Chapter Text
A man knelt in a pool of his own blood.
The sun was cresting over the horizon, the night splitting into dawn. The man had seen thousands of sunrises and marveled at the beauty of each and every one. But as the new morning split across the sky, he found, for the first time, the colors ugly. Washed out and grey.
His body was covered in wounds. Not an inch of skin was left unmarred. Blood poured from the deep gash on his stomach and sluggishly dripped from the cuts on his face and arms.
His body burned with pain. Every fiber of him was screaming, his wounds branding on his skin. His arms ached, his head throbbed, his ribs burned. But, despite it all, no pain was greater than the one in his chest.
It felt as if his heart had been torn from his chest. To an extent it had.
A storm began to gather in the sky, rain soon pelting the earth.The water washed his blood from him, cleaned his wounds and concealed his tears.
There, in the breaking light of dawn, the world cried for the Nameless man.
—
Technoblade was a quiet man.
Part of it was he never really had the opportunity to talk. He was a wanderer, a soldier between battles, a legend, a hero, a villain. When Technoblade - the blood god - entered a town, people parted in his wake, watching him with wary eyes. He was a bed-time story parents told their kids to get them to behave. ‘The Blood God comes after bad kids who don’t listen to their parents’ and all. One didn’t really decide to have small talk with him on a regular basis.
However, even in the company of others, Techno was often quiet. He often found he did not have the words. He was awkward, his attempts at upholding a conversation usually went poorly. More often than not, it just ended with the dialogue slowly tapering off until either he or the other person shuffled off.
Perhaps the greatest reason for Technoblade’s silence was a language barrier. Oh, he spoke plenty of languages. Ender, Piglin, Common, dialects from all over he could work with to a degree. But none were his native tongue.
From the moment he was born, the world spoke to him. It whispered in his ear, a thousand voices in one speaking endless nothings to him. When he was one, he learned the soft tenor of a flower singing. When he was three, a stone told him of all the places it had traveled. When he was seven, he learned that songbirds had sharp tongues and mischievous laughter. When he was ten, he asked a boar to tell him its Name. When he was fifteen, he no longer had to ask.
You see, the world spoke to Techno.
And Techno spoke back.
—
—
Techno cursed as he riffled through his travel sack.
He’d been on the road for about a month now, between jobs. He’d been paid to assassinate a king from a relatively minor country. The job had paid well for the risk. The money was reassuring in his pocket, the weight a comfort. The coin he’d earned would tide him over for five months. Unfortunately, he’d underestimated how determined the king’s army was. He’d been on the run for the past three months and had been cornered at least eight times since he killed the damn royal.
He was starting to regret taking the damn job. At least chat was satisfied whenever he had to fight his way out of a confrontation.
But enemy armies hunting him down wasn’t his main concern right now.
Sure, he could have been worried about that, but because it was cold as hell tonight he was much more focused on starting a fire and setting up camp. But because nothing could ever be simple for him, he couldn’t find his gods damn flint-and-steel.
Techno wrung his hands together, trying to work some blood into his hands. The tips of his fingers were red with the cold and felt stiff and icy. He cupped them around his mouth and blew warm air onto his knuckles.
It was going to be cold that night. Could even snow. Normally, he could put up with that, but normally he had his flint-and-steel.
Chat was not being helpful in the slightest.
L
Lmao have fun freezing to death, nerd
Technocold
Imagine getting frostbite
neeeerd
/rainbowchat
L
L
Technodumb
‘Chat’ as he’d taken to calling the voices, was really just the voices of the world around him. They weren't exclusive to him, plenty of other people could hear whispers now and again - being a Namer wasn’t an exclusive thing - but it wasn’t common, and it was even more uncommon to hear them to the extent that Technoblade did. While most Namers had to coax the world to speak to them, the world seemed intent on shouting at Techno, whether he wanted it to or not.
Get good nerd
Idiot
Can’t you start a fire with a lava pool?
Techno raised an eyebrow at the blackberry shrub responsible for that particular comment, “Do you see one of those around here, genius?”
We’ve been acknowledged
CHAT IS CANNON
no need to get angry, JEEZ
I’m bored
E
Just light a fire already!
You do realize you don’t need flint-and-steel to light a fire, right?
YEAH! You have US!
Techno sighed, used to chat’s antics by this point. He arranged a group of logs into a small stack. They weren’t wrong. He didn’t need flint-and-steel to light a fire, he just needed the right words. He typically liked to do things the traditional way, though. Naming made the voices grow louder, more incessant. Doing things physically was sometimes just easier. And besides, he liked working with his hands.
Sadly, he didn’t have the option to do it normally this time.
He tapped the logs gently, and spoke their Name. The logs stirred and warmed, but didn’t do what he wanted.
“Come on,” he said, “I know you can do better than that. Give it another go.”
The logs didn’t react.
He rolled his eyes, then sternly said, “Rhuidhen.”
The wood smoked and split, revealing hot coals contained within. The logs cracked once, twice, then caught fire in a shower of sparks.
Techno smiled, “Better.”
—
Names were tricky things. All things had them. Some things had thousands of names. Stars, for example, had many names. They knew the call of a thousand languages. They had a name as a whole: stars, étoiles, stelle, estrellas, ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ∷ᓭ. Each star had its own name: Polaris, Sirius, Bellatrix. Constellations too, had names.
But no matter how many names something had, there was always one name that was more important than the rest. The True Name. Something every single thing in the world had. Each tree and flower, bird or boar, person or god. Everything had a Name, even if many didn’t even know it themselves.
