Chapter Text
The Nether was hot.
It was always hot.
The air burned his throat every time he breathed, carrying ash that settled into his hair and clothes until he couldn't remember what clean felt like. The ground was rough against his bare feet, and every step sent a fresh jolt of pain through his legs.
He kept running anyway.
He didn't know where he was going.
Only that he couldn't stop.
Something cracked behind him.
An arrow buried itself in the netherrack inches from his foot.
Wemmbu yelped and stumbled, nearly falling.
"No..."
His voice came out small.
Weak.
Another arrow flew past.
He ran harder.
The crimson trees blurred together around him as wither skeletons emerged from the haze, bows drawn. He didn't know why they were chasing him.
Maybe monsters just chased little kids.
Maybe that was how the Nether worked.
His chest hurt.
His legs felt heavy.
His tail dragged against the ground as he pushed himself forward.
Then another arrow caught his arm.
Pain flared through him.
He hit the ground hard.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs.
Wemmbu curled in on himself automatically, wrapping his tail close and covering his head with his arms.
Maybe if he stayed very still...
Maybe they would go away.
The footsteps stopped around him.
He heard bows creak.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
...Then someone sighed.
"Really?"
A heavy impact shook the ground.
Bones shattered.
Another crash.
Another.
Wemmbu slowly opened one eye.
A stranger stood between him and the skeletons.
Tall.
Broad.
A crimson cape hung from his shoulders, stirring in the heat.
Pink hair.
A golden crown.
And in his hands rested a massive netherite axe.
One skeleton rushed him.
The stranger swung once.
The monster exploded into scattered bones.
Another fired an arrow.
He blocked it with his shield before charging forward.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each swing ended another fight before it could begin.
He didn't look angry.
He looked inconvenienced.
Like he'd been mining one moment and this had become his problem the next.
Within seconds, the forest was quiet again.
The stranger rested the axe on his shoulder.
"...Well, that was rude."
Only then did he look down.
Purple eyes stared back at him.
A tiny hybrid child sat in the ash, trembling, short purple hair matted with soot. Small horns peeked through the mess, and a thin tail was wrapped tightly around shaking legs.
The kid couldn't have been older than five.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then the child flinched.
The stranger immediately lowered his weapon.
"...Hey."
His voice was quieter now.
"I'm not gonna hurt you."
Wemmbu had heard kind voices before.
They never stayed kind.
He tried to stand.
His legs gave out beneath him.
The last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him was the stranger muttering,
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Technoblade stared at the unconscious child.
"...Seriously?"
The voices in his head, for once, were completely unhelpful.
TAKE THE CHILD.
FREE CHILD ACQUIRED.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW SON.
"No," Techno muttered.
The child didn't answer.
Of course he didn't.
He was unconscious.
Techno crouched down, setting his axe against the ground. Up close, the kid looked even worse.
Covered in ash.
A torn shirt that was at least two sizes too big.
Little cuts covered his arms and legs, mixed with older scars that had long since healed.
His breathing was shallow.
Techno frowned.
"What exactly happened to you, kid?"
There was no answer.
He looked around the crimson forest.
Nothing.
No camp.
No supplies.
No adults searching for a missing child.
Just endless red trees and the remains of several wither skeletons.
The kid was alone.
Techno had lived long enough to know what that usually meant.
He let out a long sigh.
"I was supposed to be mining."
The voices laughed.
NOT ANYMORE.
YOU HAVE BEEN ADOPTED.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD.
CHILDCARE FOR THE CHILDCARE THRONE.
"I hate all of you."
Carefully, he slipped one arm under the child's back and another beneath his knees.
The kid barely weighed anything.
That bothered him more than it should have.
As soon as he lifted him, the little hybrid tensed.
Tiny hands grabbed onto the front of Techno's shirt without waking up.
His tail wrapped loosely around Techno's arm.
The kid made a small sound.
Not a word.
Just a frightened little whimper.
Techno froze.
"...It's fine."
The words came out awkwardly.
He wasn't exactly used to comforting people.
"The skeletons are dead."
