Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dragon dissolves into light when it dies, which is… disappointing. Phil had hoped for a trophy of some sort. 

Of course, it’s still beautiful. Even stained glass at temples of Light don’t compare. 

He drops his eyes when the light— the Light— is done. This island is still full of Airdamn creatures, and Phil has become extremely familiar with the consequences of looking at them. 

It’s been months since Phil heard the instructions but the next step rings in his ears. Light will open the Well. You need to enter the Well where Light can’t fucking find you. It’s the most clearly insane line of instructions, the bit that’s always made Phil wonder if the rest of it is ravings too. The Winged aren’t sane, after all, no matter how consistently they give directions. 

The woman Phil spoke with has been right about the other insane bits, though. The eyes he bought from a piglin market leading to the abandoned fortress, the Airdamn bugs that nearly got him burned to death, the portal looking like the night sky. 

Besides, Phil thinks as he approaches the Well, I can’t exactly back out now. 

The Well is as beautiful as he was told it would be. There are stars below the surface to rival the sky in Phil’s hometown. 

Beautiful fucking trickster, the Winged woman whispers in Phil’s memory. She’ll tear you apart. Don’t let her. 

Phil’s stomach clenches in a now-familiar mix of fear and anticipation. He needs to meet whatever’s in the Well, even if it shreds him like it shreds everyone else. He needs to earn the wings he’s always felt should be his, and surely something capable of whatever happens to Winged can also strike other deals. 

See, seeking the End gets one a lot of time to reflect. Phil has come to terms with a selfish desire for power and life. It does not hurt him anymore. 

He can’t see a way down, so he perches on the edge and lets himself tip backward into the stars. 

It feels like falling through a thin layer of water, then it feels like nothing, then it feels like everything. 

Phil sees the starlit Well, but he also sees his home and Kristin in it, all the mountain views of his journey here, people remembered and imagined. It hurts to perceive and he somehow sees that too, buffeted by a wind he tastes rather than feels. He instinctively fights to hold himself together through the storm. It’s a losing battle as Void— Phil knows it deeply to be Void, capitalized for its power— rips through him. 

He makes his way to a thought: the Winged fight Void to stay themselves, and they lose. Perhaps it’s the fighting that tears them. 

Phil breathes emptiness out of his lungs and lets go. He loses thought immediately to the onslaught of sensation, the sound of light and the color of pain. 

Something cries out in fear— the body, maybe, not meant to perceive like this. The body is a mewling creature, though, whiny and frail, and can’t touch It— Him— the—

Phil returns to himself, slightly less turned inside out. 

Hello, fool. The voice is tactile, visual, purely mental, but Phil, newly remade, isn’t frightened. 

Phil is floating in nothingness, and tentatively he twists in the air and places his feet on solid ground that isn’t there. “Void,” he greets. “I want to bargain.” 

They always do. What do you want, then, if you’re not going to force me to pick it from your mind. 

“Wings.” Phil knows, has always known, what his wings look like, and with barely a thought he can communicate that image whole and wordlessly. 

And? That’s not all. 

The voice is inside Phil’s mind, and Void interrupts his ability to think as it starts to tug his desires loose of the rest of him. 

“To live,” Phil spits out. Anything to make that feeling stop. “I— I don’t know, to live. To see everything, to not miss anything. There’s so much out there I’ll never get to know, and I want to get to know it.” 

The entire Well spasms with something like amusement. You prefer the contrived Universe to the between-space? You would give up your death for more of life? 

This is the between-space. Phil knows it as soon as Void says it. “I would,” Phil agrees. 

Are you willing to make a deal?

“What are your terms?” Phil will agree no matter the terms. He didn’t come this far to lose. 

You truly believe the world will be worth more time than you’re given. Void almost seems shocked at this. I will never accept you into the between-space. You will not age or die. You can come back here, if you grow tired of it, and I will end your existence, but you will never find peace.

Fear and anticipation stirs in Phil’s stomach again, but it feels different now. It’s more visceral and distracting after whatever he went through entering the Well. He wants it gone. It doesn’t stop.

Well, Phil Craft?

How the fuck does it know his name. “Yes. Yes, I accept. I’ll do it.”

You’ll have to leave everything behind eventually. You’ll leave her behind.

Phil knows who it’s talking about. He sees her for a second, feels her hand in his, the calluses of both their palms, overwhelming on top of Void’s words around him. “I know.”

Very well then. Leave.  

He’s immediately lost again in the sensory whirlwind. It’s harder to let go this time and he barely manages it. Something hurts. He can barely feel it. He doesn’t know how much time is passing, but it feels too long and despite himself he’s afraid—

And it’s done. There’s sunlight on Phil’s skin, real warm sunlight, the way it’s supposed to feel. He takes a stumbling step forward and limbs that weren’t there before twitch and flutter on his back. He cuts himself off before he can laugh out loud as he curls his hands into fists and looks around and things feel— not quite real or right, but good. Exciting.

He doesn’t know where he is, but he’s sure he can find his way. He needs to go home, it’s been months. There’s so much to see.

The bastion is dying. 

When Technoblade was a child, the bastion was dying next decade, next century, next generation; now it’s dying next week, tomorrow. Everybody knows where they were when the portals closed: Technoblade was in school ignoring his lessons to think about striders. He’s been out of school a few years, and the world has only tightened since then. 

“Technoblade! Is the guard schedule posted?” 

Technoblade jumps and turns to see the speaker is just his neighbor, someone even more chronically disorganized than he is. “Yep, in the commons. You’re on treasure room.” 

They toss their head in celebration, then study Technoblade quickly. “Let me guess— farm patrol.” 

Technoblade gestures agreement with a wince. What makes it obvious is how the axe at his side is functional rather than ceremonial, and how the dingy gold jewelry on his wrists is more and thicker than usual. 

The neighbor laughs. “Good luck.” 

“I’ll need it,” Technoblade mutters. 

Technoblade doesn’t even know why there’s a farm patrol anymore. The rot and the warp have taken the land beyond usability. The only thing that grows these days is netherwort, and the shrinking forests force the wild hoglins in to threaten any cultivated land, and the warp is reaching further and further into the forests. Technoblade wouldn’t be surprised to find one of the idiots who still live outside the bastion newly rotted. 

But he has to patrol if he wants to keep his job, and guarding is about the only job Technoblade could get. Nobody’s hiring brewers or strider hands anymore. 

Technoblade keeps his shield up as he leaves the bastion. There’s still forest around it, luckily, but it’s dangerous out here anyway. 

The first patch of farmland Technoblade finds is overgrown. He casts a glance at the darkened hut by it and decides not to check on the owner. If they’re rotted, and they surely are, there’s nothing to be done. 

He hears a distant ghast cry and ducks under a fungus on instinct. 

The characteristic sound of a fireball explosion shakes the air, but Technoblade can’t see the ghast. Is it in a cavern above him? If so, its sound is very clear. 

It cries again, and Technoblade can only watch in horror as the front wall of the bastion comes crumbling forward. 

It’s inside. He doesn’t know how it could have gotten in, or how it could have hatched inside, but either way there’s a ghast inside Technoblade’s bastion. 

The screaming reaches him now as another flaming section of wall topples. Guiltily he’s glad he’s not inside with it. 

The cry comes again, louder, and the bulbous mass of the ghast starts to drift out of the hole. Technoblade can see the fire in its mouth. Another explosion rocks the bastion walls— is there a second one?

He needs to run. 

As a guard, he should return to defend his home. But Technoblade was never really a guard— it just pays the bills until a strider stable or brewery starts hiring. He can barely wield an axe against anything bigger than an immature hoglin. 

He drops his shield to run into the forest. 

It’s not brave, but he wants to keep living.

Technoblade runs until he can’t hear the ghasts or his friends and family screaming or his home falling to pieces. He runs until an almost eerie silence hangs in the air, and then he looks up and has no idea where he is.

Well, he knows what kind of place he’s in. It’s a broken portal at the center of a— a shrine, maybe, an intricate set of arches and altars overgrown with pulsing vines. He thinks he sees a skeleton behind a pillar and decides not to investigate. The portal frame, though, that’s interesting. It’s totally intact somehow, even with a powdery fire charge resting in it, as if the owner is minutes away from lighting it. Technoblade can’t look away. 

What are you running from, Technoblade?

Technoblade looks around. There’s no one here. He— he really should get home, if only to see what’s left.

I asked you a question. The voice rumbles in his head, low bass from a jukebox. It sounds intimidating, threatening, but Technoblade knows somehow the threat isn’t to him.

“Um… ghasts in my bastion,” he says to the empty shrine. “It’s probably gone by now.” He had thought his bastion finally dissolving would hurt less for knowing it was coming.

You’re afraid.

“I guess I am,” Technoblade admits. “Who wouldn’t be?”

What if I told you that you never had to run in fear again?

“Who are you?”

Call me the God of Blood. I have a deal for you, Technoblade.

“How do you feel about ‘Blood God’? God of Blood is kind of a mouthful.”

There’s a palpable second of silence. So what if you never had to run in fear again? 

It’s tempting. And the Blood God sounds so certain, so absolutely confident it can keep this promise. “What’s the catch?” 

Become my vessel, light that portal and walk through it, and get me out of this hellhole. 

“That’s not an okay word,” Technoblade corrects on instinct. “And I’m sorry, what ?” 

You heard me. 

“I can’t go through the portal.” Technoblade has watched friends rot. The memory of the twitching, the wordless distressed grunts, the unnaturally fast decay, still haunts him. 

You can as my vessel. I will protect you. 

A ghast’s cry punctures the quiet. 

“I’m piglin,” Technoblade insists. “I can’t go there anymore.” Technoblade has never been to the overworld; the rot began before he was born. His parents and grandparents remember it fondly, but fear of the rot runs deeper in Technoblade. 

I know that. The Blood God is nearly snapping at him. Do you want to return to the rubble of your home or do you want to move forward?

Even if the bastion is still standing, there’s the rot and the warp. There’s still the slow death of piglin society as the overworld and the end scar the nether. 

“I want to move forward.” 

Good. Will you accept a role as my vessel?  

Surely there was a lesson about this in school. Technoblade should have paid more attention. “Yeah, I will.” 

Immediately there’s a weight laid over Technoblade’s shoulders, an invisible mantle that pushes him to stand straighter. 

Perfect. Now, do you trust me? The voice is louder, clearer, like a heavy curtain has been lifted. 

“No.” 

Good. Light the portal, Technoblade. 

Technoblade doesn’t want to, but he shatters the fire charge in the portal frame and watches it whirl to life. His vision swims. 

Step through. I will protect you. 

With shaking hands, Technoblade complies. 

He’s never gone through a portal before, and he’s forced to wonder why anyone ever thought it was a good idea. He feels like he’s going to be sick as his vision clouds over purple and his ears ring.

When his stomach settles, the air is cold and thick somehow. The air smells like soul sand and plants, and when he looks around the fungi surrounding the portal are green. 

His muscles twitch for a second, then stop. Technoblade exhales. 

Hmm. This won’t do. 

“ What won’t do?” The timbre of Technoblade’s voice is different in this air. The light comes from the above here, weirdly enough. 

You’re not human. They’ll notice. 

“I’m piglin,” Technoblade agrees. 

Not for long. 

Pain sears through Technoblade’s body. He hears himself cry out in a voice he doesn’t recognize. This must be the rot, he thinks, he should never have listened to random gods in hidden shrines, he’s going to die here with fire in every muscle and bone—

And then it stops.

Much better.

“What did you do?” He’s on his knees on the loose sandy ground, shaking but not from rot.

Look. The Blood God sounds almost proud.

Technoblade looks down at himself. The first thing he notices is that his body moves differently. He has more range of motion, and the focus of his eyes changes as he shifts his field of vision in a nauseating way. The second thing he notices is that his hands are different— fingers longer, skin a bizarre pale shade, nails short and weak.

The new skin tone continues up his arms and under his sleeves. The jewelry that used to fit easily on his wrists slides up to his elbows. He shifts his feet under him and nearly every joint in his legs has changed. 

“What did you do to me?” His voice is different even more than the air changed the timbre. It strains his vocal chords to speak.

Fit you to the overworld. Is something wrong?

It’s not really a question. “Nothing’s wrong,” Technoblade replies, eyes on the ground. 

Good. Let’s find something to kill.

“Faithful,” the Librarian calls, raising his hands to settle the room. The people quiet. “Thank you. I know you’ve awaited this day, and I understand your excitement. So I won’t keep you long— all you need to know to prove my chapter’s success will be in our demonstration.” He pauses for dramatic effect. Niki bounces her knee on her stool behind him. “I present to you the Enchanted!”

The group cheers. Niki stands off her stool and takes the Librarian’s place at the lectern. She waves to the crowd a moment, letting them see her: her blonde hair tied back in one long braid, the simple dagger on her belt, her unmarked and uninked skin. 

An assistant brings a young goat on stage. This is the bit of the demonstration she’s always hated. She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that creating the new world means people need to believe in her. If the death of innocent farm animals is required, so be it.

Besides, in the moment any guilt is consumed by the euphoria of power.

The assistant who had the goat steps back, another assistant removes the lectern, and Niki brings her hands up. She crouches low, not touching her dagger yet, and waits for the goat to approach her.

Once it’s in arm’s reach, she shoves .

The goat goes flying. The gathered faithful gasp. The goat hits the stage, stunned, and she draws her dagger and walks to it.

This is the bit she really hates. Before she can stop herself, she plunges the dagger into the goat’s heart. 

Where Niki goes, the wildfire follows. She brings it to bear on the body of the poor goat, and flame engulfs it.

Niki’s fire burns hotter than a natural one, and the body is incinerated before her power is exhausted.

She grins at the gathered faithful as the Librarian takes the stage back. Her hands have blood on them that she won’t get to wash off until later. It runs slick down her fingers and soaks into her sleeves. She doesn’t care. She is powerful. She is the first god.

When the gathering is done, Niki follows the Librarian out of the room. 

She hopes to be allowed to go soon. She wants to wash her hands and knife, and she wants to find Puffy. She knows Puffy was sent here, and some of her best memories are of nights spent wandering their hometown together, sneaking back into the faithful headquarters before dawn. Niki hasn’t seen Puffy since the night of the reorganization that sent Puffy away. Somewhere in her trunk, Niki still has the note Puffy left because she moved away too quickly to say goodbye.

The gathering room is clean and cozy, but outside the building the streets are darker, dirtier. Niki’s used to these conditions, though. The faithful are not widely accepted, and it’s hard to rent space with the Galactic rune tattoos most faithful have. 

Niki, in a twist she’s always found funny, isn’t visibly faithful, a testament to the uselessness of the enchantment tattoos. The woman who carried Niki has the tattoos, and the trick was that the magic transferred before Niki was a person and unable to be enchanted. 

“Librarian,” Niki asks as she follows him down the street. “What else are we doing today?”

The Librarian grins at her. “Not much, dearest. There’s just one thing I want to show you.”

Niki nods. “Of course.” The Librarian is the head of what used to be a sleepy local chapter of faithful. He created her and made her what she is. “What is it?”

“Don’t worry. Let’s take a walk.”

Niki’s immediately on edge. Nothing good happens when the Librarian says let’s take a walk.

He leads them to a concrete building in a slightly better part of town. If Niki had to guess, she’d say it’s a medical building somehow, but there’s no sign on the door. It’s chilly inside, and Niki wishes she were wearing a coat. 

“Forgive me, Librarian, but what am I meant to be looking at?”

“Just through here, dear.” He pushes a heavy door open. The Librarian never calls Niki by her title, Enchanted, despite being the one who conferred it to her. Niki doesn’t even know his name. 

Through the door is a stone slab and a figure lying on their back. The Librarian steps aside to let Niki through, and her heart jumps at tangled brown-and-white curls. It’s even colder inside the room, like she’s stepped into an icebox.

“Puffy?” she breathes. There’s no response. Niki steps closer. The figure is certainly Puffy, still and pale on the slab. “Puffy, please, answer me.”

Blood is soaking the front of Puffy’s shirt.

Niki claps a hand over her mouth, but a strangled sound still escapes. Dry blood scrapes against her face from her hands.

“What is it?” The Librarian is at her shoulder, voice far too innocent to not know.

“She— what happened to her?”

“I had worried you still cared for her, despite our efforts,” the Librarian replies. “She was always damned, Niki, and now she’s no longer a distraction. I thought you would want to see for yourself.”

“She’s saved,” Niki insists. “She was part of the new world, and she— died— as part of it.”

“She did not.” There’s a note of warning in the Librarian’s voice. 

“But— the last Librarian,” Niki protests. “When the last Librarian died, he was saved. We still speak of him because he was spiritually part of the new world through me. Puffy was saved. I saved her.” Those who die in the old world, the current world, are damned. The faithful do not speak the names of the damned. 

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” But it is, Niki realizes. The old Librarian had power among the faithful, and the rules were bent. Puffy was a nobody, and she is damned. 

But the rules are absolute. The laws of the faithful have carried Niki her whole life. Why could they be bent then? And why not now?

The Librarian scoffs. “Calm yourself, my dear. The head of our chapter and some damned you foolishly fell for are fundamentally different situations.”

“All are equal,” Niki tells him. It’s a basic tenet of their— of his faith. “There are no powers but those we make, because no one is raised up except through magic.”

“You’re still so young,” the Librarian tells her. “You’ll understand someday.”

He is breaking the rules of the faith that gives him his power. The same rules say Niki must not question her Librarian, but those same rules damned Puffy. And seem to bend to the Librarian’s will.

Niki’s faith has always been absolute, but it came from the Librarian. If it is flexible— if the Librarian is flexible— if his faith hurts her— if he intends her harm—

“I understand now ,” she tells him. She still has her bloody dagger at her side. 

“That’s wonderful, then. Shall we go?”

Niki turns to look at the Librarian, a man made soft by having never worked for his keep. He has held his power over her head for as long as she can remember.

Where Niki walks, the wildfire follows. The only power in this room is her.

Chapter Text

The lobby of Tournament tryouts is surprisingly crowded. Techno knew the competition was famous, of course— famous enough to just be the Tournament— but he’d thought there’d be fewer people arrogant or desperate enough to try out. 

Techno’s used to how professional and aspiring fighters look, and he feels like he already knows who’s getting in and who’s not. 

It’s not an ideal time to apply for Techno, not exactly under the Blood God’s full protection. He’s still confident he’ll be accepted, and hopefully that will get him back in his god’s good graces. 

The few Winged are the wildcards. Their presence here says nothing about their fighting ability, and even if they can fight, the showrunners may well exclude them for instability. Techno understands it. Winged aren’t sane, and Techno’s met enough over centuries to know that’s not a stereotype. 

A Tournament administrator of some kind emerges from a door, scans the room, and points at Techno. 

The voices, in Techno’s mind, rise excitedly. ( YOU) (knock ‘em dead!) (E)

Techno stands and follows the administrator through the door.

They have a clipboard and paper. “Name?”

“Technoblade.”

They raise an eyebrow. Two hundred years ago, Technoblade was a piglin name. Now it’s just weird. “Last name?”

“Don’t have one.”

There’s a long moment of silence. “Alright, then. Hometown?”

“South Delta.” It’s been a large city for decades. No one will be able to prove he’s not from South Delta. 

By now the two of them have reached what’s clearly the audition room. A panel of other administrators sit behind a table with one empty space. A rack of weapons lines one wall, and a fairly beat-up training dummy sits in the center of the room. 

“Weapon of choice?” 

“Anythin’.” 

The administrator gives him a look. “Okay, but what do you favor?”

Techno shrugs. “I said anythin’ and I meant it. Name a weapon.” 

Another administrator, at the table, calls out, “Handaxe.” 

Techno selects a handaxe from the rack. ( too easy) The voices, for once, are right; a handaxe was Techno’s weapon when he was still mortal. 

Still, though, Techno’s more than happy to demonstrate as the administrators give him one weapon after another. He keeps his movements strong and short, trying to hide the way his finer muscles shake and twitch just slightly. It’s the rot, he knows, slowed but creeping in when his god grows bored of him. 

The cacophony of voices disguises the Blood God most days now, but Techno still bitterly hopes it’s happy now. (kill the admins) (E)

Finally, he’s told to stop and he does, watching administrators mutter and take notes. 

“Do you have a tremor?” the original one asks, nodding to Techno’s shaking hands. 

“No.” Techno clenches his fists. He sighs. “It comes and goes. It doesn’t affect my control.” He’s not even sure these people would know what the word piglin means, and he hasn’t ever heard rot in this context in the overworld. The explanation he offers is close enough. 

“Wait here. I want to get someone.” Another administrator stands and hurried out the door. (You’re in trouble) (oooo)

Techno stands stiffly in the middle of the room until they return. He’s always hated small talk, and it hasn’t gotten easier over centuries. 

The door opens, but it isn’t just the administrator who left. They hold the door open and a man Techno knows only by reputation enters. 

“Scar?” Techno greets in surprise. It feels wrong to address a showrunner by name alone, but he has no title. Everyone Techno’s spoken to just calls him Scar, the showrunner who interacts with the public. For all Techno knows, it is a title, or at least a nickname— a few lines of scar tissue cross the man’s face and hands.

Scar grins with perhaps too many teeth. “And you must be Technoblade!” He’s in a wheelchair, more compact and seemingly more maneuverable than others Techno’s seen; his manner and the device speak to power and confidence. 

“I am.” (SCAR) (you are not immune to the goodtimes) 

“Well, Techno— can I call you Techno?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’ve caught our recruiters’ interest. We have an offer for you— all tentative, of course, all very hush-hush. How do you feel about that?” Techno catches his use of we . The other showrunner doesn’t seem to speak to outsiders, but Scar at least seems sure he exists. 

Rumor has it the other showrunner is Winged. Techno certainly thinks that would explain a lot. 

“Depends on the offer,” Techno answers. “Can’t exactly sign somethin’ I haven’t read.” 

Scar laughs. “Clever! Of course. And you won’t be signing anything, unless you get into Tournament. Please do understand this conversation does not guarantee admission.” 

“I see.” Techno doesn’t want to talk to Scar any more than he has to. He’s heard too much. (SCAR)

“Great. Now, I’m told you can fight with any weapon we have here at Tournament. Is that true?” Techno just nods. “How do you feel about gimmicks?” 

Techno blinks. “I’m sorry, gimmicks?” 

“Yeah, gimmicks. You know, a bit of razzle dazzle. A trick to draw crowds. Do you like them?” 

“I tend to prefer an honest contest.” 

“Cute,” Scar comments. “Don’t worry, you’ll still be fighting fair. If anything, it’s a disadvantage.” He pauses, as if for effect. “All I propose is that if— if — you compete in Tournament, the showrunners select your weapon each round.” 

“That’s it?” It seems nearly too simple. 

“That’s it.” Scar gestures with open palms, practically showing Techno that there’s nothing up his sleeves. “We pick your weapon the night of your fights.” 

“That sounds fine. I’ll do it.” (always with the contracts)

Scar grins again. “Good to hear. Now, remember, you can’t tell anyone, and you aren’t admitted to Tournament until competitors are announced. Go on now.” He shoos Techno out the door. “Have a lovely day!”

Techno hurries out of the building, trying not to let other applicants catch his eye. He was in the back a long time, he knows, and some of them are trying— Techno notes a scrawny blond kid, several of the various Winged, and a masked man closer to Techno’s stature than the others. 

He doesn’t care about them. He has never cared, can never care. He’s going to get into the Tournament, he’s going to win, and he’s going to appease his god and find something more interesting to do. 

He tucks his hands in his pocket once he’s on the street. He can feel the shaking slowing and hopes it’s the god. Sometimes it comes and goes on its own, sometimes the god remembers to protect him from rot.

(you could just kill someone) (e) (E) “Shut up,” Techno mutters under his breath. When he first agreed to be a vessel of the Blood God, the overworld was mostly provincial and wilderness. It was easy, then, to pick fights or join mercenary armies, or hunt animals when he could pull himself out of the voices long enough. These days he nearly always wins control of his own body and instincts, but it’s harder to just go fight something when he needs it.

These days Techno spends too much time trying to ignore how much the overworld looks like the nether just before Techno left it. (⍑╎ᓭℸ ̣ 𝙹∷|| ∷ᒷ!¡ᒷᔑℸ ̣ ᓭ ╎ℸ ̣ ᓭᒷꖎ⎓)

It’ll be three days before the sixty-four competitors in the Tournament are announced. Techno’s staying at an inn near the edge of town, all he could afford with his mostly stolen coin. Another reason to win the Tournament: holding a job is difficult when you’re as restless as Techno is forced to be. 