Regular names had power. A name could tell a story, a name could condemn a person, a name could travel further than its owner could ever dream to. But a Name held a different kind of power. A Name was the sound of a soul, the fabric of being. If you knew something’s Name, you held complete power over it.
That’s why Names were kept secret, why they were told to very few.
Magic was abundant. You could cast a spell or summon a demon. Mages and Conjurors populated the world in hundreds of thousands. Magic could bend to their will, create fantastic things.
Mages and Conjurors knew how to write runes, cast spells, create something by weaving strands of power together, and could compel something as fickle as magic to listen. But Namers spoke the language of the world. Their power was ancient, unshakable, undefiable.
In a world governed by gods and goddesses, Names were the only thing that stood above them in power. Names could be used to seal sacred vows, Names could be ripped out of a person, Names could teach you about the heart and soul of a person, Names could be used to deform and destroy those very things, and Names, just a simple word, could be used to shackle an angel to it’s god.
Names were tricky things, yes. But they were powerful things.
---
Techno tripped through the back allies of Dovah. The city was large, cold stone buildings stretching on for what seemed to be eternity. It was a mage city, home to a university. Plenty of young conjurors and mages, and hell, even a few aspiring Namers called Dovah home. As such the city attracted thousands of people. Wherever magic was present, city’s prospered.
He thought he’d be able to duck into the city, pick up supplies, and leave unnoticed. He was half a continent away from the country he’d thrown into ruin. And plus, it had been nearly five months now, he’d thought the army had gotten over the whole ‘he killed their king’ thing. Unfortunately for him, he’d been wrong.
Not only had they not given up. They’d put a bounty on his head. A bounty. The price was ridiculous. Nearly ten times the amount he’d been paid to kill their king in the first place. Where the country got the money for that, he had no idea. It didn’t really matter anyway. Point was, entering a major city with a giant bounty on his head ended with disaster.
An arrow flew past his ear as he ducked behind a wall. The assassin chasing him was good. Deadly good. He was pissed that he had to deal with someone competent chasing him. Escaping was much easier when he was dealing with a bunch of kids who could barely hold a sword. He could usually get out without having to kill someone, much as Chat loathed his mercy.
Techno gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t be able to escape this one without bloodshed. He unclipped his sword from his belt. He could hear approaching footsteps. He wasn’t likely to get the drop on his assassin. They were smarter than that. But generally bow users were less inclined to melee combat. He was hoping he could press the advantage and overpower them.
The assassin rounded the corner, and Techno lunged out from where he was hiding, blade aimed for the neck. Unsurprisingly, the assassin parried and jumped back.
They circled each other, guards raised high.
“Listen man,” Techno said, glaring over the edge of his sword, “I saw the price on my head, but is it really worth your life? Do you really want to fight me?”
The assassin said nothing, instead driving forward with a strong attack.
Techno blocked it and struck back with equal fervor. They exchanged a few quick blows, and Techno quickly realized he had been wrong. His opponent was very good at close quarters combat. Good enough to hold up against him and even pressure him into defense. He supposed this is what 10,000 gold bought you.
Techno made a quick, jagged slash forward, slipping past his opponent’s defense and delivering a shallow cut on the assassin’s ribs.
The assassin put space between them, and suddenly the roles were reversed with Techno advancing quickly and his enemy on defense, losing ground. More quick cuts and exploited openings left the assassin bleeding with his back to the wall.
“How about we call it quits?” Techno suggested, “You stop, I stop, and we both go our separate ways?”
The assassin glared at him.
“It’s a good deal,” Techno pressed. Just then his sword swept across the assassin’s thigh, cutting deep into the muscle. He continued, “A least consider it-”
The assassin cut him off, chanting hurriedly in ender, “𝙹⍑ ꖎ𝙹∷↸ 𝙹⎓ ⍑ᒷꖎꖎ, ʖ⚍∷リ ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ ᓭ╎リリᒷ∷ ∴╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ ||𝙹⚍∷ ⍑𝙹ꖎ|| ⎓ꖎᔑᒲᒷᓭ!”
From the assassin’s hand, an arc of fire razed across the alley. Techno had to throw himself to the ground, covering himself with his cloak, to avoid being burned to a crisp.
He popped back up, aiming a slash at the assassin’s shins, “Oh you have got to be kidding me. You’re a mage too?! This is rigged!”
The assassin nimbly dodged, “ʖ⚍∷リ”
Techno rolled under another wave of flame. He stabbed at the assasin’s chest, who simply parried.
“ʖꖎ╎ᓭℸ ̣ ᒷ∷!”
Techno dodged the multiple fire-balls aimed at his face, then ducked under the sword aimed at his neck. He lashed out, grinning when the blow landed right under the Assassin's armpit. He took extraordinary pleasure in the cry of pain it elicited.
The assassin dropped to the floor, slamming his palm onto the cobblestones. Glowing runes spreading out like a spider’s web from his fingers, illuminating the shaded ally in hues of red and gold.
Techno’s eyes met with the assassins for a brief moment. Oh shit.
The runes crackled with power, and the air thrummed with magic as the assassin spoke, “ꖎ𝙹∷↸ 𝙹⎓ ↸ᒷᓭℸ ̣ ∷⚍ᓵℸ ̣ ╎𝙹リ, ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭ╎リᓭ 𝙹⎓ ᒲᔑリ ↸╎ᒷ ╎リ ||𝙹⚍∷ ⎓╎ᒷ∷|| ʖꖎᔑ—!”
