The Blood God || Technoblade Fanfiction

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Immortality is not a gift, but a curse, he was foolish when he was young to accept such a thing. To become immortal and have the name "blood god" weighed on your shoulders is the worst thing that could happen to a mortal. There is no ending to your story, there are only endless pages. Pages and pages that will never stop, just be. Pages that fill the story of your life in a cycle, and pages that carry the weight on your shoulders.

His hands know nothing but the shape of fists and the grip of a sword. His feet know nothing but the boots he wears and the feeling of running and kicking. His head knows nothing but the voices that scream at him, blood for the blood god. His mouth knows nothing but the swears to kill and the taste of blood. The voices seem to get louder day by day.

Blood for the blood god.

After eons of killing over the demand of the voices, he finds himself never satisfied. More blood spills where he goes, leaving widows and orphans in his wake.

Blood for the blood god.

Eons of killing have made it the only thing he does, the only thing he knows how to do.

The blood god's first kill was an easy one. The voices had gotten so loud in his head and demanded the fill of blood. So, he fulfilled their wishes. He wasn't aware of what was happening, but the pleas for his victim's life lay fresh in his head.

"Please, I have a family," he had begged. 

That was his excuse for life, his children and wife, were his excuse. His weak hands had blocked him from facing the pink-haired "teen" that held his life at his mercy.

"Is that why you mention them? To save your own life? Not because you wish to stay in their lives, but because your life is in my hands? You depend on my mercy that shall not be given," Technoblade had answered, and had killed the man. The voices had let out screams of joy at the kill, and he was foolish to think they wouldn't demand more.

Then, as if from a fairytale, a golden-haired man with black wings had found him. He found him stressed in the woods, trying to breathe, the voices had gotten so loud that day. The man had helped him calm him down, whispering reassuring words to him. Funny enough, Techno let him, he didn't kill him like the voices ordered him to. He let him calm him, and he let him stick around. 

They became friends, two gods strolling through woods, slaying as they walked. Neither of them seemed to care, but the voices were always screaming, kill him. 

It was the one time he didn't give in, the one time he ignored them. 

Techno found his five minutes of peace.

It was a mistake to trust this man, to let him into his life. He had woken up in his cot one day, and walked downstairs prepared for the tea Phil usually made for them. But, the man with golden hair and black wings wasn't there. Phil was simply gone. Techno had torn through the cottage for any sign of him. A letter saying where he had gone, an empty teacup, a feather, anything to prove he wasn't a figment of his imagination. A figment invented to calm him day by day, night by night.

Techno couldn't find anything, not a single sign of his being. Then the voices had gotten louder, and more panicked, more demanding than before. He went back to his killing, swinging his sword, giving into the violence. He continued to massacre towns and villages, kingdoms even. 

Just as quickly as it came, those precious five minutes of peace were gone.

Now he's walking into the castle of Matastead, wandering alone, a sword in its sheath on his side. That is, until a guard stops him by a large archway. Technoblade, a man who's known for slaughtering, is being stopped by a man with a single hand.