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The wind was cold, Techno thought to himself.
It had been like this all winter, but he thought that the gusts from the northern mountains would become more mild after the Spring Equinox. Clearly, he had thought wrong, as he headed down the well-worn path that he had made through the forest in order to walk to his forge from his humble cabin while wearing a large cloak, a coat he had found in the depths of one of the closets and a scarf he had hastily knit together from pink wool once he found winter in this region to be particularly harsh. It wasn’t that much, in fact, it was barely enough, something he realised on this freezing morning where he found himself having to use a shovel to clear his way through the thick blanket of snow that covered the ground.
It took him a few excruciating minutes, but he finally managed to reach the entrance to the forge in which he worked. Racks and racks of sharpened swords gleamed in the dim morning sunlight, all forged with high quality iron that he buys from a vendor a bit further down the road. He also sees the tools that he makes for the farmhands and lumberjacks, which are his main source of profit during the warmer seasons, where monsters appear at a much slower pace than during the long snowy nights of December and January. He would probably see more success with his weaponry if he moved closer to the mountains or closer to the Capital, where the gladiatorial arenas often commission local blacksmiths for cheap weapons that they can use for their spectacles. However, the man had no interest in ever heading near that capital while he still lived, nor did he care if he could be more prolific elsewhere.
Techno quickly stepped into the back of the shop, where he kept all of the equipment that he actually used. He saw the darkened embers of yesterday’s fire still glowing faintly with progressively darker light as they rested on a pile of cinders and ages. He also looked at the worn anvil that laid besides the massive forge bellows, upon which rested his hammer. With a deep sigh, he took off the many layers of clothing that covered him until he found himself in nothing more than comfortable linen pants and a worn-out shirt made out of cotton, only exposing his arms to the cold breeze that still made its way into the room. He wasn’t worried about the heat that would likely sear the skin off of a normal person; His body had always been resistant to heat to an abnormal degree, often allowing him to handle the glowing white ore with his bare hands without the need for pincers or anything of the sort. He took a leather apron off of a hook built into the rock wall of the building, slipping it over his long mane of pink hair that he had manifestly forgot to tie up in a ponytail or braid before leaving his home. He rummaged through his things to find a hair tie, finding one relatively quickly and tying his hair in such a way that it would not be a burden to him while he worked. He put in a few wood chips to act as a firestarter, throwing a match into the forge in order to light it up more quickly than manually starting a fire. He also put in a few logs that would easily burn up, watching the flames lick the sides of the stones that contained them before hearing heavy footsteps coming from his store. Techno did not expect to have visitors this early in the morning, especially not from this kind of people.
Technoblade’s eyes rested on two heavily armoured soldiers standing within his establishment, eyeing the weapons that he had forged with curiosity. They bore the emblem of the kingdom, the same one that decorated the flag that flew in the plaza not far away from where he was. One of them held a roll of parchment, while the other carried a heavy iron axe within his grasp. He sighed heavily, which alerted the two men to his presence.
“What is your purpose for being in my shop?” Techno spoke monotonously as he watched the guard fumble with the rolled up parchment before opening it and starting to read it very solemnly.
“By decree of Our Majesty, all able-bodied citizens are required to head to the capital with haste in preparation for the upcoming war with the Antarctic Empire. Blacksmiths will be commissioned to produce weapons for the campaign once they arrive and a cart will be assigned to each for them to carry their preexisting stock.” The guards both looked at him, expecting him to bow down and pledge his service right then and there, but they merely watched him as he slowly took off the apron that he had put on moments earlier.
“And what if… I refuse? What if I refuse to fight in some war that would likely affect me in very minimal ways?”
“You- You would be deemed a traitor to the crown and you would be executed as an example for any rebellious citizen!” The axe-wielding guard was yelling at him, but that voice was drowned out by the echoing chant of his subconscious, steadily growing into a cacophony of lunacy and violence.
Oh, how they spoke of him taking up arms and slaying the two men with one of the swords laying right there . How nice it would feel, to watch as the men crumpled under merciless blows, how their blood would once again quench the growing thirst that seemed to constantly grip at his heart and constrict his breathing as he slumbered. Temptation was a sin that many would have fallen to, if they had been in his shoes, if they had been in his head.