Techno drove a sword through his throat before he could finish speaking. The blade slid through the flesh with a wet squelching sound. The assassin made a helpless gagging sound. Techno ripped the sword out of his neck, an arc of blood flicking off the tip of the sword. The assassin collapsed to the floor, choking on his own blood.
Techno kneeled down and flicked the assassin’s forehead, “Didn’t your instructors ever tell you that you shouldn’t do rune spells without someone to back you up. I mean, you didn’t even raise your sword in defense! What a waste of an education!”
The assassin coughed, blood splattering onto Techno’s new shirt.
He frowned, “Hey, that was brand new!” he said, readying an entire rant, but before he could even begin to launch into it, the assassin’s head lolled to the side, eyes glazed. He was dead.
Chat cheered in his head.
Blood for the Blood God
Yeeeessss, MURDER
You could have ended that quicker :(
Blood for the Blood God
Blood for the Blood God
It always surprised Techno, how bloodthirsty the world could be, but he’d been dealing with it for years. He was used to it at this point. Chat was fickle. They could be so kind one second - sweet, one might even say - and the next they would be shouting in his ears for blood, pain, death. He supposed it made some semblance of sense. The three major gods were The Lady of Death, The Blood God, and the oldest of them all, Life. Life brought things into the world, The Blood God decided their lives - his domain was emotions and actions, anger, war, love, blood ties and blood spilled - and Lady Death took things out of the world.
It was a violent cycle, quick to change. The voices of the world often reflected that.
Techno was drawn out of his musing by a sharp scream from the stones around him.
Move!
Run!
Danger!
He rolled forward, just in time to dodge a crossbow bolt that flew through right where his head had just been.
His gaze snapped to a nearby rooftop, tracing the bolt back to its source. A man, wearing a short green cloak, was loading the next bolt into his crossbow. Techno groaned at the sight of a familiar smiling mask.
“Really?” He dodged under another shot, “They hired you?!”
Dream didn’t respond, but Techno had the distinct feeling that he was smiling under the mask.
Techno weaved his way around the blots that shot through the alley. He was already tired from his fight with the last assassin. He didn’t particularly want to end up in a head on fight with Dream right now. He was one of the best - if not the best - assassins in the world. He’d hunted Techno before, and each time, Techno had only gotten away by the skin of his teeth.
So Techno turned tail, and ran.
His feet pounded the ground as he darted out of the dark alley into a main street. He tugged his cloak’s hood over his head, hoping to hide himself in the busy crowd. All around him people milled about the street, traversing through the small stalls that were crammed against the building walls. Techno wove through the crowd, ducking and dipping between people in the hope of throwing off his pursuer.
After a few minutes of hiding in the sea of people, he slipped into another back street. He ran with all his might, his breath turning ragged as he lost himself in the twists and turns of the city.
He skidded around a corner and felt his stomach drop as he stared at the dead end. He spun around, preparing to race off, only to come face to face with Dream.
He startled, jumping back.
Dream twirled a knife lazily between his fingers, stalking forward, “It’s unlike you to run, Blade.”
Techno backed up, offering an uneasy smile, “Yeah well, I wouldn’t want to have to embarrass you again.”
Dream cocked his head, biting out, “You only escaped last time because of a lucky shot.”
“Still escaped,” Techno grinned, “How’s the wound?”
“The scar aches every time I look at you,” Dream growled, advancing.
Techno’s back hit the wall, and he mentally cursed at himself for getting trapped. He smiled apologetically at Dream, “Well if that's the case, how about I get out of your hair.”
“I think it’d be better if I just eliminated the problem,” Dream brandished the knife, “ permanently.”
Techno groaned, “Oh get over it! I thought we were friends. Remember two years ago in Verdier? After we almost killed each other, we went to a bar and laughed it off?”
“I was high on painkillers!” Dream screamed, “You took me there against my will!”
“Yeah and?” Techno said, “You had a fun time! We played cards.”
“You cheated me out of 500 gold!” Dream was really getting angry, “Is that something that friends do?!”
Before Techno could answer, Dream continued on, “And even if we were friends, I would have still taken the job. Do you know how much money is on your head?”
Techno couldn’t actually fault him on that one. It was a lot of money. Hell, he would have taken the job if he could have.
“I would like to point out,” Techno said slowly, “That I didn’t cheat you out of anything. You lost that game fair and square. Not my fault you’re terrible at cards-”
With a scream, Dream lunged at him. Techno only just managed to move out of the way in time so the dagger struck the wall instead of his jugular.
Techno tried to swiped Dream's legs out from under him, but Dream only jumped over the attack. In retaliation Dream tried to punch him in the jaw. Techno dived out of the way, past Dream’s legs, hoping to get past Dream and make a break for it.
Dream caught him by the leg and threw him back into the wall.
Techno felt the air leave his lungs as his back hit the hard stones. He didn’t have the time to recover, immediately having to block the sword aimed at his gut. He didn’t have his own sword drawn, so he had to use his forearm. He got a nasty wound from the maneuver.
While Dream was pulling back to set up his next attack, Techno launched himself at his stomach, successfully tackling him.
They hit the ground with a loud ‘thud’. Dream coughed as the wind was knocked out of him. Techno used the distraction to scramble up and start running out of the alley.
It looked like he would make it too, but suddenly a voice sounded from behind him.
“Aelmurh.”
Stone shot up from the ground, shackling his feet and trapping him in place. He heard a weak laugh and the shuffling of boots, “heh, got you.”
