The Pig, The Mask, and The Slayers [Indefinate Hiatus]

Vol 1 - 3: Arrival - Part 3

The sound of sizzling fire and wood crackling came like music to the half-piglins ears, the wafting smell of burning wood filled the air around him, and he was not perturbed by it at all. He had long since taken off his pig mask, as it had hung on a low hanging tree branch. His crimson eyes stared up at the dimming sky, and his partly pink skin reflected the light of the fire.

The fire was controlled, and if it ever got too much, Technoblade would suffocate it for a few seconds before allowing it to swallow up the surrounding oxygen. He laid against a tree, his legs crossed, as he bit into one of the steaks he had on him.

He only had one, which was why he didn't give it to Dream, though thinking back to it, he should've. After all, Dream needed it more, but he didn't exactly think about that before Dream left, as things had been such a daze when he sent the man in green away to scavenge.

His braided pink hair was what he used as a cushion, along with his cape, so that he didn't have to sleep on the snow or on the rough bark of a tree.

It had only taken him 20 minutes to finish making the fire and an extra minute to move all of his possessions into a double chest he had created, which had been stored inside a small shack that he made out of the spare wood he had. It wasn't as if it was a hard task. He had made small houses before, pop-up bases as he called them, all around the places he had been at in the Greater SMP.

It had been at least 4 hours since he sent Dream to go look around for some food. He hoped that the reason why Dream was taking so long was that he had a massive haul of food with him and not that he was still looking. Because if that were the case, they would have to start growing crops if it proved to take this long to get food.

God, tell him he didn't need to get up to find his green ass out in the blistering cold. Because if he did, he was going to strangle him when he found him, regardless if he killed him or not.

A part of him worried for the man in green's health, both mental and physical. Being secluded and tortured for months on end had to have done something horrid to his mental state, and on to the fact, those he had seen as friends threatened to kill him if he ever broke out and escaped, or left the prison even on release, if that would even have happened.

Imagine that, people you trusted for years. People who cared for you for years. People you had cared for since you knew them, casting you aside because everyone else around them saw you as the enemy.

If that wasn't betrayal of the ninth degree, then he didn't know what was.

He knew what it was like to be betrayed, especially by those he thought were close to him. However, there weren't many people who he genuinely cared about.

Technoblade never really cared about those he had called friends. They were all destined to die after 100 years or so, maybe even younger. Being a Demi-God made it hard to get attached to someone.

If they were going to die before you could even blink, then why even get attached to them in the first place? Why build bonds? Why pretend to care?

While Dream was the same as all other mortals, he had yet to betray him out of all the people he saw as friends and allies. So there was that, at least. He was up there with Philza, Nikki, and Captin Puffy. Ranboo had been peer-pressured to hunt him down, so he couldn't blame him for Quackity's manipulations.

He sighed, looking down at his hands. How much blood had he spilled over the years he had been alive? How many wars had he been a part of? Millions of people died at his hands. Millions of people saw him as the last thing they'd ever see.

Not their families.

Not their comrades in arms.

Not their friends.