At the inn, Techno nods to the owner as he returns to his room. This city sprung up around the Tournament arenas, and Techno can only assume the bustling crowds he’s seen these past few days aren’t a year-round occurrence. 

(boring) (fight the innkeeper) (GO) Techno huffs and ignores the voices. Maybe he’s in a vindictive mood, maybe it’s just stubbornness, but Techno doesn’t want to leave the city until the Tournament is done. Between the rounds of fights and challenges, his god will have plenty of blood. Techno’s been getting sick of being pushed around for a long time.

Three days pass in an angry, stubborn haze. As much practice as Techno has ignoring the voices, times like these they get more ominous, louder, and less comprehensible. The day competitors are announced, Techno wakes up shaking harder than he’s used to. He mentally shoves through the voices to reach the Blood God. 

“I’m joinin’ the Tournament.” (E)

I’m aware. What of it?

(E) “So stop it, already, yeah? Stop with the rot.” Techno’s glad this inn has at least some privacy. It’s unlikely anyone else can hear him arguing with no one in his room.

You think I choose to let you go? I need power. Which you should provide.

“Ya can’t just go ‘round stabbin’ people anymore. Times’re changin’.” (⎓⚍ᓵꖌ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ℸ ̣ ╎ᒲᒷᓭ)

Times are changing. I am not.

“Your loss. Can’t you just get me to the first round of the Tournament?” (TOURNAMENT)

Not without power. We have a deal, Technoblade.

Techno sighs and stands, letting the god drop back into the chorus of voices. He glances out the window to the clock tower barely visible over the city. He knows where the nearest mostly-empty forest is. He always knows where wildernesses are. 

He has time if he hurries.

Techno approaches the Tournament arena building with very little time to spare. He’s lucky it’s easy to find, hulking over the rest of the city. The building was here before the city, and its multistory walls enclose both the standard ring and seating area and a larger outdoor arena space. Techno shuffles through the crowd, a lot of the same people that he saw at tryouts, to get to the gaggle of administrators with the list of names. 

It’s packed here. Techno doesn’t mind crowds, but humans are rude about it, and have only gotten ruder as their crowds have grown. 

Finally, Techno’s within sight of the group of administrators, who’re confirming names and hometowns and allowing competitors inside.

Techno’s pushed to them next to a blond Winged who keeps bumping into him. The guy gets the list-holder’s attention first and shouts over the crowd, “Phil Craft, Glenmorrow?” 

The administrator is already looking at the list and mutters something under his breath. “Go ahead.”

The Winged— Phil— laughs happily as he’s allowed into the building.

Techno winces. Phil can’t be older than eighteen or bigger than a hundred twenty pounds without his wings. He’s going to get hurt, and Techno already feels bad for him. 

“Technoblade. South Delta.”

The administrator scans their paper. “Yep, you’re in. Go ahead.” (!!!!!) (LETS GO) The gathered bouncers and administrators part to let Techno through the door.

Inside, it’s much less crowded. Techno breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

A sign in the lobby tells competitors to go to the main stage, and Techno’s able to follow the others and a series of more permanent signs until he reaches a set of double doors.

It’s darker through the door, and Techno catches himself staring around at the main stage. (holy shit) (architecture pog) The center of the room holds the ring itself, a contraption halfway between a boxing ring and a cage, and currently-empty weapon racks by each door. The rest of the room is seats, layered like a concert hall. 

Techno seems to be one of the last ones in, and he doesn’t have to wait long before the doors close. He glances through the dim light at his competition. Unsurprisingly, it’s mostly rocks of men, sitting as far apart as feasible and scowling. The smaller and more feminine competitors sit even more alone. Near the front row, illuminated by the lanterns onstage, Techno notes a young-looking woman with knife-sharp posture and her roughly cut hair stained pink. He counts three Winged in various locations, all seeming at least mostly calm. 

The lanterns on the stage flare, and an administrator walks to the center. Even if it wasn’t traditional, Techno would know this person isn’t a showrunner. There’s a nervousness under their command of the light, almost too much directness in their motions.

“Welcome,” they say, and their voice booms out from some sort of enchantment, “to the thirteenth annual Tournament.”

The competitors watch the light in tense silence. Techno watches them.

Chapter Text

The first few days of the Tournament are a whirlwind. Techno receives and signs a fairly usual contract: he’ll live in the Tournament housing for the duration of his competition, he won’t throw matches, he won’t leave the Tournament grounds without written permission, he’ll leave when they ask him to. (always the contracts, seriously) There’s a note appended to the back reminding him of his weapons-assignment agreement.

Techno attends the first night of matches out of a sense of obligation. There’s a balcony reserved for competitors, and as little as he cares about talking with the competition he doesn’t want to be that guy. 

Across the room, the showrunner’s box is cast in shadow, likely on purpose. Even so, Techno could swear he can feel eyes on him from that box. 

The first two rounds will have two fights in an evening, just for efficiency. The first of tonight is, at least to Techno’s eyes, so standard to competitions like this as to be boring. Two men have swords, they posture and taunt each other, surrender is called the moment one of them is cornered. 

The voices rise in a near-wordless hiss when first blood is drawn, drowning the crowd out for a moment.

Techno is barely paying attention when the second match is called forward. He recognizes one of the competitors, the pink-haired woman, who’s wielding a quarterstaff to her opponent’s shortsword. He wonders if she’s just foolish or if the showrunners set her up to fail.

His opinion changes when she actually makes contact. She fights gracefully, and even from up here Techno can see the precision of her movement.

She lands a body hit on her opponent and he slams back into the barred wall of the stage. The entire crowd goes quiet for a moment. 

It seems simple for her from there. Techno slips out of the arena before the crowds catch him.

It takes two days for Techno to wish he had different roommates. The housing is arranged with three rooms opening to a common area, then to the hall, and Techno supposes he doesn’t have the worst assignment, but it’s not ideal. One of the swordsmen from the first night was in one of the rooms, now empty, and the other occupant is the skinny blond kid from tryouts, who seems terrified of Techno and everyone else. (e)

There’s an outdoor track around the large arena, and if nothing else Techno decides running a lap will kill time in the early morning, and give him an excuse to be out before his roommate wakes up. 

The sun hasn’t reached over the walls by the time Techno gets to the track. It’s abandoned, thankfully, and Techno starts jogging down the dirt path.

It doesn’t feel like he’s run very far before he hears an impact on the path behind him and light footsteps approaching.

He glances to the side and sees that it’s the Winged kid from arrival day, which explains the impact sound. Techno’s already forgotten his name.

“Race you,” the kid says, sounding slightly out of breath.

Techno slows a bit to be able to talk to him. “You can fly.”

“True. I won’t, though.” His wings are black, feathered, and nearly half his body mass. Every couple steps, he makes a little fluttering hop to keep up with Techno.

“Right,” Techno half-laughs. (go for it!)

“I won’t,” the kid insists, nearly whining. (it’ll be fun) “C’mon, what else do you have to do?”

He has a point. (GO GO GO) “Just around to the door again,” he sighs to both the voices and the kid.

With a cheerful yelp, the kid picks up speed, folding his wings behind him and keeping to the ground now. 

And, well, Techno doesn’t plan on losing .

Running, properly running, is invigorating, and Techno just barely beats the Winged kid to the door. Both of them stumble to a stop, trying to catch their breath.

“My name’s Phil,” the kid gasps. (hi phil)

“Techno. I remember you from arrival day.”

Phil nods. “I remember you too. Nice to meet you.”

There’s a moment of silence. “You’re a bit young to be Winged, aren’t you?”

“I was eighteen,” Phil protests. (okay then)

“You look eighteen now.” Either way, eighteen is young. Whatever quest the Winged do is supposed to be almost impossible and is clearly harrowing. 

“I do,” Phil agrees. “It’s… a little complicated.” 

“Okay then.” There was a time in Techno’s life when he was too different in too many ways to really talk with people, but he wasn’t used to being alone yet. Winged were easier to relate to, and Techno still finds himself more comfortable around them than most. 

“You don’t believe me.” There’s a hint of bitterness in Phil’s voice. “You seemed different. I thought you would.”

Arguing with Winged is a bad idea. Many of them, Phil included, seem to have a sense for lies, though. “It doesn’t matter if I believe you,” Techno answers. Whether something makes Phil’s age “complicated” or he’s just delusional, it doesn’t affect Techno.

Phil chuckles at him. “Hey, do I know you?” (hey wait)

Techno almost dismisses it, then pauses. Does he know Phil? Something seems familiar, if just in passing, someone seen across a battlefield. “I don’t think so,” he says after a moment. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Phil shrugs easily. “You seem nice anyway. What brings you here this early?” The sun is just now starting to hit them.

“Wanted to get away from my roommate,” Techno admits. “You?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” There’s something stiff, almost vulnerable, in Phil’s voice. Techno gets the feeling he doesn’t mean he woke up in the middle of the night. 

A bell rings from indoors. “That’d be breakfast,” Techno says.

Phil nods. “Go on, I’ll be a bit longer.”

Techno tries to put Phil out of his head, and Phil seems content to ignore him too. The only time the whole group is together is mealtimes and watching fights, and it’s easy to pretend to miss Phil going by.

One of the other Winged here, someone with leathery scaled wings, seems to have something against Phil. Techno’s seen them a few times glaring or muttering in Phil’s direction, although Phil usually just keeps his head down.

On his way to lunch, Techno sees a few competitors talking to the scaled Winged, voices low and smothering smiles. (this is bad) (warn phil)

Techno shakes his head to clear the voices some. He’s not warning Phil. If Phil really needs help, someone else will help him. Techno’s not in the business of caring, and when he tries it only goes poorly. (warn phil)

The line for food is still long. Techno manages to grab a cup of soup, although he's not early enough to have gotten it hot. 

“Hey, you!” someone shouts. “Hey, I’m fucking talking to you, fucking look at me, hmm?” It’s the scaled Winged, pointing at Phil. (PHIL)

Phil keeps his eyes on the table, resolutely continuing to eat stew. Half the room is staring. Techno can’t look away.

“They’re talking to you,” a competitor Techno doesn’t know calls. The Winged agrees loudly.

“Hey, wings, look up when you’re spoken to!” (help him!)

“Don’t act like you’re better than me, you asshole!”

“Are you deaf or something?” 

Techno is not in the business of caring. He keeps walking to the open seat he’d spotted, balancing the bowl of lukewarm soup in his hands. Phil isn’t even looking for help, anyway. His gaze is still down. (help him) (blood for the blood god)

“Answer the question, Winged!”

Techno, in his haste to sit down, catches his foot on someone’s stool and loses balance before he can catch himself. He feels the broth slosh out of his bowl and hears a shriek. 

Oh no.

He looks in horror and sees that of everyone here, he’s just soaked Niki Nihachu. He learned her name after her first match, like most of the city. Her shirt is black but still shows the wet spot, and although the soup was decidedly not hot she seems to take an effortful breath for a long moment before fixing him with a glare. (idiot) 

“And what’s that for?” she demands.

Techno takes a step back. “I didn’t mean to, jeez.” Soup is on his hands too, slightly more viscous than water as it runs over his fingers.

“Yeah, okay,” she says sarcastically, standing. “They never do.”

“What?”

“I meant, I don’t believe you.” She’s sneering, angry, something cold behind her eyes. “So get away .” 

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’.” She seems… tense. Weapons aren’t allowed on the grounds, but Techno doesn’t doubt that Niki has some fight in her anyway. (omg look at her)

He realizes that the Winged and the peanut gallery are quiet, watching Techno and Niki now. 

A voice— Phil, Techno realizes— shouts something Techno doesn’t understand. The syllables sound enough like Common that at first Techno thinks he’s just misheard somehow, but the only person in the room who seems to react is Niki, who turns her glare on Phil. 

“ What did you just call me?” (oh shit)

Phil has stood up and taken a step forward, matching Niki’s posture. He seems surprised for a second, then speaks again in what must be another language, words rapid and pronounced with a slur. 

Niki replies in the same almost-Common language, and now they’re properly arguing, approaching each other. The entire rest of the room seems just as confused as Techno is. 

They’re getting a bit close for Techno’s comfort now, still yelling. He’s not in the business of caring, but he doesn’t want them to fight. 

Phil’s hands are balled into fists, and the competitors seem content to let things unravel. 

Techno interrupts the incomprehensible argument to half-shout, “Phil.” 

Phil’s gaze snaps up. Niki seems to startle too, then takes a partial step back. 

“Techno?” Phil asks. 

Niki turns and leaves the room, walking fast. (follow her)  

Techno can feel the eyes of the room on him. “Eat your lunch, Phil,” he mutters. 

Phil’s wings behind him visibly relax. “Okay.” 

Techno sighs. There’s no way he can eat in peace now. 

The competition goes on. Techno isn’t scheduled until later in round one, and he hasn’t even really noticed the numbers dropping yet, except his swordsman roommate. 

He catches Phil on tonight’s schedule and shows up to the match with a pit in his stomach. It’s not because he cares about Phil. Shut up, voices. (technosoft) 

He feels vaguely relieved when Niki’s not in the competitor’s gallery. She hasn’t been at all so far, come to think of it. 

Phil’s the first Winged to fight. Techno can feel the crowd’s fervor reflected in the voices. 

Phil’s opponent is one of the other competitors who’re practically kids— they’d match in stature if not for Phil’s wings. They circle each other onstage, then Phil lunges, wings up, and they’re harder to track after that. 

Techno watches a knife get knocked across the metal stage floor, one of Phil’s short ones rather than the other guy’s longer one. 

Techno’s too far away to see much or hear anything, but he knows immediately when Phil scores first blood and tries not to flinch with the voices’ shout. 

Phil fights brutally, in a style all his own, seeming as comfortable with his fists as his knives. Even so, Techno can see holes in his guard, a dozen easy openings his opponent seems not to. He keeps his wings flared, letting the dark feathers reflect the light, and he approaches and retreats dramatically, using all the space in the ring. 

The match ends with Phil’s knee over the other guy’s neck when he taps out.

Phil stumbles when he stands, but raises his head to look into the crowd. Even from this far up, there’s joy in the lines of Phil’s stance. The crowd still sounds just as bloodthirsty as the voices. 

Phil doesn’t come to breakfast the next day. (check on him) 

Techno notices only by coincidence, not because he’s keeping an eye out. (liar) (liar!) He just thinks it would be nice to confirm that Phil’s okay after last night. 

And maybe he sits there until Tournament employees are picking up the leftover food. And maybe he does grab an apple from a plate and find the directory sign of who lives where. It’s just because no one else is gonna make sure Phil eats. (LIAR)

Techno knocks on the door of the suite Phil’s in and releases tension he didn’t know he was holding when Phil opens it. 

“Techno?” There’s a bruise rising on Phil’s cheek. 

“Uh. Hi. This is for you.” Techno holds out the apple. 

Phil takes it with a smile. “Aw, thanks mate.” 

Techno shrugs. Anyone could walk down this hall, and everyone already knows Techno knows Phil. He doesn’t need that kind of attention. “You missed breakfast, is all. I needed to make sure you weren’t dead.” He laughs awkwardly, trying to seem less stiff. 

Phil laughs back like Techno’s made a joke. “Trust me, you don’t need to worry about that.” He pauses. “I… I’m sorry about the other day. In the dining hall.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” (he says, worrying about it) “You were savin’ me. What language were you two talkin’ in, actually? I didn’t recognize it.” 

“I’m surprised Niki did,” Phil replies. “It used to be Standard, but it’s called Galactic these days, I think? No idea where she would’ve learned to read it, let alone speak it.” 

“Where’d you learn it, then?” 

Phil shrugs, then seems to come to a decision. “It’s my native language.” 

Techno tries to remember the name of Phil’s hometown. He remembers thinking it sounded like one of the dwindling farming villages still in the countryside. As far as he knows, Common is spoken at least across this continent. (∴ᒷꖎꖎ, リ𝙹ℸ ̣  ᔑꖎ∴ᔑ||ᓭ) “You don’t have an accent,” Techno says finally. If anything, Phil’s voice is the same everywhere-and-nowhere mix that Techno speaks with.

“It’s been a while since I’ve spoken anything but Common,” Phil answers with another shrug. He visibly shakes himself and smiles again. “We should race again. That was fun.”

Techno laughs despite himself. “Didn’t you have a whole fight, like, yesterday?”

“But you didn’t. And I don’t care, I’ll win this time. You’ll see.” (oh he is going DOWN)

It sounds… nice. Weirdly nice, actually. It’s been a long time since Techno did something low-stakes and nonviolent.

But there are probably people outside this time of day. And spending time with someone leads to caring, even accidentally, and Techno can’t do that. He may not have to run in fear anymore, but he’s never gotten better at protecting people.

“Maybe later, Phil. I have… stuff to do.”

Phil breathes a sigh and seems to get smaller somehow. “Okay, Techno. Have fun.”

Chapter Text

Techno finds himself at the track almost more often than not over the next couple days, just for lack of something better to do.

It’s a popular place to be, but also large and essentially a giant circle, so no one feels the need to talk to Techno, luckily. He sees Phil, mostly circling in the air or clinging to the tops of the walls, but doesn’t try to talk.

Phil’s proven he’s competent, even if he is far too young. He doesn’t need Techno. 

Techno’s making a slow lap around the nearly-abandoned track one afternoon when the door to the inside opens. He doesn’t pay attention to it at first— whoever it is is unlikely to bother him. At barely halfway through the first round, there’re still too many competitors to really know everyone, and Techno specifically avoids most people.

The voices are what alert him to look. (you gotta see this) (c’mon now’s your chance)

It’s Niki Nihachu. Techno takes a bracing breath in. He doesn’t know if she holds grudges, but this could be bad.

He gives her a small wave so it doesn’t look like he’s hiding. She catches sight of him and grimaces, but seems almost more embarrassed than angry. Techno’s fully prepared to just walk in the opposite direction when she calls, “Um— Technoblade?” 

“Yeah?” He stops to let her approach. (hi Niki) (E)

“I, um. I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day.” 

“It’s fine.” Techno’s not here to start arguments. “I spilled soup on you.” 

“It’s really not,” she insists. “I would have hit you, or that other guy, and that’s not okay. I just… get angry, sometimes, but it’s not fair. I wanted to say sorry.” 

Oh. Techno’s spent a lot of time around soldiers. He understands the irrational anger responses, even gone through decades when he’s had his own. “I get it,” he tells her. After a second, he decides to risk asking, “Where did you learn Galactic?” 

Niki’s eyes widen. “Do you speak it?” 

“No? I had to ask Phil what language it was.” 

Niki’s shoulders relax visibly. “Sorry. I— well, I was taught it as a kid.” She avoids Techno’s gaze for a moment, then adds, “It’s the language of enchanting,” as if that explains it. (リ𝙹∴╎ℸ ̣  ╎ᓭ)

Enchanting doesn’t require learning the language of the runes at all. “Are you faithful?” He can’t keep shock out of his voice. She doesn’t have tattoos, but maybe not all faithful do. Techno doesn’t know anything about cults, let alone ones that deny the existence of gods Techno lives with every day. (idiots)

“Not anymore,” Niki says sharply. 

“Alright.” It’s not Techno’s problem. 

She makes sudden eye contact. “Please don’t tell anyone.” 

“I… won’t?” 

She continues, speaking rapidly. “It’s bad enough I spoke Galactic to that guy, but maybe no one recognized it. And the ring, but… I— I don’t know why I did that. Please, just don’t tell anyone that I was… you know.” 

“Woah, alright. Not like I talk to anybody anyways,” he jokes. “Can I ask why it’s a problem?” Faithful are weird, but not dangerous. “I doubt anybody here cares about your poor past choices.” 

“It wasn’t a choice,” Niki snaps. “I didn’t choose this. And… the— regular people don’t like faithful. I’d really rather not have to talk about it every time someone wants to talk to me. And they can’t find me,” she finishes in a mutter. (what.) 

“I guess it makes sense you don’t wanna— wait, they can’t find you?” 

Niki exhales slowly. Her posture is still perfect, sharp, but her hands twist together in front of her. She still has the look of soldiers Techno’s known, lost between episodes of anger. 

Techno can’t care about her, but for once he can help. “Anythin’ you tell me ends with me,” he promises her. “If you wanna tell.” He shrugs. (SOFT)

Niki takes another visible breath. “Let’s take a walk.” She starts down the track with a quick glance around, and Techno keeps pace with her easily. 

She’s quiet for nearly a quarter lap. Techno lets her think. 

Finally, she gives him another glance and begins, “If the faithful know where I am, they’ll want me back. I— I dyed my hair, I changed my last name, I don’t look like that girl anymore, but I spent two years running and it’s hard to stop.” She pauses for a long moment. “And I know it’s silly, in my first competition, but I think I could make a living off this. And I think if a Librarian found me I might go back?” 

“It sounds like they were bad for you, though.” (be nicer to her) 

Niki nods. “They did some pretty awful stuff. But, I mean, I wasn’t scared or angry there. I didn’t… lose my temper like I do now. Sometimes I think that I knew who I was when I was the— when I was there, and now I don’t.” 

“Can I tell you somethin’?” 

“Go ahead.” She gives him a curious look. 

Techno tries to think of how to phrase this without sounding insane or immortal. He settles on, “I’ve been in my fair share of wars.” Yeah. Perfect. “And I’ve met a lot of soldiers who talk like that.” Techno doesn’t mention the periods of his life when he thought like that himself. He tells himself it’s different; he really can’t have an identity outside of being a killer. “Folks who can’t stand reminders of the last war, but run to the next one because they don’t know what to do with peace. Who lose their tempers.” He gives Niki a look, and she has her eyes down and a faraway expression. Techno feels vindicated. (this is so soft) (e?)

Niki cracks a thin, sardonic smile. “And I’m sure they’re okay. They’re the most successful people.” 

Techno laughs somewhat bitterly. He doesn’t want to tell Niki what he’s watched happen to brothers-in-arms he couldn’t keep safe. “Sometimes. When they figure out how to make choices for themselves, not their pasts. Goin’ back to war never helps them.” 

Niki smiles just as wearily as Techno does. “Thank you. I’m glad I came to talk to you.” 

It seems like at least Techno hasn’t made anything worse. “No problem.” They’re coming around to the door again. “I’m gonna head in. Unless you’re not done?” (good job. so friendly) 

Techno mentally reminds the voices that he’s not her friend. Opportunistic helping isn’t friendship. 

Niki waves him off. “Go ahead. I’m just glad you aren’t mad about the dining hall thing.” 

Techno attends his roommate’s first match, because his roommate, who’s a teenager and seems even smaller than Phil, asked him to and looked extremely pitiable while doing it. He’s been attending matches anyway, even though the showrunners’ balcony still gives him the creeps. 

The roommate’s match doesn’t improve Techno’s opinion of him. He somehow manages to get his sword to his opponent’s throat, but he seems more exhausted than triumphant. 

The stage clears, the crowd quiets, and a voice other than the usual announcer’s rings over the stands with whatever magic the Tournament uses. “Well, hello everyone! It’s so exciting to see you all here tonight.” The voice is Scar’s, Techno realizes with a start. Techno doesn’t know why the showrunner is making an announcement, but the crowd, hushed and looking upward, clearly does. (SCAR!!)

“As you all have probably noticed, we’re about halfway through our first round this year, and since I’m talking you know what that means,” Scar continues, grin almost palpable in his voice. “Yep, our first challenge of the season!” 

Of course. The Tournament challenges are special whole-group challenges that let competitors or teams win privileges and audience attention. There’s one per round, usually before the round begins, but the first challenge is semi-randomly placed during round one. 

The crowd goes wild. Scar waits for them to settle. “Aw, thanks everyone. Tomorrow afternoon in the challenge arena, I’m honored to invite all our competitors to an individual parkour challenge.” (blood for the blood god?) More cheering, but this time Scar talks over it. “Details to come, courses to be seen, you know the drill. Now with no further ado, let’s get on with the night!” 

Techno has to participate in challenges, as a competitor. Parkour has never been his strong suit, though, and he doesn’t care about extra attention or better food or housing. (lame) (you could still try though…) It should be simple enough to lose.

