The potions were doing their job of keeping him in fighting condition, which was all Technoblade needed out of them.

He knew it wasn't exactly healthy, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice for the time being. He'd never been the type of person to treat his body badly on purpose – compared to Phil who ran from negative emotions by hiding behind physical strain or Wilbur who spent their days in Pogtopia dealing with his stress by smoking until the entire ravine seemed blackened from it. No, Techno valued his body for what it was: a tool. For how he needed it to survive and for how he had crafted it into a weapon to do so.

But he had been known to ignore his own limits or push past them for reasons he'd justified to himself as being necessary. And so - despite knowing he might be fast approaching one of those limits – it was almost too easy to continue. Obstinacy was such a hard habit to shake.

The more battles he could partake in, the less Ranboo would be called upon to replace him. Thus was the deal. Simple logic, really. Chat roared and made a ruckus as they always did. Techno had accepted long ago there wasn't anything he could do that would please all of them. For every voice agreeing with him, there were always ten more throwing their opposite opinions in his face. Just another reason for him to disregard their concerns completely.

He knew what he was doing.

If his hands were too shaky on his weapons he needed only to tighten his grip. If his vision swam with dizzy nausea he needed only to rely more on motion and color to see. If the repeated exposure to blaze powder made it feel like his skin was itchy and tight and made his throat too dry to swallow he needed only to drink another cup of water and return to the pitch.

"Maybe you could take a break tomorrow?" Mel suggested. "They're doing try-outs for new fighters in the morning. Making them go up against our regulars to see what kind of meat they're cut out from, if they're worth training. I'm sure Ranboo could compete." Threading around the actual thoughts he left unspoken as if they were landmines. Ironically, Techno noticed but didn't comment. Funny – how long had they known each other? A week or two at most? And already Mel had figured out how he needed to phrase things if he wanted any chance of Technoblade not shutting him down right away.

"Don't need it," Techno answered bluntly. The potion of swiftness he was drinking was sugary sweet, closer to syrup. Unwelcome under any other circumstances, today it formed a good counterbalance to the lingering bitterness of the regeneration potions he'd been downing three times a day. Every potion was undercut with that same astringent taste because of the nether wart but the ghast tears truly made it so much worse.

Techno would rather take the saccharine of glistering melon - or in the case of swiftness just pure sugar - any time. If he closed his eyes and tried not to think about it too much, he could almost imagine it was one of Niki's post-meeting treats, like she used to bring to every Syndicate gathering.

"Really?" Mel's lips quirked upwards, almost amused. "Because I know he'd be more than happy to."

"I know he would be." Techno didn't elaborate, getting back on his feet. The swiftness would probably drag his numbed legs through till evening. Then it was only a matter of getting enough sleep so that they would function by sunrise. His kneecaps had taken one too many hits lately.

And then he was staggering back to their cell, using his hand to push against the walls and keep his balance. Mel was bearing the rest of his weight. Keep it off his feet, keep it off his legs. Keep it off his twisted ankle that had been forcefully pushed back in place. A health potion for the pain and he should be good to go again.

He couldn't remember the door opening or being dropped on the bed, only knew they had arrived from how the world stopped moving and the echoed worry of Ranboo's voice reached him in muffled beckons. Technoblade closed his eyes and groaned – maybe if he gave a sign of being alive he would be left alone.

Except Ranboo wasn't talking to him. Not by the urgency of his voice and how far away it was. Hopefully, that meant he could simply go to sleep.

what are you doing?
get up
get up
E
get some water before u shrivel up and die
technosick?
technodead soon
E

"You're exaggerating," he told Chat. Because they were, they always were. They were a bunch of overdramatic fools the likes of which even the audiences at ancient theatrons would consider rowdy and he'd rather not hear from them. "I'm fine, I'm fine-"

And then Ranboo was next to him, hand hovering tentatively enough Techno's double vision produced two mirror images of them. "You have a fever," the enderman said, already reaching for something to the side.

"You're also exaggerating," Techno told him.

"I promise I'm not." Ranboo shoved one hand under his back. Techno wiggled and tried to push him away but it was an affair made extremely difficult when his arms refused to lift themselves. A glass of what he could only assume was water going by the lack of potion smell was pushed under his nose. "Drink."

"Yes sir-" Techno tried to joke, then almost choked when Ranboo tipped the glass forward and kind of almost waterboarded him. He might have apologized for it, though Techno was too focussed on how disgustingly dry and grainy his mouth felt to comment. Okay, maybe Chat had been a little right. He was shriveling. Only a tiny amount.

He jolted at something cold being put on his forehead, taking a second to realize it was a rag Ranboo had soaked in water too. Techno's head pounded, his brain must be trying to break out of his skull through every orifice it could find. Leaking from his ears, bursting through his eyeholes. It overtook all else, stole his ability to hear or see or think. He couldn't care to resist, tunneling into that vague feeling. Further and further away

He slept uneasily, dreaming of their snow-covered commune.

Then he surged awake because what his brain was doing earlier must have given his stomach a bright idea or two. He rolled over onto his side, pulled up his knees when the cramps wrecking him barely lessened, barely let up. Gagging, it felt as if his very organs were trying to force their way up his throat. Techno was left dry-heaving for a minute before there were more movements and he was lurched up. Just in time for his stomach to give up on the battle completely. He vomited all over himself, the watery splash of it landing in his lap. Tears stung at his eyes, Techno blinked rapidly to dispel them.

The same voice from before had come back, the same hands. Techno should recall who they belonged to – he couldn't. The world wasn't making a whole lot of sense to him at the moment. There was too much of everything going on. But they didn't make him feel threatened, didn't make him feel as if he needed to fight them off. And that was a whole lot more than he could say for most strangers. The voices agreed, whispered some pale forms of comfort into his being. They could never relate to physical suffering – not Techno's, not that of others. Still they wanted him to know that the person he was with could be trusted, he was safe.

So whoever it was, Techno didn't resist as they wiped up the half-congealed stew he had puked out and then crawled into the bed too, repositioned Techno so he was lying with his head in their lap. They brushed at his hair, skin feeling warm and sticky with sweat. Wherever their fingers went it became better.

"Thanatos?" he asked, voice rough and pained through his parsed throat. "Or Hypnos? Cause I know which one I'd prefer."

"What?" the person asked. Their hands drew away. Techno wished he'd kept quiet, maybe then they would have stayed put. He loathed losing their comfort. Then they returned and he couldn't hold back a pleased sigh.

"Which one are you, Death or Sleep?" He tried to think, struggled through it like struggling through quicksand. "They're brothers in Greek myth. Twins, I believe. Two sides of the same coin. Appear before mortals to taunt them of their upcoming fates. They're nice guys like that."

"Well, you're not dying. Hopefully. If I can help it, no. You're not dying."

"Good." Right then Techno would have settled for either, whichever of the two would bring him oblivion the soonest. But in the long shot, not dying would probably be preferable. "Sleep then?"

"Sleep," the person agreed. Not Phil, Techno told himself. Though that was the only person he could think of, the only person who would ever take care of him like this. Nobody else had ever bothered. "We should both sleep."

Phil would come soon. He would always come for him and take the pain away.

Once more he fell into an uneasy sleep.