The child didn't wake.
His grip just tightened.
Techno glanced down at him before looking toward the long tunnel that led back to his temporary Nether shelter.
He had enough food.
Enough potions.
A spare bed.
He could let the kid recover for a day or two.
Then he'd figure out where he belonged.
Simple.
Definitely not adopting him.
Absolutely not.
The voices immediately disagreed.
THAT IS YOUR CHILD NOW.
Techno rolled his eyes.
"No, he isn't."
The little hybrid buried his face against Techno's shoulder.
Techno was quiet for a moment.
"...I'm still not keeping him."
The voices cackled the entire walk home.
The walk back was quiet.
Not because the Nether was peaceful.
Far from it.
Ghasts cried somewhere in the distance, their haunting calls echoing across the caverns. Lava bubbled beneath ancient blackstone cliffs, and occasionally a piglin patrol would wander into view before spotting Technoblade and deciding they had somewhere else to be.
The child never woke up.
Techno glanced down every few minutes anyway.
Still breathing.
Good.
He reached the entrance to his temporary hideout—a small fortress room he had cleared out while searching for ancient debris. It wasn't much.
A chest.
A crafting table.
A furnace.
A single bed shoved into the corner.
Techno looked at the bed.
Then at the child.
"...Well."
He gently laid the kid down.
The moment he tried to pull away, tiny fingers latched onto his sleeve.
Techno blinked.
The child was still asleep.
His face was scrunched up like he was having a nightmare.
"No..."
The word was barely louder than a whisper.
"Please..."
Techno stood there awkwardly.
The voices immediately took advantage.
AWWWW.
HE LIKES YOU.
LOOK AT THE TINY ORPHAN.
YOU CAN'T LEAVE NOW.
"I absolutely can."
He tried to move his arm.
The kid's grip somehow tightened.
Techno stared at him.
"...How are you this strong?"
No response.
Just another quiet, frightened sound.
Techno sighed.
He pulled over the nearby chair and sat down.
"I'm only staying until you let go."
The voices laughed.
SURE YOU ARE.
Minutes passed.
The kid's breathing slowly steadied.
Techno finally had a chance to actually look at him.
Purple hair.
Purple skin.
Small horns poking through the messy strands.
A thin tail curled around itself under the blanket.
Some kind of hybrid.
Techno had met plenty before.
Foxes.
Cats.
Avian.
Even a few piglin hybrids like him.
Whatever this kid was, he didn't recognize it.
Not that it mattered.
A hybrid was a hybrid.
He looked down at the cuts covering the child's arms.
Some were fresh.
Some were old.
Far too old for someone this young.
Techno's expression darkened.
Those weren't monster wounds.
Someone had hurt him.
The thought sat heavily in his chest.
After a while, the child finally stirred.
Purple eyes slowly opened.
For a second, he just stared at the stone ceiling.
Then he realized where he was.
He shot upright.
His eyes landed on Technoblade.
He scrambled backward across the bed until his back hit the wall.
His tail puffed up behind him.
Techno stayed exactly where he was.
His axe remained leaning against the opposite wall.
His hands rested in his lap.
"...Morning."
The kid didn't answer.
He just stared.
Techno reached into his inventory and pulled out a piece of cooked pork.
"You look hungry."
The child's eyes locked onto the food.
Then he looked back at Techno.
Suspicion.
Fear.
Confusion.
Slowly, Techno set the food down on the floor between them and leaned back.
"You can have it."
The child didn't move.
Techno waited.
A minute passed.
Then another.
The pork sat untouched on the stone floor.
The child never took his eyes off Technoblade.
The fear in them wasn't the kind you saw in someone cornered by monsters.
It was worse.
It was the look of someone waiting for the trick.
Techno glanced at the food.
Then back at the kid.
"...It's not poisoned."
No response.
The little hybrid only shrank further into the corner.
His tail wrapped tightly around his legs.
The voices, surprisingly, stayed quiet.
Techno picked up the pork.
The child's entire body tensed.
Techno looked at it for a second before taking a bite himself.
He chewed.
