Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Technoblade was about ninety-nine percent sure that this was not normal.

To be fair, he was not sure what was normal for his species. Growing up as a Piglin among humans in the Overworld had never been an issue until now. What would he give to know how to speak his species’ language to ask, "Hey, what the hell is going on?”

While he could not prove it, Techno was certain his Nether portal had something to do with this, what with how the portal had shattered the second he attempted to step out of it. The way the magic swirling around him had shifted, then sharpened, then dug itself into his skin and tore him out of its threshold sent shivers down his spine.
Only once he could taste ash in the air did the portal collapse against him, crumbling into chunks of obsidian and wisps of useless magic.

Now, with the portal in shatters and Technoblade shuddering pitifully at its base, he could see just what it had done to him.

He could just barely make out his reflection on the obsidian surface.
It was him, technically, if he was large and piggish, covered in a dusty pink coat of coarse hair with two sets of ivory tusks protruding out of his bottom lip. His irises were lost in the glowing white sclera of his eye, and he could feel a long and thin tail whipping back and forth at the base of his spine, irritable.

A Hoglin. Something in the portal had turned Techno into a Hoglin. Or something else; he could not rule out a possible curse from that witch he had crossed a few days ago. She had been awfully adamant that he would live to regret stealing from her. Techno did not think it would matter much once she was dead.

Perhaps it was the Illagers chasing him just moments before that did this. The Vindicators could not possibly harness this kind of magic, but maybe an Evoker had picked up a new spell or two. Techno had never heard of an Evoker transforming another creature, but he had seen weirder things in his lifetime.

Nevertheless, he was a Hoglin now, unable to muster even a few words of disdain out of his maw.

Grumbling, Techno scraped his hooves into the soul sand beneath him and tried to get up, falling back into the sand when his new weight toppled him over. Even without the difficulties, Techno could tell he was massive, much larger than a normal Hoglin. He was almost afraid to stand up, fearing his legs would be unable to support his new weight.

‘Thank Gods, no one is here to see me like this,’ He prayed silently.

He took the time to take a look at where he had landed. New portal, new spawn point, and all that. When he looked over his shoulder, he could see the faint glow of a lava pool behind the expanse of soul sand. There wasn't a man-made structure for miles, and any sign of human life was nonexistent. Only the distant screeches of ghasts filled the silence around him.

‘Could you be any more dramatic?’ he asked himself, mockingly.

‘First things first, get up,’ he thought. He heaved out a sigh and shakily lifted himself to his knees and then to his hooves, only to fall back into the sand in a shuddering heap.

‘Easier said than done.’

Every time he attempted to lift himself, Techno's mind would smolder like glowstone dust, leaving him aching, but he ignored it. He just had to ignore everything wrong with this until he could get to the Overworld and figure all of this out in the safety of his own home.

Techno grunted and tried again, shaking the clumps of sand from his hair-- fur? Slowly– incredibly slowly, in his opinion– he rose and took a few trembling steps away from the portal.
He stumbled over his hooves, cursing the weight that rolled him on top of himself with each step. And this heat! It was like the Nether was trying to boil him alive. If anything, he needed to get out of this hell hole to prevent a heat stroke.

After a few more tries and subsequent tumbles, Technoblade was able to meagerly walk around without stumbling and falling to his knees. With a triumphant grunt, Techno turned to look at what remained of his portal.

Much to his dismay, the portal was in ruins. Any chance of salvaging anything from its remains was unimaginable. Even if he had hands, the chunks of obsidian were either too small or too misshapen to mold into a new portal. He did not even have flint and steel to light it.
Even worse, underneath the rubble, Techno could see the tattered remnants of his bright red cloak and the burnt edges of its lush fur. He could barely make out the gold of his crown under a particularly large chunk of obsidian, but the scattered shards of the precious gemstones that had once been embedded into it all around him were proof enough: his clothes were good as gone.

Techno's ears flattened against his skull. He had really liked that crown. It stung to see both of his favorite accessories demolished like that, and it only added to the hopelessness of the whole situation.

He nosed the ground and dragged his front hoof through the dirt, pacing in a circle as he gathered his thoughts.

So, he was in the Nether. Fine. He had no portal. It could be worse. There were plenty of portals scattered around the Nether, not to mention the few left by L’manberg’s citizens. If Techno chose a direction and started walking, he would come upon one eventually. It was leagues better than sitting here with his head in the ground. If he followed the lava shore, he should find something– anything. He could deal with the Hoglin nonsense once he was home.