“Hm… I see. Well, I will join your campaign, even if I don’t really want to. You guys also have to help me carry this-” Techno made a vague arm gesture towards his collection of swords and other weapons “entire mess out of here. That’s my only condition, and I’ll do whatever you guys ask.”
Techno could finally see the silhouette of the capital city of the kingdom over by the horizon, how it cut the landscape with the tall spires of the castle which towered over the lands that its occupant dominated. He estimated there to be around two hours left until arriving at the walls, which would mark his first visit to that accursed town in decades, a thought that he did not let himself get bothered by.
After a few hours, he was faced with opened gates and a bridge filled with activity, as people poured into the city as the king ordered. He saw men and women amongst the ranks that he walked amongst, some gaunt and emaciated, others strong from a life under the heavy sun and amidst crops of all kinds. He also saw teens walking on the bridge with fear clearly visible in their posture, who were forced to be separated from their hometowns to fight in a war. The mere sight of this made Techno’s blood boil in his veins. He knew that the order had not mentioned any age for the ‘able-bodied citizens’, but he had thought that it was merely the guards ignoring that part of the message.
The people on the bridge seemed to cut a path for Techno advance with his horse and his cart filled to the brim with sharpened weapons. He received a few looks of annoyance from older men and women forced to move out of his way, but the amount of sharp objects within his reach made them quickly rethink their attitude. He finally crossed the gates to the city, not even being hassled by guards which was likely because of the sheer impossibility of talking to every soul that crossed into the capital. His eyes glossed over the cobbled streets and brick houses as his gaze focused on the crowded plaza he was faced with. He saw multiple carts dedicated to carrying weaponry similarly to himself, yet even from a distance, he could see the duller edges from lazy craftsmanship and old age. Technoblade cringed slightly as he made his way past the folks gathered here, each of them having been thrust into a conflict that they did not have an understanding of.
He breathed a deep sigh, having made his way up to the green acres surrounding the castle and seeing multiple tents erected there, likely from the citizens that had been forcefully moved out of their homes. Upon arrival, he watched two guards dressed similarly to the ones that had greeted him at his door a few days earlier make their way towards him. They looked at the cargo that he held within his cart before glancing at the sheet of paper within their grasp.
“We had been informed that a large quantity of high-grade weapons would arrive shortly, but we imagined a caravan of many blacksmiths–” The guard that had been sizing up the quantity of tools within his possession spoke with a somewhat impressed intonation. “ – But we didn’t expect it to be all carried by one blacksmith! What is your name, citizen, so that we may register you to the war effort!”
The smile that Technoblade had been keeping up as a facade twitched almost imperceptibly. He had not thought of an alias much and he was particularly bad at imagining names on the spot, often relying on his adversaries’ fear to birth new nicknames that he could adopt. The two armoured men looked at him curiously, wondering why Techno did not speak for a long minute. His right hand was starting to fiddle with a dagger that he kept near him while travelling to fight off whichever bandits he may encounter, but now he relied on it as a way to keep himself thinking.
“Odysseus, that is what I’m called. “ His voice did not betray the emotions swirling alongside the chorus of wandering souls clinging to his mind, all commenting on the ridiculousness of the name Odysseus. It was a name Techno was not associated with, unlike so many others, and therefore it was reasonable for him to be using it in this situation.
Time had passed by quickly after this incident, as he had been granted a plot of land that he could use as a base of operations as he forged and distributed weapons. He had not done too much of either, as he was situated far away from the main pathway that was walked by the inhabitants of the kingdom in search of a blade that they could use. He simply sat idly, watching the folks pool towards the mediocre smiths that would take polish and form over effectiveness and sharpness, a thought that he could only scoff at. However, a few people, drawn to him seemingly by instinct, seemed to trail away from the masses, being granted masterfully crafted weapons by the hybrid blacksmith himself. The process took a while each time, but with the rate at which he was getting visitors, he could afford to take his time. He carefully considered the person’s height, build, and musculature every time he handed them a blade of some sort. Some came out of his shop wielding twin-bladed battle axes or longswords that were ideal for sword fights if it came down to it. The edge of every blade was honed to perfection, gleaming with silvery light with each beam of sunlight that hit it. Each person seemed to be mystified with every glance Techno gave them, every time he considered their attributes in choosing a weapon, but they all came away from the experience smiling.