Swallowed.
Then held out the half-eaten piece.
"See?"
Nothing.
The kid didn't move.
Techno sighed.
"Right."
He finished the rest himself and reached back into his inventory, pulling out another piece.
This time, he simply placed it on the bed beside him.
"If you want it, take it."
Then he stood up.
The child flinched so hard he nearly fell backward.
Techno paused.
"...I'm getting coal."
He pointed toward the furnace.
"I'm not leaving."
Slowly, deliberately, he walked across the room and knelt by the furnace, pretending to organize supplies.
The silence stretched on.
A minute.
Two.
Three.
Behind him, he heard fabric rustle.
Tiny footsteps.
Then they stopped.
Techno didn't turn around.
The voices whispered.
Don't look.
You'll scare him.
Another quiet step.
Then another.
A small hand reached out.
It grabbed the pork.
The child darted back to the corner so quickly that Techno almost missed it.
He still didn't eat.
He still didn't eat.
Instead, he clutched the pork tightly in both hands.
Like he was afraid it would disappear.
Technoblade noticed from the corner of his eye but didn't say anything.
The kid stared at the food.
Then toward the room's exit.
Then back at the food.
His gaze darted around nervously.
Calculating.
Waiting.
For what, Techno wasn't sure.
A few seconds later, the child carefully lifted the edge of the blanket.
Then he shoved the pork underneath it.
Techno blinked.
The kid immediately froze.
As if he'd been caught doing something terrible.
"..."
"..."
The little hybrid stared at him.
Techno stared back.
The voices immediately started laughing.
HE'S HIDING IT.
TREASURE ACQUIRED.
SMALL CREATURE BEHAVIOR.
HE THINKS THE FOOD IS RARE LOOT.
The kid slowly pulled the blanket over the hidden pork.
Then sat on it.
Protectively.
Techno looked away before he accidentally laughed.
The child seemed to relax a fraction.
Only a fraction.
A stomach growled loudly.
The kid froze.
Techno heard it too.
The child immediately wrapped his arms around himself.
Like that would somehow stop it.
Another growl echoed through the room.
Louder this time.
Techno sighed.
"You're hungry."
The kid looked horrified that his stomach had betrayed him.
"No."
The response came instantly.
Techno raised an eyebrow.
The kid's stomach growled again.
"...Right."
The child looked away.
A stubborn expression crossed his face.
Technoblade had seen that look before.
Mostly in himself.
The realization was deeply unfortunate.
He stood and walked toward one of the chests.
The little hybrid immediately tensed again.
Techno opened it.
Pulled out three more pieces of cooked pork.
And a loaf of bread.
The kid's eyes widened.
Without a word, Techno walked over and placed them on a nearby table.
Not beside the child.
Not close enough to feel threatening.
Just within sight.
Then he returned to the furnace.
The child stared.
And stared.
And stared.
His gaze never left the food.
Minutes passed.
Eventually, curiosity won.
Slowly, he slid off the bed.
One foot touched the floor.
Then the other.
He crept forward like he expected the food to bite him.
Technoblade pretended not to notice.
The voices were having the time of their lives.
LOOK AT HIM GO.
NATURAL HABITAT.
THE ORPHAN APPROACHES THE FEEDING STATION.
The child reached the table.
His hand hovered over the bread.
Then stopped.
He glanced toward Technoblade.
The warrior wasn't looking at him.
At least, not directly.
The child hesitated.
Then carefully picked up the loaf.
Nothing happened.
Nobody yelled.
Nobody grabbed him.
Nobody hit him.
Confusion flickered across his face.
Slowly, he took a bite.
Then another.
Then another.
By the time Technoblade risked a glance over, the kid had tiny bites ripped off the loaf and was clutching the rest to his chest like someone might steal it.
For the first time since waking up, the child looked a little less afraid.
Not safe.
Not comfortable.
Just...
Less afraid.
Techno considered that a victory.
A small one.
But a victory nonetheless.
