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A short, blonde man dressed in robes of emerald and sage stands at the edge of a bloodied battlefield. His robes billow around him in a gust of stale air. Amidst the bodies of the fallen, a single figure stirs, slowly getting to their knees. The blonde man stretches out a pair of great raven wings and makes his way over to the figure on the ground. The pink hair of the man kneeling has long fallen out of it’s delicate plait and is now matted and greying. The two men now are close enough to see each and every scar and mark on the other's face. The pink haired man’s ripped cloak whips around him, the deep vermillion stained brown with dried blood and dirt.
A young boy dressed in a simple button down shirt and slacks sits on the edge of a hill, swinging his legs absent-mindedly over a small drop. He looks out over the fields, past a few abandoned farmhouses to the field with the marble tombstones.
The blonde man crouches down to be eye level with the other man and brushes a stray hair behind his ear. Pulling his broad-sword from its sheath, the blonde man smiles pitifully.
Amidst the great expanse of marble tombstones, there lays a delicately engraved sword, protruding from a skeleton. It is this oddity that interests the young boy.
The sword is raised, catching rays of the setting sun in its great arc. The kneeling man flinches away from it, his worn brown boots digging into the soft soil. The sword finds its mark in the chest of the kneeling man, landing with a sickly thump as it breaks any ribs in its path. Coughing chestily, the pink haired man sinks down to the ground, resting his head on the coarse sod, the ivory of his blouse now stained red with fresh blood.
Getting to his feet, the boy runs down the hill he was sitting on and down towards the sole inhabited house in the area. The brick roof and white plaster walls gleam in the late afternoon sun. Upon approaching the house, a younger boy, who appears to be around the age of 10 runs out to meet the older one. Wrapping his arms tightly around the older boy, the young boy starts,
“Wilbur, Fundy ate the fridge magnets again.”
Wilbur frowns, adjusting his wire framed glasses and sighs.
“Why didn’t you tell dad about it then?” Wilbur says, exasperated.
The younger boy's expression drops suddenly, his eyes appearing far away.
“Dad is, uhm, out again.” He mutters under his breath.
Wilbur’s face appears to soften and he picks the younger boy up, carrying him on his hip.
“ Alright Tommy I’ll deal with Fundy, Dad will be in the far field if you want to go get him.”
Tommy lights up at this suggestion and takes off sprinting into the fields. Turning back to the house, Wilbur sighs and brushes a strand of his mousey hair out of his eyes before swinging open the door of the cottage. He wipes his boots off on the mat and steps inside onto the polished wooden floor.
“Fundy…” Wilbur calls out, looking around for the mischievous fox.
He finds Fundy under an armchair, a fridge magnet clutched under his left paw. Reaching under the chair, Wilbur grasps for the last magnet.
“C’mon Fundy work with me here.”
After what seems like an age of Wilbur swiping under the armchair, he manages to pull out both fox and magnet. Puffing like he’d just run a marathon, Wilbur holds Fundy upside down, shaking him lightly until he’s dropped all the magnets out of his mouth. Right at that moment the door swings open to reveal Tommy and the boy’s father. Their fathers name is Philza and he is a man of slightly above average height, lengthy blonde hair arranged in an ornate plait and wearing a loose beige blouse and baggy jade pants that were tucked into dirty leg wraps. Philza drops Tommy lightly from how he was carrying him and strides over to Wilbur and Fundy, wooden sandals clacking lightly against the hardwood floors.
“Wil, what’d I tell you about letting Fundy at those fridge magnets.” Philza sighs.
“To uh, not uh, let him have them?” Wilbur smiles sheepishly.
Philza just sighs lightly and chuckles, taking Fundy from Wilbur’s grasp.
“What am I ever going to do with you lot?” Philza teases, looking into Fundy’s eyes.
Tommy interrupts the moment by tugging on Philza’s sleeve and complaining loudly,
“Daaaaaad I’m hungryyyyyyyy”
In the fuss over their pet fox eating fridge magnets, time has escaped the trio and the sun had begun to set, ending the hazy afternoon and painting the skyline with deep crimson and bittersweet hues. Philza shushes Tommy and strides off into the kitchen to prepare supper.
After dinner, Tommy has been sent to bed and Wilbur sits in front of a blazing fireplace with Philza reclining in the sole armchair of the living room. In Wilbur’s lap sits an old and well loved guitar, however the strings remain untouched as Wilbur appears to be deep in thought.
“Dad?”
Looking up from the socks he is in the process of darning, Philza replies,
“What’s up Wil?”
Wilbur furrows his eyebrows for a second, obviously contemplating how to word his question.
“Who’s the skeleton in the field? You know, the one with the sword in it and the fancy clothes?”
Philza’s expression closes off and goes cold, so cold that Wilbur can feel the ice of his stare seeping into his very soul.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, I…” Wilbur stutters, stopping when Philza raises a hand.