The day had been slow and tediously boring, Techno thought. The voices rang out within his mind, compelling him to use the swords that he had forged to rekindle the hearth that laid dormant within his soul, yet he denied them, he denied the requests of millions of spiralling spirits echoing within the winding tunnels of his mindscape, lines of carefully watching eyes laid upon his shoulders at every waking moment and then more, always hidden in the darkness, always haunting him for his past actions.
“Hello, you prick!” A voice, distinctly more teenage-like than he would’ve liked, called out to him with an accent that clearly wasn’t from here. Techno was torn out of his stupor, blinking twice as to regain his spirit after having spent so much time exploring his own mind. He watched as two teenagers, one with messy curls of mahogany-coloured hair and another with a raging mess of wheat-blonde hair on the top of his head, barely falling in front of his eyes like a curtain hiding the boy’s bright blue irises. They both sported the uniform that had been provided to any citizen joining the war effort, a dark blue coat with white pants and heavy knee-high boots. It was perfectly functional, he had to admit, but he had not changed out of his simple clothes, still sporting the white linen that he had brought along on his journey southward to the capital city.
“You think he’s dumb, or something? Bet I can steal a sword from him without him noticing.” The boy that first called out for him now was turning to the older figure with a mischievous expression. Even if he had been dumb, the sight of such obvious conspiring would easily be noticed by the drunkest man still alive.
“You really want to steal from the guy who has all of the cool swords, Tommy?” The older figure spoke calmly to Tommy, who seemed to not be put to rest by the words that the brown-haired man spoke. He was, however, dissuaded from his plan by the withering gaze that pierced through his soul. It was something that Technoblade was able to do all too well, instilling fear within others with a simple look.
“I’m not dumb, you are. Anyways, I’m going to assume that you guys aren’t here to steal, but rather to get a weapon for the war? I have to say, you guys are pretty young. Turned 18 recently?” His tone was monotone, but lacked any real scorn behind it, indicating that he wasn’t truly angry with Tommy’s antics. However, he watched as the two boys tensed up their posture, looking dreadful as he asked his question. This made his brow furrow deeply, as the two seemed to recoil backwards from him.
“Well, sir, we look young because the both of us are below 18. I’m Wilbur, and I'm 17. Meanwhile, my brother, Tommy, is 15. This isn’t the worst, either. We saw a sweet kid who was 14 wearing the military uniform that was provided.” Wilbur’s tone was filled with deeply visible stress from his situation. This made Techno’s blood boil. For once, it wasn’t due to the voices that spoke to him of death and gore, but it was for the injustice that these children faced. He rose from the seat he was positioned in, looking the two of them in the eyes, before sighing deeply.
“I hate when they drag kids into these messes.” He heard Tommy protest against the statement, saying that he wasn’t a child, but Wilbur had placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder to shut him up. “I have something for you two.”
He climbed up into the cart with each, rummaging through the weapons that he had transported with him and finding a small chest, large enough for a few weapons but nothing like a battleaxe or a warhammer. Instead, when he opened the chest, he laid eyes on two elegantly crafted swords made of darkened metal: It was Netherite, a metal so rare that kings could often not afford them. They were not his, but he had kept them in case that he needed to give someone a powerful weapon to defend themselves. He smirked as he pulled out the two blades from the chest, placing them within the grasp of the awed boys. They held within their arms something that not even Royalty could dare to adorn themselves with.
“You guys better survive this battle. I’ll make sure of it.”
Rumours at camp started to emerge from every corner as the citizens watched the two boys holding their Netherite swords with a mixture of pride and gleeful excitement. However, it was not like Technoblade cared about the rumours, he mostly cared about the safety of two innocent boys that had come up to him for weapons. As for him, he had left the camp temporarily. He did not expect visitors, therefore he allowed himself to head to the woods that lined the fields that they had been positioned on. He trailed down a path that he had mapped out in his head nearly a decade ago to absolute perfection, his every sense was alert to noise and visual stimuli. He could nearly smell it, and after vaulting over a large oak root that blocked the path, he finally laid eyes on the location he was searching for.