Techno took one last somber glance at his portal and began walking.

‘Really, how hard could this be?’

With the lava ocean shore on his left and the suffocating heat on his back, Techno felt like he had been walking for hours. The seas of sand blurred over his vision like static. If he had to stare at another grain of sand Techno swore he would tear out his eyes.

He had gotten so used to the silence that it had twisted itself into a constant ringing in his ears, only drowned out by his own thoughts.

‘Just a bit more,’ Techno thought to himself, ignoring the persistent howling, ‘I’ve got to find something eventually.’

Techno winced and whined as the ringing got sharper and louder, almost like a cry. Perhaps his ears were overly sensitive now, but it felt like the noise would split open his skull at any moment.

It was an embarrassing minute before Techno realized that the ringing might not have been in his head. He paused, ears flicking, and he waited for the sound again. Techno stepped away from the shore, tail jerking anxiously against his flank like it knew something was wrong. Then he heard the wail.

Techno reared back and started running, but he could hear the ghast chasing him from above, its hisses and wails echoing off the Nether ceiling. Techno shrieked when the ghast began spitting fireballs at him, using his massive body as glorified target practice.

How could he have been so careless? How had Techno been completely oblivious to the creature? These thoughts rushed through his head accusingly as Techno made a mad dash out from under the ghast's gaze.
Techno felt his lungs burn as he scrambled for any semblance of cover, dry heat ripping down his throat and settling in his lungs bitterly. He stumbled over loose soul sand and his own hooves as he tried to dodge the ghast’s attacks. When a fireball landed too close for Techno's taste, he jerked away violently, rolling over himself into the sand. He lifted his head with a groan, only to see the ghast charging up another fireball. Techno squealed and scrambled forward before it could hit him. He could feel its heat singing the tips of his hair.

Techno pulled himself up and tore his hooves into the sand in a frantic escape, searching for something– anything– that could be used as a shelter.
When the sand broke into stone under his hooves, he allowed himself a little bit of hope. Stone meant basalt, and basalt meant caves to hide in.

Techno snorted and pushed himself to go faster, just a little longer, and then he would be safe.

His hooves beat against the hard stone, and he could make out the outlines of the basalt mountains. On his tail, the ghast charged up another fireball, flying ever closer and whistling ever louder.

Techno closed his eyes, prayed, then twisted himself out of the line of fire and into a basalt wall. Just a few feet away, basalt crumbled under the fireball, but Techno paid it no mind as he clawed his way up and ducked under some of the rock.

Techno held his breath as he dragged himself into a small divot in the wall, ears turned back as if that could block out the ghast’s confused screeches and whimpers. Techno waited tensely for the ghast to leave, only taking a breath when he could hear the ghast fly away.

Techno slumped against the floor, breathing heavily. He choked on sand and chips of basalt, but, Gods, he could care less. The stone cooled his skin ever so slightly, and he was finally off his feet. Nothing could take this away from him.

“Um,” a voice echoed from the back of the cave, “how’d you do, mate?”

Techno looked up and squealed. Curled in on himself only a foot away from Techno’s snout was Philza, clutching a simple iron dagger to his chest like it would protect him from the giant Hoglin that just tore through his sanctuary.
He was panting and his feathers were ruffled up anxiously but, despite his fear, there was a familiar sea blue determination in Phil's eyes. Something you only earned when you'd lived long enough to know you could survive anything.

Like the rampaging Hoglin barely two feet away from him.

As Techno sat up, he had to muffle a snort. Of all the people to find out in the Nether’s wastelands, it had to be Phil. The one person who could help Techno, yet he could not recognize him under the curse.

Techno stood and stepped toward Phil, only to flinch back when Phil jabbed his dagger at Techno's broad chest.

Phil fumbled backward, putting some distance between him and Techno.

“Listen, I’ve-- uh-- had a long day and, from the look of it, you probably have too,” Phil rambled, a soft and nervous chuckle under his words. “I’d really like to catch my breath before you chase me out of here. So, truce?”

Techno huffed in agreement, shuffling closer. He should not have been surprised when Phil's dagger met his chest, the other hand shakily pushing his tusks away.

“Now come on, I don’t want any needless trouble.”