“No, I should’ve told you ages ago.” He starts, shifting in his chair, “Listen, A long, long time ago, before the war, I had a friend named Techno and we had been close since before either of us could remember. We were closer than brothers, learning and fighting together, in fact I think I knew him better than his actual brother did. Anyways, then the war came. We split ways and we each chose our sides, I fought with the people I had watched grow up, and he fought with people he agreed with. In the battle of the expanse, our sides were evenly matched, except for me. Techno was the last one left on the battlefield alive and I had orders to kill him on sight. So I did. I left his body where it was, it just, it just felt wrong to move it. All the gravestones around him were carved by me personally and all the corpses of my friends were buried by me.” He looks away, not wanting to meet Wilbur’s gaze, “You have to promise me Wil, promise me that you won’t go near that field.”
Wilbur starts, “Why…”
“You just can’t, alright? I can’t tell you why but you have to promise me you won’t go near there.” Philza interrupts.
“Alright, alright I promise.”
Sighing, Philza sinks back into the armchair.
“Go to bed Wilbur.”
Placing the guitar down gently, Wilbur gets to his feet and pads off to bed. ‘Techno’ Wilbur thinks, ‘Weird name.’
He tucks himself into bed, not planning on going anywhere near that field full of death.
The day after Wilbur turns eighteen is the day he finally makes his way down to the field of blood, as Tommy affectionately starts calling it after hearing Phil recount the story he told Wilbur. Philza has travelled to a nearby town for the day for a market and Tommy is far too busy chasing his pet sheep, Tubbo, around. Boots lightly crunching against the dry september grass, Wilbur treks over the rolling hills of the countryside, his long legs making easy work of the steep slopes. Upon reaching the edge of the field of blood, he stops and takes in the surroundings, never having been this close to it before. He can now clearly see the preserved skeleton in the middle of the field, the torn rags that once must have been a cloak have been eaten away by the elements. The sword protruding from the corpse however appears to be unrusted and the only apparent damage to it is decade old blood dried brown on the edge of the blade embedded in the skeleton.
The graves surrounding the skeleton of Techno are made of a deep gray marble, with the names engraved and painted in white. As Wilbur walks past he takes note of some of the names on the tombstones. Nihachu, Jack.M, George, Dream, Wilbur stops and frowns at that last grave. George and Dream are on the same stone. ‘Maybe they were married or something.’ Wilbur thinks before moving on between the next rows of graves. Sapnap, B.B.H, Skeppy, Ranboo. ‘Man, these people have weird names.’ Quackity, Schlatt. Again both on the same gravestone, Wilbur doesn’t question it this time. As he walks past the stones, he notices that each name has a word engraved below it, smaller than the name and not painted. Underneath Nihachu’s is flowers, underneath Jack.M’s is electricity. The words vary from things like ‘chance’ to ‘rock’ to ‘memory’ to ‘time’. As Wilbur approaches the corpse in the centre of the field, the graves become fewer and further between with the last grave simply reading ‘Technoblade, blood.’
Standing directly in front of what remains of Techno now, Wilbur eyes the gleaming sword protruding from the skeletons ribs. He reaches out to grasp the hilt, slight fingers wrapping tightly around the girth. Lifting the sword from its cage of broken and crushed ribs, Wilbur grunts with the effort, the sword being unexpectedly heavy. As if on command, as soon as the blade is free of the corpse, Wilbur staggers, his head filled with blinding pain and deafening noise. Hundreds upon millions of voices yelling indecipherable phrases in languages Wilbur couldn’t even begin to fathom. And then, it stops.
“I don't speak spanish.” Wilbur murmurs as he drops the blade onto the damp earth. Falling to sit on a gravestone, Wilbur exhales loudly. He takes a minute to regain his composure before eyeing the dropped sword carefully.
The skeleton of Techno has moved. Wilbur notices it out of the corner of his eye, the femur and tibia are ever so slightly displaced. As he turns to fully assess the bones, one by one the bones are disintegrating in front of his eyes. Panicking, Wilbur runs over to the rapidly deteriorating skeleton. The bones are falling to ash in his hands and…
seeming to melt into his hands? Skidding backwards on his heels, Wilbur’s eyes go wide and he screams.
“What the SHIT.”
He furiously begins scrubbing at his hands and any other part of his body that the ash has absorbed into. Getting to his feet, Wilbur scrambles out of the field, past the strangely marked graves, across the hills and slams his hands onto the door of their cottage. He fumbles with the lock on the door before stumbling inside and sprinting to the bathroom, not bothering to wipe his boots on the matt.
In the mirror, Wilbur’s reflection isn’t his own anymore. The reflection belongs to a man of about 23 with pink hair organised into an ostentatious braid, dressed in a crimson cloak with a fur trim and an ivory blouse. The clothes the reflection wears are in pristine condition, contrasting the various scars and wonky teeth jutting out of the mouth of the man. Wilbur freezes, taking in the image of this reflection.