It was a small clearing amidst the deep forest, wilting grass grew in patches along the earth, yet there was one place that seemed to shine with life. A rectangle of green grass and beautifully coloured flowers growing as though powered by magic. He smirked, taking the shovel that he had carried with him and digging. He dug, dug for long minutes, before being able to witness a true sight from his past.
It was a fully completed set of armour. Light emanated from the darkened netherite surface still tainted with enemy blood that dried in flakes. He could feel the magic of enchantments pulsating in a rhythm as his fingertips slid across the surface. There were greaves and pauldrons, bracers and a helmet. The chestplate was still impressive to him after all of these years, being crafted to resemble the dark ribcage of a mythical monster called a wither. It was threateningly fitting for a man that once called himself The Blood God. He also found more netherite attire buried a little bit beneath: His axe and sword laying in the dirt, unaffected by the passing of time that would’ve ravaged a normal weapon. Alongside them, the cerulean colour of a trident humming with arcane power lost for generations lay at his feet.
He had come back to camp in the darkness of the moonless night, particles of magic emanating from his armour as he made his way past the open field. He breathed a sigh of contempt as he looked at himself. The sight brought back many memories, all of them gruesome and filled with carnage beyond words. The voices in his head had simmered down after roaring in excitement at the sight of their armour and weapons. He would finally kill again, he thought to himself, and he was as confident as the day that he went into retirement.
The days seemed to become a blur, as Techno found himself somewhat swarmed with people expectantly waiting by his plot of land after the rumours of Tommy and Wilbur’s weapons seemed to spread. The boys had spoken about him, evidently, but this sudden swarm meant that he could no longer take his time to pick out weapons. He simply gave weapon after weapon, offering axes to the bulkier citizens while giving swords to the younger folk that came by him. The mere sight of a teenager in the vicinity of weapons was enough to make him feel anger beyond belief, but he maintained composure and granted them weapons nonetheless. Soon after his stock of weapons had run out, the king had announced for the militia to mobilise towards the castle, where he would be giving a speech. The king was clearly opulently dressed, even from Techno’s less than ideal position amidst a sea of people. He could see the darkened metal of the man’s armour, which did not exactly surprise him for a king of a major economic power.
“Citizens of this great nation! I have beseeched your aid in these times of imminent war, and for good reason! The Antarctic Empire–” The name struck a chord within Techno’s soul, rekindling memories of a better time, a time where the companionship of a great man was the most valuable thing in the universe. “ – Has attacked our northern borders in an attempt to annex a section of our land most famous for holding massive amounts of natural resources! I now seek to return the favour, and therefore we will march upon these accursed fools and we will reach the battlefield in three days time! Enjoy your last night, for we will soon be bathing in the blood of enemies!”
The king was well-spoken, Techno could give him that. It was slightly ridiculous to try and attack the Antarctic Empire even with the amount of people gathered here, for the empire’s numbers had always exceeded this kingdom’s by a factor of approximately 3 times. Although, having the northern part of the kingdom fall to the Antarctic Empire’s expansionist tendencies would surely weaken the king by a significant amount, along with disbalancing the economy that was already precariously balanced. However, Technoblade’s mere presence amongst the army could be considered enough for most kings, even if they did not know of his reputation.
The days came and went, with Techno walking behind the king himself due to the nature of his netherite equipment. They spoke half-heartedly to another, with the king asking him of where he had gotten the armour and why he had not shown himself to the public before. Techno, not seeking to be recognized before the battle broke out, spoke of his deed, saving a rich kingdom’s king from certain death and being rewarded with this. As for why he had not shown himself to the public, he spoke of him retiring himself from another kingdom’s army and becoming a blacksmith instead, which was not especially far from the truth, simply missing a few key details.
There was one last night, one last night of camping beneath the glowing stars amidst countless citizens from different parts of the kingdom, before first blood was spilled. He smiled at this thought, thinking that perhaps he would be the first to spill the blood of an unsuspecting soldier. Sleep would not find him, and therefore he stayed awake, holding conversation with the whispers in his mind that grew restless at the thought of rekindling the hearth of the Blood God with newly shed blood.
