Chapter Text
You know, Techno figured that he would have gotten tired of retirement by now. It went against almost everything he had created his image around, living a life of peace, and focusing on making things for himself versus going out on the battlefield as the blood god. The quiet was oddly . . . nice. A welcome change from the general calamity that came with conflict.
Screams echoed across the crater that had been L’Manberg as Techno pulled out the final Wither skull, begging Techno to stop what he was doing, to think for five seconds. The voices were louder than they had ever been, telling him to keep going, to destroy, hurt, kill, Blood for the Blood God–
The arctic tundra was far quieter than expected. Well, to be fair, Technoblade had never considered how little activity there would be when he was scouting out a new location for his base. His only requirements had been that it was far away from the drama of the SMP but still close enough that Philza could visit on a regular basis. When Techno had stumbled across the small arctic village, it had been almost deceptively perfect. There were enough resources for him to set up a base, he could trade with the villagers for food, and no one knew where he was. That was good enough for him.
So Techno set up base. Nothing grand, just a simple cottage in the middle of a frozen plane. It was almost laughably different from living on the SMP lands. There, it was underground bases, heavily fortified with Blackstone and armed to the teeth with weapons and supplies. Here, it was a three-story house, the most dangerous things stored in the attic, still available, but not quite as used. The whole thing only took him a few days to set up, and then Techno was faced with his greatest challenge yet.
Free time.
Coming off of the Great Potato War and going straight into the L’Manberg war had established a pattern. Prepare, intimidate, fight, win, and repeat. Living in the tundra was a startling change of pace. It almost reminded Techno of the Antarctic Empire, his glory days with Phil, time spent good-naturedly arguing with Tommy and Wilbur and taking over the world. The similarities were fairly obvious. The frigid temperatures, the time spent with Phil, it would be a perfect parallel if not for the fact that Techno was actively hated by the rest of the server, including Tommy and Wilbur.
Just before placing the final skull, Techno turned to his audience, singling out one person in the crowd. Everything else became a blur of noise and color. The voices were overwhelming. “You want to be a hero Tommy?” Do it, place it, destruction, chaos, death, Blood for the Blood God– “ THEN DIE LIKE ONE!!!! ”
Well. Techno wasn’t sure if Wilbur, or Ghostbur rather, hated him. They had only spoken a grand total of twice, one of them being when Techno had gone to laugh at Tommy for getting exiled a second time. Ghostbur had seemed . . . different to say the least. Certainly not the crazed ex-president hellbent on destroying L’Manberg, but he wasn’t exactly the same Wilbur as before either.
Regardless, they weren’t exactly allies at the moment. No, Techno only had one person who he even considered his friend outside of his animals, and that was Phil.
Phil had been an absolute saint putting up with Techno for the past few weeks, visiting him consistently and even helping with a few of his farming projects he had started to occupy himself. Clearly, Techno was the favorite child. He and Phil even had similar outfits and armor, given that Techno had helped him out for the first few days Phil had spent on the server.
Now, it was just Techno, alone in the arctic. Phil had gone back to L’Manberg to deal with landscaping and other such affairs, and Techno had almost nothing to do. Sure there was general house maintenance and the quiet was a nice change of pace, but overall it was rather dull.
Techno knew the boredom was getting to him when he was rearranging chests for the third time that day. “God, why am I doin’ this,” he muttered to himself as he opened up the chest in his front room. He began pulling out items in a practiced order, wood, emeralds, gold–
Wait.
Where was his gold. His gold was gone.
Techno’s hands started flying through the chest’s inventory, scanning for it. He only found more missing items. Items he wouldn’t have misplaced. His pearls, some armor, a whole stack of golden apples–
Someone had stolen from him.
The voices immediately started chanting, demanding he retrieve his items, find the thief, make them suffer , but Techno pushed them back. Now was not the time to lose himself in the voices.
Slamming the chest shut, Techno turned and looked around the room for any signs of an intruder. Anything out of place would be sure to catch his eye, especially if he was looking for it. Smudges on a potion stand, a coat on the wrong hook, even just a slight movement of a chest, and–
There.
The ladder leading down to his basement had been moved. Someone had gone down to his basement. Someone had stolen from Technoblade , and they had gone into his basement .
Techno quickly slid down the ladder, being as quiet as possible, just in case they were still there. Placing a silent foot on the floor, he spared a quick glance at Bob and his other mobs. Unharmed, he thought to himself. Good. Next, he looked over the floor to see any other signs of where they might have gone, and–
What the fuck. An entire piece of stone had been roughly carved out of the basement floor and a basic stick ladder stretched down into the hole. It was clearly recent, or Techno would have seen it last time he was down here, surely. Techno made his way over, not making a sound. He could faintly hear shuffling coming from below.
Someone was in his basement. And they were still there.