The outdoor arena is in the space enclosed by the track’s inner wall, and the track has been turned into a kind of a holding area. Techno’s funneled in after lunch with the rest of the forty-something competitors left. 

He’s glad not to be the only competitor clearly trying to figure out precisely what’s going on. He can see and hear spectators in stands above the track around the outside, and somehow above the track are hovering large transparent but purple-tinted rectangles showing images Techno can’t see from this angle. (get them OUT)

Once the outside doors are closed and administrators have corralled the competitors into a relatively small area of track, the announcer’s voice rings out. 

“Welcome, all. If you’ve been here before, we’re glad to have you back, but if this is your first Tournament, here’s how this goes: our arena has been turned into an obstacle course that the players have never seen before. Once they hear the horn, the doors will open and they will all try to be the first to grab a ball at the top of the course. 

“Of course, you can look at the whole course from your seats, but if you want a closer look the projections you see now will be showing close-ups of specific areas of the course— or specific competitors, perhaps? If you’re new to the Tournament, these are courtesy of one of our lovely showrunners’ magic.” Techno has never seen whatever magic this is. He can’t help but wonder if it’s related to rumors of a Winged showrunner. 

(please listen) The announcer is still talking, and Techno tunes in just in time to hear, “But you’ve waited long enough now. Competitors? Ready, steady…” A horn blares. Large doors to the arena swing open ahead of the gaggle of competitors. 

There’s an immediate crush forward. Techno tries to avoid the crowd, but still gets swept forward. 

He stays out of the arena just long enough to see Phil’s path in being blocked by an administrator. 

“It’s a challenge , it’s open to all competitors,” Phil’s insisting. 

“It’s parkour and you’re Winged. Rules are rules.” (wow, rude)

“Fuck you. You’re not banning tall competitors from getting in, and they have an advantage.” 

“They can’t fly, though?” 

Someone taps Techno on the shoulder (E) and he turns to see a different administrator. 

“What?” 

“You have to get on the course now, please.” (BLOOD)

Techno sighs. “Alright.” 

Through the doors, various structures rise out of the grassy ground. The arena itself has a general slope upward to a low peak in the center, where Techno can see a haphazard tower rising. 

The doors close behind Techno. 

Already most competitors are making their way upward, jumping from blocks to trellises to rope webs. (GO) (you’re gonna lose!) 

Fine, Techno sighs mentally to the voices. He may as well try. He climbs onto the first block, taking his time to assess the first jump. 

In front of him, he watches someone miss a jump onto a ladder and fall. He squints to try to see who’s at the front of the pack. 

Another person falls off the top of a tower halfway up the course, and Techno catches a flash of pink hair on the competitor who pushed the falling one. He catches himself grinning as Niki turns and starts across a ladder to the next platform. 

(techno, go) Techno refocuses on his own place. The next jump is into a rope ladder and shouldn’t be hard. Behind him, various fallen competitors are starting back up the course. (PUSH THEM DOWN) (E)

Techno pushes off the edge of the platform. His hand clenches into a fist without his permission just before he hits the ladder. He manages to hold on for a second, but by the time it stops twitching he’s lost his grip. 

He rolls into the impact but it still hurts. (BOO) He frowns. He was supposed to have dealt with the rot just… oh. Ten days ago now. (idiot) That is a while to not have fed the god. 

Well, no point in trying again, Techno thinks to the voices with some satisfaction. (ew) He steps out of the zone where people might fall on him and looks at who’s still going. 

Neither of the two remaining Winged are here— Phil must’ve lost his argument. Techno’s roommate, whose name Techno still doesn’t know, is clinging to the side of a terrace, frozen looking at the ground. 

Niki’s still near the top. Over the walls, Techno can see that a few different “projections” are showing Niki. She’s clearly comfortable with the height, clearly more confident in her footing than the people trying to knock her off or pass her. 

Several other people have joined Techno in watching Niki rather than running the course. She seems less mechanical here than in the ring, and it’s a cheerful performance rather than a technical one. 

She reaches the final platform. She raises the ball resting there above her head, showing it to the audience. The air around her distorts slightly as all the projections focus on her. 

Some competitors seem angry, but a few are clapping. Techno finds himself joining the clapping ones, but it’s because Niki genuinely did a good job and Techno never cared about winning. (liar)

Niki’s tucked the ball under one arm and takes a second to wave downward into the arena. Even from here, Techno can see her smiling and there’re a lot of people down here but he could swear they make eye contact, which is… weird. (idiot) (actual dumbass)

Oh, gods, is she waving at him?

He helped her once . They’re not friends. He gives a small wave back, just to not be rude. 

Chapter Text

Techno couldn’t be more relieved to be on tonight’s match schedule. (blood for the blood god?) The voices are starting to rise again, and this will calm them. He wouldn’t be bothered either if it took his mind off Niki and Phil, neither of whom he’s spoken to since the parkour challenge. 

The downside is that he’s going to win, and the audience will learn his name. He doesn’t want their attention. He’s deliberately never “made a name” for himself, because what happens ten years down the line when he hasn’t aged? More hassle than it’s worth, really. 

After dinner but before the matches begin, Techno walks the track to try to clear his head. (rude) (wow) Well, as much as he can over the god and centuries of gathered voices. 

He doesn’t think anyone else is out here, but he tucks his hands into his pockets anyway. It’s just a few more hours, he tells himself. Genuine combat lets the god back in, and from there he’ll be protected. 

“Techno! I thought I’d find you out here.” Techno turns to see Niki jogging up behind him. (E) (hi Niki!) 

“Niki,” he greets. Why would she want to find him? “What’re you doin’ out here?” 

Niki shrugs, a bit tensely. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You’re on the schedule for tonight.” 

Oh, gods, is she worried about him? Techno realizes he’s been silent a second too long and replies, “Took ‘em long enough, am I right?” (why are you like this)  

Niki laughs. “Fair.” It’s nearly the end of round one. “Nervous?”

“Nah.” 

“Am I allowed to know what your weapon is? We’re on opposite sides of the bracket, so I can’t use it against you unless we’re in the final.” 

Techno laughs despite himself. “I don’t know yet, actually. I got an… agreement with the showrunners. I can fight with pretty much anythin’, so they pick my weapon each match.” 

“Huh.” Niki gives him an appraising look. “You must be pretty good, then.” 

Techno shrugs. (wellll) (own it!) “I guess the showrunners think so.” 

There’s a second of silence as they approach the door. Techno glances at the darkening sky and spots his escape. “I should get to the ring, actually. Don’t wanna be late.” 

“Alright,” Niki says after a moment. “Good luck, Techno.” 

The voices fall into rhythm with the crowd outside this little room until Techno can barely tell one from the other. 

An administrator gives Techno a look from the door that goes back into the hive of halls. Techno gives a thumbs up back, hears the announcer outside say his name, and turns to the doorway to the ring. (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD)

The stage area is brighter at the bottom than it is in the balconies, at least. Techno’s opponent is a stranger and nameless, faceless as a roar rises in Techno’s ears and mind. 

Techno’s weapon is a pike. He has a moment of lucidity to be annoyed at Scar. (E) (E)  

The barred doors of the ring close behind Techno and the enemy. The enemy has an axe, and Technoblade’s moving on muscle memory, instinct, instructions. 

(BLOOD) (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD) (E) And Technoblade can practically feel the god stretching, reaching out. 

Time is passing unnoted. Technoblade is the pike in his hands, the burn of his muscles, impact and blood on his skin. There is nothing beyond that, nothing worth looking at. (KILL THEM) (ʖꖎ𝙹𝙹↸)

A sound from outside Technoblade’s head punches through, a rhythmic clanging he could swear he knows, and that’s enough to dredge up memory beyond the god, and— 

His opponent is banging on the metal of the ring in a pattern of threes, and that’s— oh. Techno’s won. That’s a surrender signal. (e) Techno takes a step back. He’d been holding his pike near the blade, and the handle is splintered from his opponent’s axe, and the wood feels less real under his hands now. 

He’s just Techno now, and he’s felt this way a million times before but he’ll never be used to it. His opponent gives him a nearly disgusted look as the doors out open. 

Techno casts a glance up at the crowd, but he can’t see anyone. He drops the pike where it is and retreats down the dim hallway. 

It takes Techno hours to get to sleep. This is when he most feels the weight of whatever he is, with the Blood God protecting him from what the overworld should do to him and the voices at a low, sated murmur. 

The voices used to be people, sometimes people Techno knew, but it’s been so long since he cared about someone he killed that he can’t put faces to any of them anymore. It’s for the best. They’re not really themselves, just extensions of the god, and it’s worse when he knows who they should be. 

He isn’t really sure what kind of impression he made, but judging from his opponent’s reaction he certainly made one. It’s tomorrow’s problem, Techno tells himself. Tonight he just needs sleep. 

Techno’s woken by the breakfast bell. He’s still tired, but decides he probably shouldn’t risk going back to sleep and missing food. 

By the time he’s changed into day clothes he’s more awake, and by the time he makes it to the dining hall most competitors are still in line for food. The first round is just a couple days from being done, and the dining hall now seems significantly less crowded than when the round started.

Still, though, for some reason someone approaches Techno. “Hey! Technoblade, right?”

Techno stares at them. “How do you know— oh.” The announcer would have said his name several times during the match. “Who are you?”

“Everyone calls me Punz. So Technoblade’s an interesting name, huh?”

“I… guess?” Techno tries to take a step away, but Punz follows. Other people are looking, and some who are emerging from the buffet line are actually walking closer. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Punz protests. “Nothing. I just couldn’t help but notice your match last night. How long have you been in this business? How do you train?” (fuck you)

Okay. Techno sees the angle now. “Leave me alone, alright?”

This seems to startled Punz enough that Techno keeps walking and he doesn’t follow. Good enough for Techno.

“Lots of weirdos here, huh?”

Techno startles. It’s someone else, a woman with short dark hair, smiling somewhat stiffly at him. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, um, no. Sorry, I just… he seems annoying.” (seriously what the FUCK)

“He is. Can I help you?” People are still way too close to him, and Techno recognizes false interest when he sees it. People are scared, or want to know how he is the way he is, or want an advantage if they fight him next round.

“Have a good day,” the woman says finally, seeming to realize her ploy isn’t working. 

Techno ducks his head. He’s approaching the tail of the line for food, and once he has breakfast he can leave. He just needs to ignore a few more people, then they’ll figure it out. Eventually, they always figure out Techno’s a terrible person and worse friend. 

“Hi, are you—”

“Hey, leave him alone.” Techno recognizes Phil’s voice and looks up in confusion. Phil’s somehow gotten between Techno and whoever was talking, and he’s facing the staring competitors with his wings slightly flared.

“Phil, it’s—” Techno begins quietly.

“Shut up,” Phil answers without looking. “Let me help.” (POG) The people are already backing off. “He clearly doesn’t wanna talk, yeah? And what the fuck is this anyway? It’s pathetic to suck up like that. What’s wrong with you guys? Back the fuck off.” Everyone who had been staring or standing nearby has returned to their seats, and Phil nods as if to confirm it’s done. He turns to look at Techno.

“Thanks,” Techno mutters. (awww)

“It’s nothing, really. I don’t care what they think of me, and I doubt you care either.”

Techno laughs despite himself. “True.”

Phil’s wings have relaxed now, but they twitch a bit behind him as he glances from Techno to the buffet line. “Should I go? It seems like you don’t want company.”

(keep him) (keep him) (please he followed us home) Techno doesn’t mind Phil’s company, as much as he shouldn’t admit it to himself. “You can stick around if you want. No stupid questions, though.”

Phil laughs. “Can do.” The two of them can finally approach the buffet unobstructed, and Techno grabs himself a plate.

“Why did you do that? I mean, I can handle myself, and you didn’t know how anyone would react.”

“I dunno.” Phil shrugs around his plate. “I just thought I could help, so I did. What, should I throw you to the dogs next time?”

“Dogs love me, first of all,” Techno jokes. “Please do.”

Phil just laughs again, focused on his plate. (sooooft) Techno tries not to smile at him.

Chapter Text

The last evening of round one, the round two challenge is announced. Again it’s Scar speaking to the audience, sounding almost too cheerful as he describes the next day’s game of Capture the Flag.

After round one, the timing of challenges is predictable, so it’s just the structure that’s new to the audience. Techno’s been aware of Capture the Flag as a game type since before it was called that, and nothing seems unusual. He mostly tunes Scar out. 

Instead, he focuses on trying to pick out the motion in the showrunners’ balcony. He can see hints of movement, surely Scar gesturing as he talks, but it’s still so dark there. Techno doesn’t understand how they even see the matches, or why he feels like someone is staring at him from there. 

“And one last announcement before we move on,” Scar continues at the end of his Capture the Flag pitch. “Two days from now, after our challenge, we’ll be starting round two of Tournament! This is old news to our returning audiences, but we’ve been getting some complaints and I’d like to remind newer competitors and viewers that matches end with surrender, knockout, or death. Everyone has acknowledged the terms before entering. 

“To any competitors who may feel their opponent has broken the rules? Good luck finding supporters who will stand against Tournament.” (god. okay then) He pauses. The audience cheers. There’s silence on the competitor’s balcony. “Thanks! Enjoy the rest of the match.”

The challenge this time is in the morning, and now that Techno understands what’s going on it’s much less confusing. The setup is similar to the parkour challenge, with part of the track blocked off to hold competitors and the purple-tinged projections hovering. There are more administrators around this time, and it’s harder to hear the announcer over voices on the track. 

Techno approaches one of the administrators holding lists of names, trying to find his team.

It takes a second to catch their attention. “Do you have the teams?”

“Name?”

“Technoblade.” (blood for the blood god)

“Mhm. Blue. Put this on and go to the other arena door.” They hold out a blue strip of canvas and gesture him through a gap in the ropes containing competitors. 

“Thanks.” Techno takes the canvas and starts walking around the track. 

The track is quiet until Techno comes into view of the blue team gathering area. Looking at the people there, it seems like most of them have put on the canvas strip by tying it onto an arm, and Techno follows their lead. 

Niki waves at him from the small crowd. “Techno! Blue team?”

“Looks like,” Techno agrees. “You lookin’ forward to the game?”

Niki nods. “I’ve never played,” she admits quietly when Techno gets closer. “It doesn’t seem too hard, though.”

Oh, right. The whole cult thing. That seems like it wouldn’t involve a lot of games. “It’s really not. You’ll catch on.”

“Techno!” Techno turns to see Phil approaching, blue armband tied on. (PHIL!!) Phil waves, then pauses and slows his pace. “Niki.”

“Phil,” Niki greets slowly, suddenly much less excited.

Techno glances at the two of them. “Are we gonna have problems?” (please don’t fight)

“Are we?” Niki asks pointedly as Phil comes to stand next to them. 

“Not if it’s up to me,” Phil replies with a cold smile. “ Are we going to have problems, Niki?” (fight!)

“I don’t intend to start any.”

Techno steps forward, slightly between them. “Okay. I, uh, I recognize the history here. But it was a misunderstandin’, right? We don’t have to keep this goin’.”

“You don’t speak Galactic,” Niki tells Techno. “It was a heated moment, but I can’t just forgive and forget some of that.”

Phil scoffs. “You barely speak Galactic. Where the fuck did you learn some of those pronunciations?” 

“It’s a dead language! There’s no way to know the correct pronunciations.”

“No way for you to know.” (fight! fight! fight!)

“Calm down,” Techno says loudly. “Everybody just—”

A horn blares. The announcer shouts, “Teams, are you ready?”

The rest of the team clusters at the door. Techno can see the flag, a large blue rectangle of fabric, changing hands.

“Your flag-hiding time starts… now!” The arena doors open, and competitors start to stream through. Techno seems to have missed the strategizing session, but he follows his team in, making sure he’s standing between Phil and Niki. 

See, this is why he doesn’t have friends. (yeah right) Even before the inevitable worst happens, friends open him up to situations like this. 

Phil and Niki glare at each other around Techno. 

This time, the arena has more and shorter structures. The area is clearly supposed to mimic a natural hill, but the grass was patchy before the Tournament started and the first challenge didn’t do it any favors. 

The flag gets tucked into a nook in a little cubby structure near the blue team door, and that information spreads in whispers through the team. Techno is pretty sure the showrunners’ projections are silent, but he sees the distortions in the air nearby and respects the volume level anyway. (fuck OFF)

“Teams, are your flags hidden?” There’s no attempt to wait for answers before the horn blows again. “Let the game begin!” (blood for the blood god) (go)

The majority of the team scatters into the maze of boxes and towers. Phil and Niki seem to have split from both each other and Techno, so he starts to walk a wide arc around the blue edge of the arena, looking for orange players. 

At first, it’s quiet. (TOO quiet) Techno wishes he knew the team strategy beyond “get their flag, don’t get caught.” It seems like most of the blue team is on the offensive.

There’s a flash of motion behind a structure that resembles an overturned cart. 

(e) “Who’s there?”

No further noise comes. Techno glances around and walks toward the cart. “Hello?”

There’s a sudden flash of movement, and Techno recognizes the scaled Winged who’s been bothering Phil darting toward another piece of cover. She’s on the orange team, and Techno races to follow her.

(e) (e) (blood?) “Hey, I see you,” he calls. She doesn’t stop. He didn’t expect her to. 

She’s fast, but Techno is at least a foot taller than her and her wings seem to slow her down. He grabs her arm. 

She spins to face him as she tries to tug away. She has knobby, blunt horns on her temples in the same purplish-black as her scales, and she looks fierce as she snarls at Techno. “Let go of me,” she demands. (what?)

Techno actually laughs, startled. “What? Do you know how this works?”

The two of them struggle for a moment longer. Techno’s height proves to be an advantage again, even though she’s strong and tries to scratch at him. Eventually, she gives a final disgusted snarl and breaks away to run back toward the orange team end of the arena. 

Techno looks around to check if she was a distraction, and when he doesn’t see anyone he keeps walking.

It’s getting a little busier around here. Techno spots a few more of his teammates and frightens off a few more orange competitors. He still hasn’t really spoken to his team, and he isn’t sure how the game is going.

He’s making another turn of the arena when he hears a loud thump and the clatter of wood. Phil’s voice rises in an angry shout, and Techno starts toward the sound of the commotion. (hi Phil)

“No need to yell at me,” Niki yells from out of sight, and Techno sighs internally. (hi Niki)

“You know we’re on the same team.”

“I didn’t recognize you! You’re not the only Winged here, y’know.”

Techno finds them near a pile of planks that probably used to be one of the arena structures. Phil’s halfway on his feet in the rubble, and Niki’s standing a few feet away.

“— but I’m the only fucking crow,” Phil’s responding, “The other one’s a dragon, she has fucking horns , Niki.”

“Well excuse me for not checking too closely before defending our base!”

Phil catches sight of Techno. “Techno, Niki tackled me into the log pile.”

“I thought he was orange,” Niki protests. “Honestly I did.”

“Woah, calm down,” Techno says, holding his hands up to them. “We can—”

“She hit me,” Phil exclaims. “I don’t want to calm down!” He’s back on his feet, flicking his wings and shedding dirt and small bits of wood. 

“If Techno had accidentally knocked you over it wouldn’t be a problem,” Niki snaps sarcastically. “But no, you’re making a scene because you have it out for me.”

“Have it out for you?” Phil scoffs. “You’ve done nothing but go after me and Techno this whole time, and I’m reacting reasonably.”

“You’re Winged, but okay—” (WHOA)

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

“—and I’ll have you know Techno understands that the dining hall incident was a misunderstanding. Just like now. You’re the one who won’t leave it alone.”

“Guys!” Techno takes another step toward them. (E)

Phil and Niki both freeze.

“Everybody take a breath,” Techno continues. (ooh, the commanding officer voice) “I think we all need to calm down a bit. Also, the showrunners are watchin’.” He gestures to a distortion in the air nearby that heralds a projection showing them. The voices hiss angrily as he gestures, nearly making Techno take a step away from the distortion. 

As Techno takes a breath to keep talking, the sound of a horn splits the air.

“Congratulations orange team!” an announcer calls, and the crowd cheers. (fuck off)

Phil makes an irritated sound and yanks the blue armband off his arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get the dirt out of my feathers.” He glares at Niki and nods at Techno. “Techno, I will see you later.”

“Have fun sulking,” Niki calls after him.

“Niki,” Techno scolds without much energy.

Niki looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “What? He started it.”

Chapter Text

Techno’s scheduled for the first night of round two, which thankfully gives him an excuse to avoid both Phil and Niki for the day after Capture the Flag. He can see them glaring at each other, giving each other wide berths, but they’re not his problem. Techno’s not in the business of caring, and Phil and Niki are hopefully capable of sorting it out themselves. 

It’s not just the complexity of other people that’s making him glad to be scheduled. It’ll hold off the voices before they get bad again, and if he’s not scheduled too late in round three he won’t have issues for the rest of the Tournament.

The only downside is that his roommate is also scheduled, and they both have to sit in the holding room by the ring at the same time.

“Round two, huh?” The roommate bounces his knee. He keeps his gaze on the empty ring. “Half the people are already gone.”

The announcer is talking, but in this little space under the seats all Techno can hear is the outlines of the sound.

“Yeah, I guess,” Techno answers. “Good luck out there.” He feels a little bad that he isn’t as friendly as the roommate wants him to be.

“You too! You did great last round, though. You’ll be fine. Y’know, I wish I was against someone else.” (I bet)

“Okay.”

“He’s just scary, y’know? With the mask and everything. I’d like it if I could see his face. Have you talked to him?”

“Not really.” (techno…)

“Oh, right. You don’t talk to anybody. Sorry. It’s okay.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“I won’t. I can’t wait to watch you fight, you’re great. If I don’t lose.”

(say something nice to the kid) For once the voices are right— he’s clearly fishing for reassurance, and Techno doesn’t want to be a jerk. “Hey, you’re gonna do fine, okay? How long have you been training with that sword?”

“Five years.”

Gods, he must have been a child when he started. Techno finds himself wishing he knew more of the roommate’s story. He reminds himself it doesn’t matter and now’s not the time. “See? Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The roommate nods, still nervous. 

The crowd applauds, and the roommate jumps to his feet. “That’s me.” He gives Techno a wan smile. “See you in a minute.”

“Good luck.” (awww)

The kid has his usual shortsword, but whatever his opponent has is lost in Techno’s low-angle view of the ring. Based on the way the two fighters are moving, the other person’s weapon is either much heavier or they’re much stronger.

(blood for the blood god) Techno doesn’t see first blood, but he smells it in the air a second after the voices call it out. (E)

The kid is struggling. Against his will, Techno taps his fingers on the bench below him, silently asking the kid to pull through. (blood for the blood god)

Techno watches the steps of the fighters in the ring as his roommate ends up literally with his back against the wall, then (NO) an incoherent screech from the voices cuts him out of the moment. (NO) (YES!!) (let’s go) He clenches his fists, trying to refocus on the external world.

(mystery kid no!) (never liked him anyway) (NO)

By the time he processes what’s happening, the scene in the ring is mostly still. The masked fighter has his fist raised in the air and turns slowly to face all parts of the audience, and Techno’s roommate is lying at his feet. (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD)

Techno already knows what happened, but he still blinks at the image for a few seconds. It doesn’t make sense; no one was supposed to die.

The voices laugh unkindly at him, and they’re right. Just a few days ago, Scar specifically mentioned that competitors could die. (you’re getting soft) Techno isn’t sure why this in particular shocked him.

A hand taps his shoulder and Technoblade moves with the uncomfortable squirm of the voices to grab it. The owner of the hand gives a startled cry. Right. Techno can’t be this aggressive over being touched. 

He breathes shallowly to avoid the scent of blood until he can loosen his grip and give the administrator he’s caught a tense, apologetic smile.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I… got startled,” Techno says. (boo) (e) 

“I get it,” the administrator replies stiffly. “The showrunners have changed your weapon in light of… recent events.” Their eyes dart to the ring, where the doors are opening to release the masked man and admit a few Tournament employees. (E) (E) 

“Mhm.” There’s a short staff on the weapon rack that Techno has assumed was his. “So…” 

“Here.” The administrator offers a small, heavy handaxe by its handle. The axe bit glints dully in the light from the doorway.

Techno accepts the weapon. “Guess they decided they haven’t had enough blood already tonight,” he jokes halfheartedly.

“It’s not my decision, I don’t know.”

“Mmm. Alright.” Techno nods. The administrator seems glad to leave the holding area. 

