A Faithful Memory

And so we celebrate each other.

Indeed it took the two weeks. Technoblade mined and hammered and sewed and harvested; every spare moment he had was given to his work. And it was absorbing. The hardest to make was the rose necklace, for not only was obsidian a terrible nuisance to gather, but actually carving into it required a level of skill he only just possessed. Techno spent an entire day tapping at the difficult material with his little diamond-tipped tool before it was fashioned to his liking.

He finished Philza's hat first, for that was probably the easiest of all his projects, and it needed to dry when he was done with it. Kai's rapier and Philza's sword he did one after the other in quick succession, for while the rose was the hardest project, the swords took the longest time. Days he spent sweating by the lava pool he'd found, hammering the heated iron into its desired shape, then cooling it in the water vat he had hastily made. He had no time for diamond, and absolutely none for Netherite.

Each handle for the swords was its own work of art. For Philza, Techno crafted the long handle he'd seen on many katanas and wrapped it in leather, using the style peculiar to the exotic swords. He had never been more appreciative of his memory for weapons. For Kai, Techno had a silver handle, which he decorated with carvings of roses. These he filled with gold, pouring the precious, molten liquid into the small indentations with infinite care. "Yellow roses." He muttered with a grin when the metal had finally solidified and he could actually hold it.

As for the lotion he'd planned, Techno had an easier time with that than with the blades. The meadow outside his cave was littered with flowers, and though he had to pick and choose which ones would work together, the hybrid found it little labor to gather together what he needed. With some creative use of a slime and a bucket of aspen tree sap, he managed to finish it in time to get started on Ranboo's crown.

Ranboo. Technoblade ears lay flat as he thought of the half-Enderman. He knew there was only one way a hybrid could even exist, and that...white walls, white coats, faceless people...Ranboo was lucky to be alive. Which is why he got the crown.

Techno created a portal to the Nether. Only in that fiery place would he make a crown. So it had been with the one he now wore, so it would be with Ranboo's. Techno strode in. The Piglins left him alone, seeing his crown and the golden chest plate he'd hurriedly strapped on, and the hybrid went down the to lava's edge. He had brought with him the materials to forge the crown, so he was able to get started quickly.

Ghasts floated around nearby, squeaking their high-pitched moans. A single lava slime squished to a spot near him, saw the glare he sent its way, and rapidly squished elsewhere. Some of the Piglins, their curiosity drawn by Techno's work, wandered over to watch him. Through it all, the most prevalent element was the heat. Lava bubbled and spat, the air wavered dizzily, and every drop of sweat evaporated before it hit the baking Netherrack beneath Techno's feet.

Technoblade felt at home. Here, more than anywhere else, he felt at home. His Piglin side rejoiced in the heat, enlivened by the dry warmth. Every instinct he possessed was sharpened here, his energy levels rose, even the Voices were quiet in this place.

But it was lonely. No Piglins accepted him as one of their own. And his human side still yearned for the sky and birds and water. There was no snow in the Nether, either, and what flowers grew were oddly twisted and scentless, their pollen useless in a world without bees. And so Techno continued to switch between Nether and Overworld.

His smithing lasted the whole day. When at last he was finished, Technoblade picked up the crown and examined it closely. Smaller than his own, it was also set with interspersed rubies and emeralds, and the points jutting upward from the top of the crown were taller then what he'd made for himself. Techno nodded. This would work. He packed up to leave.