“What’s up with you, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wilburs jaw gapes. ‘There's no way the reflection just spoke , is there?’ He tilts his head, brunette hair flopping lightly over his glasses.
“Who are you? And why are you in my mirror?”
The reflection appears rather taken aback at this question.
“Who am I?” The reflection demands, “You dare ask the blood god who he is?”
Wilbur takes a step back from the mirror.
“Haha kidding, the name’s techno.” The reflection grins widely, showing off his unsightly tusks, “More importantly, who’re you?”
“Oh, uh, my name’s Wilbur, Wilbur soot.” He stutters out.
Techno’s eyes go wide and he leans forwards within the mirror.
“Wilbur, as in Wilbur, god of explosions? I gotta say, I’m a big fan but I kinda thought you’d be less of a scrawny kid and uh, how do I put this? More muscle. ”
Wilbur frowns, processing the information, before saying,
“Maybe you have the wrong Wilbur, although dad did tell me I was named after someone important. That aside, you said your name is techno?”
Techno nods the affirmative.
“But you’re dead aren’t you?”
Now it’s techno’s turn to freeze. He backs away from the mirror face and turns to the side.
“So, are you like, haunting me ‘cause I moved your sword?” Wilbur continues tactlessly.
Frowning, Techno turns back to face Wilbur.
“I never fight with a sword.” He states firmly, “What’d the sword look like?”
“Uhm, it was kinda big and had a super fancy looking handle and it was y’know sticking out of your skeleton.” Wilbur thinks for a second before continuing, “Oh yeah and it had a green stone thing at the end of the handle.”
Techno’s face shifts in recognition as he processes what he’s just been told.
“But the only person who had a sword like that was…” He murmurs, “Who’d you say your dad is?”
“I didn’t but his name is Philza, Philza MC. Don’t ask about the different last names, it's compli…” Wilbur starts before being interrupted.
“PHILZA?” Techno all but yells.
“Uh yeah that’s his name.” Wilbur smiles sheepishly.
“Philza killed me.” He deadpans.
“Uh yeah that’s what he told me I think.”
Sighing, Techno facepalms.
“Always knew it was gonna be him but man it kinda sucks being dead and all, speaking of which. How long have I been dead for?”
Wilbur thinks for a minute, trying to do the mental math, “Well dad says he’s in his 40’s and you look about 23 so just under 20 years?”
At this Techno bursts out in a side-splitting laugh.
“Wil, Wilbur, your dad is a god , god’s don’t age ding dong.” He wheezes out between laughs, Wilburs eyes going wide, “Philza is maybe around 4000 if I had to hazard a guess, and I’m uh, what year is it?”
“It’s 2021.”
“Right then I’m currently 3652 if you count the years I’ve been dead for.” Techno says nonchalantly.
“You seem very calm about being dead.” Wilbur says quizzically.
“Eh you live for so many years and they all merge together at some point.”
“Right.” Wilbur narrows his eyes, “So do you like, live in my mirror now or what?”
Techno snorts, very piglike, “No, no. If you lifted the sword out of me then you must've heard the voices yeah? Well ‘cause you lifted the god-killer sword then you take my place as the god of blood.”
“I don't speak spanish.” Wilbur murmurs as he drops the blade onto the damp earth. Falling to sit on a gravestone, Wilbur exhales loudly. He takes a minute to regain his composure before eyeing the dropped sword carefully.
The skeleton of Techno has moved. Wilbur notices it out of the corner of his eye, the femur and tibia are ever so slightly displaced. As he turns to fully assess the bones, one by one the bones are disintegrating in front of his eyes. Panicking, Wilbur runs over to the rapidly deteriorating skeleton. The bones are falling to ash in his hands and…
seeming to melt into his hands? Skidding backwards on his heels, Wilbur’s eyes go wide and he screams.
“What the SHIT.”
He furiously begins scrubbing at his hands and any other part of his body that the ash has absorbed into. Getting to his feet, Wilbur scrambles out of the field, past the strangely marked graves, across the hills and slams his hands onto the door of their cottage. He fumbles with the lock on the door before stumbling inside and sprinting to the bathroom, not bothering to wipe his boots on the matt.
In the mirror, Wilbur’s reflection isn’t his own anymore. The reflection belongs to a man of about 23 with pink hair organised into an ostentatious braid, dressed in a crimson cloak with a fur trim and an ivory blouse. The clothes the reflection wears are in pristine condition, contrasting the various scars and wonky teeth jutting out of the mouth of the man. Wilbur freezes, taking in the image of this reflection.
“What’s up with you, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Wilburs jaw gapes. ‘There's no way the reflection just spoke , is there?’ He tilts his head, brunette hair flopping lightly over his glasses.
“Who are you? And why are you in my mirror?”
The reflection appears rather taken aback at this question.