Once morning arose, he was the first to be moving, doing a bit of maintenance on his own armour which consisted of tightening straps and fiddling with the chestplate, before he thought of something. He moved silently through the campsite, his eyes glancing over sleeping figures and the crown of their heads. It was obvious that he sought for something, or rather someone, and it was not long before he found what he sought after. He saw the two boys, Wilbur and Tommy, huddled against each other while laying on the dew-covered grass. They both had the weapons he had gifted them, which was something that Techno was worried about– No, he was never worried, merely curious. He took a seat next to them, pulling out a whetstone and sharpening the blade of his sword to distract his hands until the two boys awoke from their slumber.
“What the fuck- Wilbur! Wilbur, the blacksmith guy’s back!” Tommy had seemingly risen from his sleeping state, taking a few moments to regain his senses before shouting in his brother’s ear. The mahogany-haired man seemed to startle awake due to the sudden scream, looking confusedly around to look at Techno. The latter had not moved from the spot he had originally plopped himself upon, having finally deemed the edge on his sword to be acceptable for devastation and having pulled out a strop in order to finish off his work.
“What– Tommy, why is he back? Did he tell you?” Wilbur’s tone was obviously filled with confusion, which was even more obvious once Techno got a good look at the man’s face.
“No, he obviously didn’t tell me, you prick, otherwise I would’ve told you. ”
“I’m here to see how you guys are doing, that’s all. Thought you might’ve been robbed blind by a jealous soldier, or something.” Techno was sincere, for once in his life. He had been worried, he did feel honest worry for the boys that he had blessed with these weapons. He had been troubled about their situation, after all, they were simply children in a world too serious and violent for the innocence they still clung to.
The army was swiftly gathered after Techno spoke, the king having risen from his slumber and already barking out instructions to the nearest available officer. The platoons closed in onto themselves, ready for the battle that awaited them in the near future. Technoblade was always excited before a battle, as if the surface of his skin bubbled with anticipation at the spilt blood and broken bones that would soon trail behind him in a hurricane of blade and body. The voices grew more and more restless, nearly yelling in his ears with each message as if they stuck to the innards of his cape and the back of his ears, all of the shadows hidden between nooks and crannies were filled with terrible echoes of devastation and murder.
Before long, they walked past the crest of a large hill, finding themselves facing a large green field. There was a sign of previous activity, marked by the road of dirt slithering along the countryside, but otherwise, this seemed to be untouched by civilization.
So uncouth of them to vandalise nature with their idiotic conquests for power and influence?
A war horn rang out amongst their ranks, ordering them to close into themselves and to brace for a volley of arrows that might never come. It was a smart tactic, Techno thought, but he walked on ahead. The king protested against this act, ordering him to walk back this instant, yet he heard the silent pride that every soldier felt as he walked. Techno was seen as a lucky omen by the campaigners, a god descended from the heavens to smite the unlucky and protect the faithful, which was not exactly wrong for them to think. The magic of his equipment hummed silently, a soothing wave of force enveloping his muscles with strength he had not felt in years.
“If it’s a fight they seek, then I will give it to them first.” Techno’s tone was razor sharp as it cut through the tensed silence that reigned over the valley. Troops whispered in confusion at the words, yet he was not stopped in his trail. He held his battleaxe mightily in one hand, and with the other he raised a shield decorated with the emblems of a kingdom he never pledged allegiance to, defiant against armies that did not serve a greater purpose to him than to be the spilt blood rekindling the altar of the Blood God that lay dormant within his chest.
He could perceive everything in a certain radius. His senses were sharper than any human’s, built for battle and chaos. He might not have looked it, wearing even the best set of armour in the realm and wielding a sword that glimmered in the light of the still rising sun, but he was an army of millions walking upon cursed soil with every step, with every fibre of his being dedicated to the annihilation of the troops ahead of him. As he walked further, he saw the cavalry battalions of the opposing army surge out from the crested hills westward. Making a direct line to collide with him. They wanted to show dominance, establish that they could take down even the most confident and that pride was futile in this battle, but Techno thought otherwise. As the first man arrived besides him, the form of his axe flickered out of existence, being replaced by the wickedly sharp prongs of a trident that he had kept hidden. With minimal effort, the weapon lodged itself into the flank of the war horse, which locked the beast into position as it neighed in pain. Techno’s footwork was masterful, allowing him to pivot upon himself, bringing the steed he had perforated into the upwards arc he carved with the polearm. This devastating attack was used to crush another cavalry soldier under a ton of raw muscles and metal plates attached to the beast like armour.