Techno steadied the rolling emotions inside him. Cooly, he said, “You learned the Name of stone.”
Dream placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped in front of him, “After our last encounter I had to make sure you couldn’t get away again.”
Techno raised a brow, “Bit excessive, isn’t it? You already know the Names of steel and iron. You were already powerful.”
There was a reason Dream was the most dangerous assassin money could buy. Not only was he a skilled combatant in most styles of fighting, he was also a Namer. He knew five Names, an impressive arsenal for someone who didn’t dedicate their life to the study. Even among master Namers, most only learned three or four. He knew the Names of grass, paper, dandelions, steel and iron. The last two were the only useful ones in combat most of the time. Well, and now he knew the Name of stone, so really he had three useful ones.
“Steel and iron don’t work on you,” Dream brushed off, “you stopped wearing anything but Netherite and gold after I first met you.”
“Ah, but you wear plenty of it,” Techno pointed out, “You almost killed me in Verdier with one of your iron buttons, remember.”
“Yes, yes,” Dream waved him off, “we all know I’m a powerful Namer. There’s always room to improve, you know. After all, I still don’t know your Name.”
Techno felt a chill run up his spine. Dream only knew five - now six - general Names. Things like iron and stone had the same Name wherever you went, same with grass, even though it was alive. It didn’t change enough for the soul to be different. But animals, things that could think in even the most rudimentary of ways, had specific Names. One rabbit had a different Name from any another. Dream knew many specific Names. It was perhaps the most dangerous thing about him. He could drag a Name out of someone, bring them under this will.
Techno forced himself to laugh, “You’re still trying to figure that one out? What has it been? Seven years since you started? You might want to quit while you’re ahead.”
“I will learn it eventually, Techno,” Dream whispered, voice low and dangerous.
Techno rolled his eyes, “Sure. You’d have to train for a thousand years if you want my Name.”
Dream chuckled, “I’ll see you in a thousand years, then. Or, well, maybe not. I don’t think my employer is going to keep you alive once I deliver you to them.”
Techno grinned, “Just as well. You wouldn’t have learned it anyway.”
“It’s not like you learned mine, asshat,” Dream pointed out, “You have no room to talk.”
“Ah, that’s where we’re different,” Techno said, “For you, it’s your own inability, for me, it’s a choice.”
Dream looked at him for a long moment, “I had forgotten about your strange hang-ups with specific Names.”
“I have no right knowing them, let alone using them,” Techno insisted, “You learned iron’s Name as a mutual understanding. You steal other people’s names. Rip out their soul.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say that the Blood God has a heart,” Dream joked, “You kill people for a living, like myself. What place do morals have in our line of work?”
Techno smiled teasingly, “Oh goodie me, I have better morals than Dream. I’m not too far gone!”
Suddenly there was a knife at his throat, “I will find out your Name. Even if I have to speak it to your dead body.”
“I’ll see you in hell,” Techno spat, “Empty handed.”
The knife pressed against his skin warningly, the bite of netherite sharp against his flesh, “Maybe I can force it out of you.”
Techno rolled his eyes, “You know, well as I do, that even torture would never be enough to compell me to tell you my name.”
“True,” Dream said, his voice sharp, “But I’d enjoy it either way.”
Techno sighed, then met Dream’s eye with a sharp glare, “I hate to remind you, but there is a reason I’m hailed as the Blood God.”
“Because you murdered enough people to impress the god himself.”
Chat was chanting in his head, their voices growing ever louder. The stones in the walls screamed, the air around him shouted, the sun and sky sang at him,
Blood for the Blood God
Blood for the Blood God
Blood for the Blood God
“No,” Techno said sweetly, “Because I’m good with words.”
Dream startled back, but it was too late.
“X'ek,” Techno said. The Name of blood.
Dream screamed. Blood began to seep from his pores. His arms - the only skin on him visible - turned splotchy and red with the blood and it ran in rivers down his skin as he thrashed and screamed. Techno could see the blood dripping from his chin and down his neck. Red was coloring the edges of his mask now, and the air smelled sharply of copper.
“Do you feel your blood being pulled from you?” he asked, “ripped from your veins and pulled under my control?”
Dream stumbled back.
“Aelmurh,” Techno said, commanding the stone to set him free. He stalked forward so he was face to face with Dream, “Feel this pain and know it, Dream. You’re lifeblood being torn away from your body. This is how it feels to have your Name taken from you.”
Dream collapsed to the floor, still screaming. Mixed in with the cries of pain were curses upon his name. Technoblade dearly hoped no children were around. The stuff he was saying was enough to make even the most vulgar blush.
Techno kneeled down and touched Dream’s chest, “enough.” The blood responded to his call and ceased its action.
He stood and looked down at the prone body on the floor. Dream’s chest was heaving, and his entire body was a shaking mess, curled up on itself with pain. He hoped someone would find him after Techno left. He would survive either way, but it was probably best if someone got him to a hospital sooner than later.
“Goodbye Dream,” he said, “I’ll see you next time.”
And he stalked off.
—
The next two months were busy for Techno. He was still between jobs, and his money from killing that king had run out. To top it off, he’d been running from assassins the entire time. He’d tried to ignore it at first. He kept searching for a job, passing through villages and offering his services. He was hoping to find something easy for a few months, work as a farmer, or a store clerk, something that allowed him to lay low for a while. Unfortunately, every time he managed to land something some assassin would end up ruining everything for him.