“Who am I?” The reflection demands, “You dare ask the blood god who he is?”
Wilbur takes a step back from the mirror.
“Haha kidding, the name’s techno.” The reflection grins widely, showing off his unsightly tusks, “More importantly, who’re you?”
“Oh, uh, my name’s Wilbur, Wilbur soot.” He stutters out.
Techno’s eyes go wide and he leans forwards within the mirror.
“Wilbur, as in Wilbur, god of explosions? I gotta say, I’m a big fan but I kinda thought you’d be less of a scrawny kid and uh, how do I put this? More muscle. ”
Wilbur frowns, processing the information, before saying,
“Maybe you have the wrong Wilbur, although dad did tell me I was named after someone important. That aside, you said your name is techno?”
Techno nods the affirmative.
“But you’re dead aren’t you?”
Now it’s techno’s turn to freeze. He backs away from the mirror face and turns to the side.
“So, are you like, haunting me ‘cause I moved your sword?” Wilbur continues tactlessly.
Frowning, Techno turns back to face Wilbur.
“I never fight with a sword.” He states firmly, “What’d the sword look like?”
“Uhm, it was kinda big and had a super fancy looking handle and it was y’know sticking out of your skeleton.” Wilbur thinks for a second before continuing, “Oh yeah and it had a green stone thing at the end of the handle.”
Techno’s face shifts in recognition as he processes what he’s just been told.
“But the only person who had a sword like that was…” He murmurs, “Who’d you say your dad is?”
“I didn’t but his name is Philza, Philza MC. Don’t ask about the different last names, it's compli…” Wilbur starts before being interrupted.
“PHILZA?” Techno all but yells.
“Uh yeah that’s his name.” Wilbur smiles sheepishly.
“Philza killed me.” He deadpans.
“Uh yeah that’s what he told me I think.”
Sighing, Techno facepalms.
“Always knew it was gonna be him but man it kinda sucks being dead and all, speaking of which. How long have I been dead for?”
Wilbur thinks for a minute, trying to do the mental math, “Well dad says he’s in his 40’s and you look about 23 so just under 20 years?”
At this Techno bursts out in a side-splitting laugh.
“Wil, Wilbur, your dad is a god , god’s don’t age ding dong.” He wheezes out between laughs, Wilburs eyes going wide, “Philza is maybe around 4000 if I had to hazard a guess, and I’m uh, what year is it?”
“It’s 2021.”
“Right then I’m currently 3652 if you count the years I’ve been dead for.” Techno says nonchalantly.
“You seem very calm about being dead.” Wilbur says quizzically.
“Eh you live for so many years and they all merge together at some point.”
“Right.” Wilbur narrows his eyes, “So do you like, live in my mirror now or what?”
Techno snorts, very piglike, “No, no. If you lifted the sword out of me then you must've heard the voices yeah? Well ‘cause you lifted the god-killer sword then you take my place as the god of blood.”
A look of confusion passes over Wilbur, “God-killer?”
“Yeah how’d you think I stayed dead for so long? Haven’t you noticed your old man has never had a paper cut? Or never stubbed his toe? Gods don’t harm easy Wilbur.”
“So you say I’m the blood god now ‘cause I lifted some fancy sword?”
Techno shrugs, “Pretty much yeah, though I don’t know how that will work if you’re already partially the god of death.”
Eyes widening, Wilbur blurts out in shock, “The god of WHAT.”
“Well you’re Philza’s son yeah? So you’ll be a demigod ‘cause you're half him and half whoever else.” Techno shrugs again, the picture of not caring.
“Back to my question earlier, do you live in my mirror now?” Wilbur asks again.
“I don’t think so, I’m no expert on dead gods, that’d be your dad, but I think our souls are kind of fused or something so you can see me in your reflection but no one else can, in other words I am you now.”
Wilbur takes this in for a second before continuing, “So you’re in my head?”
Techno nods.
“Right then.” Wilbur leaves the bathroom.
Running out of the house he screams, and yells and honestly cries a little because what the actual shit just happened. Philza is a century old god, he’s currently possessed by another god, he is a god and holy fuck the ringing in his ears will not stop. He crouches on the top of a nearby hill, gripping his head between his hands. Whipping around at the sound of footsteps, he sees Tommy has stopped chasing Tubbo around and is standing a few feet behind him.
Tommy is now a young man of 14, his dirty blonde hair barely brushing his chin. He stands only a few inches shorter than Wilbur and is currently covered from head to toe in grass stains. Wilbur stands up and looks over at Tommy. Tommy shifts his weight from foot to foot.
“Why were you screaming? You scared the hell out of Tubbo.”
“I uh,” Wilbur fumbles with a believable lie, “I stubbed my toe, hurt like a bitch.”
Tommy burst out with peals of infectious laughter.
“You really screamed like a girl over stubbing your toe?” Tommy wheezes.
