues to flow, the legends start to decay, so did the Old God’s purpose to exist. He was no longer needed, no longer called, and soon the world discarded him all together.
Techno is the Old God of Blood, the last of the Old Gods in this universe. For years he has walked through thriving kingdoms, trudged through frozen tundras, and traversed through barren wastelands all in a mute silence. Techno has been to every corner of the world, but no matter how much he searches, he can never find his purpose.
Techno continues to walk.
Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, months turn into years.
Spring turns into summer, summer turns into autumn, autumn turns into winter.
Still, Techno continues to walk.
Until he stumbles upon the remains of a battlefield, and meets the little prince.
All that lingered were corpses and wandering souls of corpses. A cruel silence beckoned. At the end of the red grassland, past the mountains that were like black, massive shadows, the setting sun offered little crimson light across the horizon.
Red, red, red. Techno’s favorite color, but also the color he hated the most.
The crimson red of the roses bloomed across the battlefield, so maddeningly beautiful under the evening hue that was primed to burn the sky down.
And then, Techno saw the kid.
Questions swirled in Techno's mind as he peered out from his position behind a fig tree, squinting once more at the kid who stared at the gruesome scene all around him.
There was no shock, no fear, only a disturbing, morbid interest as the kid nudged an unmoving corpse with his boots, dyed a brilliant shade of wine from the liquid that seeped into the dirt. The once pearl white ruffled ends of the kid’s cloak were now cherry red, and the kid started to walk, trampling on dead limbs as he examined the scene.
Slowly, the lips of the kid curled into the most sinister smile, one that sent a chill down the spine of the Old God. Unsure of what he was to do, Techno continued to watch the kid from his place behind the fig tree. As though the kid had eyes on the back of his head, the kid turned around slowly, shimmering green eyes staring right through the bark of the tree and drilling deep into Techno.
But the kid wasn’t looking at Techno. In fact, the kid was looking at the lone bloodstained knight standing behind Techno, who had mistaken Techno to be the enemy and decided to act as his own jury and executioner, bloodied sword raised right above Techno’s head.
But the Old God, well-versed in the art of the battlefield, reacted faster. Techno unsheathed his sword, his prized possession, the emerald encrusted in the hilt shining wickedly and laid the knight to rest with one swift, clean cut. Armor rattled as he fell to the ground, releasing his grip around the golden locket he had held dear to his heart. Techno bent down to pick up the artifact, staring at the picture of a young female kid who would stand at her front door every day wondering why her father never returned home.
Ah, the cruelty of war. Something that Techno knew like the back of his hand. Techno laid the locket down and murmured a soft prayer, before he noticed the presence of the kid now staring at him with bright green eyes, a mask with a smiley face sitting on the side of his head.
"You shouldn't be here." Techno sighed, tilting his blade as he examined the red liquid splattered across the shiny metal of his sword. The kid looked up at Techno, emerald eyes darting everywhere, from the inscribed button that held Techno’s cloak precariously around his body to the golden crown embedded with dazzling jewels.
From a single glance, Techno knew the kid was a prince of some kingdom. There was no mistaking the air of royalty that clung onto the kid no matter where he walked. And from the sunken eyebags and slumped shoulders, Techno knew he longed to be free.
Techno had seen a fair share of princes and princesses wishing to be free. Sometimes, he helped free them. Techno squeezed his eyes shut as the images came rushing back of princes and princess smiling up at him as blood spilled from their red lips and kingdoms razed to the ground, before shaking his head vigorously.
An uncomfortable silence settled all around them, the metallic scent of blood wafting into Techno’s nose. The kid started to study Techno closely as though he was an ancient relic in a museum. Techno shifted awkwardly in his position, eyeing the kid from the corner of his eyes as he produced a water canister from the belt strung across his waist, pouring the sparkling water on his blade which soon turned bloody.
Slowly but surely, the kid’s eyes lit up, as familiarity and recognition poured into his eyes. He inched closer to Techno, who shrunk back, uncomfortable with the close proximity as the kid stared at the patterns inscribed on Techno’s button. “I recognise you.” The kid blurted out.
Techno frowned as he sheathed his blade and kept his water canister, making a mental note to look for a river later so he could replenish his water. “I’ve never seen you before-”
“You’re one of the Old Gods.”
Techno froze in his spot. Old Gods, a title Techno had not heard in decades. Centuries, even. Somewhere, nearby, a crow descended upon a pile of lifeless bodies and started to caw, its caws echoing throughout the crimson battlefield. A shiver crept down Techno’s spine as he stared at the kid, who tilted his head at Techno’s silent reply. The kid politely placed his hands behind his back, his boots splashing on the river of death as he inched closer towards Techno again, who found himself paralysed and unable to move. Finally, Techno gasped, feeling the air rush into his system. “No one calls me that anymore.”
“Do people still call you the God of Blood then?”
Techno felt the world spin around him, the colors seeping away as the emerald eyes of the kid started to glow brilliantly. Techno squeezed his eyes shut once more, thinking about times sickly mortals and foolish rebels and valiant knights and greedy kings pleaded and howled to the shimmering starry night sky for his help, their voices swirling into a symphony and a call that Techno heed and answered, for that was his duty as an Old God and how death followed him like an endless breeze wherever he went.
“No.” Techno admitted quietly. “The world has long forsaken me as a God. I am but an empty shell, wandering the world and looking for a place to end peacefully.”