Eventually he gave up and decided to finally face his problem head on. After the first month of that bullshit, he packed up his things, steeled himself and spent the next month hunting down whoever had ended up putting a bounty on his head. Turned out it was a bunch of nobles from the kingdom that had been hunting him - who knew!
He was planning on stealing the money they’d promised as payment, but when he stalked through the palace and down to the treasury - leaving bloody footsteps in his wake - he’d realized that the nobles were pretty much broke. They’d already spent all their money sending the army after him, and had jack to actually pay the bounty with.
He had to commend them, they’d played an excellent game. They kept up their lavish lifestyles as a front, even as their coffers lay empty, in an attempt to fool the world that they actually had money to pay the bounty. And it had worked exceedingly well. Not a single person who took the bounty questioned them.
But he was still pissed on account of the fact that A. He’d spent the past seven months dealing with this shit and B. he was still broke and jobless.
He’d kicked the nobles decapitated heads off a cliff, one by one, for that.
After the entire fiasco, he decided to take a break from monarch killing. Much as he despised government, he really didn’t want to deal with that again. At least not for another year. He decided he would take it easy for a while.
—
He was able to find a job in Therven, a small town in the middle of nowhere. It was technically a part Fallen Kingdom - which, weird thing to name a country, but ok - but towns like Therven, which had a population of maybe 200, was fifty miles away from the next settlement, and only got a single visitor a year if they were lucky, were more often than not very disconnected from the kingdom they called home. Some towns along borders like Therven didn’t even know what country they were supposed to belong to.
He worked under a man named Schlatt. He was a hard soul, with eyes too old for his years. His partner had passed three years ago, leaving him to manage the farm and raise their six year old kid, Tubbo, alone. While he was a capable man, he could only do so much work on his own, and needed help with some of the harder labor around the farm. Tubbo would one day be old enough to do it, but he was far too young now.
It was a pretty sweet deal. He woke up, did whatever chores Schlatt gave him for the day, and slept in the cozy shed where the chicken’s stayed. He’d come to an agreement with the chickens, they got one half of the shed and he got the other. The treaty was supposed to prevent any trespassing of the borders, but it was a shaky thing on account of the untrustworthy nature of chickens. In the past week alone, he’d seen the rooster crossing onto his side three times!
Schlatt didn’t talk much, and Techno appreciated that. The most practice he got having conversation was whenever he met up with Dream, and most of that was insults.
He got decent pay for the work he did, much as he could expect for being a farm hand. He even got days off, which was a rare thing out in the rural communities. Granted it was only on worship days, but he would take it.
Not everyone in the town was as brave as Schlatt. Even in an isolated place like Therven, people knew of Technoblade, the Blood God. He could feel their eyes on his back, watching his every move. They isolated him, too afraid to approach but too afraid to outright scorn him.
Techno realized one night, when he was lying down on his hay mattress in the shed, that after two weeks of working there he hadn’t said a single word to anyone besides his brief, mandatory exchanges with his employer.
He sighed as he closed his eyes that night, and distantly wondered when he’d meet up with Dream again.
—
Techno was peeling potatoes for his dinner when he spotted the shadow lurking behind the doorway to the shed. He didn't look up from his task and kept peeling the potatoes. The kid would come out from hiding eventually. It was clear he wanted to say something, and Techno would let him do that all on his own. No point in forcing his hand.
Finally, as he finished cutting up the last potato, Tubbo shuffled out from behind the door frame.
“Are you Technoblade?” He asked nervously, eyes flicking away.
“Yeah,” Techno said, lighting the fire.
“Dad says you’ve been to every place in the world,” Tubbo said after a long pause.
“I don’t know about every place,” Techno said, “But yeah, I’ve been to many.”
Tubbo lit up, smiling excitedly “Have you been to the big cities? The capital? Have you seen the magic universities? Have you ever met a mage? Or seen a demon!?”
Techno blinked. That was a dramatic shift from the quiet, nervous boy he’d been a second earlier.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “to all of it.”
“Woah,” Tubbo said, “Dad says you’re well known! He won’t tell me what though, says he doesn’t believe all of it.”
“I- uh,” He said stupidly, “I made sure that kings don’t turn evil by. . .” he glanced away nervously, very aware of the small child with shining eyes and a blinding smile, “. . .by uhm. . . sending them to . . time out . . if they do something bad.”
“Like a hero!” Tubbo shouted.
“What!” Techno exclaimed, “No-” but Tubbo was smiling with the force of a thousand suns, “. . . right sure. Like a hero.”
“Can you do magic?” Tubbo asked, “I want to be a mage, but Dad says that only people in big cities can be mages.”
Techno snorted, “The big cities are where you find universities, teachers. Anyone with an aptitude for magic can become a mage.”
“What about you?” Tubbo asked, “are you a mage?”
“No,” he said, “I’m not very talented at it.”
Tubbo deflated.
Techno rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilty, “I might, however, know one or two spells. If you’re any interested.”
Tubbo had stars in his eyes, “Show me!”
Techno chuckled, “Alright. How about the easiest spell I know.”
He cracked his knuckles and began a small chant, spinning the threads of magic into a tangible shape, “ꖎ𝙹∷↸ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ リ╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ , ⊣╎⎓ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ ᔑ ⍑𝙹ꖎ|| ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ∷ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ꖎ╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ∴ᔑ||.”
The magic in his hands took shape into a small, glowing orb. It lit the shed with a soft yellow glow, flickering like a star. He pushed the orb up so it floated through the air over to Tubbo.