Months have passed since Technoblade took the fragile young hybrid in. Technoblade wasn’t the greatest with kids per se but it worked out nevertheless. Although Wemmbu had learned to trust the piglin man he still had his moments. Occasionally when Techno would touch or even come near Wemmbu the boy would do 1 of 3 things, either run away and hide, freeze up, or bite Techno and hiss and growl at him like some feral animal.
At first, Techno thought it would fade quickly.
It didn’t.
The Nether didn’t exactly raise stable children.
Wemmbu learned fast, though. Faster than Techno expected. He learned where to walk so he wouldn’t fall into lava cracks hidden under blackstone. He learned which sounds meant ghasts and which meant piglin patrols. He learned how to sit perfectly still when danger passed, like becoming invisible was a skill you could practice.
And slowly, almost without either of them noticing, the house stopped feeling like a temporary shelter.
It became… routine.
Morning meant waking up to the furnace already lit. Techno didn’t remember lighting it half the time. He just assumed Wemmbu had started doing it after watching him enough times.
Meals were quiet.
Not peaceful. Just quiet in the way that meant no one was sure what was safe to say yet.
Wemmbu still didn’t speak much.
When he did, it was short. Fractured words. Like every sentence had to be carefully pulled out of somewhere painful.
Techno didn’t push.
He learned early that pushing made the kid shut down completely.
So instead, he watched.
And he adjusted.
The first time Wemmbu ran away again, it was almost nothing.
Just a hand brushing his shoulder.
Techno hadn’t meant anything by it. He was checking a cut on the kid’s arm—one that had reopened during a fall near basalt cliffs. A simple touch.
Wemmbu froze.
The entire room went still.
Then he was gone.
One second on the bed.
Next second, a blur of purple and ash darting out the door like the Nether itself had bitten him.
Techno didn’t chase immediately.
He just stood there.
“…Right,” he muttered.
The voices, as always, were useless.
HE’S GONE FOREVER.
YOU SCARED THE CHILD.
YOU HAVE FAILED CHILDCARE SIMULATION.
“No, I haven’t,” Techno said flatly.
He grabbed his axe anyway.
Wemmbu wasn’t far.
He never was.
That was the thing Techno started noticing. The kid ran, but not far. Like part of him expected nowhere to actually be safe, so distance didn’t matter.
He found him crouched behind a cluster of warped roots, tail wrapped so tightly around himself it looked painful.
Shaking.
Not crying.
Just… locked.
Techno stopped a few blocks away.
Didn’t move closer.
Didn’t speak at first.
Then:
“You’re not in trouble.”
No response.
The wind hissed through the crimson forest.
Techno lowered his axe and sat on a nearby rock instead.
Silence stretched.
Minutes passed.
Finally, Wemmbu’s voice came out.
Small.
“…You touched me.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
That got nothing either.
Techno exhaled slowly.
He wasn’t good at this part.
Fighting? Easy.
Negotiation? Manageable.
Explaining to a traumatized hybrid child that physical contact wasn’t always a threat? Not exactly in the tutorial.
“…I can stop,” he added.
That made Wemmbu shift slightly.
Like the idea of control mattered more than the promise.
“…Okay,” the kid said after a long time.
Techno nodded once.
“Okay.”
And that was it.
No dramatic return.
No reconciliation moment.
Wemmbu just slowly stood up and walked back beside him at a distance that was carefully measured.
Far enough not to touch.
Close enough not to disappear.
It became a pattern after that.
Touch meant permission first.
Permission meant safety.
Safety meant rules.
Wemmbu learned rules faster than emotions.
He learned that Techno always came back.
He learned that food wasn’t a trap.
He learned that the axe wasn’t for him.
But trust… that part lagged behind.
Because trust wasn’t logical.
And Wemmbu was surviving too hard to be logical about it.
One night, the Nether was louder than usual.
Ghasts screamed closer than normal. Piglins moved in tight groups, nervous. Even the lava felt like it was bubbling more aggressively, like the whole dimension was unsettled.
Techno noticed immediately.
Wemmbu did too.
But differently.
Wemmbu noticed with fear.
Techno noticed with calculation.