He had drawn first blood, after all.
There was no mercy for the following attackers, either, as he slithered between the mad dashes cavaliers made with their rapid mounts and catching weaknesses in the armour in order to dismount them through their own momentum before being finished off with a clean kick to the neck, which made a sickening crack after each strike. From both sides of him, he saw soldiers move towards his position with war cries echoing amidst the landscape, either wanting to avenge fallen comrades or to protect the land they rightfully owned, or so they thought. Techno continued to advance swiftly, having made his way to the outer ranks of infantry which stood before him. He did not care much for any of them, having switched the trident for his axe after seeing the amounts of shields wielded by his opponents. He twirled around blades like a dancer during a choreography, yet it was not majestic in the same sort of way. Techno’s whirlwind of desolation and death was intimidating, unlike the graceful movements of a ballerina. He took two strikes to finish off the first few opponents, seeking to understand the techniques taught to the soldiers in an attempt to augment his own efficiency with the first blow and ending their life with the second.
For the opposing army, they did not see a man mowing down the forces that they had so carefully assembled after months of dedicated training, no. They saw a blur of pink and red, similar to the descriptions that legends still tell about the Blood God in battle, acting as a whirling mass of destruction wherever he went. The people started to flee rapidly with the mere sight of Technoblade’s silhouette, which was not terribly effective after Techno proved to be faster than most humans’ reaction speed.
With a breath, Techno had pierced through the larynx of one soldier and slashed cleanly through their clavicle and collarbone. With another, he had struck a charging man with a powerfully-delivered boot to the thigh, followed by a swift blow which sliced through their chestplate and would result in death by blood loss. The voices wanted more, He wanted more, and they all deserved for their blood to be water for the souls that now rest amongst them, or rather amongst his own thoughts. He was curious, however, even through the impossible excitement and thrill he felt while murdering soldiers, if the man he was searching for with all of this carnage would eventually descend upon his location, or was Techno simply too busy blasting through the enemy forces to hear his own allies decimated by a being similar to himself?
Even through the carnage, he could decipher the darkened metal swords that he had entrusted to Wilbur and Tommy swing wildly at some enemy soldiers that he missed in his whirlwind of chaos. He smirked at the sight, but in his blood-crazed trance it likely looked distorted and warped. His blade was stained with enemy blood, and so was the rest of his equipment that he had regained mere days earlier. He did not even feel a single cut or bruise upon his body, which indicated that his skills had not been dulled due to the years of retirement he had endured. His eyes focused on the next target like a hawk targeting a rabbit from a mile away, and he saw beyond the visor of the iron helmet that it was a teenager not unlike Tommy in build, only with brown curls falling in front of his eyes and a noticeably shorter build. His sword carved a downwards arc that would inevitably slash through the poor boy’s clavicle and likely leave him bleeding out instead of having a swift and painless death, but Techno would not be so lucky.
Whooosh.
Technoblade’s eyes widened as his blade made contact with another of similar strength, which forced him to stumble backwards due to the sheer momentum that carried the parry. He smirked as he watched the man that deflected his hit settle onto the bloodstained soil with the regal attitude of an angel. Wings that shone with the same glint of light as shards of obsidian were flared behind the man, granting him an intimidating stature that Techno knew all too well. The voices exploded within his mind, telling him to flee while he still had the chance, that the Blood God should be satisfied with his conquest and that Techno’s death would be an unimaginable tragedy, but Techno’s stance merely became more relaxed, as if preparing for a duel that had yet to be declared started. The pink-haired warrior’s voice rang out amidst the echoes of metal blades clashing and the desperate cries of soldiers.
“So, you actually settled down somewhere after all of these years?” His tone was playful, almost taunting the man that stood in front of him with a helmet sat on top of blonde curls.