Rolling his eyes, Wilbur smiles for the first time in the past hour, “Man, you don’t gotta tease me about it.”
“I don’t but it’s bloody funny.” Tommy is practically in hysterics by this point.
“What’re you boys laughing about?”
Phil has returned, laden down by various pieces of fabric and fur.
“Wilbur screamed like a girl because he stubbed his toe.” Tommy wheezes.
Wilbur sighs, rolling his eyes, “It really wasn’t that funny.”
“Well someone certainly found it funny.” Philza says fondly, reaching out to flick Tommy’s nose.
Later in the day when the sun starts to set and the air begins to cool, Wilbur sits on the edge of his bed, staring out the window of his room. From this vantage point he can see out past the hills, right out to the field of blood. A wave of revelation washes over Wilbur as he realises why it’s called that. ‘Kinda useless calling it that now, no god of blood in it’ Wilbur thinks to himself.
“Dinner time Wil!” Philza calls from the kitchen, the homely scent of baked sausage and egg pie floating up the stairs. Wilbur bounds over to the dining room, eager for the normalcy of a family after the strange day he’s had. On the way there he almost trips over a small fluffy body on the floor.
“TOMMY!” Wilbur yells, “STOP LETTING TUBBO INSIDE.”
“HE’S FAMILY TOO!” Tommy yells back.
“UGH” Wilbur yells an over dramatic sigh.
“Boys, please.” Philza says meekly, knowing better than to get in between the two boys arguing.
“Fine, fine.” Wilbur says, sitting down at the dinner table.
Later, after dinner, Wilbur is the last one awake. Tommy went to bed a few hours ago and although Philza would usually stay up with Wilbur, he claimed to be tired after the market and went to bed at the same time as Tommy. He sits, staring at the fire, watching the flames lick over one another, working in an unspoken harmony to devour the log of oak wood in the hearth. He makes up his mind and walks to the bathroom and flicks on the light, staring into the mirror. To no surprise, Techno stands in place of his reflection.
“You’re back.”
Wilbur nods, “Yep.”
“Thought I might’ve scared you off by how you ran off earlier.” Techno says before continuing, “Also the screaming? A bit dramatic if you ask me.”
“You heard that?” Wilbur frowns.
“Well duh, I’m not trapped to just your reflection as I’ve figured out, I’m also in your head. Wait, watch this I’ll show you.” Techno turns before disappearing from the mirror, leaving Wilbur’s natural reflection. Not a second later, Wilbur can hear Techno’s voice in his head like it was a thought.
“See I’m in your head Wil, like a really terrible subconscious or something.” Techno jokes.
Wilbur stands there stunned, before thinking back, ‘Uh could you maybe get out of my head? It feels a bit crowded with me, you and the other voices. Also why’d you call me Wil?”
A second passes and Techno reappears in the mirror, “I called you Wil ‘cause Philza calls you Wil and I don’t know it just felt right.” He shrugs.
“Right.”
“If I hadn’t been brutally murdered then I probably would’ve been your godfather or something Wil so..” He shrugs again, “Anyways you hear the voices too?”
Wilbur nods. Tilting his head lightly, Techno continues, “Watch out for those Wil, you might not hear what they say now but when you do… yikes, they’re not a friendly bunch.”
Wilbur frowns slightly, confused.
“What do they say?”
“The voices, they demand blood, Wilbur.”
With that, Techno disappears from the mirror leaving Wilburs pale and sweaty reflection. In the total silence he can hear the quietest of chants inside his thoughts.
‘Blood, blood, blood, blood.’
Two weeks pass in a very similar fashion, Wilbur and Tommy do their chores for the day, Philza sews, then Philza cooks and Tommy goes out to play with Tubbo while Wilbur plays guitar. Then each night after dinner, Wilbur talks to Techno. On the Saturday night of the second week, Techno isn’t in the mirror. Wilbur wonders if ghost spirit things need sleep. He goes to bed earlier than usual. The next morning Wilbur wakes and goes to brush his teeth, and promptly almost shits himself when he notices the roots of his hair are beginning to grow in pink. Panicking he runs outside, barefoot in the early morning dew. He runs to a nearby tree and slides down the trunk, hands in his hair.
“Techno what the hell.”
“What did I do?” Comes the innocent reply from Wilbur’s thoughts.
“You know damn well what you did, my hair is pink for fucks sake.” Wilbur seethes.
“Oh shoot forgot to mention that, my bad.”
“MY BAD?” Wilbur roars.
“Yeah uh, it slipped my mind. Also your teeth will grow and honestly you might shrink a bit, how tall are you?”
Wilbur sighs loudly before standing back up and heading back to the house.
“And you’re ignoring me. Rude.”
Scowling, Wilbur continues to ignore Techno. Once back in the house, he grabs a piece of bread from the kitchen counter and heads back to his room. Grumbling audibly, Wilbur slowly eats the bread. When he’s done, Wilbur decides that talking to Techno is better than silence.
