“Are you sure about this? There will be nothing left of you.”
“I left quite enough behind.”
So they stood, an Angel with his back turned onto his birthplace, the gaping maw of the Void itself, as he faced his God one last time.
He wanted to remember this.
He wished he could remember this.
“Technoblade, I- I want you to stay here. Please.”
“I’m not letting you go alone, Philza.”
Technoblade never dies, wailed the mockery of what Chat once was, teasing him for being… ready.
For complete deletion. His own removal from the code of the universe.
Far, far worse than anything Death herself could ever deal out for him.
That was fine, though. It was for Phil, with Phil.
“I’m old, Phil. I think this piglin’s got his fair share of legacies, I don’t need to stay around.”
The only response he got was silence, a split second of a sad smile that soon buried itself in his stomach.
Here he was, thinking he’d get shorter for his old man arc. Phil would’ve been ecstatic about the inch of difference less between them, for sure.
“Let’s get you home, old man.”
“I hope it’s kind to you.”
“That’d be nice.”
A goodbye beyond goodbyes, something worse than dying in one another’s arms even if they were going together.
Maybe Phil could afford to remain in the world, dying with his friend’s last breath, only to remain a ghost of what the universe couldn’t reclaim.
There were many of his kin out there, suffering that same fate. They could use some new company, right?
“Phil, you said we don’t have much time-”
“I know. Let’s,” now-dull talons gripped the calloused hands-hooves-things of a brute he’s called his everything for the past century and then some, and with a shaky exhale, the decision was final, “let’s go.”
One last smile shared between one world, one last embrace, and then they were little more than flurry of iridescent feathers, moth scales glittering against the inky background of the idle Void.
Deep beneath the world, two souls were reclaimed as one.
Nobody fell out of the world.
Technoblade never dies.