“Wow,” Tubbo breathed, fingers coming up to cradle the star. His fingers jerked back as they brushed over the light, “It tickles!”
Techno laughed, “Yeah. It does.”
“What was that strange language you were chanting in?” Tubbo asked.
“Ender,” Techno answered, “The language is old, closely tied with magic. That’s why we chant and write runes in it. You can cast spells in any language, ender is just the easiest, the most powerful.”
He held out a closed fist in front of Tubbo. Tubbo looked at it curiously, confused. Techno smiled, knowing the kid was going to love this, “and if you get good enough at a spell,” he opened his hand, and smaller stars spilled from his palm and floated jovially around the room, “you can do them silently.”
Tubbo laughed in amazement, his wide-eyed gaze taking in the entire room. The stars were twinkling in the shed, drifting aimlessly through the room. Occasionally one of them would knock into a wall or the ceiling, and the little lights would make a jingling sound, like sleigh bells. They illuminated the straw floors and chicken coups with all shades of gold, yellow, oranges, and blinding whites.
Suddenly Tubbo snapped his head over to Techno, “Can you teach me to do that?”
“Magic isn’t for the faint of heart, kid,” Techno said gruffly, “even this requires discipline.”
“I can do it,” Tubbo insisted, “I swear! I’ll be the most dedicated student you’ve ever met!”
Techno mulled it over. He really wasn’t in the position to be teaching this stuff - he wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t very talented at it - and magic could be dangerous when done improperly. But- well, wouldn’t teach Tubbo any combative spells. Nothing that could rip your arm off if you mess up. He could keep it to party tricks and the like.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was teaching the kid Naming, anyway.
“Alright,” he said hesitantly, quickly tacking on, “but only a few spells.”
Tubbo grinned from ear to ear.
—
Was it weird that he kind of missed Dream, he wondered. Like, the man kept trying to kill him, but that was one of the few steady constants in his life. Even if everything went to shit, Dream would still be there, trying to kill him. It was oddly comforting.
Yeah, Techno decided, it was weird. Weird and sad.
He sighed. This is what life had made him, some sad weirdo who considered an assassin a friend.
—
“I heard from my friend at school that you’ve toppled nations before,” Tubbo said one afternoon.
“I have,” Techno admitted. No point in denying it.
Tubbo smiled, “Cool.”
Techno huffed good-naturedly. Kids.
“I heard that you know the Names of all things.”
“I do.”
Tubbo looked like he was in awe, “ Cool.”
“Ranboo says that you can lift an entire dragon with one arm.”
“Man,” Techno said, “Rumors are getting wild these days.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure about that one either,” Tubbo admitted, “Cuz ranboo also said you were a grand-mage, and you told me that you suck at magic.”
“Let this be a lesson to think about things before accepting them as truth.”
Techno waited patiently as Tubbo thought of something to say next.
“I heard you defied a god,” Tubbo said, “He wanted your soul so you fought him for it.”
Techno’s warm smile fell. The place where his soul, his Name, was supposed to be ached. The scars and chains on it never grew any lighter.
He scowled, “Don’t listen to rumors from random kids, Tubbo.”
—
“Again,” Techno said, watching Tubbo intently.
Tubbo stared down at the bucket Techno had given and lifted his hand, “ꖎ𝙹∷↸ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ 𝙹ᓵᒷᔑリ, ∷ᔑ╎ᓭᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ℸ ̣ ╎↸ᒷᓭ ᔑリ↸ ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ ⊣⚍╎↸ᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭ⍑𝙹∷ᒷᓭ-”
“No,” Techno cut him off, “Wrong again. It’s not ‘let me guide the shores’, it’s ‘let me guide your shores’.”
Tubbo frowned, “What does it matter? I’m already using the polite form of address in ender.”
Techno had been teaching Tubbo for about two weeks now. Most of that time had been Techno rushing Tubbo through a crash course of Ender. The kid would never be able to handle a conversation, but he could at least understand the basic things said in spells. Still, he struggled over the little things.
Techno scowled, “The god’s don’t take well to people laying claim to what’s theirs. The god of oceans and water has the shores under his domain. It’s not ‘the’ shores, it’s ‘his’ shores. Do you want to end up offending a god?”
“No sir,” Tubbo said shyly.
“Then use the correct chant,” Techno said.
“But aren’t I the one commanding the magic?” Tubbo asked, “Why should the god even care? It’s a bucket of water, it’s not like I’m claiming the seas as my own.”
“It’s about respect,” Techno insisted, “You are asking for permission. It’s not about actually giving you the power to do something. It’s the courtesy of asking, Tubbo. Once you’ve done the spell enough times, become familiar with the god’s domain, grown to understand the words you’re speaking and the god you’re working with, you can drop the courtesy.”
Techno met Tubbo’s gaze with a stern eye, “Never forget Tubbo, magic can be taken away. If you offend a god, you may find your rights to cast even the simplest spell stripped from you. The magic is your own, you shape it, control it, but never forget the gods are the conduit you use to cast it.”
Tubbo cast his eyes to his lap.
“Oh, chin up,” Techno said awkwardly, “It’s not like you’ve offended a god yet. You’d have to do something much worse than messing up a low level spell once or twice. You could probably mess this thing up fifty times and you’d be fine.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Techno confirmed, “Just don’t go making it a habit. Now, do it again. Correctly, this time.”
Tubbo nodded, extending his hand over the bucket again, “ꖎ𝙹∷↸ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ 𝙹ᓵᒷᔑリ, ∷ᔑ╎ᓭᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ℸ ̣ ╎↸ᒷᓭ ᔑリ↸ ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ ⊣⚍╎↸ᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ᓭ⍑𝙹∷ᒷᓭ.”