“You were going to kill an innocent boy, Technoblade. I thought better of you.” The first thing that Techno thought about when he heard the tone of his adversary was that it was brutally cold, as if it chilled the very atmosphere with every syllable.
“You should not have recruited him in the first place, then. You knew of my whereabouts and of the consequences that may have befell the boy if he had fought in your army, Philza.”
“That much is true, but I recall your last message before we departed from each other’s company. A message that read something akin to you relinquishing battle forever, to keep yourself down and away from any more fights in the future!” Phil’s tone indicated that he felt betrayed by Techno’s actions, but Techno was originally unwilling to fight in this battle, only acting due to the irresponsibility of the ruler that decided to bring teens into their ranks! Even during Techno’s time as a general, he had never allowed anyone under the age of 18 to participate in his conquests, and he would never allow himself to sit without caring at least a tiny bit about the younger generations.
“Well, now we’re both here, so why don’t we settle our scores? A duel, just like old times!” Techno’s voice boomed across the battlefield, making everyone turn their heads towards the Blood God and the Antarctic Empire’s king, nicknamed the Angel of Death.
There weren't any further grandiloquent words spoken afterwards. The two beings walked in a careful circle, waiting for the other to take action first in order to not risk themselves or their safety. The voices yelled within Techno’s mind to abandon this fight and to run, or to attack first and be done with it. However, Techno’s mind was calm, and he managed to silence the cacophony that rang out in his eyes as he watched every muscle in Philza’s body move. He could feel the years of experience that the man had, similar to the amount of time he had spent mastering the blade.
Suddenly, nearly soundlessly, Techno moved in for the strike. It was a powerful blow from the axe that had materialised into his hands right as he dashed towards Phil, carving a downwards crescent in the air above the pink-haired warrior’s head. However, his swing was met with a powerful yet elegant parry from Phil, utilising the flat of the sword he held within his right hand and supporting it with his left forearm, covered in netherite bracers. Techno knew not to spend too much time clashing blades with each swing, so he immediately shifted his position, making the axe disappear in exchange for the blood-stained trident that had served him well during this battle. Techno thrusted at Phil’s throat with the sharp cerulean prongs, attempting to perforate his larynx and ideally allowing him to toss the Angel of Death around while he was impaled. Phil quickly ducked under the weapon, unsummoning his sword and gripping onto the shaft of the weapon with both hands and flipping Techno overhead and slamming him onto the ground, although the Blood God found footing before he could be slammed. Techno swiftly let go of the trident’s handle, opting to match Phil’s swordsmanship with his own as he conjured the sword back into his right hand.
Techno slashed maniacally at Phil, throwing out slashes to the Avian’s arms and wings, although he was unable to catch the agile fighter due to being less speedy. When Techno tried to slash at Phil’s head, the Angel’s wings flared up, sending him far out of reach of the Blood God’s sword with a single powerful flap of the obsidian wings. As Phil swooped down to attack Techno from the air with his sword, Techno blocked the strike similarly to how Phil had blocked his axe swing, but as Phil passed over his head, Techno’s left arm sprung into action and gripped Phil’s right leg with all of his might, bringing both of them into the air for a brief second. Techno was quick to act on his plan, allowing his sword to vanish as he climbed onto Phil’s back, reaching the base of the wings even though the Angel of Death was gaining altitude and wildly kicking his legs to dismount Techno. Techno summoned a length of rope from his inventory, quickly tying Phil’s wings together at the base and making it impossible for them to move properly. The two warriors quickly plummeted, with Techno grabbing the back of Phil’s helmet and forcing him to be the one falling face first onto the ground. Through the wind, Techno yelled.
“Accept defeat and I will leave you be, Philza! We still have time before you hit the ground!”
“You should know better than to underestimate my strength, Technoblade!” Phil’s voice easily overpowered the wind as Techno felt the length of rope disintegrate from within his grasp. Techno had not forgotten Phil’s proficiency in the arcane arts, but did not expect him to use it on the length of rope around his wings. This placed Techno in an unfortunate position, forcing him to jump off of Phil if he did not want to be hit by the obsidian-coloured wings.