‘Yeah, me neither,’ Techno thought, rolling his eyes.

He lowered his head and rumbled low in his throat, motioning for Phil to move over. It took a few painstakingly slow moments, but Phil eventually relented and scooched over to give Techno some much-needed room.

Content with the current situation, Techno nosed his way beside Phil and curled in on himself, flopping onto the floor with a heady huff.

Phil was uncomfortably stiff for a long while but eventually relaxed against the wall. He looked as exhausted as Techno felt.

Phil asked, "I guess we can just wait here for a bit, right? Just until we can get up on our feet?"

Techno hoped he wasn’t expecting an answer.

Techno grumbled as he settled his head on his front legs, letting the Nether’s eerie sounds fill up the silence.

Phil coughed awkwardly. “You know, you, um, you don’t act like many Hoglins I’ve met in my day,” he said. Techno flicked his ear in acknowledgment.

“I mean, you're sweeter. Is that bad to say? Sorry mate, you’re just… more chilled out than I was expecting. I was pretty sure Hoglins were inherently hostile.” He chuckled, and Techno could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to make this situation a little better. “I guess you all have got some softies in your ranks.”

Techno scoffed and opened one eye lazily to look at him. He lugged his head over and plopped it next to Phil’s leg, making him jump. He chuffed deep in his belly, just barely a laugh. Phil tried to push his head away, even grabbing hold of his tusks in a poor attempt to move it.
When that failed, Phil accepted his fate with a groan.

Technoblade could feel the tension surrounding them, and it was so painfully ridiculous. Years of knowing Phil meant nothing to the man now, and it was like they were strangers. Worse than strangers, since Phil thought Techno was no more than a beast.

Which was not entirely untrue, but it did nothing to stop the agitation broiling in his stomach.

Tentatively, Phil placed his hand on Techno’s head, carding his fingers through the coarse hairs. Techno leaned into the touch unintentionally, little pleased grunts escaping his throat. Phil laughed at his reaction, scratching his nails over Techno’s scalp.

“Surely you got some of your own kind around here, eh? Some Hoglin buddies?” Phil asked.

Techno spared him a sad glance, then looked away, unsure how to react.

Phil hummed in understanding. At least, Techno thought he understood. It was hard to know what Phil was thinking on a normal day.

“You know, I’m missing my friend too,” Phil mumbled. Techno raised his head curiously, cocking his head as he listened.

“I’m out here looking for him, actually. He went out on a supply run and hasn’t been home in almost a week. I’ve been looking all over for him. The Nether seemed like the next logical place." Phil sighed, and removed his hat, running his hand through his hair. An anxious tick Techno had long since gotten used to, but not one that was typically targeted at him.

Techno cowered in shame. Had it really been that long since he had been home? He knew he had told Phil he would only be gone a few days– and, sure, it might have gone on longer than expected– but he did not expect Phil would get worried that fast.

The way Phil clutched his dagger or dragged his hand through his hair and toyed with it said otherwise.

The image was reminiscent of his attempted execution. Watching Phil stand by at a window sill, stunned to near silence, as his friend was placed on a podium and put to death was one of the worst experiences of Techno's life.
He had sworn he would never make Phil look like that ever again. Gods, did he ruin that.
Techno looked at Phil now. He looked so tired, more tired than Techno remembered. He did not want to think about how long Phil had been out looking for him.

Techno nudged him in a vague attempt at comfort. Phil looked down at him and smiled a bit, scratching the top of his snout with a chuckle.

“Thanks, mate,” said Phil, leaning back into the wall and looking up at the stone ceiling. Then Phil straightened up, a new light in his eyes.

“You know, you could help me look for him if you have nothing better to do. I would appreciate the help, and you could find some of your buddies to group up with."

As Phil prattled on about everywhere he had searched thus far, Techno desperately wished he could tell him, “I’m right here, you don’t need to find me, I’m here,” but that wasn’t happening any time soon.
Instead, he could work with this. Techno could “search” with Phil, wait until he gave up on the Nether, and led them back to his portal. Then they could go home and solve this Hoglin problem where it was safe. Anywhere was better than the Nether at this point, where one slow move could be his last.

With newfound determination and a shred of a plan, Techno nodded, and Phil’s eyes lit up.

“Perfect, two sets of eyes will be better than one,” Phil replied, turning onto his side and shuffling into a more comfortable position.