The announcer calls his name, and Technoblade stands. In the ring, mystery kid’s body has been dragged out but nothing has been cleaned.

(for mystery kid!) (E) Technoblade shifts his grip on the axe and focuses his gaze on his opponent in the shadows.

Breakfast the next day in the competitor’s cafeteria is noticeably subdued. People speak quietly or not at all in their huddled groups. It doesn’t help that round one is over, leaving the cafeteria perpetually half-full.

Techno’s just thinking how at least it’s much easier to be left alone when Niki walks up next to him. 

“Is this seat taken?”

“Uh— no. You can sit there if you want,” Techno answers.

“Thanks.” Niki sits. “Do you know what happened that’s made everyone… like this?”

Techno blinks at her. “You… last night? At the matches?”

Niki winces. “I don’t go to the matches unless I’m fighting,” she admits. “It’s… not really worth it.” (oh)

Techno nods, recalling their earlier conversation about memory and reminders. He decides not to pry. “Do you want to know what happened?”

Niki scrunches up her face in thought for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I feel like I should know.”

“A competitor died.” (i miss mystery kid)

“Oh.” Niki giggles, a little tensely. “That would explain it.”

“Mhm.” Despite himself, Techno laughs with her. 

They fall into silence. Niki pokes her spoon through her bowl of oatmeal, eyes on the table. “It’s starting, then.”

(why does she talk like this) “Sorry, what?”

“The spiral into fighting dirty. The start of round two is pretty early for that, don’t you think?”

“I… don’t know?”

Niki shrugs. “Never mind. I just thought that from what I heard about other Tournaments, people didn’t start being… that intense until the third round.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess.” Techno doesn’t know much about the Tournament’s history. He’s aware of the anything-goes culture that the showrunners favor, but he didn’t really care enough to research. “So should I expect more death comin’ up, then.” 

“I don’t know, maybe not death . I’ve never done this before either, you know. But yeah, I’ve heard it tends to kinda descend into chaos. People don’t want to surrender. Last year almost all of the semifinalists had potions.”

Techno almost drops his fork at the casual mention of potions. He knows overworlders “discovered” the nether nearly thirty years ago now and have started brewing, but he still isn’t able to think about potions without thinking about home. “Really.”

Niki gives him a curious look. “You alright?”

(yes) (no) “I’m fine.” She stays quiet. Techno sighs. “I might have a bit of a history with potions. Nothin’... bad, but it’s there.”

“Okay.” Niki sounds genuinely sympathetic. “Got it.” (friendship <3)

Techno tries to ignore the voices. “So you’ve done your homework on the Tournament.”

Niki shrugs again, an embarrassed blush rising on her cheeks. “It’s where a lot of show fighters get their starts. I wanted to know what I was getting into.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” Techno always forgets that people have regular career goals. Some part of him has to wonder if Niki’s making a wise choice, given the problems she seems to have with things like blood, but it’s her life in the end. He tells himself he doesn’t care.

“Hey! I’m fighting tonight.”

“I know, Phil.” They’re walking to the main arena. Or, Techno was walking there and Phil turned up next to him. There’re a few other competitors in this hall, headed for the balcony stairs in twos and threes. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about it,” Phil confesses suddenly, expression unchanged. 

“Heh?” Techno looks Phil over. The Winged boy looks exhausted even though he’s light on his feet, but that’s fairly normal for Phil. “Is somethin’ wrong?” 

“No,” Phil answers too quickly. (god, poor kid) “Nothing else, I mean. I just think something will go wrong.” 

Techno suddenly realizes he hasn’t so much as seen Phil all day. “You sure you’re alright? Where’ve you been today?” 

“Around. I’m fine, really. Niki was with you in the dining hall, that’s it.” 

“Y’know, Niki’s actually a fine person.”

“I’m sure she is.” Phil sounds sour and not at all like he’s sure. (⊣ᒷℸ ̣  𝙹⍊ᒷ∷ ||𝙹⚍∷ᓭᒷꖎ⎓)

“Phil. Come on.” 

Phil rolls his eyes. “It’s not like she’d put up with me anyway. I don’t care.” (yeah, right)

Techno sighs. They’re getting close to where the hall splits into the ring and the stairs. “Okay, Phil. I’m sure you’ll do fine in your match.”

“Thanks, Techno.” The look Phil gives him makes it clear he can tell the words are empty. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya,” Techno agrees as Phil turns away from him. (they’re the SAME)

Techno really wishes the showrunner’s balcony would stop being so creepy. (i hate him i hate him i-) He’s forced to push his way to the front to see Phil once the first match is done, which only takes him closer to the feeling of being watched. (STOP)

People cheer for Phil when he steps into the light. The voices screech, but they’re almost positive for once, rooting for victory rather than violence. It makes the hunger of the crowd below Techno even more obvious. Techno has no doubt the audience would be just as happy with Phil’s death as a win.

It’s a less even match for Phil this time: his opponent isn’t quite Techno’s stature but they’re taller and more solid than Phil is. The two of them take their places across from each other. 

Of course, Techno doesn’t really care. The voices have latched on to Phil, and that’s why Techno’s stomach is tense, why he can’t quite keep his hands still on the balcony rail. It’s just them. (lies) (liar)

“Hey, that’s your Winged, right?” Techno ignores the voice, an external one this time, from next to him. 

“Fighters ready… begin!” calls the announcer. 

“Hope you’ve said your goodbyes,” the same competitor next to Techno adds sullenly. (never)  

Phil’s faster than his opponent, and Techno feels grimly satisfied that he’s winning. (said your goodbyes my ass) He resists the urge to make a snarky comment.

Far below, in the ring, Phil’s opponent reaches into a pocket, maybe, somewhere Techno can’t quite see. Techno can see the dull glint of the object they’re holding now, and even after two centuries his mind is instantly alive with what this means. (wtf is that)

It’s a small potion, viscous liquid behind glass reflecting precisely how it should. Techno can’t see from here the details of thickness and color that would tell him what’s in it. Overworld brewing is probably different anyway. There isn’t even a hint of red or blue to it, though. (what is that??) (is this bad?) 

This could be terrible.

Phil has his opponent cornered when they shatter the glass bottle into his chest. (phil??) Techno flinches at the shards of glass, then again when Phil takes half a step back, dropping one of his knives in favor of clinging to the bars of the ring.

Phil’s on the defensive, and not putting up much of a fight. The voices seem almost evenly split between calling for blood and in distress. It makes Techno’s stomach turn. (PHIL)

Phil pushes off the ring and into his opponent, and Techno understands the strategy immediately. If Techno had to guess the potion, he’d say it’s a very basic version of weakness; Phil isn’t moving very well but can still apply some force. And with his wings, he can certainly create a lot of dead weight for his opponent. 

Sure enough, they go down and now Phil has the advantage in his balance. (blood for the blood god) If he’s managed to get his knife to the other guy’s throat there’s not much that can be done, potions or no. 

Not that Techno cares about the outcome. Of course. 

He still lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Phil’s opponent knocks on the ring floor three times. 

Phil half-rolls, half-falls to the side and administrators open the ring doors. (go get Phil) 

He’s not going to go get Phil. If anything, Phil has only continued to prove that he doesn’t need help. (go) (c’mon man)

Phil, at the bottom of the arena, is barely starting to pull himself up when another Tournament employee grabs him by the shirt. It’s not… dangerous, but it certainly doesn’t look comfortable. (cmon he’s SO pathetic)

Knowing the Tournament, Phil’s probably just going to get left in the holding room under the seats until he recovers.

(operation birdboy is a go) (c’mon techno) Techno sighs. The announcer is still talking, although Techno learned to tune the sound out weeks ago. He slips out of the competitor’s balcony before anyone else leaves. 

Techno keeps his pace deliberately normal as he descends the stairs, mostly to pretend he isn’t listening to the voices. The administrator leaving the holding room gives him a weird look when he brushes past them through the door. 

“Phil?” 

“Mhm?” It takes Techno a moment to locate Phil in the dim light. He’s been dropped on the floor by the bench, wings pressed awkwardly against the wall. “Oh, hey Techno.” 

“How’re you doin’?” Techno steps closer to assess him. He’s hurt, some of his cuts not even scabbed over yet, but the voices are mostly quiet. 

“Guess,” Phil laughs. (aw poor guy)

“Let’s get back to your room, okay?” Techno holds out a hand and hopes Phil can pull himself up, because it’s gotta be difficult to support Phil around his wings. 

Phil avoids having to deal with that by clinging to Techno’s side. (technosoft) Techno settles a hand on his shoulder. 

It’s slow going, and when they reach the brightly-lit hallway Phil winces and turns his face into Techno’s shoulder. (awww) On the bright side, if he already has a headache the potion is probably wearing off. 

By now the other competitors are filtering down the stairs. Techno thanks the universe that Niki doesn’t attend matches. 

“How’re you doin’?” Techno asks again once they’re in the quieter hall outside Phil’s room. 

“Less shaky,” Phil reports. “My head hurts.” 

“That’ll clear up in an hour or so,” Techno tells him. (ooh potions expert)

“Probably more like two or three,” Phil corrects. “With a weakness potion. I mean, if it’s normal.” Overworld brewing, Techno supposes. “Don’t ask.” Techno doesn’t. 

“You got your key?” 

“It’s under the sign.” 

Techno pokes at the sign with the room number, and sure enough it’s loose on its nail and swings to one side. Techno pulls a key out of a gap dug between boards of the wall. (...why) 

“That doesn’t seem safe.” Techno unlocks the door. 

“It’s fine,” Phil mutters. “If people want in, they’d get in anyway.”

“Alright.” Phil’s moving faster, definitely feeling the potion hangover more than the potion, and Techno deposits him on his bed. He flops against the headboard.

“You can go,” Phil says quietly, turning away. “You don’t have to pretend if you don’t want to.” (don’t you fucking dare)

“Will you be okay?” Techno pulls the curtains tighter over the singular window, and the room is so dark he can barely see Phil’s face. (mother hen)

“I’m fine, Techno.” 

“You’re bleedin’.” 

“I’m not going to die.” 

Techno is suddenly very aware that he’d be a hypocrite to tell Phil that being okay is more than being physically alive. “That’s not the same as bein’ fine.” (wow) 

“It is for me, okay? If you want to leave, you should leave.” Phil’s voice is muffled from facing into the wall, but he doesn’t sound calm. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Techno insists, unable to keep a startled laugh from his voice. “You’re the one who’s pushin’ me out.” 

“Stop talking so loud,” Phil whines, suddenly with a very different tone. “It hurts.” 

Techno makes an effort to keep his voice down. “Sorry.” He hesitates. “C’mon. You took a few hits in the ring. At least let me get a first aid kit so nothin’ gets infected.” 

“You know what, Techno? Since apparently you won’t drop the act, let’s get this over with. You can go be horrified or laugh at Winged, I don’t care.” 

“Sorry, what are you—”

“I physically can’t die. So don’t bother with me.” (???) (um)

After a moment of trying to say something, Techno settles on, “How?” (smooth)

“The power that Winged… encounter is as sentient as any other. I made a deal for more than just wings.” Phil sounds tired, bitter. “You don’t believe me. It’s okay.” 

Part of Techno doesn’t want to. But Techno has the same story, doesn’t he? (friends) “I want to believe you.” He hesitates, letting the murmur of the voices fill his ears in the quiet. He remembers Phil’s long-ago comment on his age being “complicated.” “How old are you, then?”

“Few hundred years, probably. I don’t know the year I was born.”

Techno hesitates. “Is it rude to ask you to prove that?” 

Phil laughs, then cuts himself off with a pained hiss. “I went to the nether before it fell.” Techno’s breath catches. (backstory?) (do we know that place?) In Techno’s silence, Phil continues, “The portal was in the center of a market bigger than anything I had seen. You could buy anything— potions, fabrics, armor, art. It was all these little stalls, piglin and human sellers and their translators, playing music and yelling at visitors. 

“I’m making it sound so grand.” Phil laughs again, more subdued this time. “It was probably normal. I was eighteen and from the middle of fucking nowhere.” 

“Nah, it was impressive,” Techno says without really thinking. 

Phil’s silent for a moment and Techno realizes what he’s just said. “Sorry, what?” (now you’ve done it)

“Um.” (it’s like getting two rocks to be friends) He might as well answer, right? There are enough details to Phil’s description that couldn’t be learned from ruins that Techno believes Phil’s story. “I was there too. Kind of.” Phil lets the pause stretch between them. Techno shifts from foot to foot, wondering if Phil’s just fallen asleep.

“Go on,” Phil prompts finally. “You don’t have all night, my head’s getting worse.”

“Right. So there’s, uh, there’s this god,” Techno begins. He sighs and gives up on trying to sound sane. “I’m piglin. Or, I was piglin. I made a deal with a god to be able to escape the nether, after everything got… how it got. And apparently, part of that is immortality, I guess. I try not to push it too far. So… here we are.” 

Phil lifts his head briefly to look at Techno, and he’s clearly still in pain. “Be glad you’re a terrible liar.” (true)

“I— what?”

“I wouldn’t believe that from anyone else, but you can’t lie to save your life. Welcome to the club, Techno.”

Techno wants to protest that Phil doesn’t get to welcome him, he should get to welcome Phil, then realizes that if Phil was a teenager and went to an active market, he’s at least five years older than Techno. “How old were you when the portals closed, then?”

Phil shrugs. “Does it matter? One or two hundred, probably. I spent a lot of time there before it was all wasteland.”

Techno lets out a breath. “I see.”

“What? How old were you?”

“Eight,” Techno admits. (oh) (finally some backstory. it took long enough)

“Shoulda figured. Sorry. I’m not thinking, like, at all.”

“Right.” Techno hesitates, somehow no less awkward for having shared the thing that makes him so awkward. “Should I go?”

There’s a loaded pause. Phil’s wings, hanging limp over the bed, twitch a bit. “Yeah,” Phil answers finally. “You should go. I’m gonna try to sleep.” The tension in Phil’s voice almost makes Techno want to stay, but he figures he’s pushed it far enough for one night. (stick with your birdboy)

“Night, Phil.”

If Phil replies as Techno slips out the door, Techno doesn’t hear it. 

Chapter Text

Techno wakes up the next day and goes to breakfast on autopilot. He doesn’t notice Phil or Niki there. To be honest, he doesn’t look very hard. (oh come on)  

He ends up walking the track after he leaves the dining hall, figuring it’s a good place to either process or ignore last night’s conversation. (good choices) He knows he wants to believe Phil. And really the only evidence that Phil’s story isn’t true is that Phil’s Winged, which isn’t much evidence at all. Techno’s known a lot of different Winged, and something about this just doesn’t seem like usual Winged stuff. He takes a breath and tries to focus on the walk itself, pushing Phil from his mind.

He doesn’t get the chance. With a quiet sound of wind through feathers, Phil drops onto the track next to him. (here he is!)

“Guess you’re feeling better,” Techno greets.

Phil grins at him. “Yep. Actually got to sleep last night, too. Exciting stuff.” (um??)

Techno nods, unsure of what to say.

“So who’s your power?”

“What?”

Phil gestures vaguely. “You know, your guy. Um— the other Common word is god?” He shrugs. “Languages. I always liked the Galactic word for them better.”

“Oh.” Techno scratches a hand through his hair, trying to push away embarrassment. “It calls itself the Blood God.”

Phil winces. “Wow. Sounds rough.” (rude) “What kind of a bargain was that?”

Don’t.

For once, Techno and the Blood God are on the same page. “Just… an exchange. What’s yours?”

“More of a bet. I haven’t seen Void since that day.” Phil’s gaze goes to the middle distance, then he shakes himself. “I try not to think about it.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not talk about it either.” The words come out blunter than Techno intended. (we’re right here) (wow okay)

“Sorry.” Phil falls quiet, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

The second round marches on. Techno gets used to the looks that Phil and Niki give each other when one of them walks by while Techno’s talking to the other, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

“Niki, come on,” he tells her one afternoon in the cafeteria. She got to Techno’s usual spot before even Techno did, and now Phil’s walking out of the line for food and they’re glaring. (just let them fight and get it over with) He doesn’t think he’ll stop either of them. He still feels vaguely obligated to try.

Niki shrugs. “I don’t get why you’re friends with him.”

“He’s a fine guy. You two just got off on the wrong foot.” (at least you’re admitting you’re friends)

Niki rolls her eyes and picks at her plate. 

“I mean— what did he even do wrong?” Techno tries as Phil leaves the dining hall. 

“Yelled at me. Like, twice.” (that is true)

Fair. “In his defense, you pushed him over during that challenge. I swear if you just talk to him—”

“Drop it, Techno. I don’t wanna talk to him. Anyway he’s Winged, so who knows what he’d say.” (whoa)

“That’s just mean.” 

Niki deflates. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t know.”

Techno shrugs at her, trying to show that he isn’t actually upset. (social skills 100) “So what does all your Tournament research say the next challenge will be?” The start of round three, and the accompanying challenge, is approaching fast. Given the last two challenges, Techno’s dreading it.

“The showrunners are usually pretty creative with the challenges, I don’t know. They love having us search and retrieve stuff from the arena, and we’ve already done capture the flag. I thought you didn’t care about that, anyway.”

“I don’t,” Techno agrees. (i mean, you care about avoiding them) “But I don’t like not knowing what’s comin’.”

“Why’d you sign up for the Tournament, then? If you don’t like unpredictable things.”

(you needed to get out more) “Figured I might as well. It’s about all I’m good at, if you hadn’t noticed.” He tries to sound lighthearted, but he’s not really joking.

Niki sighs. “Aren’t we all.” (aww)  

The second round finally ends. Techno’s disappointed but not surprised to hear Scar refuse to give out details on the round three challenge other than that it will be team-based. He reports that to Niki the morning of the challenge.

“Good news for the two most awkward people in the Tournament,” she says with a sardonic smile.

“Hey, this whole place is full of people like us,” Techno protests. “We can’t be the most awkward ones.” (well…)

“If you say so. Do you know the teams?”

“No idea.” Techno isn’t sure who he’d even want on his team. The only people he knows are Phil and Niki, but they’d probably cause some kind of catastrophe if they were on a team together. He’d never hear the end of it if he was only with one of them, though.

“Good luck,” Niki offers. (you’ll need it)

“Nah, don’t bother with that.”

The sixteen remaining competitors show up at the track after lunch. (i hope it’s parkour again)  

The track isn’t blocked at all this time, to Techno’s surprise. He follows the gaggle of other people to a series of papers posted on one inner wall.

Team assignments. Of course. (let’s go) Techno searches for his name and doesn’t like what he finds: himself, Phil, Niki, and someone called Jack. (YES)  

He retreats from the crowd and immediately spots Phil giving the signs an annoyed look. “Did you see?”

“Hey, it’s not so bad,” Techno replies.

“I already told you you’re a terrible liar, Techno. Don’t try.”

For the hundredth time this month, Techno remembers why he doesn’t talk to people. “Fine.”

A stranger approaches slowly. “Um— you’re Phil and Technoblade, right?”

“Call me Techno.”

“Who’re you?” Phil demands, crossing his arms.

“Jack?” (oy!)

“Nice to meet you, Jack?” Phil mimics Jack’s nervous delivery. 

Jack looks put out for a moment. He’s wiry and seems awkward when he stands still, but Techno remembers seeing him fight and he’s not actually stiff. His hair is cropped close to his head and he keeps running a hand through it like he’s not used to it being even this long. His eyes are two different colors. “The Tournament people gave me this,” he says, holding out a glass ball about the size of his palm.

Techno inspects the item. (break it) (E) “What are we supposed to do with it?”

“I have no idea. Hey, aren’t we supposed to have a fourth person?”

Phil points. “She’s over there.” Techno looks up, and Phil and Niki are glaring at each other from twenty feet apart.

“Phil,” Techno sighs. “Leave her alone.”

“I wish I could,” Phil retorts. He raises his voice to call, “Well? Get over here, then,” at Niki.

“Mind your manners,” Niki scolds as she approaches. 

The air near them shimmers with the showrunners’ projection thing. (fuck off) (STOP) Techno’s skin crawls.

Jack looks between Phil and Niki, face going through several unreadable expressions. (such social skills) 

“Yeah, it’s so polite to refuse to talk to your team. Maybe you’re not as much of a suck-up to the crowd as we all thought.”

Niki reddens. “At least I’m not so intolerable people cheered when my opponent cheated.”

“As if you could have won that,” Phil scoffs, but Techno can tell by the way his feathers ruffle that Niki really did get to him. (fight fight fi–)

Techno clears his throat. “So this is Jack, guys. He’s on our team.”

Jack gives Techno an awkward smile. Niki takes a visibly forced breath and turns to him.

“Lovely to meet you, Jack.”

“Is it true you two tried to kill each other during capture the flag?” Jack asks, staring between the two of them.

“Yes.”

“No.”

And they’re glaring again. (good going)

“Welcome, everyone!” Scar’s voice echoes over the arena and stands. “I’m sure you’re all as excited as we are to learn what’s happening today, and now the time has finally come.” He waits for applause. “Now, our audience can see the arena, but competitors don’t know what’s in there. Let’s keep it our little secret for now, okay? Speaking of our competitors, they’re in teams of four right now, and each team has its very own orb. That’s right, a glass orb. Competitors, do you see your orbs?” (ORB) The projection-distortion swoops around them, probably showing all angles of their orb to the audience. 

Jack gives the orb a look like it might bite him. “Hey, does someone else want to hold—”

“The goal today is simple,” Scar continues. An administrator walks up to the team and mutters that they need to go around to another door, gesturing along the track. All four of them start that way. Another team passes them, moving faster. “All you need to do is be the last team with an intact orb.” 

Techno tries to stay between Phil and Niki as they walk.

Scar keeps talking after a moment. “This is Tournament, so you know the drill: no holds barred. Heck, we’ll still let you win if the orb you have isn’t your own. And I’m hearing from my partner that all teams are at their places, so go ahead and open those doors!”

There’s a beat of silence at the door. Jack, holding the orb, looks back and forth between the door and the others. “So…”

“I’ll get it.” Techno opens the door and almost immediately the team is faced with a wall. “Okay.” (oof)

They step fully inside the arena. Techno’s able to see more of what’s there. The loosely constructed wooden walls reach to just above head height, but the slats are far enough apart that light pours through. The team is in a small space, barely wider than the door, and a few feet ahead the wall splits the path in two.

“It’s a maze,” Jack realizes aloud. “Well fuck us, then. Someone else wanna take the orb?” (ooh get the orb)

“Sure,” Niki responds.

“She’ll drop it,” Phil says, looking around the corners. “Don’t trust her.”

“I will not! Techno, tell Phil to at least be reasonable.”

Techno hesitates. Would answering be taking a side? (yes) (could be fun) (no)

“Um.” Jack transfers the orb from hand to hand. “Guess I’ll just keep it. It’s fine.”

“Don’t drop it,” Niki warns. 

“I wasn’t going to!” 

Techno looks at Niki. He knows she wants to win, and actually wants to be noticed. He can’t let himself really care about her, but the least he can do is not hinder her. (technosoft)  “We should probably try to find another team, right? To break their orb?” (E)

“Probably,” Jack agrees. “Left or right?”

“Left,” Phil answers. Niki purses her lips but doesn’t argue. They go left.

Seven turns later, there’s no sign of another team. 

“Are we sure we’re doing this right?” Jack asks, peering through the gaps in the walls. “Maybe we should’ve… done something else.”

Somewhere along the way Phil picked up a long stick that he’s been dragging against the walls. He rattles it up and down a few slats as he says, “I don’t know, do you?”

“Will you stop with the stick?” Niki snaps. “Some of us would rather not be driven out of our minds.”

Phil gives her a baleful look and somehow manages to make an even louder noise. (i’m going to strangle him) “I’ll trade it for the orb.”

“Done.” Jack holds out the orb. “Please stop.”

Phil pauses. Techno suppresses laughter at the look on his face. “Fine.” He hands Jack the stick and accepts the orb.

“You better not break that,” Niki mutters.

“I won’t, jeez. Leave me alone.” 

Techno catches the sound of distant chatter and shushes the group. “You guys hear that?” (yep)

“Oh, no.” Jack turns to look at both ends of their hallway.

“I think they’re on the other side of the wall,” Techno says, pointing at shadows moving through the slats.

Phil flutters his wings. “I could check,” he offers.

“And tell them where we are?” Niki hisses. 

