Chapter Text
“Alright, we’re here in Africa boys. We’re gonna steal Africa’s resources. That’s the first step! That’s the first step to any world domination plan. Stealing resources from Africa, let’s do this.” Technoblade reveals his brilliant idea to his chat while punching the nearest tree, “They got more diamonds,” he adds, casually.
[Oh wow
WARCRIME TECHNO TIME
I bless the rains down in africa]
Technoblade frowns at the tree, he’s punching. “I'm not getting any blocks out of this.” He tries to ask for help in the world chat but it doesn’t enter. “I can’t type.” Well, that’s not good.
[F
boomer
✨welcome to the jungle✨
/rainbowchat]
“Alright, we’ve met our first snag in the road to world domination,” Technoblade interjects his chat. “No blocks, no blocks yet. I don’t think I have a connection to the server in fact. That’s my hypothesis, I’m not currently connected to the server. This is going well,” he says, sarcastically.
[it’s already over
lol]
“I think thirty people just got teleported to various spots around the map and the server instantly collapsed in on itself.”
He’s suddenly ripped from the world and transported to a screen reading, “Connection Lost.”
“Welp, that was a short SMP guys. Uh, the series is actually over as of now.”
[technobanned
F
F
blame africa
the world ended
gg
>:0
immediately banned]
Technoblade lets out a breathy laugh at his chat’s outrage and patiently waits for the admins to fix it.
It doesn’t take long and he’s back inside a forest. Something is clearly wrong, though.
“Those aren’t jungle trees.”
That’s immediately apparent. The trees around him are filled with beautiful white flowers. Most of the undergrowth has also changed, from the thick jungle leaves to flowy grass that you’d more likely find in a plains biome. “Definitely not jungle trees,” he brushes a hand across the bark, feeling the different texture. “Weird plants too, hmm.”
With his chat quieted, a stark contrast from the previous loud excited ramble, he investigates. He punches the mysterious tree and the block in his hand is, “Plum blossom.”
That’s weird. There is no such thing as plum blossom trees unless the admins put in mods he wasn’t informed about.
"I guess they moved me to another location," Technoblade mutters. "Chat, I have a feeling we’re not in Africa anymore. But it’s fine. It’s fine. Resources can be stolen anywhere. We'll give Africa a break. We can steal from, hold on let me check my map—”
He pauses from commentating to pull up the map function but stares at the unfamiliar terrain.
This isn’t SMP Earth’s map.
“—the Earth Kingdom,” he says, almost as a question. His location’s marked near the bottom of the Earth Kingdom's landmass.
Instead of the Americas, Asia, Europe, and Africa, there’s the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, and Air Temples.
As Technoblade examines the map he waits for the overflow of voices buzzing their thoughts but it never comes.
The voices that have plagued him for as long as he can remember, are gone.
“Chat,” he calls. “Chat?”
No answer.
“Guys this isn’t funny.”
Even the low steady familiar hum of chat is gone. They’re never this silent. Not when he’s sleeping, not when he’s injured or sick, they’re always there.
So where are they now? Where did they go?
“Chat!” Technoblade calls again and the responding silence is deafening.
They’re gone.
Technoblade feels an emptiness he’s never experienced before. Yes, there were times he wished the voices would leave but they were also his companions. He's always talking; entertaining. His mouth is always dry and hoarse from the hours of keeping the voices in check.
It’s like a chunk of him has been ripped away. He thought he’d embrace silence when he finally heard it, not mourn. Because the voices might not ever return. He’s alone for the first time in a long time.
Technoblade slides down the plum blossom stump he cut. “Alright, what now?"
His chat's gone. He's in a strange new land and an unfamiliar server. And the stump is digging uncomfortably into his back.
"I could follow the previous plan of total world domination. Keep to it. Gather resources, claim Antarctica or whatever the equivalent here is, Water Tribe or whatever.”
He stands up and takes another look at the map. “Okay, same plan but different area. First, wood.” He’s pretty good at shoving away his emotions. He just needs something to focus on.
Technoblade makes quick work of all the nearby trees. The gravity mod on the server helped immensely. He only needs to punch the bottom block and the whole tree falls.
He replants most of the saplings he collects because it’s such a pretty place with the lovely plum blossoms. He shouldn’t completely ruin it. But he does keep enough saplings to plant later.
He keeps providing commentary, though. After centuries of rambling to chat, well, old habits don’t break easily. “I can finally swear, you know that. Without you guys constantly nagging at me. Let me try it.”