The water in the bucket drew up into the air in a long spire. It twisted out of the bucket before coming to a rest a few inches above the rim.
Tubbo grinned, looking between the floating blob of water and Techno.
“Look, I did it-!”
The water bubble burst and fell back into the bucket.
Tubbo deflated, “oh.”
Techno leaned back, “Maintaining a spell is difficult, don’t take too hard. Focus on the things you did well. You successfully cast a spell. Good job.”
Tubbo smiled.
Techno glared at him, “Now get back at it. Practice that spell until you drop.”
—
Even though Therven was a small town it had - like all towns had - a small church. Techno had been to every corner of the world, he’d seen cathedrals and palaces built in the name of the gods, towers of quartz and marble, gilded with gold and silver, covered in more jewels and precious stones than even kings wore. He’d seen places of worship so beautiful and grandiose that it could make the angels weep.
Which is why he knew it was all bullshit. People would travel for miles, across ocean and land to visit those places. They thought that maybe, if they visited a church made of gold, that the gods would speak to them, grant them the things they desired, assure their faith. As if.
As much as the gods loved those places, the expensive tribute to them, Techno knew that for the common man, a crumbling wooden altar at the side of the road was just as good as the palaces of gold and marble.
Techno walked through Therven’s church, the old wood creaking beneath each heavy step. He came to a stop in front of one of the altars.
He passed a group of villagers talking to each other in the pews.
"I heard life took another angel," one whispered.
"Another?" another exclaimed, "You would have thought he had enough."
"Yeah," a third agreed, "Why does a god need that many angels? I know they're helpful but seriously, we're gonna run out of mortal humans if he keeps taking them as angels. I mean, not that I would complain if a god suddenly asked me to become one."
The first villager scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous. You? An angel? You have to be an exceptional person to be picked. No chance in hell you fit the criteria."
"Yeah, and you're not even a Namer," said the second, "You couldn't give up your Name, even if you wanted to. That's how angels work, idiot."
"Oh come on! I don't need to know. The god could always just take my Name for me. No need to learn it an give it up. I could just skip that step."
"I suppose..."
Techno grit his teeth and walked away. He came here for a reason, not to listen to some random villagers gossip. He continued on, he had a task to complete.
Most churches offered three altars. One for each major god. Life, Blood and Death. Some larger places offered more gods, from major ones to minor, unimportant ones. Some even had separate altars for the more prominent angels. But nearly every church was equipped to worship the main three gods.
Therven’s had four altars. Life, Blood, Death, and Harvest. It made sense, given it was a farming town.
Techno looked at the altar he had stopped by. A statue of a woman with three pairs of wings sat at the top of the altar. Her face was concealed by a veil, but Techno knew she was smiling. She was the most gentle of the three. Her wings were flared out, a comforting shadow settling across the bottom of the altar.
Techno kneeled beneath her.
“My lady Death,” He addressed her respectfully, “I apologize for my absence of late. It seems that the world has commanded much of my time.”
He took a knife and persimmon from his cloak. He cut into the fruit, dividing it in half. Juice dripped down his fingers as he severed the persimmon in two. He laid one half of the fruit onto the altar.
ooOOoOooOh Momza’s coming!
E
Lady Death!
Imma be honest, she scares me
Why? Life is much scarier
Oh shut up, you’re a stone! You can’t die. I’m a flower!
Techno glanced over at the potted plant sitting on a windowsill. It was wilting in the harsh sunlight, the petals drooping down and turning from a bright pink to a sickly yellow. Chat continued to argue.
I just think she’s scary
Scarily kind, you mean! How does DEATH manage to be friendly and safe?! HOW DOES SHE DO IT
/rainbowchat
Hey, Techno, do something. I’m bored
BORING
unsubscribed
A chuckle sounded in Techno’s ear, “Loud, aren’t they?”
Techno closed his eyes, smiling, “Hello, Death.”
He felt a cold draft settle across his shoulders and heard the sound of someone biting into the persimmon. Death spoke again, through a mouthful of fruit, “Only half today?” she joked.
Techno shrugged, “I had to pay respects to Life, my lady.”
ewww cringe
momza best god
Has she taken an angel yet
Idk, no one’s told me if she had
Ok but it would be funny if he just ate the rest of the fruit
Life can go suck an egg
Death laughed again, “Are they always like this? How do you deal with them?”
“Same way as you do, I suppose.”
“Oh Technoblade, you have no idea, do you,” Death said softly, “Even I, powerful as I am, can barely hear their whispers. They’re so loud around you.”
“I am but a man.”
“You know as well as I do that there is a lie in that. The world comes alive around you,” Death protested, “They speak to you. Most have to beg for a Name. You don’t even have to ask.”
Techno laughed, “I came here to pay my respects to you. This is not about me. Like I said, I am but a man”
Death hummed, and Techno could hear the grin in her voice, “Ah, but Techno, most men have not been through what you have. Most men do not know the Names of the gods.”
Then she was gone. The draft lifted and Techno could feel the air begin to warm again. He opened his eyes, and found the persimmon half he’d left gone.
He stood silently, moving onto the next altar. Life’s statue was of a man concealed entirely by a veil. The only thing that poked out from the cloth were his hands. From the open palms tumbled a shower of flowers. Under Life’s feet were the miniature carvings of his angels. Life had many, perhaps the most of any god. Nearly thirty last time Techno had checked. Could be more now. The god was always busy, and always needed help. Techno laid the other half of his persimmon on Life’s altar and uttered a quick prayer.