“How do we get to that side?” Jack’s squinting through the wall now as the other group approaches.

“I have no idea,” Techno admits. (back and turn left) (no, right) All of them are whispering now, and it seems like the other team hasn’t noticed them. (straight ahead, then two lefts) (ℸ ̣ ⍑∷ᒷᒷ ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ ᓭ)

“What if we don’t have to?” Niki says, seemingly half to herself. “Give me the stick. Can anyone see their orb?”

“Don’t give her my stick.”

Jack doesn’t look at Phil while he hands Niki the stick. “I don’t see the orb.”

Techno joins the rest of them at the wall, peering through at the other team. He can immediately pick out the scaled Winged, the one who’s yelled at Phil a couple times. The others are a tall blond in a dirty white hoodie, the youngest-looking competitor left other than Phil, and a red-haired woman at the back of the group. Techno looks for reflected light in their hands. (there!) (no, there) (over here) “I think the teenager has it,” he whispers to the group.

Niki narrows her eyes at the glint in the boy’s hand, then steps back and shoves the stick through the gap they’ve been looking through.

The other group yells out almost as one. Jack makes a startled sound, too, and all three of them step back to give Niki room.

There’s a moment of scuffle, then the sound of shattering glass. Niki straightens up, grinning. (whoo)

With another loud sound, the stick snaps where it’s on the other side of the wall, and the other team’s chatter becomes more focused.

(uh oh) “We should probably run,” Jack suggests, looking down the path they’re in.

“Definitely,” Phil agrees, and then they’re off.

Techno’s not going anywhere in particular, and he assumes the rest of the group isn’t either as they take turn after turn into the maze. Gradually, as if getting tired by consensus, they all slow down.

Techno stops at a fork in the path, and Phil stops just a few paces closer to the wall. Phil’s flushed and smiling, seeming genuinely happy for the first time this challenge. The team’s orb is cradled against his chest. Niki comes up on Techno’s other side, also for once not glaring.

Jack, a couple feet back and still moving, has about half a second to stutter a wordless warning before he slams into Phil and pushes them both into the wall. (e?) Phil’s startled squawk almost covers the sound of glass being crushed. 

The entire team is frozen for just a second. Phil flexes his wings to nudge Jack away from him. When Phil steps away from the wall, he lets fragments of glass fall from his hands onto the dirt ground. (pretty) (E)

“Oh, come on ,” Niki snarls. Jack and Techno both instinctively wince, but it’s Phil that Niki’s gaze is focused on. 

Phil raises his eyebrows and props a hand on his hip. “Yes?”

“I tried to tell them we couldn’t trust you with that orb, and here we are. Look whose carelessness lost us the challenge.” (yesss go off)

Techno can’t tell if he’s reassured or not that Niki’s tone isn’t the tense, defensive anger of the soup-cup incident. She’s not lashing out, she’s just mad. 

Phil’s wings flare out just enough that Techno can see it. Techno shares a concerned glance with Jack. (fight!)

“I didn’t even fucking do that,” Phil protests. “That was all Jack, only Jack. You just think I’m an easier scapegoat.”

“Well it wouldn’t have happened if you had been paying attention, right? If you’d seen Jack coming? He tried to warn you, Phil, and you didn’t move.”

(ooooh) “Right, like you would’ve been so perfect—”

“I’m not saying that , I’m just saying—”

“That you would’ve done better. I get it.” Phil is smiling in a way that’s more like baring his teeth. He and Niki both look ready to spring. “I’m saying you’re wrong.” (the kids are fightinggg)

“What’s your problem ? Can’t you ever just admit you messed up?”

“Not when I didn’t!” Niki throws her hands up in a gesture of exasperation and nearly collides with Phil because they’re standing so close now. Phil pushes her arms away from him and she almost loses balance. “Hey, what the hell?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Phil insists. “What are you doing?” He actually shoves at her this time. (techno stop them)

Niki slaps his hand away and immediately recovers the ground she lost staying balanced. “Trying to keep you off me!”

Jack’s come to stand next to Techno, and they share another look. “Um… should we stop them?”

“Probably,” Techno agrees. (definitely) (nah leave it) Neither of them move.

“So are you gonna…?”

“Me?” (duh) “Maybe they can…”

“I don’t think they’re gonna—” Jack cuts himself off as the first actual punch is thrown. “Well.”

“Phil, Niki,” Techno calls. “Stop it.” (jeez. you’re hopeless)

He doesn’t think either of them even hear him. Both of them are still yelling, but Techno thinks they might have switched to Galactic. (techno, they’re going to get hurt) Even if they do hear, they don’t respond.

Niki gets shoved back into a wall. She pushes at Phil and he goes back further than it looks like he should, wings spread to stop himself. (just cult stuff ig) Techno wonders for a split second where she learned to do that. 

“I think they’re actually hurting each other,” Jack says to Techno, alarm rising in his voice. 

Oh, god, are they? (yes) Techno’s idea of what counts as an actual injury isn’t well-calibrated. 

“I also don’t think they’re speaking Common anymore,” Jack adds. “Is this normal?” 

“Uh— yeah, pretty much.” Now that he’s thinking about it, Techno can smell blood, although probably just from a scratch. At least one of Phil’s feathers is on the ground. (E) 

A horn blares and an announcer starts talking, and Phil and Niki don’t even look up. 

The next moment they’re separated, Techno grabs Niki by the shoulder. She jerks forward, then looks back when she’s stopped by Techno. Before Phil can get back in, Techno steps between them. “Stop it. Both of you.” 

Phil says something in Galactic, then pauses and switches back to Common. “Leave it be, Techno, don’t protect her.” 

“No.” (pop off king) He’s sick of just watching them go at each other at every turn. “You can hate each other, I don’t care. But I’m not protecting anyone and I’m not going to let either of you get hurt.” They’re barely even looking at him. “Hey. Focus.” They look up. He knows there’s nothing he can say to influence them; he’s useless if he can’t communicate in violence. He grits his teeth to try to keep his face neutral. “Just… go back to your rooms. The game is over anyway.” 

There’s a tense second, then they each turn and stalk off in opposite directions. (you did your best)

Techno sighs. He should never have let himself care even as much as he did. It’s only ending in disaster again, an ache far less fixable than any injury. 

“You okay?” Jack asks after a moment. 

Techno had forgotten Jack was there. “I’m fine. You should go, too.” 

Techno doesn’t look for Phil or Niki the rest of the day, and they don’t look for him. They’re probably still stewing, or maybe they found each other and fought again, and Techno can’t quite feel much more than tired. The voices try their unhelpful best to comfort him, and it’s been too long since his round two match to ignore them.

He goes to breakfast the next morning braced for another awkward meal with only the voices for company, for nodding at Phil and Niki as they each pass and getting only a nod and a faster exit in return.

On the wall, the bracket and round three’s match schedule are posted. Techno takes a second to read them, if only to delay entering the dining hall. The bracket is the same as it ever was, the sixteen remaining competitors closing in on the center, but the schedule is new. 

Techno suppresses a sigh that he’s near the end of the round this time. (hell yes) The showrunners can’t know his… situation, but it certainly seems like they’re playing with him. (what, don’t you like us?) (ᔑ∴)

He walks into the dining hall, turns towards his regular spot near the end of a back table, and has to blink to process what he sees. (i knew they would be friends) (pog)  

Phil and Niki, sitting with one empty seat between them, each eating toast and actually talking to each other. (imposters)

Techno approaches cautiously. “Hey?” he greets once he’s close to the table.

Phil waves. “Hey, Techno. Saved you a seat.” 

“I can see that.”

Niki at least has the decency to seem embarrassed when she smiles. “You should get breakfast,” she offers.

“You two seem… calm.” (slick) Luckily, the background noise of the cafeteria keeps the silence from being too silent. “And by that I mean you’re not tryin’ to kill each other.”

Niki’s smile drops. She rolls her eyes. “Phil’s not that bad. I guess. If you get to know him.”

Phil gives Niki a sideways look. For a moment, Techno thinks he’s broken whatever fragile peace they had. (good going) Phil’s expression twitches into a half-smile. “We showed up at the same time and bumped into each other.”

“Literally,” Niki adds.

“And I guess I just wasn’t in the mood to get in a second fistfight in twenty-four hours with her.” (aww)  

“That’s nice for you two,” Techno says after it becomes clear that Phil’s done talking. “So you’re done fightin’, or is this just a truce?”

“Probably done fighting,” Niki answers.

At the same time, Phil says, “No promises.” 

They glance at each other and actually laugh, and that’s what makes the situation feel real to Techno. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he understands that all that’s happened is to delay the moment that everything comes crashing down. (look on the bright side) (walk out now)  

He smiles back at Phil and Niki. “Yeah, alright. Let me get breakfast.”

Chapter Text

Even just two days later, it feels natural for the three of them to walk the track together. Techno keeps his pace slow to match the other two, and Phil hops around and flutters his wings.

Techno’s hand clenches into a fist and releases every couple minutes without his permission. It must look enough like fidgeting that no one comments. (ᒷ)

“Who do you think is making it through this round?” Niki asks lightly. The question doesn’t have much meaning behind it— Niki cares more about the Tournament than Phil and Techno, and she knows that. Phil clearly enjoys the gossip, though. (so do you)

“Not Jack,” Phil volunteers immediately. “Great guy, but he’s out at his next match.”

Niki winces, but nods. “Who’s the guy in the mask? He’s definitely going to the finals.”

“He says he’s called Dream, but that can’t be his real name,” Phil replies. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

He killed Techno’s roommate. (poor mystery kid) The voices still mutter about that. Techno’s comforted by the fact that it doesn’t upset him anymore; he’s free of the emotional connection he knows better than to want. “He’s definitely ruthless.”

“Was he the guy who stabbed that guy?” Phil asks.

“Yeah, that was him,” Techno agrees.

Niki gives each of them a long look, as if trying to see if they’re joking. “Wow, okay. I hope I don’t have to fight him.” (we could take him)

“If you do, you should try to disarm him,” Phil suggests. “He really leans on that sword.”

Niki nods. “I’ll just hope he gets out before we’d have to face each other.”

For whatever reason, that’s what reminds Techno that the Tournament will end. No matter what order the three of them get eliminated in, eventually they’ll part ways. (oh come on) It’s fine. He’ll forget about them soon enough, and his life will be simple again.

Now that the first two rounds are over and the majority of competitors are eliminated, there’s only one match each evening. Tonight, Niki’s on. 

Techno almost misses the start of it trying to convince the voices that going onto the balcony is fine and they need to quiet down and let him think.

(we can’t go out there) (↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣  ꖎᒷℸ ̣  ⍑╎ᒲ ᓭᒷᒷ ⚍ᓭ) (we hate him) (he’s awful) (he’s always watching us) Somewhere, the eerie getting-stared-at feeling from the showrunner’s balcony has become a him to the voices. (leave)  

“Stop it,” Techno mutters. He’s alone in the stairwell but doesn’t know how soundproof the door to the balcony is. Anger doesn’t get him anywhere with the voices, but it’s hard to ignore the urge to scold them. “What could even happen?” (BAD THINGS)

Another few seconds pass. Techno sighs. (go back) (get out of here) “Don’t you wanna see Niki?” he offers. “I won’t talk to her tomorrow if I can’t go in there now.” It’s an empty threat, but the voices can’t actually hear his thoughts. He’s pretty sure. (yeah right) (wait but i like Niki) (what about Phil?)

As he had hoped, the voices dissolve into infighting and confusion. It’s still almost as loud, but when they aren’t presenting a united front he doesn’t have to work so hard to stay in control.

He takes a deep breath, shoves his rhythmically shaking hands into his pockets, and goes into the balcony. There’s an angry scream from the voices that aren’t arguing with each other.

Techno spots Phil near the corner of the balcony, next to that Winged woman. For a moment, Techno wonders if another pair of enemies has unexpectedly become friends on him. Then Phil turns just enough to let Techno see his face, and he’s definitely annoyed. 

When Phil sees Techno he waves with an exaggerated motion. Techno picks up his pace to see what’s wrong.

“I told you I was saving the place,” Phil says to the Winged when Techno gets close. “See?”

“Too late, I’m already here.” She gives Techno a look of pure irritation. She’s clearly as done with Phil as he is with her. “Sorry. Go somewhere else.” (e) (E)

Techno digs his nails into his palm in his pocket. Several voices are telling him her possible weak points: the joints of her wings are thin and fragile, she hurt her leg in her last match, she—

“It’s fine, Phil. We can move. There’s space—” he casts around the long balcony “—over there.”

Phil’s quiet for a long moment. He must see something in Techno’s face, because he finally nods. 

The two of them end up closer to the other side of the balcony, thankfully not head-on with the showrunners. Niki and her opponent are already at it in the ring.

Her opponent isn’t someone Techno’s spoken to before, but that’s not a big accomplishment. (what a loser) They have a pair of knives with hilts meant to catch other people’s blades, and seem a bit at a loss faced with Niki’s quarterstaff. Niki, as usual, moves with scientific precision. 

“She doesn’t like fighting,” Phil comments, speaking quietly and only to Techno.

“Heh?”

“She thinks she likes it because she’s good at it, but look at her.” He gestures as much as he can over the edge of the balcony. “She’s not there.” (what?) (oh yeah sure)

Techno takes a minute to watch her closely. He realizes what bothers him about her fighting style: he can’t see where this comes from in her ordinary movement, and he can’t see much of her in this. “You’ve got a point.” 

Phil is giving Techno an expectant look. Techno doesn’t know what he wants. 

In the ring, Niki slams the butt of her staff into her opponent's hand and one of their knives clatters across the floor. In almost the same moment, they lunge forward and swipe their other knife across her upper arm. A deep red streak paints itself on her torn sleeve. (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD)

Phil flares his wings out hard enough to collide with Techno. Techno takes a breath in before he can stop himself. Phil yanks his wing back in and mutters an apology. Techno locks his hands around the balcony railing as if he can physically brace against the voices.

Techno narrows his eyes and breathes shallowly to slow the babble of voices, hoping Phil or whoever’s nearby doesn’t bump into him. It occurs to him that this is the closest thing he ever does to pray, and it’s directed to anything but his god. He grabs onto that thought and follows it as best he can, looking for anything to focus on. 

The ringing in his ears subsides. (Niki) (check on Niki) He glances at Phil, who isn’t looking at him, then back down to Niki.

She’s still fighting. She seems close to fully disarming her opponent, and the blood on her sleeve is spreading slowly rather than pulsing with her heartbeat.

“She’s not bleedin’,” Techno mutters to Phil. “Or— not much.” He isn’t sure how loud his voice is, if Phil can hear him.

Phil gives a shrug of agreement. “Not really my business, is it?”

“Fair enough.” 

With another clang, Niki’s opponent is disarmed. She’s doing the thing that Techno’s gotten relatively used to, where she hits with more force than it seems like she would be able to. Phil cheers when Niki’s opponent surrenders, and his wing bumps Techno again. Once again, he pulls back as if shocked.

Without discussing it, Techno and Phil both go to the lower door to meet Niki as she emerges. Techno realizes that this is only the second time he’s gone to see someone after a match. The first time, with Phil, it was a simple matter of support— fixing what he knew how to fix. He has no illusions that he can help Niki’s “not being there,” in Phil’s words. He just wants to see her. (technosoft) (aww)

Phil nudges the door open before Niki emerges. He calls her name into the dim room under the seats.

Inside the room, Niki’s perched on a bench, no sign of joy or victory in her perfect posture. She looks up with no expression on her face, just assessing the two of them. “Phil?”

“Hey, good job out there. How bad is your arm?” The wound on her upper arm isn’t her only one, but it looked the worst when she got it. 

“Fine. I think.” Her hand trails through the air to touch the hole in her sleeve as if examining the injury. (wait Niki no) Techno braces for when blood gets on her fingers, but she doesn’t react.

Phil gives Techno a worried look, but Techno just shrugs. She’s coming down from the fight; Techno does the same thing sometimes and it’s better than lashing out. (health 100)  

Phil settles on the bench next to Niki, and after a second he takes her hand gently. She looks at him again. “Hey, Niki, come on. I’m holding your hand, you feel that?”

Niki narrows her eyes at him and takes her hand back. She flexes her fingers slowly and blood smudges across her palm. (e) (help her) (e)  

The whole room smells like drying blood, but the voices aren’t as loud as they were on the balcony. Something finally clicks in Techno’s head: Niki can barely stand blood, or even anything that feels like blood. Of course she doesn’t want to reconnect with her body— she doesn’t want to feel her injury. 

(help her) (c’mon don’t you care?) Techno isn’t in the business of caring, and he absolutely shouldn’t try to be. But Phil is giving him another worried look and Niki is standing up without looking at either of them. Didn’t Techno agree earlier that if he knows how to help he can do it without actually being friends? (yess)  

“Niki, can we help you clean your cuts?” Techno pretends he doesn’t notice the way Phil’s face lights up when Techno speaks. 

After a second, Niki nods. Phil stands off the bench and leads Niki by the wrist through the hall door. 

“Can we go to your room, Techno?” Phil asks in the hall. “There are still other people in my suite, and I think Niki's too.” 

“Sure.” (technosoft) Why not. He’s already committed. 

It doesn’t occur to Techno until he’s getting his standard Tournament first-aid kit from the cabinet in his suite’s common space that maybe dressing a cut won’t go well with the current state of the voices. 

He should stop, he thinks, crouching in front of the cabinet. He should tell Phil and Niki to leave, he’s changed his mind, he’ll see them tomorrow. (NO) He only has them to lose. (exactly)  

He returns to Niki and Phil, sitting on the floor. Phil has lit the lanterns, shedding light on Niki’s few cuts. (blood for the blood god) 

He spreads bandages, clean rags, and well water he’d left on the table earlier on the floor. His hands are shaking and he’s sure Phil notices. Niki’s still blinking into space but her breath is trembling. 

He doesn’t trust himself to get closer. He couldn’t bear to accidentally hurt either of them. He doesn’t want them to leave.

He turns to Phil. “I don’t… can you?” 

Phil gives him an assessing look, then nods. “Sure. I mean, yeah, of course.” 

They must look like a mess, Techno thinks, and it’s almost funny. Phil is dressing Niki’s cuts with careful focus even though his wings flick behind him every few seconds. Niki doesn’t look at him as he works, but her posture is softer than it has been for the past few minutes. A couple feet away, Techno is sitting cross-legged with his elbows braced on his knees, fists clenched so he can’t feel them twitch. 

“Okay,” Phil announces eventually. “That should be that. Nothing’s too bad, Niki, it looked worse than it was.” 

Niki smiles halfheartedly at him. “Thanks. I… should probably go.” 

“Good plan,” Techno adds, releasing his hands and shoving them into his pockets. “It’s been a long night.” (no) (let them stay) His words sound stiff even to his own ears, but he doesn’t know what else he can say.

Niki nods as she stands. He can almost see that she’s as reluctant to leave as he is to let her leave. He’s probably imagining it. (e) “You should get some sleep, too, Phil.”

Techno again wonders if he’s imagining the ruffle to Phil’s feathers. “I… yeah,” Phil says after a second. “I definitely should.”

Techno wants to ask if they want to stay. Just for the comfort of having someone to watch your back while you’re asleep, just to know they’re all safe. He bites his tongue, horrified. (E) He can’t trust himself around… well, anyone right now. There’s no way that getting attached ends well. Techno traded personal connection for safety that day in the shrine, and he’s learned the hard way ever since that he can’t go back.

“Good night,” he offers Phil and Niki as they leave. It’s the best he can do.

Nothing gets better. By a bit more than halfway through the third round, Techno’s just hoping he can stay in control until his match. He makes a mental note not to sign up for this again, but he’s too stubborn to back out now.

He goes to the track in the middle of the night to try to clear his head. He jogs with one hand running over the inner wall as much as he can manage. (ᒷ) The rhythmic bounce of his pace is something else to focus on. (ᓵ𝙹∴ᔑ∷↸)

Something hits the track behind him, and by now Techno’s used to the sound of Phil landing. He stumbles to a stop and turns.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Phil says immediately, tilting his head to one side. (PHIL) (i missed him)

“No, I haven’t.” (liar) Techno absolutely has.

Phil gives a startled laugh. “Then why do you barely sit with us at meals anymore? My match was last night and only Niki came to talk to me.”

He has a point. Techno struggles to think of an argument. “Why are you even out this late?” Yeah, that’s distracting. He’s doing great. (wow much argument)

“Why are you out so late?”

“I mean, do you ever—” Wait, Phil has a fair point. If Techno’s up late, he really has no business questioning Phil. (never stopped you before) (E)

Phil laughs somewhat bitterly. “Fair enough. Doesn’t mean I want this for you, though.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Doesn’t matter, okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’s wrong,” Techno insists. It’s probably for the best that Phil’s upset, he reasons. Techno isn’t risking getting any more entangled. (bad move)

“Your hands are shaking.”

Techno takes a breath to deny it, but even when he closes them into fists the steady twitch of the small muscles is visible. (oh come on) (lie don’t tell him) “Phil, stop it.”

Phil takes a step towards him and Techno does not step back. “Stop pushing me away,” Phil retorts, “if you wanted to go be all fucking sad and alone, the time was when we met. It’s too late now, I’m not gonna let you suffer in silence.”

“I don’t think—”

“Well too fucking bad, Technoblade. You don’t get to hide.”

“Phil!” Techno says sharply before Phil can continue. He tries for a moment to think of an answer, but it’s hard to think over the voices and he starts talking before he can pull it off. “I’m not hidin’ from you. The kindest thing I can do for you and Niki is not care about you. Have you forgotten what I am? You can’t fix just anythin’.”

Phil’s quiet for another second, then relaxes his posture, rocking back on his heels. “I’m going to tell you about when I was actually young.”

“You don’t need to do that.” (no let him talk)

“It wasn’t a question.” He grins sardonically. “I’m not sleeping tonight anyway.”

Techno sighs. “Can we walk while you talk? It’s… easier.” 

“Sure. C’mon.” Phil sets a brisk pace, and Techno’s grateful to keep up. “I was married,” Phil starts abruptly, after a brief silence. “Before the whole Winged thing. Her name was Kristin. I don’t know what she expected when I came home, but I don’t think it was… me. It’s, uh, the Winged thing is complicated, but I had it easier than most people. I kept most of my memory and a lot of my reason. But I was different. I am different.

“She let me stay for six years. I think it was hard for her. She noticed I didn’t age pretty quickly, and I had these awful panicked fits whenever a storm rolled in or anything like that. I yelled more than I should have, I think, but I…” He shivers in the warm air and shakes his head. “It was so much. I thought I was back there again.” He takes a visible breath. “Anyway. The point is, Craft really was my family name. Maybe it still is somewhere, my brother had a son. It’s probably not. But I’ve always kept it because I don’t think I’ve felt safe since I was in our workshop with Kristin.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it, y’know? Sure, people always die eventually. That’s why I hold onto them so tightly. Sure, humans are capable of terrible things. I would know, I’ve seen a lot of them. That’s what makes it so special when they do amazing things. Isolating yourself doesn’t make anything hurt less, Techno.”

He falls quiet. Techno finds that somehow it’s a bit easier to think now. The voices aren’t quieter, but he feels a little more separate from them, a little more at home in his skin.

Still, though. “We don’t have the same deal, Phil. It’s… not like that for me.”

Phil sighs through his teeth. (you made him mad) “Then how is it? You said you have an exchange, is it something with that?” (back down)

“Why do you even think it’s my bargain?”

“So I’m right about that, then.” Phil shrugs. “Lucky guess.” When Techno’s quiet for a long moment, unsure if he wants Phil to stay or leave, Phil continues, “Obviously, it’s offering you immortality. And if you used to be piglin, it’s protecting you from the overworld. Oh.” Phil pauses long enough that Techno looks at him.

“What?” (oh gods, what is it)

“You’re not shaking, you’re twitching.” Phil smiles a little more brightly than Techno feels the situation warrants. “So what do you owe the god for this?”

(don’t tell him) (tell him) (he’ll turn on us) Techno catches himself about to tell the voices to shut up aloud. Phil walks next to him in silence, even as he moves faster to try to push down the cacophony. (traitor) (Winged) (friend) (turncoat)

“Blood,” Techno admits finally, spitting out the word. “Sort of. It draws power from almost any kind of violence. I— I don’t know, it doesn’t talk much anymore. It’s usually mad at me.”