Phil placed something under his head, and Techno realized he was using his flimsy hat like a pillow on the stone. He shook his head and nosed Phil up.
Before Phil could complain, Techno curled his body around Phil, settling down on the cave floor. Phil tensed up, then relaxed, leaning back into Techno’s shoulder meat.
Phil grumbled as he got comfortable, but Techno could make out the small sigh of relief. It made his heart swell with pride. He could help Phil out here just as much as Phil would be helping him.

Phil mumbled something soft, something along the lines of, “You’re going to love Techno when you meet him. He’s a big ol’ softie, like you," and, "You’ll fit right in with us, mate."
Techno half-listened to Phil’s slowing breaths until they broke into soft snores. Techno took one last look at the mouth of the cave, watching the ghasts overhead. For the first time since he ended up in the Nether, he truly felt like he could get back home and fix all of this.

With that, Techno allowed exhaustion to take him, lulled to sleep by the sounds of lava.

Chapter Text

So this was not the chapter update I was expecting, but I feel like I should still talk about what has happened.

For those of you unaware, Technoblade passed away after his hard fought battle with sarcoma. His family made a video last night that shared a final message from him.

This news was incredibly shocking and heartbreaking, and I feel for everyone grieving right now— especially his close friends and family directly affected by it.

A lot of Technoblade’s fans are asking themselves, “What do we do? Is it disrespectful to put him in our fanworks now? Can I still write about Techno or draw fanart of him?” And this really is a decision that has to be made by the individual.

Some fans have decided to stop making Techno content all together. I have decided that I will keep writing works with Technoblade in them. I believe that continuing to create content of him isn’t disrespectful and instead shows how much this community cared for him and prolongs his memory. However, I will be pushing this “hiatus” a little longer out of respect for the people grieving right now. I think everyone deserves some time to process.

I will also be adding a link to donate to the Sarcoma Foundation of America in every fic I involve Technoblade in. I will keep this update in this fic so people will know what it’s for. Please donate to their research if you have the funds to do so, so we might find a cure and prevent future deaths.

Thank you for understanding, please take time to process your grief in however it manifests, and remember that Technoblade Never Dies.

Chapter Text

When Technoblade woke up, Philza was still curled into his side in a deep sleep. His fingers were curled into Techno’s hair and his breathing was low and quiet.

Chapter Text

With Phil on his back and getting some much-needed rest, it is so much easier for Techno to lead them back to his portal. Every once in a while, Phil nudges Techno in one direction or another, hoping that maybe this Warped Forest or that Basalt Delta would finally be where he would find his missing friend. When Phil wasn’t leading him, he was content to let Techno take the reins and be on the lookout. 

Techno listens to Phil’s pleasant droll, going on and on about his life on the Overworld, his wife, and his sons, describing Techno in great detail as if he believes the Hoglin can understand him. Sure, maybe it was a little sad that they had become so used to the Nether’s loneliness that Phil would ramble aimlessly to anything– including a Hoglin that couldn't reply– but Techno took comfort in Philza’s tales. It keeps him sane, for lack of a better term.

Still, the Nether was large and mostly empty. Aside from the occasional mob Phil kills or Techno avoids, the journey is quiet and, frankly, boring. Techno is only grateful that the long, monotonous periods allow Phil to rest and relax.

Unfortunately, that leaves Techno’s mind to… wander.

He hasn’t let himself think about it much, afraid that once he begins, he will not be able to stop the tidal waves of horrible realities possible.
What if he can’t return to normal? Techno wasn’t even sure what caused this transformation in the first place, much less how to reverse it. Could he figure out a way to communicate with Phil once they were safe in the Overworld? Explain his situation and put two minds to the problem?
And what if Phil could never understand him? What if he could never help him undo what had been done? Techno had no fear that Phil would abandon him, even like this, but would Phil spend the rest of his life wondering what had happened to his friend? Would he search aimlessly for someone already at his side, never able to reach out? Eternity was a long time to search.

A horrible thought strikes Techno, one that sends a chill down his spine and makes his tail flick back and forth.
What if Phil becomes tired of searching? What if looking for Techno, pointlessly prolonging his memory, wasn’t worth it? What if, after decades and decades of aimless searching, long past a Hoglin lifespan, he forgot about Techno completely?
Behind his eyes, Techno can see an older Hoglin with graying hair around the snout following a still-young Philza, only aged by his eyes and the pervading sadness that follows him. In a blink, the scene changes to a Phil unburdened by grief, the memory of a friend long gone, and the Hoglin that followed him in the ground.