“Oh.” The kid uttered softly, as sympathy flitted over his face for a brief second, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. More crows had started to appear, their presence more than ominous as they descended onto the dead bodies, their red beady eyes seemingly looking right at Techno. The sky had lost its color as puffy grey clouds started to merge, and somewhere in the distance, Techno heard the faint rumble of thunder as a bolt of lightning dashed across the sky.
“Come on kiddo.” Techno patted the kid’s shoulder as his instinct started to scream and shout at him. Techno wanted to leave the valley of death more than anything. “It’s going to start raining, and looking at dead bodies won’t do justice for a pretty prince like you.”
The kid looked up at him as they started to move, eyes quirked with a strange fascination. “How do you know I’m a prince? And I’m not a kid. I’m 12.”
Techno smirked as he led the kid away from the battlefield, leaving bloody footprints in his wake and feeling the tension leave his body. “Whatever you say, kiddo. I’ve seen and killed my fair share of princes.”
The words spilled from Techno’s mouth before he could even stop himself. Techno slapped a hand over his mouth, half expecting the kid to run off screaming in horror as mortals did whenever Techno tore through the walls and buildings with his bare fists, a guttural howl escaping his throat as the world turned bright red around him, until he could no longer distinguish between the sky and blood.
But nothing of that sort came. The kid merely looked up at him calmly, eyes conveying his morbid interest. “How many have you killed?” The kid asked plainly as they stopped in the plains, the trickle of water indicating that there was a river nearby.
It felt odd. Disturbing, even, that a kid was showing visible interest in Techno’s ‘achievements’ instead of what mortals usually did. Techno swallowed painfully as he led the kid towards the river, unscrewing the cap of his water canister and dipping it into the fast moving liquid.
“More than I ever wanted to.” Techno muttered.
Techno remembered the days, where he watched princes and princesses alike running through the gardens or weaving flower crowns, basking in the golden rays of sunlight. Days where Techno need not pick up his blade, days where Techno felt a raw sense of happiness, days where Techno was free. Techno remembered how he clashed swords with princes in a mock duel, teaching them the proper stances. Techno remembered how he sat patiently in front of princesses who braided his long, pink hair and laid flower crowns on his head. Techno could never forget their pure smiles and innocent laughs, but all good things come to an end. They would always die. Techno could never shake off the shackles of death that bound him.
Sometimes, Techno watched as they were publicly executed by the townspeople, their final wish for Techno not to intervene. Sometimes, Techno couldn’t save them in time in the heat of battle as the enemy pounced on them like predators. Sometimes, they died peacefully in their royal bedchambers, whispering sweet nothings into Techno’s ear with their final breath. Sometimes, Techno plunged his blade through their fragile bodies. And in the days that follow after that, Techno felt himself sinking deeper into the pits of despair, wandering the world as he started to lose pieces of himself.
“Humans.” Techno murmured, lost in his memories as the water rushed against his skin. “So brittle. So fragile.” He tightened his grip around his water canister.
The kid hummed, reminding Techno of his existence. “You’re not wrong.”
Techno sighed loudly as he took off his crown, raking his hand through his long, velvety pink hair. “Alright kiddo.” Techno rose to his feet, capping his water canister and putting it back in its rightful place, feeling much more tired than usual. “It’s time you return to where you rightfully belong.”
The kid placed his hands politely behind his back again, pouting slightly. “But I don’t want to go back.”
“What?”
The kid lowered his head, staring at a patch of grass and nudging a rock with his feet. “It’s tiring.” He murmured. “It’s boring. I want to see and explore the world instead of being held up in meeting rooms.”
“You still have to go back. Where else would you go then?” Techno retorted. “Now tell me which kingdom you belong to.”
“No.” The kid pursed his lips into a thin line. He looked up at Techno, a low gaze harbouring faint traces of hope. “Let me follow you.”
The sheer absurdity of it was enough to make Techno burst into a fit of laughter. “I’m not a babysitter, kid. I’m one of the Old Gods. What good will it do for you to follow me around the world?” Techno raised his hand to push his hair aside, but his hand remained frozen in mid air as he watched the kid’s reaction.
The kid flinched visibly, squeezing his eyes shut firmly and instantly throwing his hands up in front of him in an act of pathetic self-defense. For the first time Techno saw his arms, which had been hidden under his green cloak, how they were thinner than sticks, and how red lashes lined his skin like streaks of paint. Techno blinked, the realisation clearer than day and no words or explanation were needed. A wave of sympathy overwhelmed Techno as he lowered his hand slowly, before kneeling on one knee so he could look the kid directly in the eyes. “What have they done to you?” Techno whispered softly, urging the kid for a response, any response, as he held the kid gently by the shoulders. The kid had lowered his arms now, hiding them underneath his cloak once more as he stared at anything but Techno.
“You already know.” The kid mumbled, staring at a blade of grass. “I’ve seen your eyes. They’re the same as the servants.”
Techno sighed, his heart tearing itself apart.
When the world abandoned Techno, he sought to never form anymore attachments to the humans for in the end, they always died and left him crushed. Each grave Techno walked away from, he was determined to uphold the feeble promise he made to himself, but each human always swayed his heart, in waves of emotions Techno couldn’t understand. There were humans that feared him as the God of Blood, but there were also humans that loved him as just Techno. No matter which path he took, Techno was always left grieving and in insufferable amounts of pain.
Techno extended his hand. “Come along, then. I’ll show you the world.”
The kid looked up at him, before his lips curled into a heartfelt, genuine smile, one that Techno had seen whenever princes and princesses expressed their gratitude to Techno. The kid slipped his tiny, smooth hand into Techno’s bruised, calloused hand, and together, they started to walk off into the sunset.
Just one more.