“What do I do about dad noticing my hair?”
“Hm? Oh so we’re not being a drama queen anymore?” Techno teases, “Philza would notice it in a heartbeat so my fantastic idea is go camping in the woods for a few weeks and come back and tell him you ate a weird berry or something.”
Wilbur makes the kind of face you’d expect of someone about to be sick.
“What? You got a better idea?” Asks Techno.
“No.” Wilbur sighs, “Fine we’ll go with that.”
Grabbing some supplies from the kitchen, Wilbur bumps into a sleepy Tommy in the doorway.
“Ugh, Wilbur why’d you gotta get up so damn early.” Tommy mumbles.
“Going camping in the woods for a while.” Comes the curt reply from Wilbur.
“D’ya want me to tell dad.” Tommy asks.
“Yeah actually that’d be good, I’ll write a note anyways though.”
“Mmph” Tommy says through a mouthful of fruit.
Grabbing a loaf of bread and a mound of cheese wrapped in parchment paper, Wilbur hurries out of the kitchen and to the linen cupboard. From the cupboard, Wilbur grabs a sleeping bag and a tent that Philza had brought him for his 11th birthday. He stuffs his supplies into a deep azure rucksack and grabs an apple from the bowl by the door before hurrying out, closing it quietly so as to not wake Philza.
On the edge of the forest, Wilbur walks the perimeter, looking for the dirt trail that leads to a small clearing in the centre of the forest.
“You looking for the trail?” Asks Techno.
“Mhm” Wilbur continues to look around.
“On your left.”
Wilbur looks to his left and sure enough, there is the well walked track. He takes the track deep into the forest until he finds the small clearing. He begins to set up the tent.
“What. Is. That.” Techno interrupts.
“Huh? The tent?” Wilburs brow creases.
“Yeah that thing. Is it like a shelter?”
“Sorry I forgot you’re like super ancient, a tent is basically a portable mini house.” Wilbur replies sassily.
“Shush, to me you’re little more than a baby.” Techno huffs.
“Well if I’m a baby, what’re you? Currently I’m both the blood god and a demigod of death so…”
“Ugh.” Techno can’t roll his eyes but Wilbur knows the sentiment is there.
After the tent is fully assembled, Wilbur sets up his sleeping bag and food supplies.
“Wil it’s like 9am what are you even going to do all day everyday while you’re out here?” Quizzes Techno.
“Uh, I was planning on doing some art or like learn how to climb trees or something.”
“ Learn how to climb trees?” Techno scoffs, “Why? You’re a god now buddy and hate to break it to ya but gods don't exactly do things like that.”
“Fine, then what do you propose I do, Mr great ideas?” Wilbur rolls his eyes.
“Well I suggest that you go adventuring.” Techno states, “I know these woods well, but do you?”
“Well, no but..”
“Great! Then it’s settled.” Techno interrupts.
Wilbur sighs and goes to sit inside the tent.
“You know there’s people living in this forest?”
Doing a double take, Wilburs eyes go wide, “I’m sorry what?”
“Yeah there's a couple old friends of mine that live around here.” Says Techno casually before continuing, “They might not know you but I’m sure they’ll warm up to you.”
“They’re not like, cannibals or anything, right?” Wilbur asks skeptically.
Techno laughs, “No, no. Keep away from the pretty one though, she’s a tad violent around strangers.”
Wilbur frowns, “How many of your friends live here?”
Thinking for a second, Techno replies, “Depends how many Philza killed but I’d guess around four.”
Frowning deeper, Wilbur asks, “How many people has my dad killed exactly?”
“Not people Wil, gods. Only the god of death could kill another god.”
“Does that mean…”
“Yes, you could probably get rid of me permanently if you really wanted to but if you were going to ask if you could kill a living god then, no probably not unless they were a demigod too.”
“Oh.”
“What, are you disappointed?” Teases Techno.
Wilbur tilts his head slightly, “Nah just a lot of information y’know.”
Techno hums lightly and Wilbur pulls out his sketchpad from the rucksack.
The next day, Wilbur pulls on his boots, preparing for the day's hike ahead of him. He knows there is a small shack further into the woods so he packs up the tent and his belongings, planning to sleep there.
“Hey Techno?”
“Hmm?” Comes the reply.
“Do you sleep?”
Techno bursts out in loud laughter that seems to echo around in Wilbur’s head.
“I’m a ghost of a decade old god and you’re really asking me if I sleep?” Laughs Techno, “Of course I sleep, everything needs sleep dumbass. I just sleep when you do so you don’t notice I guess.”
Embarrassed, Wilbur flushes a deep shade of red, “Jeez I was just asking…”
“And I was just making fun of you for being an idiot.”
Wilbur scowls and turns around, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything on the ground. After ensuring that all his supplies are safely tucked away in his bag, Wilbur sets off on his hike.