Something was nearby.
Something big enough to shift behavior patterns.
Techno stood up from the crafting table.
Wemmbu immediately stiffened.
“…Stay here,” Techno said.
The words barely left his mouth before Wemmbu was already shaking his head.
“No.”
Simple.
Immediate.
Techno looked at him.
“…It’s not a request,” he said.
Wemmbu’s fingers curled into the edge of his shirt.
“No,” he repeated.
Longer this time.
Strained.
Techno frowned slightly.
That was new.
Wemmbu usually backed down when it sounded like an order.
Not today.
The kid swallowed.
“I—” he started, then stopped.
His tail flicked sharply.
“I’m not staying.”
Silence.
Techno studied him.
The fear wasn’t just panic this time.
It was anticipation.
Like something outside was worse than anything inside.
That… wasn’t good.
“…Fine,” Techno said finally.
Wemmbu blinked.
“You stay behind me.”
No argument.
Just a small nod.
They left the shelter together.
The Nether felt wrong.
That was the only way Techno could describe it.
Like the air was heavier.
Like the dimension itself was holding its breath.
And then they saw it.
A patrol.
But not piglins.
Not skeletons.
Something else.
Armored figures moving with coordinated precision through the crimson forest, scanning. Not hunting randomly.
Searching.
Wemmbu froze instantly.
Techno felt it before he saw it.
The way the kid’s breathing changed.
The way his posture collapsed inward.
“…You know them,” Techno said quietly.
No answer.
That was answer enough.
One of the armored figures turned slightly.
Paused.
Looked directly in their direction.
Techno’s hand tightened on his axe.
Wemmbu whispered, barely audible:
“…Don’t let them see me.”
That changed everything.
Techno didn’t ask questions.
Not then.
He just moved.
Fast.
One step forward, blocking Wemmbu from view.
“Stay behind me,” he repeated, sharper this time.
Wemmbu didn’t argue.
Didn’t run.
Didn’t freeze.
Just obeyed.
The armored figure started approaching.
Slow.
Certain.
Like they already knew what they were going to find.
Techno tilted his head slightly.
“…You lost?” he called out.
The figure stopped.
A beat.
Then:
“Hand over the hybrid.”
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Wemmbu went rigid behind him.
Techno’s expression didn’t change.
But the air around him did.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
“…No.”
The Nether, for a moment, felt like it paused completely.
Then the figure raised a weapon.
And Techno smiled.
Not kindly.
Not warmly.
Like something had finally become simple again.
The silence broke like glass.
The moment the armored figure finished the sentence, Technoblade moved.
Not fast in a flashy way—fast in the way that meant the decision had already been made long before anyone else realized there was a choice.
The axe came down once.
The first strike didn’t look dramatic.
It didn’t need to.
The figure staggered back, armor splitting under the impact, and Techno stepped forward into the space they left behind like it already belonged to him.
Another came in from the side.
Blocked.
A shove.
A counter-swing.
The Nether filled with the sound of metal, impact, and panic trying to become organized again.
But it never got the chance.
Techno didn’t let fights become fights.
He ended them before they could stabilize.
One by one, the armored figures collapsed into scattered equipment and silence, their coordination turning useless the moment their leader stopped giving orders.
The crimson forest went still again.
Only the heat remained.
Only the ash.
Technoblade stood there for a moment, axe resting on his shoulder, breathing steady.
“…That’s what I thought,” he muttered.
No more movement.
No more voices in the distance.
Just the familiar quiet of a problem solved.
He exhaled slowly and turned back toward where Wemmbu had been standing.
“…Alright,” he called. “It’s over.”
No answer.
He frowned.
“Wemmbu?”
Still nothing.
That’s when he noticed it.
The space behind him was empty.
No small purple figure.
No trembling presence tucked behind his shadow.
Just ash drifting through air that felt suddenly too open.
Techno’s expression didn’t change immediately.
But his grip tightened slightly on the axe.
“…Don’t tell me,” he said quietly.
He scanned the forest.
No movement.
No footprints that made sense.