He approached the altar of Harvest next. She was a tall, curvy woman with the antlers of a deer twisting up from her intricately braided hair. Her two angels were positioned to either side of her, their wings tucked into neat folds on their backs. He found himself empty handed in front of her. He had not thought to bring something. With a sigh, he unclipped a silver earring from his ear.
He placed the silver at the goddess’ feet, “I am sorry, Lady Harvest, that I do not have something better to offer. May your fields be abundant and your reign never ending. ⎓ᔑ╎∷ ᔑリ↸ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒷ ᔑ∷ᒷ, ᒲ|| ꖎᔑ↸||.”
He moved to the last altar. The Blood God’s statue was a twisting mass of stone and cast iron. His face was stuck in a perpetual snarl, tusks and fangs on display. The Blood God was depicted as half boar half man, wild and untamed. In his hands, he held an unbalanced scale. There were no angels carved into his statue.
Techno glared at the statue, something dark and deadly smoldering in his red eyes. He took a deep, sarcastic bow, snarling out the words, “I am humbled to be in your presence, my lord. May all your angels be strong. ʖᔑᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ∷↸.”
He raised his head, and stalked off.
—
“You got a minute?”
Techno loaded the last bag of grain onto the back of the wagon. He dusted his hands off, wiping the dirt onto his pants. Dark smudges covered the fronts of his trousers, the fabric bearing the scars of the action that he repeated again and again.
He lifted his head to look at Schlatt. His employer was leaning on the wagon, a straw hat shading his eyes.
“Yeah,” Techno said, “I just finished up.” he wrung his hands together, “What can I do ya for?”
Schlatt tilted his hat up so Techno could see his eyes, “You’re teaching the boy magic?”
“He insisted,” Techno provided.
“I’d bet,” Schlatt chuckled, “Kid is persistent. Nervous cub, but once he gets his mind set on something, he doesn’t give up.”
“You're. . . alright with it?” Techno asked.
Schlatt hummed, avoiding the question, “How’s he doing.”
“Good,” Techno paused, trying to come up with something, “He. . . struggles with the chants, but it is natural at molding mana.”
“His mother was a mage,” Schlatt said, “Guess he gets that from her. I tried to keep him out of it, ya know? Shit’s dangerous.”
“I apologize, sir,” Techno bowed his head.
Schlatt waved him off, “He’d have figured it out eventually. I hired the blood god to help me with farm work. This family has balls, it’s genetic. We can take a bit of danger.”
Schlatt laughed again, “It’s just all got me so sentimental. He was casting those little lights - y’know? They were floating all over the house, making the little jingling sounds and all. His mother would cast the same spell whenever Tubbo got sad. Made him forget whatever got him in a tiff, and he’d be giggling and smiling like nothing had ever happened.”
Schlatt sent him a regretful look, “I got a cousin coming to Therven in a month. With him here, I won’t need a farm hand.”
Ah. Techno understood. He needed to be ready to be on the move again, “I understand, sir.”
“I’m sorry to put you out of a job like that.”
“It’s alright,” Techno said, “I’m used to it.”
Schlatt was silent for a moment, “Tubbo’s gonna miss you.”
“I’ll try to teach him all I can before I go,” Techno promised, “It’ll soften the blow.”
Schlatt laughed, “Y’know, you’re not nearly as bad as they paint you out to be. This terrifying king-killer and all. Somehow, I can’t equate the young man teaching my son to make magic lamps to the horror story of the blood god.”
“I’d like to think I’m better than the rumors,” Techno smiled, “But at the same time, you’ve never seen me cornered.”
“You have a point.”
Schlatt turned to leave, but before he walked off, he said, “and Techno?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t teach him anything about Naming, yeah?”
“Of course, sir.”
—
Techno spent the next month doing exactly what he’d been doing before. He worked on the farm, had territory disputes with the chickens, offered prayers to the gods, and taught Tubbo all he could. The kid was a bit of a dope sometimes, but he was a good student. Techno was a sub-optimal teacher - with the whole ‘not a mage’ thing - but the two of them made it work.
The days passed quickly like that. Too fast for him to really grasp what was happening. They wrapped up planting season as summer began to set in. It promised to be a hot one this year, and Techno was already dreading it. As flowers came into bloom, Techno taught Tubbo wind spells. They used the fluff of dandelions to practice directing the wind, and their sessions often ended with Tubbo forcing him to make a wish on the flowers.
“What’d you wish for?”
“Can’t tell ya, that’s not how wishes work.”
“You’re boring, Techno.”
“I try.”
Techno hadn’t spent so long in one place for a long time. He’d almost begun to call the dirty little shed - with its straw covered floor and messy chicken coops - home.
But Techno was always on the move. He didn’t settle down. He wasn’t built for that kind of life. For fucks sake, one of the few people he considered a ‘friend’ was an assassin that kept trying to kill him. He wasn’t meant for life on a farm, with a family. His life was not calm, it was wild and untamed.
When the time finally came to leave, he did so without second thoughts or tears. He left Tubbo with one final lesson, an old spellbook he’d bought from a wandering merchant, and an apology. He packed up his stuff, ruffled Tubbo’s hair, and left.
That’s all there was to it.
And if sometimes, when the nights got cold and forests grew lonely, he didn’t think of Therven and the people there. He didn’t. He would swear on it with his dying breath.