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As much as Ranboo wanted things to be different, he feared being allowed into the ring to take Techno's place would probably be a fluke.

The arena master had bargained for an experienced Hypixel warrior with a military past rumored to have been blessed by the Blood God itself to fight in his coliseum, not for a scrawny enderman who managed with too much effort to barely win the sixth place. Ranboo knew he wasn't a bad fighter – he wasn't the best either but his records could speak for themselves. Years before ever meeting Technoblade in person he'd heard the man's name dropped plenty of times, often with Ranboo being compared to the piglin's notorious upstart in taking the competitive world by storm.

But Ranboo also knew he didn't perform his best under pressure, and there wasn't anything more stressful he could think of than being kidnapped, enslaved, and having his own life and the life of his friend put in danger for strangers to bet on for sport. Nothing short of putting the arena on fire while that was all happening was liable to worsen his anxiety.

Mel had done them a favor by switching out the match-ups and allowing Ranboo to fill Techno's new spot. Definitely, that wasn't going to happen again. All Ranboo had done was delay the inevitable. He reminded himself of this over and over again, whenever he felt himself get too glad about the idea of what he had accomplished. Save Techno's life, yes. But only for a day longer, a week, a month. They still needed to get out. Ranboo needed to get them out.

Yet nobody returned to get either of them for more fights, as hours crept by slowly and Ranboo could tell noon had come and gone. Nobody came at all and Ranboo hated that he'd come to fear the silence as much as the pit. At least he knew what to do with those fears, knew how to parse the danger they'd put themselves in. This felt like waiting for the anvil to drop without being able to watch the rope when it snapped. Techno fell back asleep not long after they'd returned to their cell, leaving Ranboo to stew in his misery by himself.

By the time evening fell and Mel brought them food again, Ranboo was about ready to jump out of his newly-blistered skin. The man startled and nearly dropped his tray, somehow still not used to Ranboo's jerky movements. But as he put it down on the table, exchanged their oatmeal bowls out for the typical vegetable stew that served as their dinner and which Ranboo was starting to loathe with his entire being, it became clear he wasn't there to prepare them for another fight.

They had been left alone, all day. Ranboo wasn't entirely sure why that made him lose the feeling in both legs, sinking down onto the chair.

"Don't expect it to stay like this for long," Mel said. He glanced at Techno, too fast asleep to be woken by their noise this time. "I only managed to give them something to think about. They'll reconsider how to move forward by morning and then you might not want to thank me anymore."

Ranboo would worry about what exactly that meant later. At the moment, he was too relieved to care much. "Thank you for now then. Uh, why though?"

Mel picked up the tray. "Why what?"

"Why did you help us?"

"Well, I guess it's... Let's call it affinity." At Ranboo's complete lack of understanding, he put the tray back down. From the strap of his belt, he took out a small dagger, probably more of a pocketknife than anything else though the blade wasn't retractable. The strap was made of dark brown leather. "This used to belong to my younger brother."

Ranboo nodded dumbly, not wanting to interrupt while Mel talked.

"We were brought her much like you were, years ago. He died in the ring. While I didn't." The knife was strapped back to Mel's belt, then he looked up with a wry expression. "Guess that makes me kind of a shitty brother."

Somehow, Ranboo didn't feel it was right for him to weigh in on that. He never had a sibling – or any family to speak of. Not the traditional kind anyway. Mel clearly wasn't waiting for an answer as he continued talking.

"But despite that, I'm still here. And I tell myself not to get attached to random fighters I pity, so I don't. Because you never know how long any of them will stick around. When I can help a person out though, I don't think it'd be wrong of me to try that, without losing sight of reality." He picked up the tray again, turning to walk out of the room.

"I uh-" Ranboo started, then stopped. Mel looked at him over his shoulder. "I think that's a wonderful thing to try. Whether it works out or not."

And Ranboo might not know if that was the reply Mel had been looking for, but since he got the smallest of smiles in response he'd count it as a win.

Their proverbial anvil dropped the next day. Once again they were called upon before breakfast. Not a fight this time, Technoblade had been summoned to the arena master's office by himself. Ranboo could not express with words how horrendous it was to know what was being discussed up there – to be aware it were his own choices being put into the haggle as much as anything else – without being able to hear any of it. Let alone change the outcome.

Ranboo trusted Technoblade to keep him safe, yes. He did not trust Technoblade to keep himself safe. He could not trust anyone else to keep either of them safe, not for long. Not Clarissa, who would sneak him food and lamented on how she'd rather have him around the kitchen more because he was such a good help. Not Mel, who had regret in his eyes and could only work within the rules of the arena.

Their options were dwindling before his very eyes and Ranboo was supposed to do something.

Techno came back, barely looked at him as he sat down. He was threading his claws through the horrible tangle that his long hair was becoming, looking each day more as if he didn't need to tie it up to keep it out of his eyes anymore. The knots would take care of that by themselves. "Can't believe Phil used to say I was bad at negotiating."

"You made a new deal?" Ranboo asked, apprehensive.

"Same deal, different terms." He held out his hand without a word, Ranboo put his wrist in it without blinking. Techno inspected his burns to assess them on how well they were healing, as he had been doing every few hours since Ranboo got them. "They wanted two fighters out of their investment, they're still getting that. Made it clear that trying to get two fighters' worth out of me would be the fastest way to work me into the ground, so..."

"You told them I would fight, then?" Ranboo kept his voice calm, unfazed. He wasn't thrilled about this, nope, absolutely not. He wasn't secretly relieved enough that he could probably pick up an entire grass block in excitement.

"Preliminaries only, no-killing rule at all times. You won't be needing to take any real risks, but you could get hurt." Techno sounded so contrite, guilt-struck and sharply in contrast with Ranboo's feelings over the matter. They couldn't be more on two different plains if there was an actual nether portal dividing them. "I'll have to partake in fewer matches in return and will get some extra help while we're at it."

Ranboo's head perked up, ears shot backward. There needed to be a catch, of course. Why wouldn't there be a catch? There always was a catch. "What kind of help?"

"Just something to uh, lower how much recovery time I need. Don't worry about it."

Mel chose that exact moment to open the door and bring them their oatmeal. Always, always oatmeal. Ranboo knew that once they got home, the very smell of it would probably make him puke. Between the two bowls, perfectly set to keep it from spilling, was a potion of regeneration. Mel opened it and tipped the contents into a bowl before handing it to Techno.

(Ranboo trusted Technoblade to keep him safe. He could not trust Technoblade to keep himself safe.)

"You got another challenger," Mel said, not acknowledging Ranboo's dismay at this development. Not mentioning it as he took Techno out to the pitch and Ranboo got picked up to work the infirmary again because clearly fate itself must have it out for him.

And when Techno came back it was a full three hours later – Ranboo knew because the infirmary actually had a barred window and he could see the sun moving outside. He was covered in bruises and a cut along his collarbone bled sluggishly as if it had been inflicted long ago and had a chance to congeal.

Techno followed his eyes and smirked, carelessly wiping at the blood with one hand. "Bracket-style tournament, took ages. But I won." He downed a mouthful of the health potion he'd been handed by the physician, cringing at the overly sweet taste.

Hypixel had brochures, Ranboo suddenly recalled. Entire leaflets detailing the dangers of potion overuse to participants, warning them of the horrible side-effects one could get. What a detriment they could be in the long run, shaving literal years of a fighter's life with prolonged use.

Maybe – maybe – if he tried hard enough Ranboo could ignore that voice in his mind telling him he hadn't really made anything better at all.