In his heart, Techno knows it is a ridiculous notion. Phil would not just forget him; Phil loves him like a friend, like a brother. Still, the thought is enough to sink like a stone in his stomach.

So lost in thought, Techno almost misses the feeling of sand getting caught in his fur, clumping with the sweat that beaded just underneath the coarse hair. He stops with a jolt, recognizing exactly where they are. The Soul Sand Valley he had arrived in.

The pause is enough to jerk Phil out of his slumber, who groans quietly on his back. Blearily, Phil takes in his surroundings, smacking his lips together.
“Alright, mate,” he says, voice as dry as soul sand, “I think I can walk from here. We can take a look around; maybe Techno’s portal is somewhere out there.”

Techno huffs quietly, ears folding back and forward repeatedly. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to lead Phil out here. Maybe, once he found what remained of Techno’s portal, he would assume the worst.

Again, the thought of Phil grief-stricken for an eternity crossed his mind.

Unaware of Techno’s dilemma, Phil presses onward.

They trek for what feels like hours with no sign of life, magic, or portal to be found. Even Techno has to wonder if he has actually found the right Soul Sand Valley and if, maybe, it is for the best they don’t find his portal.

“Look! Over there!” Phil shouts, pointing to a structure in the distance. When Techno turned his attention to it, his hair raised at the familiar dark purple structure that was collapsing into itself.

“Come on," Phil orders, rushing toward the portal remains. Even with the sand pulling him down into its depths, Phil perseveres, a light in his eye that Techno was terrified to see go out. As the portal comes into view, Phil’s smile falters. He can see how the obsidian crumbled into dust, pieces still chipping off and landing on the sand with a dull thud. He can see exactly what the ruins look like and the remnants of Technoblade left behind in the rubble.

And, suddenly, Techno realizes that it is not a good idea to have brought Philza here because, from Techno’s standpoint, that pile of cloth and dented metal crushed and torn under the unforgiving stone is damning, and there is no way he can explain to Phil, ‘Hey, I’m right here! I’m still alive! Let’s get out of here so we can fix this together, like always.’

They are only a few yards away, but Techno can see in Phil’s eyes that he recognizes that cape, that armor, and that crown.

Before Techno can stop him, Phil is racing to the pile. Techno gallops urgently behind him, squealing and whining heavily to try and get Phil to slow down and calm himself, but nothing is stopping him.
Phil collapses to the ground, picking up the shredded cape with shaking hands. He can’t even bear to look at the crown.

“Th-this must be… I mean, it can’t-- he couldn’t have--” Phil stumbles over his words, frantically piling the thick red velvet into his arms as if looking for any sign of a body underneath. Techno knows he won’t find one. He lets out a small, sad huff. He knows how this looks.

“This is a mistake,” Phil choked, “Techno’s smart, he’s tough, he couldn’t have--” A sob erupts from his chest and the man heaves over the cape that now falls out of his limp arms in cascading waves, an ocean of fine velvet and furs caked in Nether dust. Techno only watches as his oldest friend heaves out a soul-wrenching cry into his remains, tears staining the cape.

The Nether’s dull noises do nothing to cover Phil’s sobs. Techno is forced to listen to all of them. In an attempt to comfort, he curls around Phil, as if he could shield him from the reality he is in. It is nothing that Techno had imagined would happen. He had assumed Phil would grieve quietly, stoic and proud and adult; instead, he cries loudly and brokenly into the cloth.
Techno, distantly, thinks he should be crying too. It is his “death” after all; shouldn’t he feel something? Even if it’s anger for not truly being gone, shouldn’t he feel anything besides the numbness in his chest? He doesn’t. The only grief he feels is for Phil and the rest of his friends and allies who will learn of this tragedy soon enough.
Techno looks to his crown, still covered in rubble, then pads over to it. He gently pushes the debris off of it, lifts it with a single tusk, and drops it on Phil's lap. Techno resumes his position, curling his hulking body around Phil’s and chuffing quietly.
Phil stares at the crown in his hands, tracing over the precious stones embedded in it delicately, as if they would shatter with too much pressure. His sobs lessen, quieted into sorrowful hiccups and leftover tears that trail down his cheeks and evaporate before they have a chance to hit the Nether floor.