“Shoulda figured,” Phil comments. “You don’t cooperate, but it hasn’t found someone else yet? Can it do that?”

Techno shrugs. “I dunno. No one in their right mind would take this deal.” Phil raises his eyebrows, and Techno realizes what he just said. “I mean—”

Phil cuts him off with a gesture. “You think I’m gonna insist my friends be in their right minds?” (touche) “So you’d be calmer if your god got blood?”

“I guess so? I’ll be fine after my match this round. It’s alright.” It’ll be a messy match. Techno doesn’t want to think about that.

“That’s not for another two days.” Phil seems to think for a moment, then gestures excitedly. “We could sneak out and hunt something in the woods outside of town tomorrow night. I’ll get Niki, it’ll be fun.” (YES)

“No. No. I don’t want to— I’m not myself when I’m… huntin’.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Phil interrupts. “I’ve seen you fight.”

“I could hurt you, or Niki,” Techno finishes, talking over Phil. (E?)

Phil gives Techno an amused look. “Listen, I love that you care.” What? Techno doesn’t— can’t— “But I think I can hold my own. And I almost guarantee I’ve seen worse atrocities than whatever you’re thinking about. Nothing shocks me anymore. So would that make things easier for you?”

“It could,” Techno says finally. (let’s go) “It might.”

“Good. No more questions.” Phil claps once. “You’ll come back tomorrow, then?”

Techno hesitates. (don’t) “I can try?”

“Good enough.” There’s a beat of silence. “It’s late. You should sleep.” Phil pauses and looks up at Techno. “Should you sleep?”

Techno laughs. “Yeah, probably, if I can. You’re headed in, then?”

“Um— no? I don’t really— I’d rather not.” Phil shifts uncomfortably.

Techno thinks of the various times he’s seen Phil awake at the same unreasonable times Techno is, the dark circles under Phil’s eyes, the way he talks around the things he’s seen. “That can’t be good for you.”

“It’s probably not.” Phil shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep when I need to.” (um?)

Reciprocity pushes Techno to ask, “Is there anythin’ that helps with that?” Techno doesn’t have to believe what Phil says about caring to not want to be a terrible person.

“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Phil waves a hand at him dismissively. 

“Hey, you can’t poke answers outta me and expect—”

Phil takes the barest of running starts and snaps his wings open. (what the fuck) (ᓵ𝙹∴ᔑ∷↸) By the time Techno gathers himself enough to protest, all he can do is watch Phil’s silhouette circle toward the stars. (go get ‘em bird boy)

“Fine. Be like that,” Techno says to the night air.

Techno barely sleeps that night, but he still convinces himself to wait at his usual spot in the cafeteria for Phil and Niki. (FINALLY) Techno hadn’t really been avoiding them, but a strange weight lifts off his ribcage when they approach. It was easier to hide away in his room, where he didn’t have to deal with quite so much. Now he’s wondering if that was even true.

“Techno,” Niki greets with a cautious smile. “You’re almost done?”

That’s what Techno’s been doing the past couple days: showing up early and vanishing a few minutes after the other two show up. “Just sat down, actually,” he corrects. (soft)

Niki’s smile broadens a little. 

Phil leans forward conspiratorially. “So. Niki. I found Techno last night, and we were talking a little. How would you feel about sneaking out tonight?” (yes) (pog) (let’s go)

Niki blinks at him. “Out of…?”

“The arena building, mostly. Also the whole city, but that’s simpler.” 

Niki starts to laugh, then sees that he’s serious. “We can’t all fly, Phil. How’re Techno and I supposed to get out?” (hadn’t thought of that)

“There’s a door,” Phil assures her. “Found it a few weeks ago, you just have to take a few employees-only halls around to the back.” (haha he’s a spy) At Niki’s expression, he adds, “Hey, we all have a contract promising money for services. That’s employment.” 

“Okay, fine. Where would we be going?” 

“Woods a couple miles from town. We’ll hunt and actually have some good fucking food.”

Niki’s face flickers through a few different emotions before settling on a slightly more forced smile. “Right.” (Niki?)

Techno feels like an idiot. Hunting. Blood. He knows how little Niki likes that. 

“You don’t have to come,” Techno cuts in. “I— I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through.” 

Niki waves him off. “No, it’s— I want to come.” She catches the confused glance Phil is tossing between them and says, “I… don’t like blood.” 

Phil nods. Techno can practically see things falling into place in his mind. “You could make a fire,” he offers. “While Techno and I hunt and clean the catch, so that it can cook as soon as it’s ready.” 

Relief spreads across her face. “Yeah, I can do that. I’m in.” 

They make their escape during that night’s match, when most of the employees are around the arena. 

Techno has to admit there’s charm to the whole thing, even as he keeps his hands tucked in fists as best he can in his pockets. Phil fights a smile as he guides them around corners and the energy is contagious. 

(blood for the blood god) They emerge into the night laughing, pouring down streets past darkened pubs and confused lamplighters. 

Once Niki’s stoking a fire in a clearing, Phil hands Techno a knife and takes to the treetops to direct him to game. Between the two of them, it takes several tries to actually sneak up on anything, but Techno’s glad to be able to relax into instinct with Phil safely out of the way. (ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ’ᓭ ⊣ᒷℸ ̣  ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ ʖ∷ᒷᔑ↸) The voices seem almost as excited about Phil as about the hunt when Techno takes the final lunge. 

A hand settles on Technoblade’s shoulder. He almost snaps up to catch it with the knife before he remembers himself. (again)

“Phil?” 

“I’m here.” He is, a shadow against the sky. Techno is kneeling on the ground, one hand on the still chest of a rabbit. 

“Sorry. I…” Techno isn’t sure what he wants to say. The invisible mantle he’s carried for so long is reweighting itself. He shifts his weight to crouch.

“Should I go?” Phil offers, shuffling one foot. “Is that easier?” 

“No,” Techno answers immediately. (stay) (please wait) (Phil) “I’m done. Niki’s probably wonderin’ where we are.” He stands and lifts the carcass. 

In the end, cleaning the catch neatly is too much for Techno; his hands still shudder and the rising scent of blood tugs at his focus. He returns to Niki at the fireside while Phil finishes the job. 

“You’re back.” She nods at him. “There’s space for you on this log,” she adds, patting the spot next to her. Techno isn’t sure if she dragged this log here or built the fire next to it, but he accepts her offer.

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Phil?”

“Cleanin’ the catch, he’ll be over in a minute.” (can’t wait) At Niki’s slightly confused look, Techno explains, “My hands,” and holds them up so Niki can see them jitter slightly, as if someone’s yanking invisible strings.

Niki’s expression doesn’t clear. “Have you always had that?”

Techno shrugs. “It comes and goes.” He still isn’t comfortable with the idea that Phil knows his situation, and given Niki’s history with the faithful he doesn’t want to test those waters.

“Fair enough.” The fireside falls into silence for a beat. “You know, it kind of sucked when you were avoiding us.” (uh oh)

Techno looks at Niki and she’s looking into the fire, brows drawn slightly down. He isn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry?”

Niki lets out a breath. “I mean, I’m sure you didn’t mean to be cold. But, I don’t know, Phil and I had just started getting along, and then you didn’t want to talk to us anymore. It felt weird.”

Techno swallows. “Yeah, I… I really am sorry. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” On an impulse, he adds, “I’m not really used to the whole havin’ friends thing.” (dude trust me, she knows)

Niki laughs. “Me neither. I guess we’re all still figuring it out.” 

“Yep.” Even two months ago, Techno would never have believed that something like this could go well at all. But here he is, and he has to admit it’s better than trying to tough it out in his room until tomorrow night. “Thanks for not givin’ up on me,” he says quietly. (awww)

“Hey, I’m only returning the favor,” Niki replies.

Despite himself, Techno laughs. “True! You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me,” Niki laughs back, “you were just complimenting me and now you’re complimenting yourself.”

Footsteps at the edge of the firelight herald Phil’s arrival, holding a makeshift spit. He looks between Techno and Niki. “What’s so funny?”

Techno shrugs, unsure how to explain. “Nothin’, just get over here.”

Chapter Text

Techno’s match the following night goes smoother than it would have without Phil’s intervention, but between fighting and being stuck in the terrible acoustics of the waiting room, he doesn’t catch the rules of the round four challenge.

At breakfast the morning after, both he and Niki struggle to understand Phil’s explanation.

“So it’s… tag?” Niki asks. (i don’t think so?)

“No— well, I guess it could be. He just said you have to get everybody’s flags.”

(capture the flag!) “We already did capture the flag,” Techno points out.

“Yeah, but everybody is gonna have a flag this time.” Phil frowns, struggling to translate whatever Scar said into understandable directions.

“Let’s just see it when we get in the arena,” Techno suggests. “I’m sure that’ll be clearer.”

Phil sighs. “Probably.”

“Maybe we can finally win one of these,” Niki says, although her smile isn’t all that hopeful. (well, maybe if we actually try)

“Hey, you already won one, what’re you complainin’ about?”

“And ever since then Phil’s been doing his best to stop me,” Niki replies with a smile.

Phil flips her off without looking up from his plate.

“Thanks, I feel very reassured,” Niki tells him.

Phil looks up. “Niki, I swear to every nearby god I will not sabotage you, even if you do something to deserve it. Happy?”

“I am,” Niki agrees.

By the time the three of them arrive at the track and arena that afternoon, the voices are excited trying to guess the rules of the game. Techno wishes Phil had just been able to explain it earlier.

As they enter the track, an administrator hands each of them a strip of orange canvas that Techno recognizes from the Capture the Flag challenge. (ooh new weapon) (no)

“See, we each get a flag,” Phil says, waving the fabric at them. Niki’s already twisting it around her upper arm into a cuff.

Techno looks around the track. This late in the Tournament, there are only eight competitors left, and the track looks empty. Phil, Niki, and Techno stand together, the masked guy and his friend— Punz, maybe? Techno isn’t sure— are in another area, and in yet another spot the scaled Winged and her friend whisper and look around. 

One of the showrunner’s air distortions sweeps past them, the voices hiss, and Scar clears his throat over the voice amplification enchantments. “Hello and welcome to our last challenge of this Tournament season! If you weren’t at last night’s match— well, you should have been. But I’ll explain today’s rules anyway, and it’s very simple. There are eight competitors, each with an orange flag. They’ll have one minute to spread out in the arena, and then the actual challenge will start.” He pauses, and the crowd is quiet, eating up his theatrics. Techno crosses his arms over his chest. “The winner today will be the first person to present the administrator at the arena door with all eight flags.”

“So it’s like Capture the Flag,” Techno whispers to Phil.

Phil shoots him a mock-angry look. “Only kind of. Just like I said.”

“Whatever, old man.” (got ‘em)

Phil splutters, but a horn blows to usher them into the arena before he can do anything about it. 

“We should stick together,” Niki suggests once they’re inside the arena. The setup of the arena this time looks like the scraps of previous structures, and Techno can clearly see over everything to the other competitors. “We can get more done as a group.”

“Only one person can win,” Techno points out.

“No, she’s right,” Phil says. “We can cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Techno shrugs. “Alright. Who’re we goin’ for?”

“Her.” Phil’s pointing at the scaled Winged, who’s looking back at them. “Definitely her.”

“Why?” Niki asks.

“I don’t like her. Also her flag looks loose, I guess.” (valid)

“It’s hard to tie ‘em tight,” Techno agrees. He’s fighting with it right now, trying to get it around his wrist. The canvas strips are shorter than they were for Capture the Flag, and it’s difficult to get a real knot on there.

Niki looks at Techno for a moment, then shrugs. “Okay, Phil, let’s go. Um… Techno to the left, Phil right towards her, I’ll go right. We can corner her.” (e) (blood for the blood god)

Techno nods once and the group splits.

The woman notices them immediately. There’s no cover here. Techno accelerates when she starts to run, but Phil reaches her first. (hell yeah) (birdboy)

Between their two pairs of wings, Techno can’t see what’s happening, but the noise of pain that Phil makes sure doesn’t seem like she’s only after his flag. (E) Techno bites off a curse under his breath.

Techno makes eye contact with Niki just before they both reach the scuffle. He shoves the Winged woman off of Phil, distracting her into flaring her wings at him. Niki ducks under her wingspan and grabs the flag tied to her arm. It takes a second of thrashing struggle for Niki to tug it free,  and then all three of them run.

Halfway across the arena, the Winged woman gives up the chase and the three of them stumble to a stop crouched behind one of the piles of wood. Niki holds up the flag with a triumphant smile. (YES) (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD)  

Phil makes another small noise and Techno looks at him, suddenly on high alert. Now that he’s caught his breath, he can smell blood in the air. (shit) “Phil?”

“I’m fine.” He’s not. His shoulders are hunched, his wings pulled around himself, and he reaches up shakily to brush at a spot on the inside of one wing. “She didn’t get my flight feathers, I’m fine, I’m—” A few feathers come loose under his hand. Techno can see blood running down the vanes as Phil frees the last ones that the woman must have pulled out.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Niki mutters. “You should stay out of hand-to-hand for the challenge, okay? Techno and I can—”

“It’s fine,” Phil interrupts, giving her a slightly manic smile. “Don’t— who’s next? I’ll be fine.” He flicks his wings and winces.

(get away from us) (FUCK OFF) Techno follows the direction of the voices’ anger to a distortion in the air hovering above them. He gives the showrunners watching a tight smile.

Niki is giving Techno a helpless look. Phil drops his shed feathers in the dirt and brings his bloodstained hand back to the injury. He pulls another feather away from his wing, and Techno wishes he knew enough to know if that one was already loosened. 

“Stop looking at me,” Phil snaps. He pulls his unhurt wing in tighter. “I said I’m fine. They’re not flight feathers, just, stop—” He cuts himself off with a rough breath in. “Nothing’s wrong.” He’s visibly shaking, hands twitching between his feathers on the ground and the injury, dirt and blood mixing on his fingers.

Techno looks back at Niki, who seems to be trying not to react to the scent and sight of blood. He makes a decision.

It only takes him a moment to yank his flag off his wrist and hold it out to Niki. She stares at him. “Techno, what—”

He presses it into her hands and catches Phil’s wrist as he returns his hand to his wing. Phil’s staring now too, eyes wide.

“Phil,” Techno says slowly. Once Phil nods slightly in acknowledgement, he continues, “I’m gonna untie your flag. Hold still.” Phil does, gaze still locked on Techno’s face.

Once that’s done Techno looks back at Niki. “I’m gonna take Phil back to my room to… do somethin’ about this, because he’s not gonna calm down out here.” Niki starts to protest, but Techno shakes his head at her. “You stay and win this for us, okay?” Niki has the most riding on the Tournament. Techno’s first obligation is to them, not victory. (awww)

Niki squares her shoulder. “Okay.”

Techno nods. “C’mon, Phil.” He guides them both to their feet as Niki darts for another shelter.

“I’ll be okay,” Phil says, much more subdued than before. “You don’t need to…”

Techno grabs Phil’s other hand before he can put his muddy fingers directly on an open wound. “Shut up, Phil. Carin’ goes both ways.” 

No competitor approaches while they walk to the door. Techno figures it must be clear they don’t have flags. (ha)  There’s an administrator just on the other side of the door who doesn’t seem to know quite how to handle them, but they aren’t stopped. 

Phil is silent for the rest of the walk to Techno’s rooms, but he drifts slowly closer to Techno until he’s pressing one side into him.

In Techno’s rooms, Techno deposits Phil by the water basin to light the lanterns. “Alright, Phil. What’d she do to your wing?”

Techno turns back to see Phil standing where he was left and looking lost. One hand is already back to probing the injury. Techno sighs. After a second, Phil says, “She just pulled some feathers out. It— it hurts. I’m sorry.”

“It’ll hurt less if you stop pokin’ it. Don’t apologize; wings are sensitive, right?”

Phil nods. He doesn’t stop poking at it. (seriously?) Techno takes his hand again. 

“Let’s get your hands washed first.” Techno half expects Phil to pull away as soon as Techno lets go of his wrists. Honestly, he’s been half expecting Phil to bolt this whole time. But Phil doesn’t fight as Techno uses the ladle and water basin on the counter to get the dirt and blood off his hands. After it’s done, Techno hesitates. “Can I touch your wings?”

Phil shrugs. “Sure. Whatever, y’know?”

Techno narrows his eyes. The way Phil’s acting seems more like a reaction to the past than the present, and the worst thing he could do is scare Phil more. (and you say you can’t care) “You sure? I mean, you can clean it yourself if that’s easier.”

“I don’t care, Techno. Do whatever you want.”

“Alright. I’m gonna clean the scratch, then.” He gives Phil another moment to stop him, then starts gathering what he’ll need. He moves the water basin to the floor, grabs a clean rag off the counter, then guides Phil to sit.

With Phil’s back against the counter, Techno soaks the rag and lays a bracing hand on top of the injured wing. Decades ago, he bandaged a much worse wing injury, and he calls on the memory of how the joints move, what position it’s comfortable for Phil to hold. 

“Ready?” Phil nods once. 

Phil flinches when Techno first touches the cloth to his wing, but his reactions decrease as Techno continues. By the time Techno’s satisfied that it won’t get infected and all the feathers in the area are where they’re supposed to be, Phil doesn’t even twitch with each brush. Techno shifts back to look at him.

This might be the most still Techno’s ever seen Phil. Phil’s once again been gradually moving closer to Techno, and he has one wing almost in Techno’s lap. He blinks slowly, then shakes himself slightly and blinks again, harder. “Sorry,” he murmurs to Techno. “I— I’ll go. Thanks.” 

“Hey,” Techno says before he can think about it. “You can stay, okay?” He moves so that he can lean back against the cupboard himself and places an arm around Phil’s back below his wings. “You seem tired.” (eloquent) Well, Phil always looks tired, but right now it actually seems like he might sleep.

Phil shakes his head, pushing gently at Techno. “You don’t wanna… I have nightmares, I wake myself up, it’s not…”

Oh. That explains a lot, actually. “Phil.” Phil looks up at him, hope and resignation fighting in his expression. “You won’t be the first person I see wake himself up screamin’, and you won’t be the last. Sleep if you need to.”

Phil holds his gaze for a second longer, then gives up trying to pull away. (aww) (go birdboy go) He squirms a little closer and rests his head on Techno’s shoulder, and almost immediately his breathing becomes deep and even.

It feels like barely a few minutes later that the door swings open to admit Niki. Techno hadn’t even realized he left it unlocked.

Techno gestures to Niki to be quiet as soon as she’s inside. She gives Phil a curious look. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, he was out as soon as we were done. Gods know he needs it.” Luckily, Techno’s voice doesn’t seem to wake Phil, and Techno lets out a relieved breath.

Niki lowers herself to the floor next to Techno.

“Did you win?”

She shakes her head. “Almost. I jammed a finger trying to get Punz’s and he got all of mine.” (dammit) (so close)

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“In my defense, it’s hard to keep track of six of them at once.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m sure you did great.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes pass in silence. Phil’s breathing starts to pick up, but he relaxes again without waking.

“Quarterfinals tomorrow,” Niki says.

Techno hadn’t even thought about it. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe I’ve made it this far,” Niki admits. “I didn’t really think this would work.”

“You’re still lookin’ to get more work as a fighter after this?” 

“If I can,” Niki agrees. “If I make it through this round I’ll actually get a chance to look at who’s investing in a show fighter.”

Techno still isn’t sure Niki’s making the right choice. He reminds himself it’s not his place to tell her that. Even if he’s decided to try, Niki can handle herself. “Who’re you against this round?” he asks instead of anything else. (coward)

“Lia.” Techno blinks, confused. “The Winged woman from today, I think,” Niki clarifies. 

Techno nods. “You’ll do fine.”

“She’s pretty aggressive.” Niki glances at Phil, although the missing feathers aren’t visible right now.

“I think we’re all pretty aggressive at this point.”

Niki laughs, and the room falls into silence again.

Techno feels comfortable in stillness for the first time in a long time. The voices are quiet, probably bored of doing nothing, but they’re not trying to push him into doing something. It’s nice, and he has to admit to himself that it wouldn’t be nice alone.

Eventually, Phil starts to twitch and breathe harder again. Techno does his weak best to soothe him and it doesn’t seem to work. As Phil digs his fingers into Techno’s knee where they’re resting and he makes a choked whining sound, Techno decides to wake him before he wakes himself.

“Hey, Phil.” Techno uses the arm around Phil’s back to gently jostle him. “Phil. Wake up.” Niki’s giving the two of them a concerned look, and Techno tells her, “He warned me he has nightmares. C’mon, Phil.”

Phil takes one more labored breath and then tenses, not quite pushing away from Techno. It takes another second for him to relax and look up.

“Mornin’,” Techno says. “You looked like you were havin’ a nightmare, so I woke you up.”

“Thanks,” Phil says slowly. “Niki’s here.”

“Hi.” Niki gives a small wave. “I can leave if you’re not comfortable?”

“No, it’s fine. Stay. I just didn’t hear you come in.” He shrugs, extricating himself from Techno.

“Yeah, you were asleep,” Niki says with a confused smile.

“Right, yes.” Phil hesitates, glancing between the two of them. “How long was that?”

“Little more than an hour?” Techno guesses, looking at the room’s wall clock.

Phil nods. “Good. Okay. Dinner soon, then?” He stretches his wings and winces. He starts to reach for the injured spot on his wing, but drops his hand before Techno can tell him to stop.

Niki winces in sympathy. “That doesn’t look great.” The removed feathers make a visible thin patch on Phil’s wing, but the scratches underneath aren’t quite visible.

Phil glances at it and shrugs again. “I can still fly and everything.” He hesitates. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Techno assures him. “I’m just glad I could clean it before anythin’ got infected.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Phil insists. “But thanks.”

Techno holds Phil’s gaze for a long second as if he can stare Phil’s utter disregard for his health into submission. (hypocrite) That’s fair, Techno’s not much better. Maybe that’s just what immortality does to a person.

“Are you two okay?” Niki asks hesitantly.

Techno blinks. Someday he’ll have to deal with telling Niki about this whole situation. Today is not that day. (coward) “Sorry. We’re fine.”

Chapter Text

Techno can’t help but notice things are getting tense as the Tournament approaches the finals. Every person knocked out of the competition is noticeable in the cafeteria and around the building. First it’s the masked man by Punz, then the Winged woman’s friend with the strawberry blonde bun by Techno, and now there are six people left and Techno doesn’t even see anyone other than Phil and Niki.

The voices are on edge too, although Techno isn’t feeling the rot. As Phil and Techno go to bring Niki back to her room after her match, the walls feel like they’re closing in. 

“That was closer than I liked,” Phil says at the foot of the stairs.

(true) (||ᒷᓭ) (agreed) “It’s the quarterfinals.” Techno felt it too, in his match. 

Phil knocks on the arena door before he opens it. Expecting the same thing from last time to happen again, Techno already has cloth, bandages, and water in his room.

He still lets Phil take the lead entering the room. “Niki?” (niki?)

In the room under the seats, Niki looks up as they come in, although she doesn’t say anything.

“Techno and I are here,” Phil says. “You made it to the semifinals.” 

Niki nods.

“I have stuff at my room if you wanna clean your cuts,” Techno offers. (smooth)  

Niki’s silent for a long moment.

“Do you want to bandage your cuts?” Techno asks again.

This time, Niki agrees slowly and accepts Phil’s hand to stand up.

Even knowing what to expect, it’s unsettling to see Niki like this as they walk back to Techno’s room. He takes stock of what injuries need to be dealt with to distract himself. (she’s not hurt) The voices, unhelpfully, don’t really seem to know what counts as an injury. 

Niki’s injuries this time don’t seem as bad as last time. Nothing’s currently bleeding, as far as Techno can tell.

At the door of Techno’s rooms, Niki blinks and stops walking. “No thanks,” she says quietly, uncertain. “I changed my mind, I can do it myself.”

“Hey,” Phil replies immediately. “Come on, at least let us be in the room. Please?” When Niki hesitates, Phil sighs and adds, “It really freaks me out to see you this way. Can I at least make sure you’re feeling better before you leave?”

Niki sighs back at him. Techno wonders if he imagined the way the set of her shoulders drops slightly. “Fine. I’ll clean up in there. It’s not… bad, though, this time. I’ll do it myself.”

Phil nods, satisfied, and Techno unlocks the door. 