Just scattered disturbance—like someone had bolted the moment attention wasn’t on them.
He clicked his tongue.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The defeated players lay scattered across the crimson ground, their gear dropped in loose piles.
Techno walked through it slowly, crouching every few steps, rifling through items with sharp efficiency.
Food. Weapons. Potions.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing that explained anything.
“Why were they even here?” he muttered.
The voices, unusually quiet, didn’t help.
He picked up a map fragment.
Blank.
Useless.
Another item.
Another.
“…What do you want with a four-year-old?” he asked under his breath.
No answer came from the Nether.
Only heat.
Only silence.
Techno straightened slowly.
His eyes narrowed.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he said.
And for once, the problem wasn’t a fight.
It was the target.
A child.
A hybrid child.
One who barely spoke.
Barely understood the world he was in.
And yet someone had sent trained fighters into the Nether specifically for him.
Techno looked back toward the path they had come from.
Empty.
“…Where did you go?”
He didn’t think.
He just ran.
The moment the fighting started again, something inside him snapped into the same shape it always did.
Danger.
Escape.
Disappear.
His feet hit the blackstone path hard, slipping once before he corrected himself and kept moving. The Nether blurred around him in streaks of red and heat, branches scratching his arms as he forced himself through tight gaps between warped roots.
He didn’t look back.
Looking back meant seeing things.
Seeing things meant freezing.
Freezing meant getting caught.
And getting caught meant—
No.
No.
Not again.
His chest burned.
His legs shook.
But he kept running anyway, because running was the only thing that had ever worked before.
The noise behind him faded slowly.
Not because it stopped.
Because he got far enough away that it didn’t matter anymore.
Only then did his mind start catching up.
He slowed without meaning to.
Stopped behind a ridge of crimson fungus, pressing himself low, breathing too fast.
His hands were shaking.
“…Techno,” he whispered.
No response.
Just the echo of his own voice swallowed by the Nether.
He swallowed hard.
The world felt too big again.
Too open.
Too unprotected.
He looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else.
Then, quieter:
“I shouldn’t have stayed.”
His tail curled tightly around his leg.
A habit.
A shield.
Somewhere behind him, far away, the fighting was over now.
But he didn’t know that.
All he knew was the silence that followed danger.
And silence usually meant something was coming next.
Slowly, carefully, Wemmbu started moving again.
Not forward.
Not back.
Just away.
Wemmbu didn’t realize how far he’d run until the trees started thinning.
The crimson roots gave way to broken patches of open netherrack, and the air changed again—still hot, still harsh, but emptier somehow. Less crowded. Less alive.
He slowed.
Not because he felt safe.
Because he was tired.
His lungs burned every time he breathed. His legs felt like they’d been filled with gravel. He kept moving anyway, small feet slipping over rough stone until something ahead made him stop completely.
A shape stood in the distance.
Tall.
Rectangular.
Still.
Wemmbu stared at it, confused at first, until recognition clicked into place.
A portal.
He had seen them before.
He had walked through them with Technoblade more times than he could count, usually with Techno muttering something about “getting supplies” and “absolutely not staying in this awful dimension any longer than necessary.”
The glowing frame looked half-broken, but it was still active.
Purple light shimmered inside it.
Wemmbu’s breath caught.
The Overworld.
His throat tightened.
He stood there for a long moment, just looking.
The Nether around him felt even worse now, like it was pressing in from every direction. The heat crawled under his skin. His stomach twisted. His head felt too light and too heavy at the same time.
Techno had noticed that pattern early.
Whenever the Nether stayed too long on him, something about the kid changed. He got quieter. Paler. Shaky. Sometimes he would just sit in one place and stare at nothing, looking miserable and exhausted like the whole dimension was draining him dry.
Techno never figured out what kind of hybrid he was.
But he figured out one thing fast.
Whatever he was, he was not built for this place.
That was why, every couple of weeks, Techno made him drink a fire resistance potion whether he liked it or not.
Usually, Wemmbu hated that too.
Only a week after Techno found him.
Wemmbu had been sick.
Really sick.