“So what direction are these friends of yours in?”
“Uhhh, East I think.”
Wilbur frowns, “What do you mean you think? You don’t know for sure?”
Wilbur can feel how Techno shrugs, “It’s been a while, and they like to travel around.”
Raising his eyebrows at that, Wilbur asks, “Travel around?”
“Yeah, they go on hunts so if you hear horses I suggest you stand very still and hope they notice you’re human.”
Exhaling loudly, “What the actual shit Techno.”
Techno laughs lightly, “Eh it could be worse, I could be taking you to meet Dream.”
“At this point I don’t think I want to know who that is.”
“Probably wise, I don’t think you two would get on well.”
“So heading east then?”
“Mhmm”
Wilbur heads off eastwards, towards where the sun rose earlier that morning. After a few minutes of walking, Wilbur strikes up a conversation.
“So who are these friends of yours?”
“You want their life stories or what? Nosy…” Techno verbally rolls his eyes.
“Ugh, you’re impossible sometimes.” Wilbur sighs, “Just give me some background and maybe what they look like? Names would be helpful too.”
“Fine if you’re gonna be annoying about it,” Techno says teasingly, “They’re a group of what the gods called ‘Valkyries’, so essentially they…”
“I know what a valkyrie is dude.” Interrupts Wilbur.
“Do you want me to talk about them or not?”
“Fine, fine I’ll be quiet.”
“Good. Anyways , as I was saying, This group used to have around 10 members but due to your old man, there’s only five left.” Techno pauses for a second, “First you have Karl Jacobs, He’s the god of time. Karl is a bit of a softie, loves bright coloured things and he was always the one I got to braid my hair. Then there’s Sapnap, god of fire. Sap is a bit temperamental, tends to be a bit angry. Oh and Karl and Sapnap are married so whatever you do, Do NOT flirt with Karl. Don’t give me that look I can read your thoughts fruity boy. Anyways next is Puffy, who is the god of livestock but honestly could be the god of swords ‘cause damn she knows how to use one. Puffy’s wife died so I wouldn’t bring that up, bit of a sore subject. And then there's Ant who uh, I think it’s better if you meet first. Lastly is Eret, who is the pretty one I was warning you about. They’re better at fighting than they are at being pretty, which is really saying something.”
“Wow uh, that’s a lot. What’s Eret the god of though?”
“Hm? Oh she’s the god of mischief.”
“Like Loki?”
“Who’s Loki?”
“Nevermind, you said they ride horses?”
Wilbur feels Techno nod. Continuing on the journey, Wilbur uses his long legs to his advantage to climb a small hill.
“Jeez how tall are you Wil?”
“I’m 6’5”
Snickering, Techno replies, “That’ll change.”
“I swear to gods if I end up short I will permanently kill you Techno.”
“Eh I was only 6’3 so…”
Scowling, Wilbur continues walking, this time in silence.
Later in the day, Wilbur reaches the abandoned cabin. It’s run down and covered in moss but the inside appears well kept, although a little dusty. Setting down his bag on a table inside, Wilbur notices a crack mirror on one of the walls. Upon looking at his reflection he immediately notices that his hair now brushes his chin, with the majority of it being a dusty pink. He also notices his bottom canine teeth have grown slightly and they now protrude from his lips. In short, he looks feral. Grease coats his bare arms from the tent and dirt is caked under his nails from pulling up the tent pegs. His eyes are also subtly more red and less brown than they were before. Fortunately Wilbur seems to have retained his height, for now.
He sets up his belongings for the night, opting to sleep on the couch of the hutt, after testing it to make sure the wood hadn’t rotted. He grabs the apple from his rucksack and attempts to bite into it. Attempts being the operative word.
“Hey Techno how am I meant to eat with these weird ass teeth.”
“Figure it out dumbass it’s not that hard.”
Wilbur frowns at the apple, turning it in his hand. He lifts it to his molars and bites down.
“Well done Sherlock, you figured it out.” Techno says both sleepily and sarcastically.
“Fuck you Techno.” Wilbur growls over a mouthful of apple.
“Eh, no thanks I don’t swing that way. In fact I don’t swing at all.”
Wilbur suddenly flushes a deep red, clearly embarrassed.
“Oh don’t worry Wil I know very well that you think I’m attractive. Not that that's even a slight bit wrong, me being over 3000 years old and you being barely 18. I mean, sure it’s legal but what the fuck Wilbur. You should really raise your standards.”
Too embarrassed to respond, Wilbur just flushes darker.
“If you think I’m good looking I’m sure you’re going to be head over heels for Eret.” Techno laughs a little, “Really don’t worry about it, I don’t care that much Wil.”
Wilbur sighs in relief. Techno continues, “Teenage hormones suck, I mean, I wouldn’t know but from what I’ve seen of your thought I can sympathise.”
