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“You really don’t need to do this,” Techno says for what’s probably the fifth or sixth time in the last hour. The young piglin in front of him quivers nervously, clutching an offering and anxiously stamping a hoof. Techno can almost hear the gears in his head grinding as he tries to figure out what his best course of action is. It’s pretty funny.
In the end, the kid bows his head and holds the gift straight out, refusing to move until Techno reluctantly takes the intricately etched leather armguards from him. His mission accomplished, the piglin retreats to the rest of his sounder and Techno adds the latest gift to the pile that’s been growing next to him.
“That wasn’t very polite, you know.” Techno assumes the piglin talking to him is an elder based on her hunched back, but the amount of scars obscuring her face make it difficult to tell age. She tilts her head to the side and smiles and Techno can see an actual dent in her skull. Great, it’s the village crazy.
“I mean, it’s true. I don’t need any of this stuff. I’m not your king or leader, I don’t want tithes.”
“You are the Champion. It’s a sign of respect.” She bows slightly at him, but for some reason it doesn’t seem completely sincere to him. More like an adult trying to humor a little kid.
“What do you mean by Champion?” She might be crazy, but she’s also the first piglin not to act in total deference to him. Might as well get as much information as possible out of her.
“You are the Champion. You hear the voices of our lost.”
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD , the voices scream. Techno looks out across the lava. An undead piglin stares back at him, eyes wide and empty and flesh rotting away from its skull. He shudders and looks away. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, lady. My voices are just a bunch of bloodthirsty weirdos desperate for entertainment, not...whatever you said.”
“They can be both.”
“That seems kinda dumb, but alright. Why does that make me your Champion? Phil hears them too.”
The elder grimaces (maybe that’s just her face though) and makes some kind of gesture in Phil’s direction. Techno is willing to go out on a limb and assume it’s not a nice one. Phil, as always, is oblivious to all of this, pouring more sand into the lava and talking cheerfully to thin air. “Whatever voices the End-touched hears are not our concern. He carries his own curse.” She turns her gaze back on Techno. “You are different. You carry the blessing of our god. You are his will and weapon.”
“I’m not a weapon,” he says automatically. It’s something he’s heard so many times - Technoblade. The Blade. The rebel’s attack dog. It leaves a sick taste in his mouth. “I’m definitely not controlled by any god. I’m not even from the Nether, I’m not even from this dimension .”
The elder pats him on the shoulder, consolingly, like a sulking child. “Oh, Champion, that doesn’t matter. All worlds are connected, and you are connected to this realm in all worlds. Can’t you feel it?”
The voices chant in delight and are joined by the singing he heard from the portal. It’s beautiful. It’s terrifying. It feels like home.
“When you return to your world, you will be the Champion there, too.”
Techno groans loudly. “I hate everything about this conversation and its implications. Please go away.” The elder laughs and does as he asks.
CHAMPION , the voices say.
“Don’t call me that.” He slumps to the ground and wraps himself in his cloak. Now he really is sulking like a child. He can’t find it in himself to care, though. Glancing back at Phil, he sees the man standing waist deep in lava, eyes unfocused and face blank. End-touched echoes back through his head and he grunts in annoyance. Every time they gain another piece of this puzzle it becomes more and more clear that he’s really gonna hate the picture it makes at the end.
...The sooner they can get out of this place, the better.