With a deep breath, Technoblade bellows, “FUCK!”
A bird caws somewhere off in the distance and Technoblade feels vaguely embarrassed.
“That wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it’d be. Oh well, got it out. Probably not gonna do it again. Gotta think of my brand and all that. My image.”
He only stops the grind once he hears his stomach grumble. Pesky thing reminding him of the forever mortal need for sustenance.
Technoblade, currently deep in a colossal cave on the hunt for diamonds, starts the trek back to the surface while trying to think of where to find food. He hadn’t prepared a farm and any seeds he plants now would take too long to grow.
His hunger bar is at the point where he can’t sprint after animals so that’s also out of the question.
He’ll have to look for a village. Which arises two main problems. One, he doesn’t know if this server even spawns structures, and two, he could starve before locating a village.
Technoblade finally bursts upward to the surface, eager to breathe air that isn’t from a dingy hole in the ground.
"Blocks, I need blocks." He had dumped a lot of dirt and cobble to save space, "Better vantage point to properly see all the surrounding area," Technoblade says, towering upwards. He continues to jump and spam placing blocks underneath him until he deems the view acceptable.
He squints across the horizon, looking for any wooden or stone structures.
The gods must finally be on his side because he spots a village far off in the distance, southward, judging by the position of the setting sun.
Technoblade quickly destroys his tower and begins speedwalking in that direction. He needs to reach the village before the mobs spawn in and before he takes damage from hunger.
Somehow, the gods must’ve immediately lost favor with him because the sun is completely set by the time the village is in sight.
“Bruhhhh,” Technoblade groans as he coughs up blood. He’s begun to take hunger damage. He puts more power into his fast walking, desperate to make it before it’s too late.
“Food! Food, please,” he begs a villager once he’s inside the village. Technoblade’s not sure how long he has before he’s hit with an arrow or punched by a zombie.
He coughs up another blood splatter onto the poor villager.
“I need food,” Technoblade says again when the villager doesn’t move. “I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die, please.”
This seems to kick the villager into gear because he hurries him into a market square of some kind. It’s weird the trading menu didn’t immediately pop up but Technoblade doesn’t argue.
The villagers appear to be talking which is also strange seeing as they can only grunt and such.
No sounds are emitting from their mouths though. Technoblade blinks, oh right, he turned passive mob sounds off in the cave because of the annoying bats. He fixes that and at once the flurry of panicked voices comes from the villagers.
“He says he’s dying!” the villager he coughed blood on shouts.
Villagers speaking comprehensible words, that’s a first.
“I’m not serving a spirit,” the villager at the market stand sternly refuses.
“I’ll pay,” says the first villager, “please, don’t anger the spirit.”
They think he’s a spirit. Technoblade looks around and notes how he does stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe this sever is human only. He can change his skin, no big deal.
With a few clicks, he looks completely human. If not for the shock of pink hair and the sharper canines. Changing skins is always uncomfortable which is why he doesn’t do it often. But pig-headed men don’t appear to be common here. The last thing he needs is to deal with more bigots.
Technoblade gives the villagers a wide grin, showing off his sharp inhuman teeth, “Better?”
They both look in horror as Technoblade takes more damage from hunger, staining his smile red.
The shopkeeper wordlessly slides some loaves of bread which he gratefully takes. He eats and feels himself heal. “Thank you,” he says because he does have manners, surprisingly. “What would you like in return?”
He’s not an idiot. Even if the villagers' trading mechanic seems to be broken, nothing comes for free.
“Thirty gold pieces,” the shopkeeper states and the other villager’s eyes widen. It’s obviously a lot of money and Technoblade feels he’s being ripped off.
He retrieves one singular gold ingot from his inventory and holds it up for display.
The shopkeeper greedily grabs for it but Technoblade switches his hand to empty at the last second. “This is pure solid gold,” none of those adjectives have any value seeing as all ingots are pure and solid, but it’s making it sound better, “not worth a meager amount of bread.”
Technoblade has always liked bartering.
“I’m traveling South, surely you can provide me with enough food to make it there?” He glances at his nails to appear nonchalant, “I can make it well worth your time,” and he pulls the gold ingot out again. Technoblade waves it around, loosely, watching the shopkeeper’s eyes greedily follow it.
The shopkeeper hesitates, “I can supply you.”
Bingo.
A short while later and Technoblade’s rowing across the ocean is his tiny plum blossom wooden boat with an inventory full of goodies.