For once, Techno’s prepared and no one’s panicking or lost, so they can actually sit around the small table like normal people. The claustrophobic feeling from earlier starts to ebb away. (it was HIS fault you know) The only sound is Niki’s movement, but Techno doesn’t want to fill the silence.

“Um, Niki?” The pitch in Phil’s voice seems like a bit more than curiosity.

“Yeah?” 

Techno looks between the two of them. Niki’s frozen with her hand hovering above the water basin, giving Phil a strange look.

“What’s…” Phil points at a half-cleaned spot on her upper arm. “There’s not a cut there.”

Niki laughs nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Techno, you see this, right?” Techno looks at the area Phil’s gesturing to and he’s right that the skin isn’t broken.

“What’re you sayin’?” Sure, there’s no wound there. Blood drips and gets smeared and does all kinds of weird things in a fight. “I— yeah, okay.”

“There was definitely a scab but there’s nothing there,” Phil insists. “Sorry, Niki, but that’s weird.”

Now Niki’s giving Techno a cornered look as if he has answers. (cult stuff?) (duh) Techno flounders for words. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I can explain it,” Niki says tightly. She drops her hands to the table and fixes her gaze past both of them. “But you have to promise to believe me.”

Phil laughs bitterly. “Easy. Go ahead.” Techno nods to Niki as well.

“You know how the faithful are obsessed with enchanting people?”

“Wait, like the cult?”

“Yeah, like the cult,” Niki sighs. “I was raised faithful.” 

Phil gives Techno an incredulous look and Techno shrugs. “I knew. Sorry.”

“I can’t believe this,” Phil says, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “No one tells me anything. Sorry, Niki. Keep going.”

Niki casts him a wan smile. “Anyway, yeah, the cult. They’re always trying to bring magic to humans and somehow that’s supposed to save the world. I didn’t… no one ever explained how that was gonna work, actually.” She shakes her head. “I’m getting off track. The point is that they figured it out. Kind of.”

“Holy shit,” Phil interjects, then adds, “Sorry again. Don’t mind me.” (shut) (we’re trying to listen)

Niki gestures halfheartedly at herself. “Yep. That’s me. Enchanted like a weapon. It turns out that magic isn’t actually all that great, and they were still abusive jerks who literally killed my only friend to try to stop me from leaving.”

“I’m sorry.” Techno isn’t really sure what he’s meant to say, but he thinks it should be something comforting. “That all that happened to you.”

Niki dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. It was two years ago and I’m different now. I’m glad I left.” (hell yeah sister)

Phil and Techno exchange a look. With the revelation of Phil’s past, Techno had almost forgotten that Niki is genuinely as young as she looks. She says two years like it means so much.

Techno suddenly remembers what even brought all this up and Niki’s story falls into place in his head. “So you’re sayin’ that you got cut there, but you’ve got Mendin’?”

Niki stifles a laugh. “Exactly. Among other things, but Mending is what’s relevant right now.”

“Wait, what else do you have?” Phil asks. “What could a person even use?”

Niki hesitates, then seems to come to a decision. “Mending, Fire Aspect, Knockback. My Frost Walker is a little unreliable, but sometimes it’s there. Honestly, I’m not fully sure. I never met— I mean, I never saw exactly what my Librarian did.” Techno and Phil must let the silence drag on a little too long, because Niki adds, “I mean, I don’t think it’s an unfair advantage or anything, right? Nothing can happen unless I actually hit someone, and I’m still good at fighting. Right?”

Phil shrugs. “Sure, yeah. I probably wouldn’t have noticed or put it together without you telling me. And you haven’t set anyone on fire yet as far as I can tell, so you must be pretty good with it.”

“True,” Niki laughs. “Fire Aspect needs an actual blade to work. I can’t use it with my fists or quarterstaff.”

“That’s why you use the staff?” Techno asks. He’d assumed it was related to the blood-avoidance thing.

“I don’t really like knives,” Niki admits. “It’s… they make me think about the friend who got killed, and…” She shudders. “Not having to worry about Fire Aspect is a bonus, though.” 

“I’ve been meanin’ to say,” Techno interrupts. (what the hell, man) He’s not gonna get a better time than now, probably. And if he’s trying to be a good friend to Niki, he needs to offer her advice.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not so sure you’re makin’ the right decision when you say you wanna do this as a career.” (seriously dude??)

The table is quiet for way, way too long. (have some tact) Techno definitely messed that one up. 

“Why do you say that?” Niki asks finally. (why’s she mad?)

Techno looks at Phil for support and gets nothing but mild judgment and watchfulness from Phil’s expression. “You don’t like blood, or knives.” It’s more than don’t like , that’s the whole point. Techno’s never been great with words and even if he was he wouldn’t know which ones to use. “We’ve all seen that this stuff hurts you.” Surely someone somewhere has to have made words for everything he’s experienced, everything he’s seen Phil and Niki experience. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you think you want somethin’,” he finishes. (╎↸╎𝙹ℸ ̣)

Niki’s face is carefully neutral, and she addresses the table when she speaks. “It’s interesting that you bring this up as I’m explaining that some of my… abilities can seem like an unfair advantage.”

“Oh.” (right) “I hadn’t thought of that. I swear to you that isn’t what I meant.”

“You’ve never brought this up before,” she snaps. Her gaze is still down, but Techno can practically see the effort she’s putting into not lashing out.

“I coulda sworn I had.” When that doesn’t placate Niki, Techno says, “Well, it’s just because I didn’t know how to say it. Obviously, I still don’t.” No one else laughs. “I’m sorry you think I’m questionin’ your talent, but I’m not. I just… I think you’re more than this one skill set.”

“Thank you, Techno.” She still isn’t happy. (gods you broke it) “And thank you both for coming to get me tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Techno can only watch her leave. He turns to Phil. “What did I do wrong?”

Phil shrugs. “Any sentence that starts with ‘I’m sorry you think’ is probably a bad idea.”

That’s true, come to think of it. “Right.”

“Other than that… definitely something went wrong.”

“Thanks, Phil,” Techno deadpans. 

“Hey, I’m not a people person either. Anyway, I’m going to bed.” Techno gives him a disbelieving look. Phil cracks a slightly sardonic smile. “Fair enough. I’m leaving this room now, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yep,” Techno sighs.

“Hey, I’m sure she’ll be better by then.”

By the next morning’s breakfast, Techno’s sure that Niki will still be mad at him. (of course) As Niki sits one seat away from him and only greets him with a stiff smile, it occurs to him that he’s not helping things by being so tense about it. What’s he supposed to do about that, though? At some point he’s gotta run out of chances, and from here it seems like that’s today. 

Phil turns up a few awkward minutes later. Techno looks him over, trying to distract himself from Niki. He’s returning to his normal after all the incidents of the round four challenge: he doesn’t favor the injured wing, although he’s still visibly missing feathers. It seems like he’s slept even less than usual since Techno saw him last, hands shaking a little as he sets his food on the table between Techno and Niki. 

“You two are quiet today,” Phil comments.

Niki laughs weakly. “Long day yesterday, I guess.”

“Yeah. You made the semifinals, Niki!”

This time, Niki’s smile is genuine, but directed entirely at Phil. “I did! I have a real chance now, don’t I? I never thought I’d actually get this far.” 

“You always had a chance,” Phil tells her. “I thought you were a ringer the first round.” (wait was she) (no) (dumbass)

“Stop,” Niki giggles, rolling her eyes. “Your match is tonight, right?”

“I sure hope so, it’s the last day of the round.”

“You’ll do great.”

Phil nods. “Thanks. I’ll try not to let you two down. Hey, Techno.” Techno doesn’t miss that Phil, sitting in the center of the group, has to turn his entire body to look at Techno. “Tomorrow night is the investor show-and-tell thing, right?”

“I think so?” He’s sure Niki knows, but she doesn’t jump in. He tries to catch her eye and can’t. “And I think it’s supposed to be a dinner party.”

Phil shrugs. “Right. Dinner party where people who want to hire Tournament finalists for their shows or teams or whatever make sure their prospects aren’t total lunatics. A dinner party where we all get to show off how normal and reasonable we are.”

“Excitin’,” Techno says sarcastically. (we’re so normal guys) (it’ll be fine) “At least we’ll all be there to entertain each other.”

Niki starts to speak, then cuts herself off. Phil turns back to her and his wing nearly hits Techno.

“What were you gonna say?”

She shrugs. “Just… I actually do want to get hired. So I’ll have to talk to the investors.”

“Right, that. Hey, should Techno and I act weird so you look extra good by comparison?”

Techno and Niki both try to laugh. Even Phil’s smile seems strained.

After a second, Phil clears his throat and says, “Sorry. Yeah, Niki, we’ll do what we can to help with that. If you want?”

“It’s fine.” She shrugs again, picking at her mostly empty plate. “I mean, I’ll be fine whatever you two do. You’re gonna go back to wherever you came from after the Tournament anyway, so… it’s fine.”

Techno wants to tell her that he didn’t come from anywhere this side of a portal, and if she asked he’d follow her wherever she goes next. (sap) He reminds himself she’s still upset, and that’d be a little much at the best of times.

Besides, a quieter thought points out, as soon as he tried to be close to her, he hurt her. Today it’s something small, but maybe later he’ll be careless with something more important. If he never tries, he never has to learn how awful he really is.

Back in the world outside of Techno’s head, Phil doesn’t seem to have an answer for Niki. 

Techno looks around and sees that they’re the last competitors in the dining hall. Usually, this is the part where either someone suggests something for them all to do or announces they need to do something alone and leaves.

After a month of the Tournament, there isn’t much new to do or explore in the arena complex, and walking the track would just create more of this awful silence. Techno’s overheard other competitors mentioning writing letters home. That’d be a terrible excuse now; Phil and Niki both know Techno has as few people to write to as they do. (say something)  

“I’m gonna get some water,” Techno announces finally, standing up from the table. (slick) Niki and Phil both startle. “I’ll see you both around.”

“See you around,” Phil echoes, seeming confused.

Niki gives him an unreadable smile. “Yeah. Don’t hide from us, okay?”

Techno returns her his best attempt at a smile. “I won’t.” (liar)

No matter how many times Techno swears to the voices that he didn’t avoid Phil and Niki, they still mock him. He saw them at lunch and dinner, and stayed the entire meal both times. It’s pure coincidence that they didn’t seek him out over the day and he didn’t look for them. Plus, from the sparse talk at meals it doesn’t seem like they spent the day together either. 

On the bright side, making fun of Techno distracts the voices from hissing and screaming about the showrunners as much while he’s trying to watch Phil’s match. 

Techno leaves the competitors’ balcony before anyone else does, but Niki’s already waiting at the arena door when he gets there.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Niki says. “How’d he do?”

“He won.” Techno searches for words. “It’s hard to tell how he’s doin’, but he didn’t get hurt too bad or anythin’.” (yeah he’s fine)

Niki just nods, her hand on the doorknob.

“I can go,” Techno offers, pointing down the hall at nowhere in particular. (coward) “If you’ve got it here.”

Niki looks at him with a flash of indignation. “Absolutely not.” She pauses, then adds, “You said you’d stop running away, and anyway it’s not Phil you’re mad at.”

Techno almost protests that he’s not mad at anyone, but Niki opens the door and it seems like the conversation is over.

The only mirror provided in Techno’s room is a small hand mirror, but he doesn’t need that to know he’ll look painfully out of place at the investor event. He doesn’t own much at all, let alone anything approaching nice clothes. He can comb and braid his hair, try to remember not to slouch, but he still carries all the marks of the Blood God’s messy transformation. He sticks out.

His only hope is that other people will look just as casual. Not all of them will be whatever bigwigs want to hire someone, so he has a chance. Phil, Niki, and the other semifinalist— Punz?— will be there, and eliminated competitors are invited back. 

Techno weighs just showing up to the party alone at the appointed time, but he decides to see if he can catch Phil as he passes his room. (good)

Phil opens the door within seconds of Techno knocking and gives him a relieved smile. “Thank universe, I’m not gonna be the only one dressed like this.”

Techno laughs despite himself. “You still put more effort in than I did.” Phil’s in a dark green tunic and loose black pants, a black sash belt around his waist. (aww pretty)  It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and neat, and Techno doesn’t think he’s seen the tunic before. Techno picked a tunic tonight too, his lightest gray one that doesn’t have any stains.

“People don’t expect much from Winged. I can get away with a lot with how I look.”

“Makes sense. I don’t usually get into, uh, high-expectations situations,” Techno replies.

Phil nods and shakes himself. “Let’s get Niki and get this over with.”

Techno nods back and follows Phil down the hall. “Maybe she’s already at the place.” The party will be outdoors, behind the arena building, and Techno doesn’t have a watch but he’s sure he’s running late.

Phil dismisses the sentence with a gesture. “She’d wait for us.”

“Alright.”

It takes Niki longer to answer her door than Phil did, but she does open it. She’s dressed a little nicer than either of them, with a brown jacket over a light blue shirt and black pants. She’s obviously made some kind of effort with her hair, the choppy cut and uneven pink stain almost tamed around her face.

“You’re dressed up,” Techno says before he can stop himself. The voices chitter with sarcastic laughter.

Niki arches an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, so are you two.”

“Do you need another minute, or are you ready to go be an investment ?” Phil asks with a sarcastically cheerful gesture.

“Let’s just go,” Niki says with a tired smile. “Obsessing over things any more won’t help.”

After another moment’s hesitation, the three of them set off toward the back of the building. Techno’s glad to have Phil able to guide them at points, because even after over a month here the building is like a maze. 

Punz passes them on the way, and everyone involved waves and smiles awkwardly. Techno thinks suddenly that, normally, he’d be in Punz’s position, alone at the end of something and watching other people connect. He isn’t sure which side of things he prefers yet.

Niki pushes the final double doors open, and they enter the already-full party.

Just outside the building, all three of them pause to take in the scene. There are several round tables set around the space, most with some kind of food platter and lanterns set on them. The investors in question are immediately identifiable by their stiff collars, spotless white shirts, and the groups of people buzzing around them. Other guests are eliminated competitors, most seeming slightly awkward in their dresses or jackets, talking quietly in twos and threes. Administrators lurk around the edges of the space, redirecting anyone who gets too far from the center. Techno thinks he spots Scar on the other side of the crowd and a brightly-feathered Winged hanging onto his shoulder. (HIM) (⊣ᒷℸ ̣  𝙹⚍ℸ ̣) (leave now)

Niki casts Phil and Techno another tired, wan smile. “I’m going in. I’ll grab some food, see if anyone talks to me.” As they nod understanding, she strides towards the various small crowds. 

Phil bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. “Gods, this is… a lot.” (birdboy?) (is he okay) (phil?)

“Hmm? Yeah, I guess so.” The lanterns’ different paper shells, both on tables and hanging from poles, cast different pockets of color across the space along with the red sunset. Guests’ voices merge into a unified babble from here, mixing with the scents of food, people, dirt, and city. 

“We’re supposed to get food, right?” Phil seems twitchy, unsure of what to look at.

“You go ahead. If you want to?” (go inside)

Phil nods quickly. “Yeah, I’ll go in, it’s fine. I’ll get used to it soon.” (stay here)

Techno isn’t sure what to think, but he lets Phil slip through the cracks in the people and out of sight. And then he’s alone at the edge, and he decides he definitely likes this less than being part of the group.

After just long enough that Techno’s considering entering the fray, someone sidles up to him. It’s the guy from the maze challenge— Jack might be his name? Yeah, Jack.

Techno says, “Hey Jack,” and doesn’t get a weird look, so he must be right.

“Ayup.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine. Congrats on semifinals.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Techno hesitates. “Sorry you got knocked out.”

“I’ll live. My wrist is mostly unsprained by now, so that’s good.”

“Good to hear.” (e)

Jack fidgets and looks into the crowd. “Who’re the matches this round again?”

Techno takes a moment to remember the bracket. “Niki and Punz, then me and Phil, I think.” The idea of fighting Phil leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

“No offense, but I’m rooting for Niki.”

“Me too,” Techno admits. “She deserves the win.” After another moment, Techno gestures at one of the tables at random. “I’m gonna get food. Have you eaten?”

“Nah, I’ll come with.”

Jack seems to use Techno’s wake to navigate the crowd until they can stand at the edge of a table. As the two of them try to figure out what’s in the tiny sandwiches laid out here, Scar gives Techno a wave and a wink across a gap in the people. (⎓⚍ᓵꖌ 𝙹⎓⎓) (get back) Techno looks away before the voices can give him a migraine from yelling at Scar, or the Winged who’s still behind him. Techno isn’t quite sure who they’re mad at. 

“Hey, Techno?” Jack mutters, a bite-sized sandwich paused halfway to his mouth. “Don’t look now, but there’s a… man behind you.”

Techno turns immediately. (dumbass) Sure enough, there’s a man. Techno, personally, would have described him as an investor rather than just a man, but he is definitely a man. Jack puts the sandwich he was holding into his mouth and chews quickly. “Can I help you?” Techno asks the man.

“Am I speaking to Technoblade?” He speaks with the crisp accent of someone raised rich in a city. (holy shit) (E)

“You are,” Techno answers cautiously. He’s already proven to himself many times over this month that he doesn’t want to do organized show fighting ever again. Is it rude to tell someone rich that outright? (just stab him)

This man has the same smile that Scar does, Techno notes. “I’m Lord Billiam. I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear my family’s home is in South Delta.” Techno stares blankly at him until his face shows a twitch of annoyance. “Your hometown?”

That must be what Techno told the showrunners. “Right. Of course.”

Jack, having finished his handful of sandwiches, is starting to slowly move away from the conversation. Techno tries to subtly shake his head at Jack, asking him not to abandon Techno here, but Jack either doesn’t see or doesn’t care. 

“Do you have any plans for after the Tournament is complete?”

“Um… no.” Techno weighs the worth of this conversation a moment longer, then interrupts whatever Billiam was about to say with, “Listen, I’m not really lookin’ for whatever job you’re offerin’. Sorry.”

Billiam’s smile stays glued in place, but his eyes go cold. “I see.” He adjusts the lapels of his jacket with a single sharp motion.

“You should talk to Niki,” Techno adds. “She’s lookin’.” He doesn’t know if this actually helps Niki, or if she’ll hear about it, but he still wants to show good will. 

The investor doesn’t answer before turning and vanishing back into the group.

Techno grabs another tiny, flavorless sandwich. Above them all, the sun is getting closer to the horizon— maybe Techno can go inside unnoticed once it’s dark.

“Hey.” (SHIT) (E) (RUN)

Techno jumps. It’s just Phil, who’s materialized at his side somehow, and the voices switch suddenly from aggressive to concerned. “Hey, Phil.”

“Are we sure the only people here are competitors and investors?” Phil asks. “There’s a lot of people here.” (is he okay?) In his hands he has another type of small sandwich, not one of the ones Techno’s seen, and he jabs its toothpick in and out of it. (he needs to leave) Phil’s naturally twitchy, Techno tries to remind the voices. He’s probably fine. (help him)

“There were sixty-four competitors at the start,” Techno points out. “Plus the showrunners and administrators, and the investors’ staffs, probably.”

“True enough,” Phil agrees. 

“Are you alright?” Techno asks. The voices haven’t let up, and the more Techno looks at Phil the more he starts to agree. Even Phil’s wings are held tense and pressed against his back, making him seem smaller than usual. 

“I’m fine,” Phil says with a fleeting, fake smile. He tilts his head to one side. “I got sandwich juice on my hands.” (what) He presents his hands to Techno, the sandwich in one palm. Techno can’t see anything on them.

“Like… a sauce?”

“Probably.” (dude take your bird inside) Seemingly satisfied, Phil goes back to mutilating the sandwich with the toothpick. 

“You can go inside if you want,” Techno offers as Phil’s main attention starts to drift away from Techno. “I’ll walk with you so you don’t feel awkward.” It’s a win-win, as far as Techno’s concerned. Something’s clearly upsetting Phil, presumably something about the party, and Techno will get to leave early. 

“I’m fine,” Phil insists. He looks to Techno for a split second while he talks, but mostly his gaze is darting around the scene faster than Techno can track what he’s looking at. “There’s just so much, y’know?”

“Okay,” Techno agrees finally. (don’t listen to him) “Anyone talked to you yet?”

“Nah. I knew this would happen, it’s fine.” Phil flicks his wings, releasing their tension briefly. “I’m gonna get another sandwich. This one’s sad.” He gives the sandwich in his hands, which doesn't even resemble a sandwich anymore, a withering look.

“Alright,” Techno says, and by the time he’s done with the word Phil is gone. 

The party continues to get darker as the sun goes down. Techno finds a table that has a fruit tray instead of more finger sandwiches and lurks there for a while. Luckily, it turns out to be pretty easy to avoid further talking to rich people by simply refusing to make eye contact with anyone. 

He meets Niki’s gaze across the party as the sun’s last dying light comes through the trees. He waves, she smiles hesitantly, and after a second she crosses to stand next him.

“Have you managed to see what the admins are setting up over there?” she asks immediately.

(what?) “Heh?” (oh no)  

Niki gestures vaguely away from the arena building, past the edges of the crowd. “Most of them have been busy doing something out that way for, like, half an hour now. The ones still here won’t let me get close enough to see.”

“That’s weird,” Techno agrees. “Have you seen Phil at all tonight?”

Something in Niki’s face falls, but maybe it’s just the shadows playing tricks on Techno. (bro) “Not really. He tried to talk to me once, but I was talking to an investor and he left before we were done.”

Techno nods. “He seemed jumpy when I talked to him.” He hesitates, then adds, “I’m worried.” (woah) At the voices’ mutterings, Techno realizes he doesn’t think he’s said anything like that about a person in a long time. 

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Niki scuffs the toe of her shoe in the dirt for a moment, squinting through the darkness like it’ll help her see what the administrators are doing. 

“So any good investors today?” Techno asks, trying to make the question sound more natural than it is. (gods) (this is why we don’t have friends)

Niki shrugs. “Maybe. A lot depends on if I can win, I guess. I’ll feel better about it if I can get one more prospect tonight.”

“Good luck.”

Niki doesn’t answer. Just when Techno’s about to try to change the subject, a high-pitched whine starts from beyond the gathered people. (FUCK) (danger) He’s on high alert for a second, trying to identify the threat, and catches a streak of light arcing away from the ground in the dark. (threat) There’s a pop of color, a delayed bang, and red sparks fall gently through the sky. (danger) (run) (ooh pretty)

Fireworks. Okay. The Tournament sure knows how to put on a show, but that’s harmless.

Niki stares at the display as another firework goes up with a whistle. (awww) Techno almost laughs at the wonder on her face, but stops himself when he realizes she might not have seen a firework in action before. She’s not even twenty-five years old, she grew up isolated, and the overworld isn’t into pyrotechnics like the nether was when Techno was a kid. 

Other people start pushing past them to get closer to the display. Niki doesn’t move, though, and Techno sticks with her. They’ll be able to see just as well from here as closer to the field. 

The fireworks are in full swing now, weaving their different colors and sounds and the smell of smoke across the night. The dark, indistinct crowd stops moving, mostly ahead of Techno and Niki, and a single shape emerges from the mass and bumps into Techno. (E)

In the split second it takes for both Techno and the person to jolt away from each other, another firework brings just enough light for Techno to recognize Phil. (e?) Phil flinches hard at the light and then again at the noise, and then trips over a table leg and falls. (oh shit)

Techno drops into a crouch in front of him. Another burst of light shows that Phil probably didn’t even notice him: he has his eyes closed, his hands pressed over his ears, and his wings pulled protectively around himself. 

“Phil?” Techno asks anyway, placing a hand on the top joint of Phil’s wing. (idiot) Phil slams back against the table leg behind him as he pulls away.

“What happened to him?” Niki asks, leaning over Techno. (trauma)

He’s panicking, clearly. Techno can hear his breathing in the moments between fireworks. “Somethin’s scared him,” he tells Niki over the background noise. “Probably the fireworks.” Phil had seemed overwhelmed all evening, and now he’s been pushed over the edge. Techno feels awful for not insisting he leave. (as you should)  

Niki nods rapidly. “Okay. Okay, so how do we fix it?”

Techno wants to tell her that he has no more idea that she does. If he’s right about what’s happening, he’s seen it before and knows how it feels and has never been able to do anything but let it wear itself out. Another firework flashes and then bangs and Phil somehow pulls himself into an even tighter ball. 