Phil continues to stare into his reflection in the gold.

With quiet resignation, Phil tucks his grief deep in his chest, saving it for somewhere safer.

“We should get going,” Phil says quietly, placing the crown into his satchel. “This portal is useless; we’ll find one of L’Manburg’s.”
Phil rises, holding his satchel the tiniest bit closer, and walks past the destroyed portal. Techno dutifully follows, not taking even a moment to look back at his remains.

They walk in uncomfortable silence, letting the sounds of the Nether wash over them and their grief. Phil refuses to climb onto Techno again, holding himself together as they make their way to the Nether Wastes where they will find one of L’Manburg’s Nether fortresses.
As they near the fortress, Phil scans the area, spotting a portal on one of the east bridges. At the edge of the north bridge, Phil pats Techno’s shoulder.

Phil says, with a weak smile, “I think this is where we split off, mate. Sorry, I couldn’t really help you find any of your Hoglin buddies.”

Techno chuffs low in his throat, throwing his head back and forth in disagreement. He steps onto the Nether brick, throwing his head back as if he is urging Phil to follow. For a moment, Phil looks stunned, but his smile grows into something a little more genuine as he follows Techno onto the brick.

“I don’t know how we’re going to fit you into the portal, but no harm in trying, I guess,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

With every step toward the portal, Techno feels his shoulders relax. Even with the weight of his curse and the grief that will follow them until Techno somehow fixes this mess, he can feel hope bloom somewhere deep in his chest.

His thoughts stutter to a screeching halt when he hears a scream echo from his side.

Techno whips his head around, his mane and hackles rising. He finds Phil collapsed onto a knee, a blackened arrow sticking out of his thigh. Even from Techno’s angle, he can see bubbling rot, black as tar, spreading from the entry wound across Phil’s leg. With another yell of pain, Phil tears the arrow out of his leg before the rot can continue to spread, pale in the face and sweating profusely.
In the distance, Techno hears the rattling of bones and dry sighs. Instinctually, Techno barrels to Phil’s side, blocking him from the arrow's point of origin. From across a gap, at another bridge, Techno can see the blank faces of Wither Skeletons, congregating and staring at them with threatening hisses and moans. One of them, unperturbed by Techno’s hulking form, raises its bow and shoots. Techno braces himself for impact, unwilling to leave Phil vulnerable. The arrow lodges itself into Techno’s side, piercing his hide and spreading its rot across his skin.

Techno tries to take it quietly, but the agony of the withering effect– so hot it is chilling, freezing him down to the bone– is enough to make him howl. Phil, unable to see the damage, worries beside him, desperately trying to get to his feet.

Another arrow, similarly blackened, lodges itself into Techno’s flank, and it takes all of his strength to not collapse onto Phil.

If Techno had thought his Hoglin physiology would have helped him withstand withering, he was sorely mistaken. He can feel the rot spread over his body, bubbling on his skin like a festering wound. Distantly, he can feel another arrow pierce through his skin, his only indicator that something bad has happened beyond the existing pain being how his mind fogs significantly, the agony drowning out any other thoughts.

“Hey– H-Hey, come on, we’re almost to the portal, come on–” Phil urges, his shaking arms tugging on Techno’s tusks as they both try to stay upright. Phil’s sword hangs limply at his side, the blackened mold spreading down his shoulder and creeping out from under his wrist. If he can manage to wait a few more moments, the curse will slow and die on its own, but Techno is still riddled with arrows. The withering continues to spread across his body, riddling him with fatigue and a pulsating kind of pain that wants to force him to his knees.
Still, he pushes on, if for nothing but seeing Phil make it to the portal. Techno shields Phil from a rain of arrows, much to Phil’s dismay, and roars at the skeletons in an attempt to ward them off. Instead, the Wither Skeletons find their way to their bridge, shambling as fast as their corpses can go, shooting arrow after arrow at the two travelers.
Nearing the portal, Phil is all but pulling Techno into it, whose eyes can barely open and whose breathing is labored. With a free hand, he uses his sword to weakly defend himself from arrows that fly over Techno, though his form is lacking. Through the fog, Techno can see Phil grit his teeth, blinking away tears as he heaves Techno’s body with all of his might to the portal.