“Onto Antarctica! Or the Water Tribe, I guess. The South Pole? Eh.”
He’s surveying the world map again, trying to make sense of it.
“So, Water Tribe is on both the top and bottom which why? Why are there two Water Tribes?? Did they both come up with the same name or something? How’s that work? Or is there one Water Tribe and they split up, deciding to go to the opposite ends of the world?!?”
Normally chat would be filling his head with answers. Most unhelpful then not but still answers. He never realized how much he relied on them.
“The Fire Nation is that group of western islands, looking kinda small to be called a whole nation. I’d give it a settlement at best. Earth Kingdom on the other hand is big enough to be several nations. I wonder what their government is like. Probably not one monarch in charge of it all. Especially for that amount of land it’d be smarter to section it.”
Technoblade glances up to double-check his direction and immediately regrets it.
He groans, “This moving water mod is making me so sick.”
The ocean bobs and weaves, totally different from the silent stillness it usually is. Props to whoever coded it.
Though it is making rowing difficult.
If chat were here, they’d be complaining about how long it was taking Technoblade to get to the Water Tribe. He could almost hear their whining, “Are we there yet?” over and over. Sometimes they were like children. If one ignored their occasional bloodlust.
The South Pole is cold as expected. Technoblade shivers and buries his face in the fur of his coat. Human tolerance towards temperature is the worse.
He narrowly dodges the ice chunks in the water, swerving around the glaciers until he finds the mainland.
Getting out of the boat, he quickly places a sign down.
“Technoblade calls dibs,” he says out loud as he writes.
He had placed a similar one if a secluded spot in the Earth Kingdom. The villagers might be mad at him if they ever discover it but his goal is to conquer the entire world.
“We’re starting small. Has anyone called dibs before me? Unlikely. So I’m laying claim first then later reinforcing said claim.”
It’s foolproof!
“Okay done that. We’re in Antarctica, boys. We did it.” Technoblade sprints across the snow, searching, “We gotta find the fortress.”
It’s not the same server but it’s similar…? There’s gotta be a stronghold somewhere nearby.
“I’m glad I decided to pick this as my base of operations. I mean, look at this place. Look at all the resources,” he gestures at the empty terrain with nothing but frozen water as far as the eye can see, “Incredible.”
It’s hours after Technoblade stepped foot onto the icy wasteland where he admits, not defeat, but temporary recalculation. The area’s a desert and the stronghold is nowhere to be found if there is one.
“I don’t understand. It’s supposed to be here. This is the South Pole, the center of it. If there are any generated structures it should be smack-dab in the middle, right? Right??”
The sun is setting and Technoblade needs to set up shop before the mobs spawn.
“Make a house in the coldest continent and then I’ll start world domination tomorrow.”
Farms too. However, currently, the important part is putting a bed down as a safety net. He won’t need it because Technoblade never dies but it’s for skipping the night. Got to wake up bright and early for the grind.
Once morning dumps him out of bed he begins adding to his base.
“One tree at the South Pole,” he plants a single sapling next to his poorly constructed wooden house. It was a box with a door but it serves its purpose. “Ah, yes, this is perfect,” he says, semi-sarcastically, as he admires his handiwork.
Water Tribe wildlife is officially up by a tally mark. They should thank him. As their gracious generous emperor, he’s restored the flora of a barren region. He’s so kind and thoughtful towards his subjects.
Technoblade catches a glimpse of smoke from off in the distance while finishing his farm, potato buds sprouting from the soil.
“It that,” he narrows his eyes, “a village?”
Curse faulty inferior human eyes. Can’t see anything without having to squint. Bet the reason he didn’t spot that yesterday was because of this form’s terrible night vision.
“Maybe they will have an idea where the stronghold is.”
Villagers talk in this server and appear to be sentient-ish. Hopefully, they don’t mind being neighbors.
“If they aren’t friendly I can kill them,” Technoblade reassures himself, journeying to the village.
“Stop right there!” he hears when he’s within shouting distance.
A boy dressed in blue and white furs threateningly jabs a spear in his direction.
He stops.
“You didn’t say for how long,” he yells back, grinning, as he continues moving forward.
“It was implied,” the boy growls. He waves the weapon again but in the arms of this skinny teenager, it’s as dangerous as any old pointy stick. “I’m warning you.”
“What are you gonna do, stab me?” Technoblade jokes.
He gets stabbed.
Rude, but understandable.