“I’m gonna get him inside,” Techno decides finally. (how?) Phil won’t like being guided inside, but Techno thinks he can restrain him long enough to do it. (jerk) 

“Got it.” Niki steps around the both of them, toward the building door. “I’ll help.”

Techno looks up, startled. (the power of friendship) “What? No, Niki, stay here.”

Niki turns back to him with one hand on her hip. “Why would I do that?”

“You’re lookin’ for another offer or somethin’, right? The investors will leave soon.”

“Fuck the investors,” Niki replies with surprising vehemence. “My friends are more important.”

Techno doesn’t know how to argue with that. “Fine. Be ready to open the door for me.” Niki nods, and Techno refocuses on Phil. On the off chance Phil can hear him, he says, “Okay, Phil, we’re goin’ inside. I’m sorry, but I have to grab you, alright?” He takes a final breath to brace against the voices’ accusations of heartlessness and reaches past Phil’s wings to pull him to his feet. (monster) As he’d expected, Phil struggles. (put him down)  

Techno’s glad that Niki’s willing to open the door, because he ends up needing both arms to keep hold of Phil. Luckily Phil doesn’t seem willing to take his hands off his ears for longer than a second; Techno only has to deal with the wings. 

Techno doesn’t have an answer for the upset look on Niki’s face and he goes past her through the door. As soon as all of them are inside, Techno drops Phil as gently as he can on the floor. Phil stays where he is, curled up and gasping for air. (poor thing) (pet him)

Niki closes the door, and she and Techno sit down on the floor in silent unison.

“You should go back out there,” Techno tells her. “I can watch Phil.”

Niki frowns at him. “I told you he’s more important and I meant it. I get that you’re mad at me, but don’t try to keep me away from Phil.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Techno protests before he can think about it. “ You’re the one who’s mad at me .”

“I haven’t been mad at you for days,” Niki retorts. “You’ll barely talk to me! I don’t know why that bit of my past freaked you out so much, but you definitely haven’t tried to explain.”

Techno blinks at her. Next to them, Phil is still panicking, but he’s stopped covering his ears and Techno’s taking that as a good sign. “I thought you were mad at me,” he says plainly. “I didn’t wanna make it worse.”

Niki laughs sharply, Phil flinches, and she sighs and leans her head back against the wall. “Yeah, I was mad at you. I don’t know if I still am, but I still want to talk to you.” (they’re friends your honor)

Techno nods, turning the words over in his head. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all this.” He has more to apologize for, and decides to go for it even though he doesn’t know what to say. “And I’m sorry for what I said the other night, too. I didn’t mean… I don’t think you’re not qualified, or that you aren’t fightin’ fair. That isn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have said it.” (coward) It’s not cowardice, it’s being a good friend. Niki knows what’s best for her.

Niki seems to agree with him, because she just nods.

They fall into silence, save for Phil’s ragged breathing and occasional motion, for a few minutes. 

“Do you know what happened to Phil out there?” Niki asks finally, keeping her voice down.

Techno shrugs. “Once he can listen again we can ask him. I have a guess, but… I’m not exactly an expert in people.”

“What would you guess?” Niki prompts. “I— I’m sorry. I’m worried about him. I’m not an expert in people either.” She gives him a wan smile.

Techno looks for words for a moment. “You ever do the thing where somethin’ reminds you of somethin’ bad and you relive the memory?”

“Oh, yeah,” Niki agrees easily. (they’re so normal)

“That pretty much looks like this from the outside.” Phil is calmer now, probably wearing himself out. He has his knees to his chest and his head ducked below his wings, and Techno still thinks touching him would be a bad idea. 

“Huh. Good to know, I guess.”

Techno nods. The pensive silence lasts as Phil’s breathing mostly evens out and Techno starts to worry that other people will try to come inside soon. The fireworks are hard to hear through the walls, but he thinks they’re done.

“Where am I?” Phil’s voice is muffled through his wings but Techno can still tell that he spoke and what he said. (PHIL)

“A hallway in the Tournament building,” Niki answers. “Next to the door to the party.”

“Okay. Niki?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Techno’s here too.”

“Hey,” Techno adds.

Without looking up, Phil asks, “Are the fireworks done?”

“I think so,” Techno says. “Even if they weren’t, you can’t hear ‘em through the walls.”

With a rustle of feathers, Phil folds his wings and cautiously looks up. (ours) “Did you take me inside or…?”

Techno nods. “Yeah, we brought you in. You feelin’ any better?”

“Not really,” Phil admits. “I mean… not losing it at the moment, I guess. That’s something.”

Techno nods. “We might wanna leave the hall before people start comin’ through,” he suggests. “We could go to someone’s room?” 

Phil shakes his head. All his motions are still small, contained, and it's scaring the voices. Techno too, if he’s being honest. “I’ll walk the track,” Phil says. “It’s dark there.” 

“Should we come with you?” Niki asks. “Or—”

“Yes,” Phil answers quickly, eyes down. “Don’t leave me alone.” 

Both Techno and Niki nod agreement. As Techno stands, he offers Phil a hand up with no expectation it’ll be taken. (soft) 

Phil does take it, though, with a shaky but unforced smile. Techno almost smiles back, but Niki’s already gesturing them down the hall.

Chapter Text

Niki wins her match, but Techno knows better by now than to expect her to talk about it while he dresses the few wounds she has left after the match. Phil talks anyway, cheerfully meaningless conversation as he passes Techno bandages.

The next morning at breakfast, though, Niki’s excitement shows. Techno and Phil are already there when she bounces in, barely containing a smile.

“I’m in the finals,” she says the moment she sits down. (woo!)

“Congrats,” Phil replies, matching her smile. “This is good for your investment stuff, right?”

Niki’s smile wavers for a split second, but returns before she speaks. (uh oh) “Yeah, it is. I might have an actual chance now. Just, wow, I woke up this morning and it hit me that I made it to the finals.”

Her grin is infectious. Techno still feels the urge to warn her about choosing her path, that problems like theirs don’t get better with willpower, only more time than she has. But god knows Techno’s had more chances than he deserves, and still hasn’t gotten anything right.

With all that’s happened these past weeks, Niki probably won’t want to see him again after the finals. Techno doesn’t blame her. That makes it even less useful for him to butt in.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Phil says. (focus) It takes Techno a moment to tune back into the conversation. “Do you know where you’re going once we’re done here?”

“Um, not really.” Niki shrugs, tugging gently on a longer section of her hair. “Everything’s conditional, y’know?” She pauses, and when Phil just continues to look at her adds, “I’d rather not talk about it. Do you have anything lined up?”

Phil shrugs easily. “I don’t think I talked to anyone at the party, really? And if I did I’m sure I didn’t seem hireable. Techno?” (poor kid)

“Heh?”

“Where are you going next?”

“Oh. I’m not sure,” Techno admits. He had kind of assumed he’d watch them leave and then wander into the woods until he got sick of it there, like usual. “No offense, but I never want to do show fightin’ again.” (damn straight) (aw why not?)

Niki bobs her head as if to say she sees his point, and Phil gives him a grim smile and a nod. It strikes Techno that Phil actually understands what he’s saying, but Niki doesn’t and goes along with him anyway.

“Are you going home, then?” she asks. “You’re from South Delta, right?”

Techno hesitates. “Not really? It doesn’t matter.” He hasn’t been back to the nether… ever, come to think of it. Even after portals started going up again, he can’t bring himself to see what’s happened there. “No, I’m not— there isn’t really anywhere to go anymore, honestly.” 

Niki gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” (yeah right) “Hey, you should grab breakfast.”

Niki glances down at the empty space in front of her and colors slightly. “You’re right. I’ll be back, okay?”

Phil and Techno face each other in the match tonight. Techno isn’t sure how to bring that up. He doesn’t even get a chance to try until lunch, when Niki tells them to go ahead of her to the cafeteria, she has something to check on and she’ll catch up.

“So, about tonight,” Techno starts, then stops, unsure of where he’s going next. (╎↸╎𝙹ℸ ̣) (why would you—)  

“Yep.” Phil doesn’t even look up from fishing apple chunks out of a fruit salad. 

“Niki should win the final,” Techno spits out after a second. “No matter which of us gets there.” 

“She has the most at stake,” Phil agrees. He actually does pause now, meeting Techno’s eyes. “We owe her honesty.”

That sounds suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“She’s young, but she’s more than mature enough to know if someone lets her win. And it isn’t fair to do that to her.”

“I know. We couldn’t hurt her, though. Not… seriously.” (we?) (you sure?) The voices have a point, awfully enough. Techno assumed he speaks for both of them on this. Phil is calmer, saner, more consistent than most Winged, but Techno doesn’t know him very well. “You wouldn’t hurt her, right?”

Phil gives him a much sharper look. “What are you trying to say, Techno?”

“I’m not sayin’ anything,” Techno insists. “I’m just… wonderin’.” He finds it hard to seriously think Phil wouldn’t hold back fighting Niki, but there’s a knot in his stomach anyway. 

Phil’s hard stare makes Techno wish he hadn’t spoken. “As if you’re so trustworthy,” Phil says, not even angry, just matter-of-factly indignant. “You told me yourself you aren’t present when you fight.” (he has a point)  

“I know.” Techno sighs. “I know. I’m just askin’ if you can trust yourself either.”

Phil stills for just a second. Techno’s struck a nerve. “That’s an ugly thing to say about Winged,” Phil replies finally, tone clearly saying he knows Techno knows it’s a cop-out.

Maybe Techno’s more stressed than he had thought, because he doesn’t even think for a moment before he answers. “I’m not talkin’ about Winged, I’m talkin’ about you .” (good gods dude) He almost bites his tongue the instant he hears the sentence. “Wait, that sounds bad, I—”

Phil turns slowly away from Techno and toward the tables. Techno’s sure some Tournament employee overseeing lunch is having a blast hearing them talk. He falls silent as Phil takes a deliberate breath and resettles his wings. 

“You know, I feel the same way. It’s not your god, however unfair it may be. I’m talking to you .” 

Techno lets out a small, hurt breath. (ouch) The only thought in his head is this is what happens when you get to know people , quiet and divorced from any emotion. 

Phil isn’t even wrong.

The dining hall door opening seems deafening. “Is everything okay?” Niki looks between the two of them.

Techno gives her the most genuine smile he can muster. “Everythin’s fine.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Phil matching him.

In the room under the ring seats, Techno twists his hands together until it starts to hurt. (blood for the blood god) (phil?) There’s a nauseating pulse to the voices tonight, pushing and pulling between excitement, concern, other things Techno can’t name. (just run) He almost wishes he could lose himself in it, hide under the surface of the god and the blunt thrill of it all, but he doesn’t trust his impulses with Phil.  (E)

He wants tonight to be over with. He never wants to have to move out of this moment.

He catches his name on the announcer’s voice, stands, and shakes himself out. (we have to hurt him) He can’t hurt Phil. He doesn’t want to win or lose the match, honestly. 

The weapons rack holds a trident and net. (fun) (what the fuck?) A classic of show fighting, but still surprising enough that Techno takes a moment to blink at it. Okay, he can work with this. (hell yeah) Trident in his right hand, weighted net gathered into the other, Phil across the ring from him, the announcer shouts at them to start. (blood for the blood god)

They face each other, Techno’s wariness reflected in Phil’s eyes. The world is a muddled roar in Techno’s ears. He clenches his fist on the staff of the trident to prove he’s still in control. 

Phil lunges. 

Techno has to work to be able to catch both knives on his trident. (go go go) It’s fast from there, Techno barely reining in his worst instincts as he tries to keep Phil back and figure out how to even use the net effectively.

The broad side of the trident connects with Phil’s side and buys Techno a second of breathing room, and he immediately regrets it but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Phil this focused and alert. (net) (finish it) The net is less aggressive but he only gets one shot, so— there. Tossed at Phil’s left side, it drags one wing almost to the floor and throws him off balance.

(good) (now the trident) Techno has every advantage. He just needs to take them.

He freezes a second too long with the points of the trident inches from Phil’s skin. Phil manages to cut himself free enough to shake the net off and advance again. (blood for the blood god)  

This time Phil’s angle is low enough to knock Techno back against the bars. Techno barely twists away in time for Phil’s knife to only graze him. (stop holding back) Even if he had space to use a polearm right now, it’s still Phil in front of him. (let us help) (c’mon Techno)  

Phil brings one of his knives under Techno’s chin, and now finally there’s uncertainty on his face. Techno meets his eyes and for a single heartbeat nothing matters outside of the ring, this moment, their bodies.

Techno knocks his fist on the bars of the ring three times, barely moving at first and then again, louder. Cheers erupt from the darkness of the seats.

An administrator leads Techno by a maze of back hallways to his room and tells him that tomorrow morning someone else will walk him out of the building. (lame) (we shoulda won that) It’s fair enough treatment, he supposes. Something like this probably doesn’t invite the most stable or rational personalities.

He wonders if Niki and Phil are talking in Niki’s rooms right now. This afternoon it hadn’t occurred to any of them that it would be the last time one of them talked to the other two. 

Well, no point in moping about it. He can sleep, wake up to gather his stuff before the administrator shows up, and whatever emotion this is will fade in time.

He’s still sitting at the table, staring at nothing in particular, when there’s a knock at the door later. He opens the door before he really processes that someone was knocking, but it’s too late to ignore it now. 

“Hey, Niki.” (hi) He blinks at her, unsure what she wants from him.

She gives him a half-smile. “Hey. You okay?”

“I’m… fine. Are you alright? Is Phil?” Oh, gods, did something go wrong? What could she need him for at this hour?

“Everyone’s fine, Techno,” she answers with a slightly confused look. “I was just talking with Phil, he’s fine. He actually fell asleep and I thought I shouldn’t risk disturbing him.”

Techno nods. “Good to hear. Do you wanna come inside, then? We can sit down.”

“Sure.” Niki follows him in and sits across the table from him. Techno’s grateful he bothered to actually light the lantern when he came in. 

The two of them sit in silence for a long moment, avoiding each other's eyes. 

“So are you leaving town tomorrow?”

“I think so,” Techno answers. (no stay) “I don’t know.”

Niki nods, her mouth drawn into a tight line. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” If she gets what she wants from the Tournament, he’ll never see her again after this. He finds he doesn’t want to know how her prospects are looking right now. “I’m glad I got to know you.”

“Me too.” She smiles softly towards the corner. “I think you’ve helped me and Phil a lot.”

Techno finds that difficult to believe. He’s barely given her anything, and gotten her support and her story. She doesn’t know the first thing about who or what he is. He’d always told himself that he’d show his cards someday, but now he has to face the fact that there is no someday. “I should tell you somethin’.” (𝙹⍑ リ𝙹)

She narrows her eyes at him. “What’s that?”

“I mean, nothin’ bad. I think. Just… I know your story and I feel like I owe you mine?” He pauses, fidgets with his hands. “But you might not like hearin’ it.” He isn’t sure where she stands on gods as a whole, given her history with the faithful. 

“Then don’t tell it,” she replies, like the whole idea is ridiculous. “Don’t owe me anything.” (ugh now she’s mad)

Techno stutters for a second without managing to say anything. How is anything supposed to work without the reciprocity of owing each other things? (this is why we don’t try)  

Niki’s smile goes bitter. “I’m sorry, Techno, I shouldn’t have come here.” She stands and turns toward the door. 

“Wait.” Even if he failed utterly, he tried his best at being her friend. He doesn’t want to let it end like this. She pauses, waiting. “I don’t want to leave,” he offers. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

He can’t see her face, can’t read her tone. “Yeah, all of us do. Have a nice life, Techno.”

Techno’s woken the next morning by a sour-faced administrator and some kind of security person who watches while he folds his belongings back into the messenger bag he came here with. He accepts the payment promised by his contract, lets them search his bag to make sure he’s not stealing, and then he’s left unceremoniously on the sunlit street outside the arena building. (poggers) (run for the hills)  

Okay. Okay, everything’s fine. He has a general ache from residual injuries and the uncomfortable Tournament mattress, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

He still hesitates at almost every street corner on his way out of town. (go back) (walk faster) People are exhausting. He should be glad to be done with them for a while. He feels like he’s walking out in the middle of the story.

He finally stops at a crossroads just close enough to the edge of town that the Tournament building is no longer looming over him. (dude what are you doing) If not knowing what’s happening with Phil and Niki is what’s holding him back, he could find out. He got paid; he can afford to watch the match tonight and stay at an inn in town.

Techno smiles to himself despite the expression feeling uncomfortable. He’ll do that, and no strings will be left to hold him to people who don’t want him. It’ll be good for him.

It’s definitely weird to experience the runup to a match from the audience's side. The crowd is like a river, not giving Techno the option to go anywhere but the seats above the ring. His ticket, purchased late and as cheap as he could get it, barely affords him a view of the actual ring, but it’s good enough. Lower down and isolated from the showrunners’ balcony, the voices have many fewer complaints. 

(why are we here?) (who are you guys rooting for?) (let’s just go) Techno shuffles his feet on the concrete floor, tuning out whatever the announcer is hyping up. 

Finally, Phil and Niki appear and pick up their weapons. Techno watches for them to wave at each other, or even nod, but they seem entirely isolated in their routines. Phil twirls his knives in his hands and bounces on the balls of his feet, and Niki simply stands there facing the ring, quarterstaff held ready across her body. (E) (no no wait)

The doors swing open and then closed. Techno realizes he was digging his nails into his palm and releases his fist.

The announcer stops prattling, then booms, “And for the final round, the grand title and prize of Tournament… begin!”

Chapter Text

Phil and Niki make no pretense of threats. They just dart at each other, almost faster than Techno can follow from his angle. 

For a terrible second, Techno can see the pure spectator appeal of them instead of the people he knows. Niki’s measured, precise steps and swings are balanced and predictable but split-second quick. Phil is entirely unpredictable, changing directions halfway through a lunge as if he’s gotten bored of the old one. (GO)

Techno blinks the thought from his head. Phil’s and Niki’s styles are parts of them, but not even very important ones. (e) (ᒷ) If there’s one thing Techno should know by now, it’s that there’s no real power or personhood in violence. 

He regrets buying the ticket now. He shouldn’t have come here. (go Phil) (c’mon Niki you got this) He feels nauseated, lost, barely embodied.

Gods, why can’t he ever leave well enough alone? 

Techno’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by the two people on either side of him unexpectedly springing to their feet. (YES) (goddammit) (wooooo) Techno follows along, figuring the match must be over by the shouting in the stands. (let’s go) He’s tall enough to see the floor of the ring above the now-standing audience, and Niki has claimed the center of the ring, turning slowly to face each section of the room. (techno what’s wrong?) Someone else might see joy in her stance, or at least victory, but even from too far away to see her face, Techno knows better.

Phil is shaking himself out, barely visible in the shadows beyond the ring, and he doesn’t seem hurt but Techno still wishes he were closer. (birdboy) (eh he’s fine)

All the answers Techno had thought he would get here are only raising more questions. He finds himself wanting to go to Phil and Niki like he used to after matches, walk them back to their rooms and help them calm down and get patched up. Instead he follows the other people out of the building and drains with them into the street. 

It’s gotten warmer since Techno last spent the night outside of the Tournament building, but his fingers feel numb as if with cold. (stop moping) The voices have a point, he’s not accomplishing anything with this. If he’s going to leave, he should just get on with it.

Well, he already rented a room for the night, and it’s late. He promises himself he’ll get on with it in the morning.

Techno is the first to admit he has no idea what he’s doing outside the Tournament building the morning after the finals. He struggled to sleep last night, couldn’t quite talk himself into leaving when he woke up midmorning, and now he guesses he’ll stand here until he convinces himself to leave or turns into a lamppost. 

The main door starts to open and Techno startles, ready to be shooed away, but it’s just Niki.

She gives him a curious look. “Why are you lurking?” (hah)

“I’m not lurkin’,” Techno insists, fully aware that he’s lurking. 

“Okay. What are you doing, then?”

She’s got him there. “Nothin’. I was just about to leave, actually.” (liar)

“Sure you were.” She sighs, but seems unbothered. “I thought you were going to leave town two days ago.”

“Yeah, me too. Are you leavin’ today?”

She shrugs. “I guess I have to. First I need to take a final look at the stuff investors sent me.”

Techno smiles at her. “What’s lookin’ best right now?” (why are you doing this) He half expects her to refuse to share. It’d be reasonable to not want Techno to know where she might be. 

Whatever she’s considering, Niki doesn’t look excited. If anything, a wave of dread crosses her face. “Honestly? Nothing. It’s all insulting, like anyone would want to work for room and board when the schedule they’re offering doesn’t give you any time to do something else for actual money, or the place is some sleazy frontier chateau. I have other skills, I could just go do something else if they clearly don’t want me!” 

“So do somethin’ else.” Techno shrugs. (oh yeah real easy)  

Niki sighs. “I mean… what if I don’t have other skills? I washed dishes at a tavern after I ran away.”

“That’s a perfectly respectable thing to do if that’s what you wanna do.” 

“I don’t want to do that. Well, maybe I do. There’s so much I don’t even know exists, and I feel like I lost so much time.” She sighs again and shakes herself. “Sorry. I’ll let you go now.” 

“There’s a village a day’s walk that way,” Techno blurts out. Niki gives him a confused look. (what?) “And another three more miles out, and— well, it’s a lot of farmland between there and the foothills, with a lot of little villages.” 

“And?”

“You don’t know where to go next, and I don’t know where to go next, and you’re a lot more tolerable than most people, and we’ve both proven we can survive off the land if we need to, so maybe we could just pick a direction and see if someone needs us?” Techno regrets saying it the moment he says it. Why can’t he ever just be normal, or at least stop trying to do normal-people things like having friends and plans?

“I’m glad you think I’m tolerable,” Niki says finally, lips twisting into a bemused half-smile.

“Heh— It’s a compliment,” Techno insists, “most people aren’t!”

Niki rolls her eyes, but then her face actually gets thoughtful. “Did you know that the faithful don’t believe in any kind of fate or chance? If you didn’t specifically work to get something, it wasn’t real and you aren’t allowed to take it. It never really occurred to me to question that until now.” She laughs somewhat bitterly. “Y’know what? Yeah, I’m in. Let’s see what the universe can throw at us.” (hell yes) (oh no)

Techno smiles despite himself. “Let’s go. Do you have everything?”

Niki nods and pats the strap of her pack. “I don’t have much to begin with, so… yeah.” She hesitates, frowns slightly. “Do you know where Phil is?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen him since I went to your match,” Techno responds. “Why?”

“We could ask him to come with us, maybe?” Niki shrugs. “It’s probably a dumb idea, but it kind of feels like he should be with us.”

“Didn’t you used to hate him?” Techno asks, eyebrows raised mockingly. 

“ Used to hate him,” Niki says. “But he should come with us. I mean, if he wants to.”

“If we can find him, I bet he will.” Techno has no idea if Phil will make himself findable, and he hates to admit that the thought of Phil vanishing is upsetting.

The two of them do end up spotting Phil on their way out of town, circling above them. Techno isn’t sure Phil meant to be seen, he’s high up enough that he could almost be mistaken for a hawk, but Niki waves at him anyway.

Almost a block later, Phil swoops down next to them. “Hey.”

“Hey Phil.” Niki glances at Techno, suddenly seeming nervous. Techno looks back at her. 

“Are you two okay?” Phil asks, eyes darting between them. 

“We’re fine,” Niki assures him. “Are you leaving town?” 

Phil shrugs. “It’s time, so yeah. That’s what you’re doing, right?” 

“Pretty much,” Niki agrees. “Do you wanna come with us?” 

Phil looks almost puzzled. “Where are you going?” 

“Just around,” Techno admits. “We don’t have anywhere to go, so we’re goin’ into the countryside that way, see if there’s anythin’ to see or if people need help with stuff.” It’s a pretty usual thing for him, but he doesn’t know if this is what Phil’s done with his immortality. 

Phil nods easily. (no shock there) “You sure you guys want me?” (gods poor guy)

Techno must know Phil better than he thought, because he can hear the real anxiety under Phil’s light tone. “Yes. C’mon, Phil, do you think either of us would be willing to be polite to someone we don’t actually like?” 

“Fair enough,” Phil laughs. “I take no responsibility for when you get tired of me.” 

Niki shoves at him and starts down the street again. “Yeah, whatever. We’re burning daylight.” (you tell him) 

With a final glance at Phil and the Tournament building, Techno follows Niki towards the open road.