Wilbur groans and gets into his sleeping bag on the couch.
Wilbur wakes at an absurd hour in the morning to continue the adventure through the woods to find the valkyrie. Techno grumbles at being made to get up so early but ultimately is excited to see his friends again. After eating a quick breakfast of bread and cheese and what was left of the apple from last night, Wilbur leaves the hutt with his rucksack packed with all his belongings. Overnight, Wilburs teeth had grown even more and sleep was doing nothing for his unruly hair.
Heading east proved more of a challenge than expected as the east majority of the forest has rolling hills and deep valleys. Fortunately, Wilbur hadn’t shrunk overnight so he made quick work of each hill. After traversing for a few hours, he finally reaches a flat part of the forest.
“Oh thank fuck.” Wilbur huffs.
“Language.”
“Wilbur I would turn around VERY slowly if I were you.” Techno hisses in his thoughts.
Wilbur stiffens and slowly turns around. In front of him is a group of four people of varying heights, the tallest being only a few inches short of Wilbur and the shortest only coming up to about Wilburs sternum. The thing they all had in common is that they’re all carrying weapons, and they’re all pointed at Wilbur.
“Don’t shoot!” Wilbur says nervously.
“And why shouldn’t we?” Asks a man dressed in a bright coloured silk blouse and holding a crossbow.
“That's Karl.” Whispers Techno in his thoughts.
“I’m a, uh, friend of Techno’s.”
“Like hell you are, Techno’s been dead for years.” Spits the person standing in front. Wilbur gapes at the person who just spoke because holy hell they are stunning. Standing at around 6’2, they look like something out of a story book, dressed in a ruffled white blouse and deep navy and gold corset. Their brunette hair has a slight curl to it and comes down to their shoulders.
“Wilbur, stop drooling over Eret and explain.” Techno hisses.
Wilbur, however, can not stop drooling over Eret.
“God, do I have to do everything around here?” Grumbles Techno.
The next time Wilbur opens his mouth, it’s Techno’s voice that comes out.
“No, it's me, Eret. Long story short I’m possessing this moron for the time being.” Says Techno.
Karls face softens and he suddenly sprints over to Wilbur-Techno and gives them a bear hug.
“I missed you so much Techno! It’s been so long since I’ve braided your hair!” He says with a smile before backing off back to where he stood before. After the obvious display of trust from Karl, everyone else drops their weapons.
“Possession does explain the pink hair and teeth.” Eret says skeptically, “But how do I know you’re not just imitating Techno’s voice.”
“You’re really just going to have to trust me but if it makes you feel any better, Wilbur is currently thinking about how attractive you are.” Shrugs Techno.
Eret’s eyes go wide, “Wilbur as in…” She trails off.
“No no, This Wilbur is just named after that one.” Techno assures them.
“Oh…”
“You sound disappointed, Eret.”
“No, no, I just…”
“Eret had a thing for the other Wilbur!” Interrupts the man standing behind Eret.
This guy is short. Like, Very short. He’s also sporting a pair of cat ears and a tail.
Eret blushes and is pushed out of the way by the cat-boy, Ant.
Ant walks right up to Wilbur-Techno and places a hand on their hip.
“I think this Wilbur is cute.” He purrs, tail wrapping around Wilbur-Techno’s waist.
This time when Wilbur opens his mouth, it’s his own voice that comes out.
“Hey Ant uh, you’re a cat.” He stutters tactlessly.
Both Ant and Eret snicker at this.
“Well no shit Sherlock.” Ant grins.
“Hate to interrupt whatever that is.” Eret says, motioning to Ant very clearly trying to flirt with Wilbur, “But who exactly are you?”
“Well,” starts Wilbur, disentangling himself from Ant’s tail, “Techno is possessing me so I’m the current blood god but also I’m Philza’s son so also a demigod of death.” Wilbur smiles sheepishly.
“Oh man you should NOT have said that.” Techno says to Wilbur in his thoughts.
Wilbur barely has time to react to what Techno said before he’s being knocked over by a short woman with fluffy, white hair, who's dressed quite like a pirate. A blade is pressed to his throat.
“You shouldn’t have come here, son of Philza.” She growls, knees pressing into Wilbur’s chest, pinning him down. Karl stands behind her, face cold.
“Guys, stop.” Eret commands in a flat tone.
The woman on top of Wilbur breaks down into great, heaving sobs and Karl walks away from the two to talk to Ant. After a few minutes, the woman wipes her eyes and stands up.
“I’m sorry, Philza killed my wife. And Sap…” She trails off to look over at Karl who's currently got his head buried in Ant’s shoulder.
“I’m Puffy by the way.” She offers her hand out to Wilbur. He takes it and gives it a little squeeze.
After everyone from the group has done their catching up with Techno, they lead Wilbur-Techno back to their base.
As they cross the premises, Eret turns back to look at Wilbur.
“Welcome to L’manburg.”