Technoblade hit the ground hard, causing a cloud of dirt, corpses and blood to fly up as he crashed onto the battlefield, quickly followed by Philza gracefully landing on his feet. The Angel smirked slightly, as he knew that even the great Blood God, although his reputation was great, was not completely immune to the dangers of falling at what was arguably terminal velocity.
He was surprised to see Techno moving like the wind out of the cloud of debris, slashing Phil with his sword with power greater than what he had previously used to strike his enemy. Phil’s hand automatically reached up to his cheek, gliding over the skin before placing his hand in front of him to see what had happened. The Angel saw blood, his blood, staining his netherite gauntlet. To most people, this would indicate that the fight was finally gaining in intensity, but Phil laughed.
Oh, they both laughed in unison as their helmets came off and their laughs filled the battlefield with a strange eeriness. The two let their weapons fall to the ground as the two armies looked at the netherite-donning soldiers. The Antarctic Empire stood in confusion as their leader embraced an enemy soldier and the kingdom that had Techno amongst its soldiers seemed to reel back, waiting for instructions that their king was too confused to give.
“I was waiting to see when one of us would finally draw first blood!” Techno’s voice was filled with friendliness towards the foe that he had so violently fought.
“It has truly been too long, old friend! Although, we could’ve certainly been less destructive in our reunion, I believe that there is nothing better for the Blood God and the Angel of Death to do as a way to rekindle their friendship than to fight in a war!” Philza embraced Technoblade like an old friend finding a long-lost comrade, wrapping his wings around the sturdy frame of the warrior.
“I believe it is time to wrap this up, shall we?” Phil’s voice was warm, unbothered by the massacre which was dominating the area that they stood in. Chills ran down each soldier’s spine as they heard the sentence be spoken, but Technoblade and Philza were not interested in them whatsoever. The two helmets that they had discarded near their feet were collected by their rightful owners, who simply sent them to their inventory.
“Let’s go, then, Phil.” Technoblade’s form seemed to shift, as if growing two feet and developing impressive tusks. He donned something different to armour: a cape the colour of blood and an attire fit for royalty, with a ruby-encrusted crown sat upon his pink hair. Meanwhile, Philza became taller, his netherite armour becoming a set of green and black robes and his wheat-blonde hair being covered by a bucket hat.
“Hold on, I have one last thing to do.” Techno remembered what he wanted to do before going away with Phil. He moved through the remainder of the forces, forcing the crowds to bow before his presence as he moved towards two soldiers bloody from slaying their enemies even if they were still unfit to be warriors. Techno looked fondly at Tommy and Wilbur, the two mortals who he had entrusted with masterfully crafted netherite weapons without a second thought, and the only two mortals who he saw fit to bring with him on his journey.
“You two.” Techno’s tone wasn’t stoic or anything. It resembled more how a father would speak to his children when he was proud of their accomplishments. “I could not admire you two more. You have shown yourself to be strong-willed and ready to defend yourselves even with great support. You are stronger than most mortals ever will be, which is a feat that I can respect. I ask thee, do you think that you would prefer staying living your normal life while keeping the gifts I have entrusted to you, or would you rather accompany me and my companion, joining us amidst the pantheon?”
The two boys stammered at the proposition, unaware of whether or not to accept this offer. It was a scary thing, thinking about the Blood God giving you an opportunity to stand amongst the gods, but Technoblade knew that there were no better mortals fit for the task than Wilbur and Tommy.
“Um–” Wilbur started. “I would like to accept your offer, and I trust that my little brother–” He gestured to Tommy, who stood on his right. “Will also be of a similar opinion.”
“Y-yes, of course I am, Wilbur.” Tommy’s tone betrayed the embarrassment he felt at being so unable to formulate sentences in front of the Blood God.
“Well then, take my hand.” Techno’s hand extended towards the two boys, who swiftly grabbed onto the hand. The two boys were suddenly engulfed in golden light, growing to a size similar to Techno and Phil. They felt power coursing through their veins unlike anything they had felt before, causing Wilbur and Tommy to laugh warmly at the new sensation they felt. Phil joined them swiftly, nearly appearing instantaneously besides Techno as the four beings vanished in the sunlight of the midday sun.