“We are going home, no matter what,” Phil grunts, determined and foolishly optimistic, even as Techno collapses at the portal's edge. Still, Phil tugs, dropping his sword to pull Techno with both hands, begging the Hoglin to follow him, repeating breathlessly “We’re almost there!” and “Just a few more steps!”

“Please,” Phil begs, his voice cutting through the sound of skeletons behind them, “You’re not leaving me like this.”

Techno looks up at Phil, trying to push him with his head toward the portal with assuring bellows, its magic leaking out in an attempt to swallow Phil up with its ancient whispers. Techno doesn’t think he can manage to move, and can’t go with Phil, but at least he will be safe.

An arrow flies. It passes Techno and lands squarely on Phil’s shoulder. Phil cries out, a hand instinctually jerking to the arrow as its rot spreads dangerously up his collarbone, to his throat, and across his jaw.

Techno squeals, terror gripping him as Phil’s face pales and his eyes go blank. He slumps against Techno’s body, trying to pull the arrow out of his shoulder before another one can land.
In his terror, Techno feels adrenaline coursing through his veins, quicker than the withering that clings and crawls against his body. Phil won’t die like this. He won’t die like this.
With as much strength as he can muster, he hikes Phil onto his snout, the sword forgotten on the ground. He rushes through the portal, arrows snapping in half or out of his hide against the sharp contours of obsidian.

He can feel Phil’s shallow breathing as the portal's whispers swallow them up.

Techno’s mind feels like an ocean.

That might actually be too generous of a comparison. More like a swamp. Or a bog. Somewhere the tides ebb and flow, but also stick like tack to anything it touches.
Somewhere in the bog, he feels someone pulling at him, up and against the tack that pulls him down into the abyss. He wants to swat them away. He’s content. What could they want from him?
As he is pulled upwards, an incessant buzzing surrounds him and grows louder and louder with each tug, like cicadas humming or locusts hissing. It grows until he thinks his mind might split from it, and suddenly– without warning– it stops.

Techno opens his eyes and his first thought is ‘Bright.’

His second thought is ‘Gods, that buzzing is back.’

But it is not buzzing. As he adjusts to the world around him, he can faintly hear shouts of “Techno, Techno!” all around him.

Something large towers above him, and Techno’s eyes can finally adjust to the brightness around him. He smiles when he can finally see what is in front of him.

“Hey, Phil.”

Philza, crouched over Techno’s body, smiles back, wide and goofy but so unbelievably overjoyed.

“Hi, mate.”

As Phil helps him up, Techno realizes that his hooves have been replaced with hands, his tusks noticeably gone, and his size significantly smaller. He is covered with Phil’s cloak, though– somehow, thank the Gods– his shirt and pants are mostly still intact. He curls into the cloak anyway, pulling it up to his chin.
Phil leans back, a hand on his head as he laughs lowly.

“Gods, do you have any idea how worried I was? You were gone for over a week!” Phil chuckles, wiping the tears from his eyes with disbelief or relief. Techno cannot tell which one, but he figures both are apt.

“I can take a guess,” Techno replies, noting the splinters of arrows covered in his blood strewn around him. “I’m sorry for being gone for so long, I didn’t mean to–”

“Ah, shut it,” Phil cuts him off, wrapping an arm around Techno’s shoulders, “I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Techno raises his face toward the sky, soaking in the sunlight and breathing in the air as deeply as possible. He feels the grass beneath him and savors how it doesn’t cut into his skin like grains of sand or bits of basalt.
After a few moments, Techno rises, pulling the cloak over his shoulders and holding it close. Phil reaches into his bag, and Techno can see gold peaking out from the leather. As Phil hands him back the crown, so dented it can’t possibly fit onto his head anymore, he explains:
“I wasn’t going to just leave it there. I couldn’t…” He takes in a shaky breath, fists clenched at his sides. “I just want you to know I wouldn’t have left you– any part of you– there if I could help it.”

Techno traces the imprints where his gems were once embedded, across the grooves made across the precious metal, and over any remnants left of soul sand stuck in its crevices.

“I know,” he grunts, emotion thick in his throat. He coughs around it and wraps an arm around Phil.

“C’mon. I want to go home.”

The breeze is nice on their backs, and the sun warms their arms. At home, Carl grazes lazily on hay in his stall and Steve is curled up by the fireplace. Both are waiting patiently.