It had started with him refusing food, which Techno noticed immediately because the kid never wasted a chance to grab anything edible. Then came the fever.
At first, Techno thought it was just Nether heat getting to him.
Then Wemmbu started shaking.
Then throwing up.
Then collapsing every time he tried to stand.
Techno had known immediately that this was different.
Not just tired.
Not just scared.
Sick enough that even the child’s usual instinct to fight back wasn’t working right.
Still, he fought anyway.
That part hadn’t changed.
Techno had tried to get him to lie down, and Wemmbu had hissed at him like a cornered animal, weak but furious, swatting at his hands with more stubbornness than strength.
“No.”
Techno had crouched beside the bed.
“You need to eat something.”
“No.”
“You need water.”
“No.”
“You need to stop trying to bite me.”
Wemmbu had attempted to bite him anyway.
It had been pathetic, honestly. Angry, yes, but wobbly and half-aimed because he was so feverish he could barely see straight.
Techno had leaned back just enough to avoid it.
“Okay,” he had said, deadpan. “That one was fair.”
Wemmbu had looked miserable even while growling at him.
His face had been flushed.
His breathing uneven.
His whole body hot enough that Techno had worried the fever itself was going to win.
The child had turned his head away from the bowl of food Techno placed nearby and whispered, hoarse and furious, “Don’t want it.”
Techno had stared at him for a second.
Then at the untouched food.
Then back at the kid.
“…You are a disaster.”
Wemmbu had glared at him.
Techno had opened his mouth to say something else, then paused when the kid suddenly looked sick again.
That had been the beginning of a long, miserable afternoon.
Techno had ended up sitting beside him through most of it, forcing water into him in tiny amounts, keeping the kid from rolling off the bed, and repeatedly getting hissed at for his trouble.
At some point, Wemmbu had curled in on himself, trembling, and Techno had muttered, mostly to himself, “I don’t know what the hell you are, but you’re definitely not okay in this place.”
The kid hadn’t answered.
He’d just looked small.
Too small.
That sickness led to the start of the fire potions.
The memory hit him before he could stop it.
Techno standing in the shelter, holding out a small glass bottle.
“Drink it.”
Wemmbu had been suspicious from the start.
He had learned suspiciousness young.
The bottle had glowed faintly in the torchlight, thick red liquid sloshing inside. He’d stared at it like it might bite.
“No.”
Techno had sighed the way he always did when the kid acted like every normal thing was a trap.
“It’s fire resistance.”
Wemmbu had narrowed his eyes.
“No.”
Techno had held it closer.
“Wemmbu.”
The kid had backed up.
“No.”
Then Techno had set it down on the table and stepped away like he was trying very hard not to make the whole thing worse.
Wemmbu had still not moved.
He had just watched the potion like it was plotting against him.
Techno had muttered, “You do realize I’m the one keeping you from getting cooked alive down here, right?”
Wemmbu had bared his teeth a little.
That had only made Techno look more tired.
“Fine,” Techno had said. “You can suffer dramatically later. Right now you’re drinking the potion.”
Wemmbu had folded his arms.
Techno had not been amused.
The worst part was that Techno had been right.
The potion always helped.
The kid hated admitting it.
The memory faded.
Wemmbu stared at the portal again.
His stomach twisted, but not from sickness this time.
A portal meant Overworld.
Overworld meant being gone from the hot Nether that he was suddenly abandoned in.
He took a slow step forward.
Then another.
The purple shimmer filled his vision, soft and unreal against the brutal red of the Nether. He could hear it humming faintly. He had walked through enough portals to know the sound.
This one was close enough to use.
His breathing changed.
For the first time since he ran, the fear inside him shifted.
Not gone.
Just different.
He wanted to be with Techno but he also wanted to get out of this horrid dimension.
Hard decisions.
Wemmbu swallowed.
He moved closer to the frame, small fingers brushing the rough edge of the obsidian.
Cold.
That surprised him.
He stared at his hand.
Then, slowly, he stepped through.
The purple light swallowed him whole.
And the Nether disappeared behind him.